Final thoughts

Several hours after I passed out in my dorm room after an afternoon trip to the Tsingtao Beer factory, I woke to a room littered with beer cans, whiskey bottles, bottle rockets and pizza boxes. It was my last night in Pingtung, Taiwan and by all the evidence, it had been a good one. I haven’t written any entries to this blog since before my last week in Taiwan, mostly because I spent that last week having the time of my life. There was the night of eating Peking duck with the only other American in Pingtung that wasn’t a part of TUSA, an artist from Hawaii named Carl. There was one last meal of cheap sushi with Ellen and her Taiwanese roommate, who lectured us on the proper way to eat nigiri (apparently we’ve been doing this incorrectly our whole lives). There was the beer factory tour which concluded in the tasting room and all-we-could-drink free beer. FREE BEER. Let that sink in.

I’ve been home in Reno now for four days, battling jet lag, waking up at odd hours of the morning. It’s much colder here in America. The bananas taste like cardboard and do not make for good xiang jiao niu nai (banana milk). Going immediately into the school grind helped with the adjustment back to “normal life”, whatever the hell that is now. Nothing has changed since I have been gone. Well maybe a few minor details, but America is more or less just how I left it. What is different is me. I thought this experience would not change me, that I was too set in my ways. That couldn’t be less true. I came back a changed person. How could I not?

Those of us who are children of the 90s may remember the Jerry Springer show, and his “final thoughts” segment at the end of each episode. He tried to add some philosophical spin to the madness you had just been witnessing for the 40 minutes prior. His attempts to lend order to chaos were laughable. So I find myself in the same absurd position now, trying to wrap up two months in Taiwan, to give it some theme, an overarching lesson. It can’t be done. At the beginning of this blog, my tone was one of determination, an obsessive drive to “get to the bottom of things”. The truth is, I left Taiwan with more questions and no answers. I have seen things that defy any on-hand explanation. I am completely confounded. Is that an incentive to keep going back to Taiwan? Absolutely.

I do know this much: Taiwanese people are, on the whole, the kindest group of folks you will ever come across. As a guest in their country I was treated like royalty. I have experienced inexplicable acts of love and generosity. One example that comes to mind happened on the last morning I was in Pingtung. I walked across the street from the university to the espresso stand that I visited quite frequently. The same middle-aged woman who worked every day was there and had been serving me my morning coffee for weeks. That last morning I told her (in Chinese) that I would be going to America (wo zai qu meiguo). She said somethings to me in Chinese that I didn’t understand, but I could see that the implication of finality of what I said began to sink into her. I paid for my coffee, thanked her, and began to walk away from the stand. “Hey, Hello!” the coffee lady yelled at my back. I turned around. “I love you, ” she said, in English. She blew me a kiss. “Wo ai ni” I said, blowing her kiss back, with tears in my eyes. I’ve been drinking coffee a long time and swear to Christ that’s never happened to me at Starbucks.

My greatest concern before leaving for Taiwan, and indeed it remained for many weeks while I was there, was that I would leave that country with as many friends as I arrived with. This idea persisted until the last night in Pingtung, when at midnight, Joy (the videographer for the TUSA program) came to my dorm room door. She gave me a card that she made, and we took two polaroids of us together, one for each of us to keep. On the card, she told me how much I had made her smile and laugh. She told me that she had to wait until I was alone to give me the card because she hadn’t made one for all of the Americans. I was touched beyond words; I had no idea that I made such an impression on her, or any of the other Taiwanese students. We hugged for a good five minutes. Taiwanese friends are friends for life. It was a testament to how you can affect another person and be completely unaware of it. To all you Taiwanese students who I met and may read this: you, too, have deeply affected me. I am kinder and more patient because of you.

To the Americans who I just lived on top of and spent two months of my life: you’re the biggest bunch of rotten bastards I have ever met, and I love you all.

To Taiwan: you are my second home, my love, and you will not be able to keep me away for long.

Let the credits roll. Until the sequel…. zaijian.

Of dreams

This week I faced an experience which I thought would be a nightmare and a dream which turned into a nightmare. I shall explain.

A few of the TUSA students left early to go back to America this weekend. As a last hurrah, one gal mandated we should join her at KTV aka karaoke. There are things I would rather do than sing karaoke: gauging my eyes out with rusty nails, for one.  (I guess I am being a little over dramatic.) Since KTV is such popular sport in Taiwan, I figured what the hell, might as well give it a shot while I am still here. How different can this be from playing Rock Band in my living room?

The KTV building is at least 5 stories tall… 5 stories of karaoke-ing bliss. The entrance is like that of a fancy hotel: there is a check-in desk, marble floors and columns, a foyer with a grand floral arrangement. If you didn’t know that it wasn’t a hotel than you wouldn’t know it wasn’t a hotel.

We entered the elevator and got to the fourth floor, where our karaoke room was. Yes, you get a whole room (my Asia-phile friends are already well aware of this). So there were about thirty of us sprawled out in our room, complete with leather couches, private bathroom, and a large projection screen. The cost of admission also includes an all-you-can-eat buffet with five different flavors of ice cream. Booze costs extra, but not much, so I did not hesitate to order a six pack of Taiwan beer for myself. I was on the threshold of not going to KTV at all, and I was damn well was not about to start singing sober.

So three beers and two shots of tequila later (never mind where how he got there, but Jose Cuervo made it to the party), I was hogging the mic and belting out “500 Miles” by the Proclaimers. My rendition of “Just Dance” was most excellent. Karaoke is the last thing I want to do when sober, but as it turns out, it is the only thing I want to do when I am drunk. I was bummed that our three hours at KTV ran out before I got to “Total Eclipse of the Heart”. Sonia* (Taiwanese girl of a previous post) told me that “this is a common phenomenon in KTV”. Overall, karaoke gets an A+.

I karaoked so hard I broke a sweat.

On to the nightmare I mentioned earlier…. I made a trip to Kaohsiung’s “Dream Mall” yesterday. It’s at least 10 floors of retail clusterf*ck.  I don’t really care for malls in general but thought this would be worth seeing. Indeed it was. However, I have done too many drugs in my life to handle this place. I have reoccurring nightmares about Escher drawing-type endless escalator rides and this mall was that come to life. There were a ton of cool shops, but I have no idea how you could cover this place in one day.

The Daiso Japan store is rocking chain of dollar stores where I got some paper lanterns for cheap. The mall also had several food courts — one of which was dedicated solely to Japanese food. I thought I had died and gone to kastudon heaven.

Katsudon (fried pork chop) stew!

I got turned around in trying to find the elevator to the roof, where there is a carnival and Ferris wheel. I was desperately trying to avoid the escalators, in the process I nearly had a panic attack in not being to find my way off the seventh floor. The room started to spin a little bit. I eventually did find my way to the roof top, which was one floor above the IMAX theater.

Deja-vu inducing escalators.

I didn’t care for this display, not one bit.

Once on the roof, faced with the cartoon carnival, I couldn’t stop thinking about a quote from ‘Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas’, from the part when Dr. Gonzo and Hunter Thompson enter Circus Circus: “This is what the whole hip world would be doing on a Saturday night if the Nazi’s had won the war. This was the sixth reich.” Or something like that. So after three hours of mania, I left the Dream Mall, reminded why I do most of my shopping online these days.

6 days left and counting…

Small victories

How I measure a successful day here in Taiwan is very different than how I would measure one at home. At home, a small failure such as a long line at the post office or less than perfect service at a restaurant would be enough to ruin my day. Here, I count the small victories and try to ignore the utter failures. An old woman ramming me with her bicycle? No problem. A toddler punching me in the crotch while standing in line at Cafe 85 C? Ain’t no thang. These days, being able to ask in Chinese for more than one packet of ketchup at McDonald’s and actually getting it becomes cause for a goddam ticker-tape parade. It’s fair to say I’ve gained some perspective while in Taiwan.

I’ve also experienced some rather major victories lately. Last Sunday I went out to brunch with a group of other American TUSA students. The first big success of the day was getting a massive plate of fresh fruit, toast, fried eggs and croissant for breakfast and only paying about $2.75 USD for it. On the way back from brunch, another American, her Taiwanese roommate Sonia* and I started discussing Taiwan’s political situation. For the most part, I try to keep my opinions about Taiwan’s DPP (or Green Party) and KMT (Blue Party) to myself. This is mostly because a) my opinions are not well-informed and b) this isn’t my country. But seeing as that I am an American, I tend to have an opinion on just about everything. During the course of our walk back to the dormitory, I said something to the effect of “Given the history, I don’t really understand how someone could vote for the KMT.”

[Side note on Taiwan's politics for those of you not familiar with them, which I assume is most of you and that's ok... basically Taiwan has a very divided political landscape right now, maybe with less vitriol than America's but with the same amount of partisanship. That's all you need to know for the moment to understand the rest of this story.]

We ended the conversation before returning to the dorms. I went back to my room and about ten minutes later I heard a knock on my door. It was Sonia. She said, “Before when we were talking about Taiwan’s politics, I did not finish what I wanted to say.”  I invited her to come in to talk. She informed me that her family votes for the KMT. I stuck my foot in my mouth. What followed was an hour long discussion about Taiwan’s politics, differences between Taiwanese and Americans, differences in college experiences in the two countries, etc.  I was both ecstatic and relieved that Sonia was comfortable enough to come to me to correct some misconceptions I had and also to open herself up to debate. It was no small thing that she had marched over to my door and given me a piece of her mind. I admired her for that. Definitely a breakthrough.

Sonia seemed to think that we Americans did not want to spend time with Taiwanese, as we tend to stick together when going out to dinner or drinking. I said to her that we all would love to have Taiwanese join us on every occasion, and that we all did not commit ourselves to living for two months in Taiwan just to meet other Americans. I also told her that most of us had been asking our Taiwanese roommates and study partners to join us but that for the most part, they were resistant or too shy to come out. We as a group had become frustrated. Sonia told me that she thought we Americans didn’t smile very much or laugh that often so we must not like the Taiwanese. I told her that was not at all true, and the lack of smiley-facing was only because we are a (comparatively) serious people. I encouraged her to tell her friends to not be afraid, the Americans would love to have them join us from now on. So it came to pass on a rainy Sunday afternoon in a dorm room in Pingtung City that one American and one Taiwanese did their part to fix Taiwan-US relations.

Sonia joined a few of us the next day on trip to Liangshan waterfalls. She said she had never been before. With little hesitation she jumped in the pools of the waterfalls with us, even diving off a small ledge from about 10 feet up into the water. I am horribly afraid of heights, but I followed her lead and jumped too (well, I did eventually). I’ll chalk this one up as a big victory for both Sonia and me.

10 days left in Taiwan. Until next time…

gui yue 鬼月

A few days ago the Chinese lunar holiday called Ghost Month or gui yue began. I happen to be in a particularly religious section of Taiwan so this holiday is observed with some gusto. Ancestor worship, or at least reverence, is big deal here in TW. As I stated in a previous post, most houses have an area for a shrine where they burn incense and leave bottled water, fruit, tea, etc for their ancestors to eat in the afterlife. Paper money is also burned in large iron drums outside of houses and shops (I have been seeing these around Pingtung with more frequency lately because of the holiday). There are tons of stores that sell fake money for this purpose. At the end of Ghost Month, lanterns are sent out on the water with directions back to the underworld painted on them to guide the ghosts back home.

Burning money for the ancestors

It was our Chinese teacher who first described Ghost Month to us meiguoren. In her usually peppy fashion, here is what she told us about it (my account is pretty much verbatim):

“Ghost Month is the time when the gates of hell open and all the ghosts are released. The rest of the year ghosts can not eat because the food turns to fire on their lips. So this month they are very hungry. Some ghosts do not have a family so they are the lost ghost who will wander around looking for food. People leave out offering of food for their family’s ghost. Some people believe that the ghosts like to be in the water at night so they do not walk near the river at night because the ghost will take over their body. Also we do not sing or dance this month because it will attract the ghost. Hahahhaha! “

Half the class was frozen with terror. The “gates of hell opening” is not something we would celebrate in the West, not usually anyways. All of us TUSA students will be performing in a talent show tomorrow that includes much singing and dancing. Additionally, I have been quite fond of taking night strolls near and around the river. Why the hell didn’t they tell us about this Ghost Month business earlier? I am not a particularly superstitious person, but I have watched enough Japanese horror movies and read enough Chinese ‘hungry ghost’ stories to be sufficiently freaked the f*ck out by this. How could our teacher be so cavalier about the gates of Hades being flung open?

What I find most interesting about Ghost Month is the Chinese concept of hell and what it says about their culture. Hell is not filled with fire and brimstone, as we might think of it in the West, where one gets poked with sharp sticks through all of eternity. Hell in Taiwan is a place where you can not eat for 11 months out of the year. Food here is that important and a lack thereof defines being in hell. Wish me luck with not waking up to a hungry Chinese ghost drooling on my face… that’s if I ever fall asleep here again.

Wo ai Taiwan

Awhile back I wrote a post about the top ten things I miss about America. I thought all things being fair, I should write about the things I love about Taiwan. I haven’t been doing this country any justice with my descriptions, maybe with my photos, but even then one must wonder why I would put my life at home on pause to come here for two months. Here is my list (un-numbered and in no order) of things I positively love about Taiwan.

The way a storm comes in. Before there is rain, or thunder, or lightning, the wind picks up just slightly and the air becomes charged with electricity. Then the sky turns an eerie orange. The thunder comes first, then the streaks of light that purple the sky, and then finally the rain comes down like nothing I have ever seen. The thunder will shake the windows and silence the birds. The whole countryside goes quiet for just a moment. Then thunder strikes again and disturbs the birds and cicadas into a cacophonous symphony.

It’s just after the storm passes, when it’s still raining a little, is the time when Taiwan is the most beautiful. Mist moves over the green mountains, the sky is all shades violet and blue and orange and gray. As trite as it is, I love to take my umbrella and wander the streets after the rain. Everything is shiny and bright.

Wandering here without direction has led to me to see little pieces of life that I would miss otherwise. Come around a corner and find three old men arguing, squatting, shaking their fingers at each other, spitting betel nuts. A woman making dumplings in the back of her shop, tens of hundreds with her skilled hands. A porno DVD store, illuminated like a carnival. A frustrated young man working on the wheel of his broken scooter.

Taiwanese people. They are kind, generous, helpful, and unbelievably patient with my shit Chinese speaking ability. I have never felt this safe or welcome even in my own country.

How damn Chinese this country is without being China.

The pops and bangs of fireworks at night, every night. There is always a wedding, a funeral or some other event worth celebrating. The first night I didn’t know if the loud booms were firecrackers or if China had finally decided to make its move. Here, you can’t ever be really sure.

The seductive way this country reveals itself. Unlike America, Taiwan does not put all the goods right out front. You must be patient and willing to explore. The tourism bureau does not advertise Taiwan’s best assets. You will learn more about people from what is not being said than from what they do say.

Fresh fruit. The sweetness of Taiwanese bananas, mangoes, pineapple are unrivaled by any place on earth. Not to forget the exotic lychee, kiwi, dragon’s eye, dragonfruit, passion fruit, and other treats that just don’t go grow outside of Southeast Asia.

They think of tea here like France thinks of its wine. I will miss my hong cha (red tea) when I get home. The combination of fruit and tea… well that’s another delight.

How alive everything is here. This is also one of the things I hate about Taiwan, mostly when I am battling moths, lizards, beetles and ants in the bathroom. There are flowers everywhere though, and huge black and blue butterflies. Oh the butterflies. They come in all shades of the spectrum.

Taiwan at night. A town can change from dreary to bustling within the span of the twilight hours. Night markets, fruit stands, hordes of young people on scooters. This is the country that never sleeps.

Speaking of sleep, I must, as I am not Taiwanese and I need my eight hours. Ta for now.

Neige please

Apologies for a week without posting. I was extremely busy with school and then I came down with a baaaad case of Chiang Kai-Shek’s revenge, aka the stomach flu. I have been out of sorts as well, not really feeling inspired to write much. July was a bit rough, and I am looking forward to the last half of this trip to being better.

Today: an unfortunate coincidence between the English and Chinese languages. There is a phrase in Chinese, nei ge, which is used in a similar way to the English idioms “like”, “and um” , “you know” when the speaker can’t think of the particular word they are looking for. The pronunciation of nei ge (NIH – gah) sounds EXACTLY like an American racial epithet. Chinese speakers are largely unaware of this issue, and if you’ve spent enough time around them, you’ve heard this sentence-filler often. I remember hearing someone use it the first time and it stopped me dead in the conversation.

My Chinese teacher, bless her heart, uses nei ge with some frequency. It still inspires embarrassed giggles from myself and classmates.  She has no idea why we are laughing. Examples how this word has been used by her:

Trying to describe a particular type  of clothing, “Just like this nei ge shirt.”

When addressing a student, “You nei ge … Justin.”

When talking about local culinary dishes, “That fried nei ge food is very good.” And so on.

Unrelated to this, she was highlighting a word once on a PowerPoint and accidentally drew a penis. She laughed and quickly changed the shape.

You’re an individual, I’m an individual, we all individuals

I have to write a “journal” entry at the end of each week on the culture classes and lectures we have after Mandarin class. Last week we made dumplings and dough figurines, and these mindless tasks really made me consider some things. The following is the journal entry I submitted to my teacher. Apologies if it’s pretentious and overly analytical (’cause it kind of is):

The hidden theme of last week’s culture classes, as well as my English teaching time, was individuality. Americans and Taiwanese learn to assert their individuality in very different ways. The class on Taiwanese clay figurines was rather surprising to me. We were all provided with enough colored to clay to make the exact animal shapes: a panda and a parrot. I know for the sake of accommodating a large group that having everyone create the same thing was the logical answer. What surprised me was how little liberty each person took with their figurines, Americans and Taiwanese students alike. Everybody tried to make a panda or parrot identical to the example provided by the teacher. Maybe they weren’t feeling creative that day. Maybe it was that they felt they had to make a perfect clay figurine. The students then judged themselves harshly if their little figurine did not match the picture example. The same goes for the shui-jiao (dumpling) making lesson. We judged the quality of our dumplings based on how much they resembled the teacher’s dumplings, even though they all tasted identical.

The girls in my Wednesday English group also had some questions about individuality in America. One girl asked me if students in elementary all the way through high school in the US were required to wear uniforms to school. My answer was that it depended on the school, but I never had to wear one. They also asked me if people in the US feel an obligation to always go out with a group of people. Again, I answered that depends on the individual, but I think in the US independence and individuality are encouraged more in young people. My English teaching group has an idea of America as being a place where people may express themselves to whatever degree they choose, and upon reflection, they are absolutely correct. I have taken for granted all my life the freedom to be whomever I wanted.

The same girl who asked me about uniforms also told me that many students in Taiwan are afraid to ask questions in class, even if they are prompted by their professor to do so. Is it that Taiwan’s students are afraid to seem imperfect, or is that they did not want to stand out in the crowd, or both?

That is not to stay that people in the US are not as reliant on groupthink or socially-inclined as people in Taiwan. I have noticed that TUSA’s American students are becoming more group-oriented the longer they stay in Taiwan (myself included). That is also not to say that Taiwanese are not individuals. Clearly people in Taiwan have different opinions, different tastes, different styles, etc. Perhaps individual ideals are not expressed in the extreme the way they are in the US. Maybe, as it is in America, when we are dying to be so different from one another we all just end up being the same. [Blog-only edition: remember the tramp stamp craze?] In other words, in mass rebellion against society we create the new status quo. Taiwanese do not lack ingenuity, creativity, or individuality; they just approach each characteristic differently than Americans. And that is just fine.

Superlatives

Spent the day in Kenting yesterday. It’s a resort area two hours drive south from Pingtung City. All of us TUSA students ran into the ocean to swim on arrival and the water was as warm as a bath. Most of our Taiwanese companions stood on the shore watching, either because they were afraid of sharks or didn’t like salt water. Props to those gals who jumped in with all their clothes on.

The beach was followed by a rather disastrous trip to Sichongshi hot springs (well, disastrous for me at least, that’s another story). Sichongshi sits back in the mountains: it is Taiwan at its wild and beautiful best. The hot spring resort was nestled between two green, forested peaks. There was a wild monkey sitting in a tree at the hot spring, chirping and throwing fruit at us meiguoren.

Having been to the beach and Sichongshi before with my nanpengyou (that’s “boyfriend” for you English-speaking types) on the Taiwan trip of 2008, yesterday’s excursion just made me miss him and home, painfully so. I must say that overall I haven’t thought too much about home since I’ve been here. Maybe I’ve had a few instantaneous moments where I felt a longing for certain things in my American life. So in no particular order I bring you the top ten things I miss about America, Reno, and my home:

1. Mexican food. Not cheese covered Tex-Mex mind you, but Chile Colorado, Chile Verde, chorizo tacos, fresh tamales, burritos filled with carnitas, horchata, ceviche, etc. God Bless Mexico and Nevada’s proximity to it.

2. My boyfriend, Kamil. This could fill spaces 2 – 10, but alas, I’ll leave it at: I MISS YOU KOHANIE!!! There’s no one to whine to on lazy Saturday afternoons such as this one about how I am bored and want a sandwich.

3. #2 brings me to this one: I want a sandwich. Italian meats, aioli, crusty bread, fresh tomatoes… you get the point.

4. Food that tastes like something. I am sorry Taiwan, many of your dishes are delicious but your national palette seems to favor mild-flavored food. Which is fine, but hot damn I could go for some spicy Indian cuisine about now. Please someone send me a bottle of hot sauce.

5. Drinking. I like to drink. No one else here seems to like it as much as I do. (Point of clarification: I like to have a drink or two, I don’t like to get drunk.) Jameson, Jack, Jim: I miss you so very much. Also, mixed drinks aren’t really popular here thus no one knows how to make them. I guess it’ll be more whiskey & cola in a can from Family Mart ’til I get back home.

6. Insect and lizard free bathrooms. Nuff said.

7. Having toilet paper and hand soap provided in every bathroom. I am getting sick of having to remember to bring toilet paper with me in my purse every where I go… sometimes I have forgotten to bring it and found myself in a jam.

8. Hot coffee in the mornings. Sure, I can get that here but I have to walk about twenty minutes for it.

9. Reading magazines. There is nothing I like more than curling up with a cup of #8 and a Newsweek on a weekend morning. I am so desperate for topical reading material I would even be happy to see an FHM or Cosmopolitan magazine… well, maybe not the Cosmo.

10. Watching television and being able to completely understand what I am looking at. We have a few English-language movie channels here in the dorms. All they show are terrible movies I have never even heard of, starring such folks as Valerie Bertenelli and nameless, reformed soft-core porn actors. I brought the entire series of Sex and the City on DVD with me, but I am already starting Season 5 and have a month left to go. It’s going to be a looooong month….

Ta for now.

A Homestay in Taiwan

Just about to open another Highball Whisky Cola from Japan (imagine: the convenience of whiskey and cola in a can!) Thought it was time to write about my weekend homestay with a Taiwanese family.

I met the mother, Annie, and sixteen year old daughter Peggy, on the first day of camp here in Pingtung. I knew immediately that I liked them: they smiled warmly and seemed patient enough to talk with me since I did not speak Chinese. Note: I don’t speak Chinese now, but it’s certainly improved since day one.

Anyways, Annie and her husband Davis came to pick me up in their SUV on Saturday morning. Davis did not speak much, either because he was shy or did not know much English. He did ask me many times during the course of the weekend, “Ni e le?” which means “Are you hungry?” I took this to mean that they he was hungry and wanted to eat.

The family SUV had mini TV screens in the back of the headrests and Davis had the channel turned to an American baseball game. I think the Yankees were playing and I didn’t know enough Chinese to ask him if he was a fan. I think he was more interested in the game than whatever this American had to say. So I did most of the talking with Annie the whole weekend. Her English was quite limited but we managed alright. Everyone got what they wanted.

First stop on the insane tour schedule was Meinong. This is a traditional Hakka area in Taiwan, and they have a Hakka “village” set up for tourists. It was really just a collection of gift shops full of crap. I guess Meinong is famous for their oiled paper umbrellas which they paint and can even be used in the rain. By the way, Hakka is one of many distinctive language and ethnic groups in Taiwan. Not everyone is Han Chinese.

Meinong Hakka Village

Then  Annie and Davis took me to the Yellow Butterfly valley, which was full of, you guessed it, yellow butterflies. It was funny though because neither the husband or wife really knew how to get there, so they made a million u-turns and kept arguing about the directions. Their bickering reminded me of my grandfather and grandmother on road trips, with my grandmother yelling, “No, Gene, turn here!” about 50 times an hour. Just like when I was a kid.

We had some Hakka food for lunch at a roadside cafe. On the menu: tofu with spicy peanut sauce, sauteed young rice shoots, water vegetable (?), fried rice and river clams. All of it was quite tasty but Hakka food is infamous for being uber salty. I downed about four bottles of water after that meal.

After lunch we drove back to Kaohsiung proper where they live. On the way, Annie turned and said to me, “I have five people in my family: Me, Davis, Judy, Peggy… and my father.”  The way should she said “my father” made me feel she was trying to adequately prepare me for grandpa. I was glad she gave me the heads up. “My father doesn’t speak Chinese,” she said, “he only speak Taiwanese and Japanese.” Another cultural note here: many of the older generation (70+) don’t speak Chinese here in Taiwan. This is due to the fact that the Japanese occupied the island for fifty years, from 1895 to 1945. Older people were forbidden to speak their native language, Taiwanese, and went through a traditional Japanese schooling. I said to Annie at this point, “Well, maybe I can talk some Japanese with Grandpa.” She rolled her eyes.

When we returned to their home in Kaohsiung (the second largest city in Taiwan), I was surprised by the modesty of it. It was not poor at all, just middle class. I guess I expected something different since they had freaking TVs in their car. In front of the door was a little parking area for their car, bicycles, and scooter. There were also many bird cages hanging from the car park ceiling containing sparrows, doves, finches, and canaries.

Annie showed me to my room, which was on the third floor of the house. The house was quite large. That’s the funny thing about Taiwan’s living spaces, they appear small on the outside but have a ton of space inside.  Clearly the room I stayed was the family library/playroom for the daughters (now teenagers). My room had small washroom and was across the hall from the family’s shrine room. Nearly every family in Taiwan keeps an ancestor shrine, where they burn incense and leave food offerings for their ancestors to enjoy in the afterlife.

It was raining hard by the afternoon so they let me nap for a bit. I slept on a straw mat on top of a cushion… it seemed very traditional and kind of made me feel like a farm animal. It was explained to me later that many Taiwanese prefer to sleep on the straw tatami-like mat because it keeps them cool while sleeping. I slept really well on something that was so unfamiliar. I think listening to the rain fall outside helped.

My straw bed

I woke up from my nap and went downstairs to find everyone disappeared but Grandpa, who was chewing betel nuts over the trash can. I tried to talk Japanese with him, but it took a wrong turn somewhere and he started talking about the A-bomb that the US dropped on Hiroshima. He told me to call him oji’isan (Japanese for grandpa) and then illustrated the differences in polite terms for family members. I wrote my name for him in Japanese, and he was very impressed. He tried to write the Japanese alphabet in katakana, but couldn’t. He said that he is an old man and couldn’t remember all the letters. I think he just had too many betel nuts (a Taiwanese version of coca leaves or cola nuts).  His Japanese was mixed with Taiwanese, so I just keep saying, “Sumimasen Oji’isan, wakarimasen” or “I’m sorry Grandpa, I don’t understand.” He talked and talked, even though I didn’t know what he said. I guess that’s why Annie warned me.

Peggy, one of the daughters (the other one, Judy, is away studying in Ireland now), came to join us later in the day and we went to the Love River in Kaohsiung at sunset. Grandpa stayed home. We rode the love boat (really what it’s called) around the river and it was nice. Then we walked to one of the night markets, and the family had me try all kinds of Taiwanese food. I had some lemon jelly thing, stinky tofu, chicken feet, deep fried mushrooms, shrimp crackers, wax apple and oyster omlette. The only thing that was really bad was the chicken feet. I choked on the oyster omlette a little and ended up throwing up in a napkin… but I don’t think my family noticed cause I am a stealthy barfer. I was getting the distinct feeling that this family was trying to expose me to as much Taiwanese food as the could in one weekend, even if they sometimes preferred to eat more Western-types of food.

Made it back to the house by 10 pm and Annie requested I wake at 6:30 am the next morning. The idea was we would go temple-hopping before the day got to be too hot. Too bad the one temple they really wanted me to see, the Confucius temple, didn’t open until 9 am (my family didn’t know that, because they are perpetually lost). So we waited by seeing some other temples around the Kaohsiung Lotus Lake, followed by breakfast at a traditional market.

Meat vendor at the traditional market

We finally made it to the Confucius temple after it opened. Annie told me that many students come to the temple to pray to the master and ask him for help with exams, etc. I asked Confucius to help me with my comp exams when I return home, but I don’t know if he heard me because I asked in English. Peggy reassured me that Confucius is wise and would know what I said. I said to her, “How can Confucius know what I say when he died before English was ever made a language?” Here’s to hoping he heard me, regardless.

Back to their house for more napping and eating. Annie prepared a lunch of rice dumplings and stir-fried cabbage for lunch. We ate around the table watching Taiwanese TV. It felt homey and really great. I think that was my favorite part of the homestay because for half an hour I was part of a Taiwanese family.

They were incredibly persistent about feeding me, and from what I hear from the other Americans who did a homestay last weekend, so were their families. It is a very Asian thing to overfeed house guests. I can’t complain; I ate very well all weekend and Davis would not let me pay for anything. Ever. He quietly followed Annie and myself around at the food stalls and restaurants, picking up the tab. He carried a pack of cigarettes in his pocket and smiled often. I liked the cut of his jib.

The day concluded with a walk around a reservoir in Kaohsiung. The sun was setting and the rain was coming so we finally piled back in the car, exhausted from a long day. I was ready to go back “home” to Pingtung and to the dorms. I was extremely happy to have had time with this family, as they were very good to me. I thanked them for opening their home to me and promised to keep in touch when they dropped me off.

After all that Taiwanese food, my first stop when home was the Pizza Hut down the street. Sometimes you just need some pepperoni and cheese in your life.

Me and my Taiwanese family.

Food, chapter 1

I have a lot to say about food here in the TDub. This is one of many entries to come.

There are basically two levels of restaurant experiences to be had, much like in the US. The first kind, the most common and cheapest, are the little shops that have a kitchen out in front of the dining area. For the sake of simplicity, I’ll call them cafes. Most cafes specialize in one dish like Japanese-type noodle soup (ramen), fried rice, dumplings, etc. At these cafes, you take a paper or plastic menu and write your table number on it, indicating the menu items you would like to order. Usually the menus have tons of options, but the variety is based on modest changes to the main dish (you guessed it: rice and noodles), adding something like egg or green onion. You then take the menu back to the kitchen in front and your food is served to you minutes later at your table. Most Taiwanese food is by definition fast food, because it is quick fried and served piping hot. At these cafes, it is rare to wait more than five minutes for your meal.

The second type of restaurant is the typical wait-to-be-seated, waitress takes your order and brings your food kind of place. This is usually a little more expensive, and the food quality tends to be a higher than cafes (but not by much). The menu options tend to be more expansive as well, so one can order a variety of protein and vegetable dishes. This is the Chinese or family style type meal most Americans are familiar with, where the whole table shares several dishes, eating over their rice (fan) bowls. There are also usually options at these restaurants to order a “set”, where you choose the protein and it is served with pickled vegetables, rice, and other accoutrement that you eat by yourself.

A “set” of food. Clockwise from top left: tangerine pork short rib, rice, soup, fresh papaya, Taiwanese pork sausage, stir fried green bean, pickled green papaya.

There is no tipping in any restaurant and food here is damn cheap. I got a plate of six nigiri (sushi) for just under $6 USD the other day. It was easily the best sushi I have ever had too. I can typically eat three meals for about $6-7 USD per day.

Seeing as that I am an illiterate sonabitch in this country, most of my food ordering experiences have been limited to picture menus where I can grunt and point at what I want. This goes pretty well… I usually get exactly what I am expecting to eat. Some places just have printed menus available that are completely written in Chinese characters. Most of the time I am eating alone, or with non-Chinese speakers, so I have to take a guess at what it is I am ordering. I’ll admit, though, most of the time I am happy if any food shows up at all. Sometimes, like tonight, I can be pleasantly surprised. I went to the Japanese noodle shop up the street and got a huge bowl of milky miso broth with tender pork, green onions, fish cake and ramen. It was divine.

Then there are the other times, the bad times. I went to a bar & grill on Monday and ordered by pointing to some random thing on the menu. I should have recanted my decision after the waitress made a face like, “I wouldn’t eat that.” Communication fail. I was insistent and kept pointing, saying, “I want to eat this.” And thus begins the story of  the worst thing I ever ate.

I should have known something was up when I saw the character for “year” in the description. The waitress came back with a plate of what looked like dark meat covered in Sichuan sauce, peanuts, red peppers and green onion. It looked palatable. “Probably beef,” I thought as I dug in. But when my chopsticks (kuaizi) hit the dark ‘meat’, I began to realize from the gelatinous texture and just plain wrong color that this was not beef. I bit down. Tasted like an egg but not an egg. “Cow testicles?” I thought. Nope, those would’ve been chewy. And then a feeling of horror slowly washed over me. Was this the infamous pidan, or thousand year egg? I started to gag. I immediately ordered some rice to eat instead.

I didn’t finish my food that night, and grabbed a Taiwan beer at the Family Mart on the corner to kill the taste in my mouth. Every following belch tasted like the Garbage of the Ages. Got home and wikipedia-ed “thousand year old egg”. Sure enough, I had eaten that shit. I brushed my teeth three times that night. That’s all for now…

P.S. If you’d like to know more about pidan (and good god, why would you?), read for yourself: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Century_egg