Formosan Exile

Sunday, January 30, 94

God Will Be Here At 8:30 P.M., But She Doesn’t Speak English

Jean phoned us the other day, and invited us for dinner and temple. Game for anything, we said “sure”. They don’t have organized church services the way we do, people just bop in and out and do their thing. I asked Jean if we would go the temple after dinner, but she assured us that there was plenty of time because God does not arrive until 8:30 p.m.

Taiwan will never cease to amaze me. Dinner was a variety of courses, but the main dish was a fish head with tofu and rice noodle that was incredibly good. We also had shrimp with rice cakes, some kind of deep fried pork rind with some kind of marrow, fish and a raw egg that cooked itself when placed on some hot rice, and some beef and green onion soup. It will be hard to find such good Chinese food when we get home, and the people seem to prepare it so effortlessly.

The temples are something to see. There are beautifully carved Door Gods on the entrance, to keep out evil spirits and malicious individuals. The Wind Ear God and the Thousand Mile Eye God, on either side of the altar, provide additional security. If we had Door Gods on our legislatures, maybe certain incumbents would not be re-elected. I digress. Inside the temple there was a gaggle of people around a guy about my age, with his hair in those raised twin ponytails that little Chinese girls have. He wore an ornate apron, and spoke in an immature female voice. Jean gave the temple “clerk” (for want of a better word) my name, (Doug Stephen comes out as Se Da Wen—depending on the tone it has something to do with history and virtue—perhaps because my virtue is history), address, and date of birth. She then took me to the front altar, where there were many little statues (or idols, depending on your perspective) of Taoist Gods. I suppose they are not really Gods the way we understand the term, more like saints and in some cases just examples of proper behaviour. One of the Gods is a little girl, seven years old, and the scoop is that She enters the body of the guy in the ponytails, and speaks through him. I can sort of stay aboard with a see-spot-run Mandarin conversation, but the staccato Taiwanese dialect defeated me utterly. Anyway S/he started talking, and after a bit asked if I believed in the Gods. What does a Christian say to that? If I said “no”, it would show incredible disrespect, as if I were treating the temple like a tourist attraction. So I said “yes”. S/he stamped her foot petulantly, sat on the altar, and then informed me that she knew I didn’t really, but only said so for respect for the culture. S/he then proceeded to rattle off the most incredible stuff about me, that S/he could not possibly have known beforehand. It seems that, if I keep it up, I will have liver trouble soon. No coffee, and lay off the booze. I have no shortage of women in my life telling me that already. S/he then took some candy from the altar, waved it through the incense, and gave it to me.

The key to this place is Chinese friends, without whom we would always be on the outside looking in.

I now have half a pound of Chinese candy (very different from ours, by the way), a paper with characters and a chop to put under my pillow, some incense and paper that I am to burn and put the ashes into my bath water, ashes on my shirt, and a whole new appreciation for a wonderful and mysterious culture.

Formosan Exile

Summary and Conclusion

Monday, March 14, 94

It’s hard to believe that we will be in the air--and on our way home--two weeks to the day from now. This is as good a time as any to write my summary and conclusion. Pretty soon we will pack up our stuff (including the computer).

I only like to write about happy things, and believe you me there is nothing happy about having to leave “my another home” (as one my students insists on expressing it). This final chapter will be as positive as I can make it. I am not saying that the way things are done in Taiwan is either better or worse than in Canada—just different--and it seems to work. This society is in a state of constant change—and not always for the better. Like every other country in the world—including Canada should we dare to admit it, Taiwan is greatly influenced by American society and values. The influence of the USA has not been uniformly good around the world. The United States is a country of 230 million or so people—an incredible pool of energy and talent and brains and ability. Americans have excelled in every field of human endeavour, and it’s a mystery to me why others seem to want to emulate only the garbage from American culture.

David Letterman has (or had) the most amusing concept in his “top ten list” presentation. Well, I’m twice the man he is, so I have my “top twenty” things about Taiwan. These points are intended to be amusing and/or educational, so here goes.

Teacher Doug’s Top Twenty Taiwan Pointers and Tidbits
(many not to be found in any guide book)

My first point is practical, if nothing else. When entering a subway station, male westerners would be well advised to turn slightly, to contact the turnstile with the hip. The bar height is suitable for Asians, but not for (generally taller) foreign guys. I found this out the hard way, when my electronic transit pass didn’t bite and I whacked full-frontally into the ill-placed bar. It ruined my day, but made me glad that I already have had my family.

Bowing is not obsequious here, as it would be at home.

Chinese manners dictate that it is more important to be kind than to be right. I like that.

Anyone who thinks that racism is exclusively a western or Caucasian vice is mistaken. There seems to be at least as much racism here as at home, and it was not fun the few times we have been on the receiving end of it. By the way, it is not unheard of for Taiwanese people to have a contemptuous attitude to other Asians—the ones from poorer countries.

People seem to be better drivers here than in Canada. The traffic is heavy enough to be a sort of controlled chaos, and driving (or walking for that matter) requires a higher level of alertness. It is illegal to turn right on a red light, but not to drive a motorcycle on the sidewalk—and the riders have the nerve to honk pedestrians out of their way. It’s as much as your life is worth to step off a bus without looking to the right to make sure there is no scooter roaring up. You cannot expect a driver to stop for you just because you are in a crosswalk with a green pedestrian light. Drivers gauge your progress (like “leading” a duck with a shotgun), so it is very dangerous for a pedestrian to turn around, or to speed up or change direction or to do anything unexpected. You might ask how I learned that—by almost getting run over in the early part of our first year here. Traffic is actually safer here, I think, because people must take responsibility for their own safety.

Standards of public behaviour in Taiwan are generally higher than at home—except for spitting, burping, and nose picking. Some Chinese people, accustomed only to chopsticks, have shocking table manners when they eat with a knife and fork—eating off the knife and spearing the next bite with the fork held in a clenched fist—sort of like a Viking at a banquet.

Taiwan is a great place to be a little kid, or an elderly person.

This is also a terrible place to be disabled, or a teenager. Very few places are wheelchair-friendly. Teens get whisked from one educational activity to another, and there is relentless pressure on them to get good marks. By the way, public schools here charge a modest tuition fee—not free as in Canada. There is no consideration whatsoever given to poor people—they come up with the money somehow for education and user-fee health care. Parents do not have the right to refuse immunizations for their kids—either the kids get their shots or they are not allowed into school. Help for homeless people—a fraction of the numbers at home—is limited to the odd meal and hot shower. I often think we Canadians go overboard about “the most vulnerable members of our society”—or whatever the politically correct term is that the yuppie socialists like to use.

There has recently been a marked improvement in gender equality, but feminism is still in its infancy. Some of the sexist stuff is bad enough to offend even such a chauvinist as myself.
“ICBC” is the International Commercial Bank of China.

Any Canadian boss would go bazooka if he or she caught anyone sleeping in the office—even during a break. Over the noon hour, some places actually dim the lights so people can sleep at their desks for a little nap. Chinese people were astonished when I said it would not be tolerated in Canada.

There are so many mobile phones here that I almost think there is more than one per person. Even little kids have them, and cell phones are a lot cheaper than at home. You buy a card from 7-Eleven for $NT300, and even that small amount of money seems to last a long time. I would never bother with a landline again.

People are still very traditional here, and parents are still in charge. A man can take his mother’s side against his wife in a dispute—and live.

Children, even well into their thirties, still obey their parents. This is changing slowly, but is still very true.

“Disrupting Public Order” is against the law in Taiwan, and so is “Offending Public Morality”.

Nobody makes better soup or vegetables than Chinese people. Nobody makes worse bread or cheese either.

The cost of quick medical attention is a lot less privacy than most Canadians would consider necessary. You get ushered into the doctor’s little broom-closet of an office, you sit behind the person in front of you during the consultation, and the person behind hears all about you. Most doctors speak pretty good English, and the computer records are all in English as well. A doctor at Wang Fang sent me to see a hospital urologist for a test with which 50% of the readers need not concern themselves—and not because of the unfortunate turnstile incident, by the way. I learned that the guy just ahead of me was there because his vasectomy didn’t take. I almost wished I could say in Chinese “Tough beans, but that’s the way the mop flops—daddy. You should try Scottish birth control the next time--The Lock Knees Monster”, and then guffaw at the guy’s woebegone look. What the hell—if you’re waiting to see a urologist it’s not because you have a nosebleed.

Displaying affection is very different. Unrelated or unconnected opposite-sex people don’t hug, or even touch each other. Boys often walk around with their arms around each other and girls hold hands, but there is nothing sexual about it.

It is a good idea to steer clear of many expats. A lot of them are misfits or drunks or just people who were dysfunctional in their home countries. I even think that some guys left home one step ahead of the law—if only for arrears of support payments.

With a lot more to complain about, people in Taiwan do a lot less complaining than Canadians. With long hours and low pay, typhoons, earthquakes, overcrowding, pollution, and a formidable enemy bent on the destruction of their prosperity and democracy, people just go about their lives.

There you have it. My year. It has been a time of wonderful experiences. I have found the real beauty of this island (or country or whatever it is), and discovered the “real” Taipei—warts and all. Many Chinese people have been good and kind to us, and we have many friends that we love and will miss.

We have also grown spiritually, having found a wonderful church (albeit very recently) and learned through our friends about Chinese perspectives on things eternal and the meaning of our lives. I have learned about ghosts, spirit money, Wind Ear Gods, and incense. I have not yet found out, however, if praying to the God of Scholarship before exams is a viable alternative to studying. I suspect not. The Fertility Goddess seems to have been goofing off a bit--the birthrate is declining in Taiwan—but probably the real reason is the increase in the number of career women and two income families.

To be honest, however, I have not told the whole story. We have had our share of hardship and sorrow, discomfort, feeling like fish in a tree, and wishing for a car or a furnace or a cheeseburger worth eating.

Who wants to read about unhappy stuff? Who wants to write it? Other than putting a positive spin on it, everything I have written is Gospel true.

Formosan Exile

Chapter 49

Monday, March 07, 94

Medical System in Taiwan

If you ever go into a hospital in Taipei, you will get the impression that nearly everyone in the city is either sick or injured. The crowds are incredible! Rush-hour numbers of wheelchairs, jammed waiting areas with TVBS blaring out the latest catastrophe or skullduggery, IV poles and catheter bags by the dozen, here and there some poor guy stitched up like a football, or with a leg in a cast. Everyone is accompanied by one or more family members, and there is a loud buzz of people talking. How can all these people get to see a doctor in one day? Somehow, everyone does.

My dentist had noticed a small cyst in my mouth, and suggested I see an oral surgeon to get rid of it. I wrote, “I would like to see an oral surgeon” (我想要看一位口頭外科醫生, 請), in fluent Chinese, and set off for Wang Fang Hospital. Yeah right. The Chinese way of saying “illiterate” is “word blind” and that is precisely what I am without my handy-dandy babelfish translator. I saw an intern within an hour, and an oral surgeon three days later. The doctor’s English was difficult to understand, but he said I must have bitten myself a year or so ago (gnashing my teeth at work, no doubt), and that the cyst was over an artery and thus would bleed like be damned if he cut into it. He wanted to book me for surgery, under a general anesthetic, just to get rid of a tiny benign cyst! I was reading that Canadians are now going for “medical tourism”—coming overseas for surgery that has a months-or-years waiting list at home. Even if you don’t have Taiwan National Health Insurance, and have to pay the whole shot yourself, it’s remarkably inexpensive—and Canadian medicare will likely cover it.

Tuesday, March 08, 94

Some Good Karma Earned Today

I have learned many useful things, besides the value of patience and silence, from living in a very traditional Chinese society. Taipei seems to be very international and cosmopolitan, but that is just on the surface. One thing I learned is that, if you live long enough, many strange things will happen that you never would have expected to experience.

Today, for example, a fair maiden swooned in my arms, just like in a fairy tale. I was going down the escalator at Wang Fang Community MRT station, two steps behind a woman who suddenly sat down on the stairs. She sort of plopped down, as if she had lost her strength. I came down beside her and asked “xiaojie hao bu hao?” (woman good no good?) I was not discussing sexual orientation, that is actually the correct Chinese for “are you OK lady?” She assured me that she was, and I helped her to her feet. I started to walk up to where I was standing before, and all of sudden she fell back. I grabbed her, because she really would have hurt herself if she hit her head on the sharp edge of the escalator steps. I was off balance, and we both fell, with her on top of me. I did not get hurt because my backpack cushioned me, but we arrived at the bottom of the escalator in a tangle of arms and legs. The station staff ran up and looked after her, and thanked me profusely—at least I think that’s what they were saying. I have no idea what her problem was, maybe a petit mal seizure or something.


Wednesday, March 09, 94

“My” Construction Company, Nice Weather for a Change

I enjoyed my construction company class, more than any other. Their English is good enough for complex idioms, and even some fairly complicated jokes. It’s really nice to see their confidence increasing as the months go by.

It has sunshine-and-shirtsleeves for three days or so now. Such a refreshing change from the misery of last week! It is quite green and wooded around our digs, and every day is great-to-be-alive kind of experience. Lunch was good today—even though the hot-and-sour soup had cuttlefish and pork liver in it.

I hope we will be able to go to Keelung at least once more, before we have to go home.

Thursday, March 10, 94

Music to My Ears, Changes in Just Three Years

I prepared a list of discussion topics for my advanced conversation classes. One of them, a bright woman in her late twenties, asked me, “What’s feminism?” As tempted as I was to say “nothing with which you need concern yourself—just irrelevant western propaganda”, I did not do so.

I was astonished the other day, when I realized that we have been coming to Taiwan now for nearly four years—and that Lao-puo has lived here for almost three years of that time. We both have noticed some changes in Taipei—and not changes for the better. For example, it is very sad, with the popularity of western food, to see that more and more Chinese people are overweight. It is particularly sad to see so many fat little children. Despite the fact that people have such beautiful black hair, many women dye their hair to blonde or red or something. Some morons of either gender affect an outdated punk look, with purple hair and nose rings. (by the way, I have seen more than one albino over here—it must be wickedness for the poor souls in the strong sun. We have noticed that more children are ill mannered—usually the fat ones because they are spoiled. They run ahead of the adults and hog the seats on the train—one kid even elbowed me out of the road and took the second-to-last seat. He put his hand on the empty seat beside him, to save it for someone. “To hell with you, buster,” I said to myself as I sat on his hand. Generally speaking, our complaints are minor and it is very comfortable to be here.

Friday, March 11, 94

Canadian Society

Tonight was the monthly social of the Canadian Society, at the Brass Monkey as usual. I don’t know if I mentioned it before, but some months ago Lao-puo won bottle draw. As the first winner she had her choice of three offerings, but she spurned the Crown Royal in favour of some poodle-piss white wine. This is the nearest will ever have, or will, come to divorce, I think. We both had to work until 8:30, and the place was jammed when we got there. The transportation was really good—the school is two blocks from Guting MRT Station, and it was just a matter of taking a train (choice of two) to Zhong Shan Station, bailing, and getting a bus across Nanjing Dong Lu to Fuxing Bei Lu, followed by a half-block walk. It is so easy to get around without a car in Taipei.

Saturday, March 12, 94

Getting Rained On, and Working, a Beautiful Gift

Today was a cold and blustery day (again), and I did nothing but work. It makes for a long day, to work 9-12 (no break) with the Kunyang boys, and then 3.5 hours in Neihu with Lao-ban, his daughter, and the neighbour little girl. It was too windy for my umbrella to work, and it was raining heavily. I caught a chill that turned into bronchitis. Probably we get lung infections so easily because of the air pollution.

Jeng Lao-ban gave me a lovely gift, a big bottle of Chinese rice wine. It’s in an earthenware crock, called a “hulu”. Evidently a hulu is an auspicious symbol, and miniatures can be found on many jade ornaments.

Lao-puo and I had a nice dinner, but was still full from lunch. I was too tired from work to do very much of anything. That is precisely the reason why I prefer to teach only adults—kids (and the need to be constantly animated) wear me out.


Sunday, March 13, 94

Seafood Feasting at the Wine Party

Lao-puo’s employer (and mine part time) had a teacher appreciation event in a local restaurant. They must really appreciate us, judging from the spread that was laid on. We had whole fish (done my favourite way), pickled octopus, raw tuna with wasabi, two different crab dishes, roll-ups with lobster and shrimp, and three kinds of seafood soup. I don’t think that Chinese food that good is available in Canada—at any price. For some reason it was called a wine party even though there was no “wining” except from me when I discovered the event was to be as dry as a bone. Chinese people don’t seem to drink very often—usually just at celebrations.

Formosan Exile

Chapter 48

Monday, February 28, 94

Peace Memorial Day passed by uneventfully. Who Wants to Go Out in the Rain Anyway?

Tuesday March 01, 94

All of a Sudden My Year is Almost Over

Today is momentous decision day. We have decided to come home a bit early. Our flight will be March 30. It would not have been any easier to think about leaving at the last minute—at the end of April. Our year (all eleven months of it) has been wonderful. I think, out of all the places I have lived, I would choose Taipei as my favourite. Oh sure, there’s plenty wrong with things here. We spend half the year complaining about the heat, and the other half complaining about the cold. October and April are the best months—or you might say the only good ones. The air quality would gag a moose sometimes, and the crowds and the noise are a bit grim. Chinese people in restaurants (large family groups) have a boisterous good time, and we have sometimes finished our meals with our ears ringing. I have not made as much progress with my Chinese as I would have liked. Mandarin is a beautiful language. It is musical to listen to, and the expressions are quite poetic. I can give the impression that I understand it, and I can get meals and transportation with very few problems. I can at least distinguish individual words when I hear conversations around me, and once in a while actually make an intelligent remark.

We need to come home early because of my dad’s recent illness. The situation could become labour-intensive.

Teaching English in Taiwan is hard “work”. I’ve had a wonderful year, despite the hardships.


Hardship and poverty. That’s the lot of an English teacher—hardship and poverty

Wednesday, March 02, 94

More Complaining about the Weather

The rain and cold is getting worse, not better. Get a load of this.

Taipei ( 03/02 16:30 )
Weather
Temp(oC)
POP
03/02 20~03/03 08
14~15
100%
03/03 08~03/03 20
9~14
100%
03/03 20~03/04 08
7~9
80%

It’s cold and damp and windy and nothing is heated and you can’t get warm to save your life. We should go to a hot pot restaurant, because there is a gas ring in the middle of the table. It is all-you-can-eat meats, fish, seafood, and vegetables. The bonus is that you can get warmed up during dinner. The food is cooked in a great pot in the middle of the table, and the pot is divided into two. On one side there is broth (very tasty) to boil your choice in. The other side (not for the faint of heart) is boiling pig’s blood, with hot peppers that could peel paint. It’s as much a social occasion as a meal to go to a hot pot establishment.

Thursday, March 03, 94

Cancellations

My only gripe with my employer, or at least the main one, is classes getting cancelled. Some of my one-on-one classes are with very senior people, and their workloads often require last-minute cancellations. For some reason, my company puts up with that—and expects the teachers to do so as well. My workload is getting pretty slack, because I cannot be assigned any new courses—they are three months long usually—and my current classes are ending one-one-by-one.

Friday, March 04, 94

Better Times, More Nonsense from the Mainlanders

The rain has finally stopped! To make the day even better, I have a new student for the next month. Her name is Jill, and she is a high school kid preparing for an English interview for university entrance next year.

Now we just have the cold to contend with. I go all day without taking my jacket off.

The big news story today, and for the next little while is the mainlanders’ new anti-secession law. It’s not as grim as it sounds:

On Friday the government announced a 12.6 percent increase in military spending -- its fourth double-digit increase in five years as it tries to back up threats to attack Taiwan.
It said it plans to spend 247.7 billion yuan (US$30 billion) on its military this year, though analysts say China's true spending is as much as several times the reported figure.
Wen said military modernization was key to "safeguarding national security and reunification" -- a reference to Taiwan.
There is no doubting the outcome of an attack. Some people think it would be over in hours. Others think it’s just intimidation. In any case, the issue is always in the background here, but people just go about their lives anyway. What else can they do?

Saturday, March 05, 94

Chinese Bangers

This was my usual busy day. I did three hours with the Kunyang boys this morning, and three and one half hours at Jeng lao-ban’s house. Jeng tai-tai laid on the usual wonderful lunch—vegetable snow peas with mushrooms, grilled pork, and rice sausages. I’ve never had a sausage made from rice before, but there is a first time for everything.

There was an earthquake last night—five in fact, and a final one mid-morning Sunday just for good measure—not so bad (nobody hurt and no damage) but enough for the noise and shaking to wake us up. The worst one was a magnitude 3 in Taipei City. An earthquake sounds a bit like a train coming as it builds, and the fear lies in wondering if it will get any worse. Everything in the house was shaking. Everything outside was groaning or mumbling—rather like my students whenever I say “Let’s do some grammar now”. The memory of the big (9-21) earthquake, in which 2000 people died, is still very fresh in people’s memories.

Sunday, March 06, 94

Dinner Out

We had dinner in Muzha with Chrissy last night—she knows all the good places to go. We walked there- about 2 km down Wang Fang Lu (past the golden Buddha on the hillside, and then along the riverbank. The weather reminded me of home—the cool air and the way Lao-puo was dressed (for bitter cold). The road takes us along the riverside, and we walked home on the other bank. Muzah is one of my favourite areas in Taipei. Tomorrow I must go to the doctor. There is even a dental section in Wang Fang Hospital, because Taiwan National Health insures teeth. I’ve never quite seen the point of having only doctors and hospitals covered by Canadian plans, with many people left to their own resources for teeth, medications, and glasses.

Sunday, February 27, 94

Oyster Chips

Sunday went by before we knew it was gone. We had some friends over for cards in the afternoon. It would sure be nice to be able to read! We bought some chips and other snacks for our company. When we opened one of the bags of chips, a stench fit to wake the dead wafted out. Would you believe—oyster flavoured chips! Even the shoestring chips, although they looked similar, tasted different. One of these days, we will learn to stick to Chinese stuff, instead of the Chinese version of western stuff. Pizza is good, but not corn and squid flavour. Tomorrow is Peace Memorial Day a.k.a. Day Off With No Pay Day. President Chen will doubtless take the opportunity to shoot his mouth off about independence, thereby kicking the hornets’ nest known as the People’s Republic of China.

Saturday, February 26, 94

Rain Dampens Creativity

Today was my usual run-off-my-feet Saturday, and the only excitement was that the number 222 bus was thirty minutes late. I stood freezing, watching the rain bouncing off the pavement on Zhongxiao Xi Lu, for forty-five minutes. Jeng Lao-ban did his presentation a few days ago for the big guy, and it went well. Chrissy and Lao-puo and I had a bowl of soup in Muzha, and came home because it was raining. I have been saying this week that it is raining a lot. That’s because it is raining a lot.

Friday, February 25, 94

Going Home? I am Home! Revisions

The rain is continuing heavily, and becoming quite tiresome. I have a lot of spare time during the day. We are now beginning to think about going home, as we only have eight weeks at the most left over here. The concept is not appealing. I like a lot of things about living in a Chinese society.

If you work, you get. If you don’t work, you don’t get.
Criminals are in jail.
You can walk down any street, any time of the day of night, in safety.
Old people get looked after.
Education is considered to be very important.
Work for foreign teachers is easy and plentiful.
Due to the healthier food and the forced exercise, I’m in a lot better shape here than at home.
Nearly everyone we meet is courteous and hospitable.
You can save a bundle, by not having to drive a car.
Even taking the stinking hot summers and cold damp winters into account, I find that the weather here is actually better than at home.
There are flowers the year round.
It’s quick and inexpensive to get to a many Asian destinations from here.
A lot of effort is put into making the city as nice as possible.
There is very little littering, and next-to-no graffiti. (People call it graffiti. I call it vandalism).
The only panhandlers are profoundly disabled folks. (People call it panhandling. I call it begging).

Betel nuts and air pollution seem so little to contend with, considering the above advantages.

We did have time, however, to have lunch with Jean. I repaired some HR documents for her. I really don’t mind correcting the English of Chinese people, but when the work of native speakers isn’t appreciably better, I wonder if I should stay home and teach English there.

Thursday, February 24, 94

No Particular Reason—I Just Like The Pictures

My days have recently been uneventful, so I will just put in some pictures for today’s entry.

(…continued)

I took this picture of Lao-puo at the Taipei Rail Station. The tracks are underground at this point, and you don’t come up until the very edge of the city in any direction.

Wan Li Jie. I took this picture or our street from the MRT station. It’s quite nice around here.

We often come here for breakfast—to the doorway on the right where the woman is coming out. After another 25 m or so of rabbit-warren alleys, you come to Xing Long Market. This place is a nice ten-minute walk from our place, but we take the bus if it’s raining. We have been taking the bus a lot recently.

This is in the hills behind Danshui. It was lovely riding through the hibiscus bushes.

Wednesday, February 23, 94

Rendering Unto Caesar, Discomfort Station

ROC income tax is a snap. We did one joint return, walked into the income tax office, paid NTD 650 over what we had already forked over, and got our receipts. Done. You can’t get another work permit unless you can prove that you have paid your income tax from the previous year. Sales tax is built into the price of things. Some businesses try to avoid remitting the tax by doing under-the-table sales that are not rung through the cash register. To counter this skullduggery the government holds a monthly draw of receipt numbers, so when people buy something they always demand a receipt. Lao-puo won NTD 1800 the other month, and a few smaller prizes as well.

I am amused by the euphemism “comfort station”, particularly because I doubt if some western folks would feel any too comfortable using some of the Taiwanese facilities. I don’t normally worry too much about biological things, but this was a bit much. With an hour to kill in Danshui before my class started, I went into a place called “Mos Burger”- a Japanese fast food place. Their burgers are smaller than any other, and better if you ask me—and there coffee is fresh and hot and cheap. The coffee having worked its inevitable effect, I looked around for the facilities. The restroom is one door, leading to a little room with a sink and a mirror. There is one door (floor to ceiling) marked “women”, and one of those old west swinging saloon style doors marked “men”. Mercifully, there is a symbol beside the Chinese characters on the doors. Guys stand there, facing the side wall (not even with their backs to the door), with their lower legs and head-and-shoulders in plain sight above and below the little swinging doors. It is disconcerting to try to studiously ignore the women walking by, three feet away. Neither gender pays the slightest attention to the other.

Tuesday, February 22, 94

I Promise—I’m Not Making This Stuff Up

I could expect, with reasonable certainty, to be disbelieved if I asserted that there is a breast-feeding company over on the mainland called “Bang Bang Household Services”. I therefore copy-pasted the article from the “Taipei Times.”

“Public Outrage Leaves Chinese Firm `Breastless'AFP , BEIJING Tuesday, Feb 22, 2005,
Page 1
Public criticism has forced a company in eastern China to shelve a controversial plan to provide wet-nurse services to career women who are too busy to breastfeed their babies, state media said yesterday.
Bang Bang household services company in Yangzhou, Jiangsu Province, planned to launch its business this month, and had recruited 13 wet nurses aged between 25 and 30 to breastfeed its clients' babies, the government mouthpiece China Daily said.
But the company came under fire from the media and the public, who accused it of trying to revive what they said was an inhumane and degrading practice.
"In this commercialized society, money is involved in everything including the closest blood relations," the Shanxi Commercial Daily said.
The wet nurses were to be paid 50 yuan (US$6) per day.
Rich people in China used to employ impoverished women from the countryside -- who gave birth to still-born babies or who had given up their children because they could not afford to bring them up -- as wet nurses.
But the practice was seen as exploitative and fell out of favor under Communist Party rule.
Chen Shunqiang, the owner of the company, told Xinhua news agency that his company came up with the idea after many career women expressed interest in such a service.
They were mostly women worried that breastfeeding would ruin their careers, or might make them put on weight, he said.
To ensure that the wet nurses were of a good caliber and would produce good quality milk, Chen said his nurses had to pass stringent health checks to ensure they were not carriers of contagious diseases.
The reports did not say how many, if any, clients had subscribed to the service.”

Monday, February 21, 94

No Flex Days but a Slaughter is Just as Good, Stats, Putting My Feet Up

Next Monday is “Peace Memorial Day”, and we will get the day off. Feb 28, 1948 was a black day here. Thousands of protesters against the Nationalist Chinese government were shot down, or executed without trial by the army. The event was supressed until just a few years ago. There is hard feeling to this day. Protesters at home piss me off--they taunt the cops, knowing bloody well that they will not be harmed—and they can sue if they are. Maybe I am getting bad tempered as I approach middle age—or at least less idealistic.

That will be it for statutory holidays until April 5—Tomb Sweeping Day.

I’m at the “awkward age” here. Lotus Lao-ban will not assign any long-term courses to me, because the company likes to guarantee the clients that the same teacher will stay for the entire three-month length of the course. She told me that she is sorry I will be going home, urged me to stay, and said that I will have full time work right away whenever I decide to come back here. In the meantime, I have a lot of free time during the day, which is a welcome contrast from my previous circumstances where I was run off my feet all day and evening. There is always a lot to do in Taipei. Lao-puo, having lived here almost two years now, is “taipeied out” and she finds it a bit difficult to fill her day. If there is not such a word as “taipeied out”, there should be. It remains to be seen if I will ever be able to come back here. My dad’s health problems are increasing in frequency and severity, and I worry about mum.

Sunday, February 20, 94

A Day Off, Shocking News

Sunday morning. More bloody rain, and wind, and cold. We don’t even feel like going out, but it is no warmer indoors. I will do some lesson planning, and a bit of writing, and a few e-mail replies. I will probably drag Lao-puo over to SYS Memorial Hall this afternoon, as there is always some interesting display there. It would be even more interesting if we could read.

I noticed in the Taipei Times this morning that only North Korea has worse air quality than Taiwan. I guess I’m used to it by now, but the smog and exhaust does not seem to bother me anymore. Evidently, most of the air pollution is from cars and motor scooters. Many of the bikes have seen better days, and they are not kept in good repair. Many of them emit the most appalling blue smoke, and people just leave their engines running while talking or buying something. Someone mentioned that Taipei would be a great city for bicycles, because it is flat here (in most places), and the city is not badly spread out. However, it seems that people love their motors.

At certain times (waiting for a bus at a busy intersection), I will wear a little cotton mask, but usually I just put up with the air quality. The following picture is copy-pasted from the on-line version of the paper.

”Taipei, viewed from Songshan Domestic Airport, sits in a blanket of smog in this file photo. The Environmental Sustainability Index, produced by Yale and Columbia Universities, recently ranked Taiwan second from the bottom, ahead only of North Korea.”

Saturday, February 19, 94

My Busiest Day

It has been raining all day today, and the cold is miserable. Nobody heats anything over here, and for some reason the air-conditioning is still roaring on the bus. Public transportation is actually faster than driving your own car in Taipei—parking is expensive and a nightmare just to find. It only takes me about half an hour to get all the way to Kunyang for my 9:00 a.m. class with the boys. Joe is in grade 12 now, and seems to have one exam after the other. There is a lot riding on the result—it will determine which university he will be allowed to attend. I hate to see kids getting stressed. There is plenty of time for that nonsense when they become adults. Higher education seems to be considered very important over here. I work with the boys, an hour and a half each with no break in between, and then I must be at Jeng Lao-ban’s house in Neihu by 1:30—in time for lunch. Jeng Tai-tai does a lot better than fried noodles with liver and seafood, let me tell you. She dished up pork and green onion roll-ups, meat pies, noodles with mushrooms and egg and vegetables, chicken soup, and a bowl of peanuts in case I was still hungry. I did half an hour of phonics with little Sharon, half an hour with Gwen, and another half-hour with Sharon again, then two hours of presentation skills with Lao-ban. I must go back on Monday for another two hours, because the Da Lao-ban is coming all the way from Singapore to hear a report.

Friday, February 18, 94

National Palace Museum

Today was a quiet day, with no responsibilities other than to whistle out to Hongshulin for Jeff and Miriam in the late afternoon. It seems that even when I have the opportunity to sleep in, I never can. Lao-puo and I just hung out—and the National Palace Museum is the perfect place for a cold and rainy afternoon. We never get tired of it, because there are so many artifacts that they cannot all be displayed at once and the exhibits must be rotated every so often.

Thursday, February 17, 94

Brrr! Paula

We’re in for it. Get a load of the forecast--going to 8 degrees, with an 80% POP.

Eight degrees doesn’t sound too bad, but the bone-eating damp cold has to be experienced to be believed. I’m actually writing this on Friday morning, and it is raining like hell already.

I was looking through my albums recently, and I came across a picture of Paula and me. She is the domestic employee in the home of my Kunyang boys. I think domestics have a hard life in Taiwan, but even so their standard of living is better than it would be in the Philippines. Some employers exploit them wickedly. Sometimes they only get one day off a month. Where we were living on An He Lu (when I first got here last April), the domestic was expected to have the toddler twins in her room, so she was never really off duty for weeks at a time. The employer (landlady) is getting a lot of bad karma out of that scenario, and will have some explaining to do one day. I digress. Paula is unfailingly cheerful and kind, and very good to the disabled grandmother who lives with the family. She’s nice to me too, and always brings me either a hot lemon drink or a cappuccino halfway through my class. It never ceases to amaze me that people who have the most to complain about often do the least complaining. I could do worse than to heed Paula’s example, as indeed we all could.

I had my first new class with Jean (the investment counselor) today. She used Lao-Puo’s company for a trial—before the New Year break—to see if she liked the lessons and the teacher. She has signed up for more, on an indefinite basis. Lotus Lao-ban has already offered me full-time work, if we ever return to Taiwan.

Wednesday, February 16, 94

Liver Chow Mien?

“Chow” just means “fried” in Mandarin, and “mien” just means “noodles”. I must say I have never had chow mien with liver and seafood, but there is first time for everything. That’s what we had for supper tonight. Oh well. What do you expect for less than two and a half Canadian—for us both? I had my first class with the construction company after dinner—it’s great to be back with my favourite students.

Tuesday, February 15, 94

Markets

There is no shortage of things to spend your money on, and no shortage of people willing to take it. I don’t know why, but for some reason we seem to have a lot more money over here. Nevertheless, we have cooked a dinner at home maybe three times in the last year, and we buy lunches every day. Chinese bread is not the best. Sometimes the loaves look really good on the outside, but they might be full of bean paste, taro, or nuts when you slice into the loaf. If we could read, we wouldn’t be surprised. Taro bread puts me off, because it is light purple in colour. Eggs are not refrigerated over here. Milk tastes different. It’s no good trying to get “a taste of home” because even something as mundane as a grilled cheese will be different from what we expect.

I took a picture of one of the many markets around Taipei. There are a lot of people in the picture, and a pregnant mother in the foreground. The crowds are incredible at first, and then one’s reaction is reduced to mere questioning where everyone came from. Every apartment in Taipei must be empty, I think. Taiwan supposedly has one of the lowest birth rates in the world, but there sure are a lot of pregnant women around. I should buy a cane—it’s the only way to trump the expectant mothers for the priority seats on the bus or the train.

Monday, February 14, 94

Valentines Day, Schedules, Travel Woes

The Chinese equivalent of Valentines Day happens at another time of year. There is a tragic story about two lovers, whose marriage angered the Gods because she was half human and half god and he wasn’t. They were separated as a punishment, but the Gods relented and allowed them to meet once a year—on the day that two bright stars are close together.

Everything is back in full swing again, and the weather has just been gorgeous. I didn’t wear a jacket or sweater today, even after sundown. I hope it stays like this for a while! I remember freezing while teaching at the Catholic school during our first year over here. The bright sunny weather brings with it a whole new outlook on life.

Hours are bit slack at the moment, but it will pick up soon. I’m getting tired, and I am not fully refreshed after the break, so slack schedule is not unwelcome. In fact, I have been getting a lot of good assignments from Lao-puo’s company. “My” construction company has signed up for another session, and that will carry me until it’s time to go home again.

I regret that we have not been able to get away more often during this year. The trouble with travel is that it is so difficult to have both the necessary money and the necessary time simultaneously. Apart from the weekend in Nantou County, and a few day trips to Keelung, we have not even been out of the city. It’s OK, because even after three years the city still holds my interest.

Sunday, February 13, 94

Work and Taxes

Sunday is a busy day for us—the only day off we usually have all week. Sometimes, work is either a feast or a famine around here, so we must grab teaching hours whenever we can get them. It will take a week or two to pick up steam after the break, but we are coming up to a busy time of the year for teachers.

We need to do our income tax presently. Believe or not, Chinese income tax returns are easier to do than Canadian income tax. Many government documents are bilingual now.

I took a picture of across the street from Taipei Main Station—usually choked with cars and scooters, and hordes of pedestrians choking on the exhaust. It was really quiet during the New Year week.

Saturday, February 12, 94

Back to Work Already, In the Cards

My morning class (Kunyang boys) was cancelled this morning as the family was going to be out of town. I still had my two phonics kids, and Jeng Lao-ban in the afternoon. Jeng Tai-tai prepared a “light lunch” for me—three kinds of Chinese sausage, dumplings, snow peas and shrimp, and a big bowl of soup with a meatball, a fishball, and a beanball. Her meals are wonderful, but enough to feed several people.

I’m not much of a card player, but after class I met Lao-puo and we played cards and drank beer with some of the people from our church.

Friday, February 11, 94

Old Taipei, Hot Springs

We were out for a walk the other day, and found ourselves on a riverfront path. We went there to escape from a market, which was crowded and noisy beyond belief. Markets were better in the old days, I think, before vendors could electronically amplify their voices. Some of them could shatter glass. At least I got some nice pictures out of the expedition.

Today we went to the hot springs at Yangminshan with Kim and Stephanie. There is quite a bit of geothermic and seismic activity throughout Taiwan. It was nice to just flop in the hot water for an afternoon.

Our week off has certainly gone by quickly, but a week off is nothing more than a week with no money coming in. There has been an eerie silence around the city, because everything has been shut down.

I took a picture of Danshui He from a pedestrian overpass. (“He” is like a grunt, not the personal pronoun). Taipei has long stretches of riverside cycling and walking trails. The floodwall is very high, compared to the size of the cars. It’s true enough that the rivers can jump their banks after a typhoon, but I still think the engineer was either a pessimist or an alarmist.

Thursday, February 10, 94

It Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time, When in Doubt Have a Beer

Today dawned clear and beautiful, perfect weather to go up to the top of Taipei 101 with some friends. It was unfortunate that half of Taipei had precisely the same idea. The tickets are not cheap (NTD 380 each), but I am. We took one look at the enormous lineup two hours before it opened, and reconsidered our plan.

Instead, Lao-puo and I decided to take the subway out to Xindian. It was also very crowded, since New Years Day is a family outing time here. We had a nice lunch at a riverside place.

Wednesday, February 09, 94

New Years Day (again), First Gamble then Drink

Dinner last night is a blur of wonderful memories. One gourmet course after another, half a dozen Chinese conversations at once, and wine whiskey and kaoliang until my teeth floated. It seems strange that kaoliang (take-the-chrome-off-a-bumper Chinese vodka) improves not only my wit, but also my Mandarin comprehension and fluency. Or so it seemed.

After dinner we retired to the living room and played a gambling dice game (kids and all) with shouts of triumph and moans of despair at every roll. I’m not much for games usually, but this was a lot of fun (and a free Chinese lesson). We came downstairs and home about 2:00 a.m.

Tuesday, February 08, 94

“Joy”ful Afterthought, Happy New Year, Steering Clear of Christians

One of the benefits of teaching over here is that once in a while foreign teachers are asked to choose an English name for students or students’ children. Some people use the opportunity to amuse themselves by sticking some poor soul with a ludicrous moniker such as “Bluto”, “Superman”, or even “Slitherina”. However, naming kids is something I take very seriously. One of my students the other day asked me to select a name for her baby girl. I asked the student what she liked most about the tacker, and she said “her smile”. So “Joy” it is.

Either the mainlanders are overrunning us with small arms fire, or I’m hearing the firecrackers going off for Chinese New Year. We’re staying in tonight, because it can get dangerous with lit clowns throwing lit firecrackers from their balconies.

Eric and Amy, a very nice couple upstairs, have invited us for dinner tonight. We are looking forward to it. Generally speaking, we tend to shy away from Chinese Christians, as many of them embrace the fundamentalism that neither of us likes at all. Our hosts are not like that, and this promises to be a nice evening.

Monday, February 07, 94

Holidays and Hissing Lung, Woebegone Way-grow-ren

Yesterday was the first day of the New Year break. Transportation around Taiwan is quite impossible, because of everyone going home (i.e. parents’ place) for the break. The city will be quiet (for once) for the rest of the week. Lao-puo and I are ready for a break. It is very hard work to try to do a good job of teaching, and we’re tired.

The romanization system has changed here, and so have many of the street and place names. During our first year here, a nearby busy street was called “Hsing Lung”. I joyfully called it “Hissing Lung” because the hospital is there. Now the spelling is “Xing Long”—not nearly so much fun. Anyway, we decided to have a beer before supper last night, and we went to Xing Long Park to drink it. You can buy alcohol in corner stores over here, and drink in public places—but God help you if you cause trouble while doing so. We sat by the duck pond, and watched all the goings-on. There was a young couple necking across the pond. It seems out of line to be necking in public like that, with the park being fairly crowded and kids tearing by on bikes and everything. However, everyone lives with parents or family, and homes are lacking the degree of personal privacy that we westerners consider necessary. I love the cute discretion. The guy put his hand up, as though he were whispering a secret into his girlfriend’s ear, thereby concealing the nitty-gritty of the interaction from passers-by. So much classier than “sucking face” or whatever the young folks call it at home.

I nearly laughed aloud on the train the other day, even though the misfortune of others is not really appropriate grounds for amusement. A tall, morose-looking western guy got on the train, with an enormous shiner and road rash all over his face. He should have taken the train in the first place. When you ride a scooter in Taipei, other than for very limited local use, an accident is a matter of time. Our Chinese friends have scooters, but even they don’t ride them very much.

Sunday, February 06, 94

Day of Rest?

This was supposed to be my day off—the first one for me in the Lunar New Year Break. Instead, I taught a Microsoft Excel class to one of the women in the church who wanted to learn it. It is a very useful program for teachers keeping track of attendance and marks. Afterwards, Lao-puo Chrissy and I went for dinner at the Teppanyaki place in the village. It’s nice to get warmed by the corn soup and heat from the grill while dinner is doing.

Saturday, February 06, 94

If it’s Supposed to be a Holiday Weekend, why am I so Busy?
Today was my usual hell-bent-for-leather pace, and I finished at 4:00 p.m. The highways, trains, and buses will be jammed for the next day or two, and then the city will be quiet (for once). I always enjoy the Kunyang boys—very serious students without being bookish about it.

Friday, February 04, 94

A Usual Day

I just had one class today, but it was a good one. Jean, the investment counselor, wants to renew with me for another term. The security is really tight in the building—one of those marble-and-glass office towers. You must report to security, and hand over your identification in exchange for a visitor pass. The security fellow punches the elevator, and there are no floor buttons inside the elevator—thus no opportunity to get off at floor other than the one security knows about. I did a few emails in the morning, and hung out with Lao-puo in the afternoon. We went to Longshan for supper.

Friday, February 04, 94

A Usual Day

I just had one class today, but it was a good one. Jean, the investment counselor, wants to renew with me for another term. The security is really tight in the building—one of those marble-and-glass office towers. You must report to security, and hand over your identification in exchange for a visitor pass. The security fellow punches the elevator, and there are no floor buttons inside the elevator. I did a few emails in the morning, and hung out with Lao-puo in the afternoon. We went to Longshan for supper

Thursday, February 03, 94

Hsinchu, Daytime Hours

I wish we had taken the train instead of the bus. It was OK going—the bus was new, and had those “lazy boy” armchair seats one on either side of the aisle. The trip back was dark, and the bus was old and crowded. It was a good day nevertheless. There is never any shortage of employees, so two clerks from the office came with me as guide and interpreter. I would have been OK getting there if someone had written the address in Chinese (and tied a string around my mittens), however the interaction with “our” new students would have been rough. I worked for four hours non-stop (no break at all) testing people one-by-one. It’s tiring. The company knows full well that no teachers from Taipei will take the trip down there twice a week (I used to do it with “my” shipping company, but they sprang for travel time). They hope to hire someone local, for part time work. Good luck. Companies want classes in the evening, so that is the very time that part time people are not available.

Many local schools “contract out” to get English teachers, because the government has strict rules about foreigners working in the public sector. It would have been a good idea to have gone to a school in the first place—I could have exceeded my Canadian income by only working mornings. Most schools throw in lunch, and if the school is any distance from the city you get three hots and a cot.

Wednesday February 02, 94

Blast a Taipei Winter, out of the City

Don’t expect me to be very cheerful today, in the bone-chilling damp cold. I’d love to have a bowl of hot chili, or a steaming curry. In fact, both are available here—for a lot less than at home. It’s odd, all the curry from the street vendors tastes the same. I vow that here is an apartment someplace, with a couple of old girls making curry in a 45 gallon drum, and wholesaling it out.

Tomorrow will be an interesting day. I will get out of the city, because we are going to Hsinchu (about an hour by train or bus), to do language ability assessments on the employees of a new client.

Tuesday, February 01, 94

Another Jiggler, the Scoop on the God

We just had another small earthquake a few minutes ago. It was a 5 at the epicenter (Hualien as usual), but only a 1 in Taipei City. It is cold and rainy, and I have time on my hands for once. I don’t like a Taipei winter—you might as well just go to Vancouver and save the airfare.
Jean sent me an e-mail the today, with information on the God who took over the man’s body at the temple the other day (according to Taoist belief). It is very interesting to me, how the different cultures seek to explain the meaning of life and things eternal.

Monday, January 31, 94

Winding Down, Responsibility

Things are starting to get very quiet, with many classes cancelled as people prepare for the New Year break. I had four classes today, but tomorrow will be slack. I didn’t get home until about 10:00 p.m. The streets are still jammed at that hour, with eateries full and each shop blaring enough sound into the street to wake the dead.

Lao-puo wants us to get flu shots tomorrow at Ren Ai Hospital. Incidentally, that was the hospital from which the head-injured little girl was turned away. She has subsequently died, and there is the devil to pay with resignations and dismissals in disgrace for some of the staff doctors at the hospital. Even though some of the affected administrators were not directly responsible for the tragedy, it is refreshing to see persons in authority actually taking responsibility for the failures and shortcomings of their departments. We should try that at home sometime.

Sunday, January 30, 94

Heaven is like Taiwan (or is it the other way around?), Serendipitous Reacquaintance

I dislike talking about religion in class—I’m a teacher not a missionary—but one my students asked so we talked for a bit. She is considering conversion, because she believes that Christians have more fun than Buddhists. My student is astonished by the notion that Christians can lead a life, threescore years and ten, in skullduggery, debauchery, and whatever, get forgiven in their last breath, and waltz though the Pearly Gates free as birds. She considers Buddhism to be more “fair” because all evil deeds must be punished. Some Chinese Christians have ideas that are as flawed as the theology of the missionaries they listened to a century ago. My student went to one church where they speak in “tongues”. This is not what I understood “tongues” to be—the ability to speak every language in the world for preaching purposes. No sir. Tongues (Tungish? Tungese?) is a specific language spoken in Heaven, the language that God Himself speaks. Only those persons who can speak the language can get saved. I am amused by the notion that Heaven is like Taiwan—a nice enough spot but I don’t speak the language.

Teachers aren’t supposed to have favourite students, but we all do. Completely by accident, I bumped into Sharon, a very nice former student from the Catholic School three years ago. It was a very nice assignment, despite the old penguin who ran the place.

Saturday, January 29, 94

A Medical Conspiracy, Availability, Downtrodden Women, Nobody should be a Smartass--Except Me

When I grow up (an event which has not yet taken place), I want to be a doctor. It seems that whatever is wrong with a man, the cure-all is no coffee and no booze. Chinese doctors are no different.

What I do like about the doctors here is cost and availability. When I saw my Canadian doctor for the same problem, the consultation was free and my share of the prescription was $42. Chrissy booked an appointment with a specialist for me. It took two days to get in, and the cost of the visit and the same medication as in Canada was $16.

I ended up with three classes yesterday, the investment counselor, the graduate student, and the IT husband and wife. Lao-puo came out to Hongshulin with me, and carried on for one more stop until Danshui. While I slaved away, she merrily sauntered along the riverfront, poking in the shops, and enjoying a barbequed squid on a stick.

I dislike public displays of temper, and I consider verbal altercations to be unseemly. However, a bus driver annoyed me the other day, by deliberately insulting me for not being Chinese. I sat in the single front seat of the bus, so I can see ahead and find my stop easier. There is a sign and a little symbol to put the seat belt on. I tried, but the seat belt would only come halfway out. The driver, in really fast language of which I only understood “way grow ren” (foreigner) was obviously attributing my inability to buckle up—not to the broken retractor—but to my fondness for Chinese food. Generally speaking, folks are more polite than that over here, and by now a couple of louts were laughing at me. I tried diplomatic English. “What’s so funny, smartass? I’d be wearing the seatbelt, if it worked worth a shit.” All I got was blank stares. “Forgotten the eight virtues” is an insult here—the equivalent of “misbegotten”. I tried and failed to think of the verb “forget”, so I said “you no have eight virtue”. That’s good grammar, by the way. I think of all the times foreigners were mocked in movies, for trying to swear and getting it buggered up. That's what it was like, but at least the oaf kept his mouth shut the rest of the way.

Friday, January 28, 94

Time flies and the Same-old Same-old

It’s Friday already, and the end of January already. It’s hard to believe that I am nearing the end of my exile. We must soon start thinking about what to pack and what to take, and similar decisions, for our return. Lao-puo is taiwaned out, but I’m just getting into my pace. I understand that, when people live overseas, it is most often the woman who wants to go home and the man who wants to stay. For my part, I am beginning to consider the ramifications of returning to my Canadian employment and my Canadian life. Neither of us is the same person as the one who first came here three years ago. I know that we are resourceful and adaptable people (teachers who can’t read must be both), and we will fit back in to our old lives relatively easy.

Thursday, January 27, 94

Taipei Lung, Harmony Hit My Knee

“Taipei Lung” has caught up to me today. It’s just bronchial congestion, weakness, and general lack of energy. I’ll be OK in a day or two. It seems odd that many younger people, and those in better physical condition than I am, seem to get it easily. The weather has gotten a lot warmer recently, so I have not been bundling up so much either.

There is not much news when I’m sick. What do you want to know about the inside of an apartment in Wang Fang Sheh Chiu? Street noise is at a minimum. I haven’t seen “Harmony, Hit my Knee” yet today. That would be the window repair guy. He has a little three-wheeled jury-rigged pickup truck made of old motorcycle parts and scrap metal, complete with a crackly old loudspeaker. His announcement sounds a bit like “Harmony, Hit my Knee”, so that’s what we call him.

Harmony’s truck is really a tribute to human ingenuity. He has written his cell-phone number on the top of the canopy, so if you need window fixed you can just phone down. There is no need to dash downstairs and run after the truck.

Wednesday, January 26, 94

Portraits of Dr. Sun Yat-sen

I should never read the paper, or listen to the news. At least over here the BS is in Chinese (one of the major stations is actually called TVBS), but I do like to read the English papers sometimes. I found a picture of a TVBS sign on the Internet, and I am including it lest anyone think I’m making this stuff up.

TVBS. I have no idea who’s in the picture, since this is a download. Many young Chinese women, when getting their picture taken, will either make the peace sign, or extend the index finger horizontally under the chin with the thumb pointed upwards.
The idea is a picture frame (I’m as pretty as a picture). It seems, to my grumpy old eyes at least, that there is more childlike and innocent behaviour here than at home.

I digress. I was talking about the news. Teachers, government employees, and military personnel are all getting a raise. (We don’t, by the way—we work for private companies over here). Anyway, the employer’s ability to pay has been given some weight, but nothing like the wage restraints at home.

“Teachers, civil servants and members of the military will receive an average 3 percent pay hike in their monthly salaries this year -- the first such increase in three years…Central Personnel Administration Director-General Lee Yi-yang (李逸洋) said the pay rise will cost the government an estimated NT$18 billion a year. The legislature has thus far approved NT$16.71 billion (US$525 million) in funding for the pay raise…although the government is in financial difficulties, Lee said that the government's plight should not be the sole factor taken into account regarding pay increases”.

I’m coughing. It sounds like a cold, but smart money is on “Taipei Lung”. This is a condition that some foreigners acquire from the wicked air pollution here. I carry a little “survival kit” whenever I go out. During my first year, my kit had a map and even a compass. It is very easy to get disoriented here. Now, I carry Kleenex at all times, a little face mask against the pollution, and of course an umbrella. We must carry water in the summertime as well. I also bring my business cards (a big deal over here), a pen, my day planner, and my name chop.

Tuesday, January 25, 94

Rover blah blah blah Rover, And I Get Paid for this?

All of a sudden it has warmed up again. I love shirtsleeve weather in January! We had some time to kill yesterday (cancelled classes because of the approaching New Year break), so we took the train the two extra stops to Taipei Zoo and then walked back to Muzha. This is a nice little neighbourhood, with several inexpensive restaurants dishing up good food—very often the case in the proximity of a university. How can a bowl of soup fill a guy up for the rest of the day? When the soup consists of half a gallon of broth, with thick handmade noodles, cabbage, clams, a pork slice, a poached egg, a whole prawn in the shell, mushrooms, and fish cakes—that’s how. It was fun “talking” to the lao-ban niyang too. Did you ever see the “Far Side” cartoon of the guy talking to his dog? Despite the complexity of the man’s comments, the dog only understood, “blah blah blah Rover blah blah blah Rover blah blah Rover blah blah blah blah Rover blah blah blah Rover”. That was what my “conversation” was like, but I understood “Rover” often enough to catch the drift and actually respond appropriately—much to my delight and Lao-puo’s astonishment.

I did end up working in the evening after all, subbing for someone who called in sick. Lotus Lao-ban asked me to go to a zipper company (of all places). I never would have imagined that a multi-million dollar company, with worldwide business, would do nothing but zippers. The class was four “Miss Taiwans”, who had never heard my jokes—even the “knock-knock” ones. You don’t have to die to go to Heaven.

Monday, January 24, 94

A Good Start to the Week, New Year is Coming (Again)

It is six in the morning. Coffee. Pitch black-the coffee and the night. No need for an alarm clock around here. Starting at about 0500 guys make door-to-door deliveries of flyers and things—by scooter. It is an awful way to wake up, as the little bike idles for a sec at one door before the worker guns the little hamster-cage of a two-stroke and then hits the brakes a second later—“tick-tick-tick whrrrrr! squeak tick-tick-tick whrrrrr! squeak tick-tick-tick whrrrrr! squeak” – up one side of Wan Li Jie and down the other.

It’s only two weeks now until the New Year break, and my time is quiet. Today I only work from 0800 to 0900 and 1215 to 1305. It is nearly impossible to travel anywhere on the first and last day of the holiday, because everyone goes home to stay with family. The highways are jammed, as are the trains and buses. Many people only live in Taipei for the work, and home (i.e. where parents live) is somewhere else. It is not uncommon for young (preschool) children to live with grandparents in another city—even newborns sometimes.

Towards the middle of the week, we might take the train to Ilan County—on the East China Sea on the other side of what we call “The Great Divide”—the mountain range that forms a spine down the middle of the country. We’ll rent a motorbike (dirt cheap), soak in the hot springs, and enjoy the seafood. We had talked about going to Thailand, but that was a washout this year. I shouldn’t crack wise, but the tsunami is just too sad to be serious about.

Sunday, January 23, 94

The Beer House, a Good Day, Anticipatory Sadness

I did some extra work last night with Jeng Lao-ban, on presentation skills. This really cut into my drinking time. Coupled with the traffic jam (bumper to bumper through Neihu and Da Zhi, I was an hour late for the company New Year Party. We had the party at a “beer house” (sort of like a pub but not exactly), at the corner of Peace River St. and Love People St. (An He Lu and Ren Ai Lu). Each table got a keg of beer, and a variety of snacks and entrees. We had peanuts and beer, and spiced-up soybeans in the pod (the pods are inedible, by the way) and beer, whole fish (simmered in garlic and ginger), and beer, squid and beer, jellied blood sausage and beer, beautiful vegetables and beer, and beer. It occurs to me that I took the 222 from Neihu back to town, and I may have to take another 222 this morning.

I like Saturdays, because I bring home 175% of my Canadian net daily income for six hours of work. There is a free lunch in the deal for me too. It’s quiet for me now, and I can only match my Canadian income for the other five days that I work. However, things will heat up in the New Year again.

Looking at my calendar, I now see that going “home” is no longer in the far-off distant future. Sometimes I begin to wonder if I even know where “home” is anymore. The late Lee Marvin played the role of a disreputable old drunken reprobate (himself, in other words) in the hokey musical “Paint your Wagon.” One of the songs contained the words “Home is made for coming from, for dreams of going to, which with any luck will never come true.” Sometimes I think that, were it not for family and friends, I would be happy to end my days here. However, Canada will always be my home. It seems to be commonplace that husbands are gloriously happy living overseas, and wives want to go home. Work is certainly higher-paid and more enjoyable over here, and we don’t seem to go through money the same, but there is more to it than that. I eat better here, and exercise more. I lose weight and maintain the lower weight, and I feel better. People, at least the ones I encounter, seem to be more contented over here. So, where should we end up? The answer is what we had already decided—to have one foot on either side of the ocean, and to incorporate the good things about a Chinese way of life into our Canadian lives—and of course to come back over here at every opportunity.

Saturday, January 22, 94

Maybe I Think Too Much, a Busy Saturday

It’s quite high-energy to be an English teacher, and whenever I have a late class I often have trouble getting to sleep. My mind is racing. Last night I was thinking about the fact that “se dofu” (eating tofu) is Taiwanese slang for fondling breasts. That the consistency of tofu resembles that of breasts is thought-provoking. How was the similarity found out? Did some guy think of it after watching a bowl of tofu, carried by a waiter, go jiggling by in a restaurant? Do you suppose that some daydreaming lovesick individual wiggled his own bowl, and entertained conjecture? Did a scientific inquiring mind actually touch the tofu, and shout “eureka!” Anybody who did that would have to know what real breasts felt like (for the accuracy of the comparison). That leaves out a kid fooling around. It would have to have been someone with hands-on experience, but why would anyone with access to real breasts bother will a bowl of tofu? It seems to me that breasts are like any carnivorous cuisine, insofar as once you’ve experienced the real thing a soybean substitute just isn’t good enough. Did the guy then go home, and test out the theory with his domestic partner? If so, was it one hand on the tofu and the other on the partner? Or was he a two-fisted scientist? Was he a romantic (who said “I knead you baby”) during the test, or was he making notes on a clipboard while he was at it? It then occurred to me that it’s such a shame that “tofutits” weren’t available forty-odd years ago. We could have, as neopubescent youths, used tofutits sort of like a flight simulator (stimulator?) to gain valuable experience before our first encounters with the real thing, in the flesh. Maybe then, many of us wouldn’t have made such damned fools of ourselves the first time out of the gate.

It’s 6:30 a.m. on a misty Saturday morning. I have three hours this morning with the Kunyang boys, then an hour each with Jeng lao-ban, Gwen, and a little neighbour of theirs named Sharon whose parents want her to have phonics too. Tonight is our company New Years Party.

Friday, January 21, 94

Here We Go Again!

There was another earthquake down south, (or down-island), but we didn’t feel it here. I hate earthquakes, because it is impossible to tell, once they start, how bad they are going to be.

Today is a busy day for me. I have classes with an investment counselor at Minquan Dong Lu, the lao-ban of the shipping company out in Neihu, husband-and wife IT folks in Hongshulin, then a music student applying for graduate school in the US. I’ll be home about 10:30 tonight, and then tomorrow will be a full-tilt day as well. I need days like these, because things are winding down until after the Lunar New Year.

Thursday, January 20, 94

I always knew that Tofu must be Good for Something, Getting on a Bus

Veganism is a disease that can be cured with intensive therapy, provided of course that persons who suffer from this scourge actually want to regain control of their lives. Until I came to Taiwan for the first time in 2001 (or 90, depending on how you choose to count years), I used to joke that my favourite tofu recipe was “tofu puree", i.e. 1500 rpm’s down the garburator. I am now quite fond of tofu, because it is dished up quite often over here and the taste grows on a person. Anyway, it is a poor English lesson if I fail to learn something along with the students. One of my students told me today that “se dofu” (eating tofu) is Taiwanese slang for lascivious touching of a female—sort of like English groping or copping or honking. There is a subtle difference between a Chinese “d” and a “t”—too subtle for my western ear. Chinese is on one level easy—no verb conjugations and next-to-no tenses—but the impossible pronunciation makes up for the no-brainer grammar.

My student, by the way, recently returned from a trip to San Diego. He was utterly mystified by the western notion of hugging—which he considers inappropriate and offensive. He told me that he would probably get a “panda” (black eye) if he tried to hug a colleague.

Such a simple thing as getting on a bus is a challenge for a foreigner, but it’s easy once you have it cased. Step one is to learn the Chinese characters for up (上), and down (下). There will be a sign above the driver. If you see “up” pay when you get on, and if you see “down” pay when you get off. It’s as simple as that, sort of. If the driver opens the back doors for you to get on the bus, put your money away until you get off. If you are going any distance, be prepared to pay when you get on and when you get off. What the hell, it’s cheaper than a car and safer than a motorcycle-and there is plenty of human interest and drama along the way.

Wednesday, January 19, 94

A Patriotic Start to the Day

It is Wednesday morning now, and cold beyond belief in our concrete castle. The principal at Wang Fang Elementary School (across the park from us) is apparently a sadist—I like that in a children’s educator—because there is an outdoor assembly. It’s nice to sit at the computer, at the back of the apartment, looking out over the bamboo in the forest, and hear the assembly going on a block from the front of the house. They start with the ROC anthem. I like national anthems, and this one is particularly good.

Our aim shall be to found a free land.
World peace shall be our stand.
Lead on, comrades, vanguards you are.
Hold fast your aim, by sun and star.
Be earnest and brave, your country to save—
One heart, one soul, one mind, one goal.

It sounds really beautiful in Chinese, which is surprisingly a lovely language for singing. I never used to like the music over here, but now I do. Most of it, anyway. I wonder if I can call Chinese Rap CRap.

Things are winding down for the New Year in two weeks, and I am off all day. I’ll go with Lao-puo to her appointment this morning, and phone my dad in a few minutes. It’s his birthday today. After that, I’ll decide where to do my shivering for the rest of the day.

Tuesday, January 18, 94

What some Guys will do to Save 30 NT Dollars, Ground-Guiding, Mammary Lane and Memory Lane, See-Spot-Run (2), I’m no Tony Hancock but I did my Best, The Escalating Ugly War

I had a bit of time of my hands after my early class, so instead of taking the subway I walked from Taipei City Hall area (corner of Zhongxiao Dong Lu and Keelung Lu if you have a map) clear down to my next class at Fuxing Bei Lu and Minquan Dong Lu). It was a very nice walk, and for once I could actually step out. Chinese people have a very different idea of the function of a sidewalk, and their idea can be frustrating to anyone who actually has a destination. For western people, a sidewalk is for walking on from one place to another, and it is impolite to block anyone’s way. (Well, that used to be true, until we let panhandling and busking get out control). So I’m grumpy. Sue me. Anyway, Chinese sidewalks are for running a business, parking a motorbike (or even a car sometimes), waiting for a bus, socializing, or anything that can be done in one spot. It is not uncommon for people to saunter along, three abreast, so that nobody else can get by. Being in a hurry is like passing on a two-lane highway—you must wait for a chance to get by the lumbering RV. In a pinch, you can just say “excuse me”--which is very polite in Chinese “ji guo” (I’m borrowing your space).

From overhearing people engaged in the task, I now know how to ground guide a truck backing up as well. In English, you say “keep it coming- keep it coming- keep it coming- keep it coming-that’s good!”. In Chinese, you say “lie- lie- lie- lie- lie- lie-go le!”.

After class, and still in a rare mood for exercise, I walked all the way to Taipei Main Station along Nanjing Dong Lu. It’s quite a nice walk. The Westin Hotel, the corporate headquarters of China Airlines, and a high class whorehouse are all within a block of one another. This joint is so high class it even has a bilingual pimp out on the street netting in the pigeons. I wonder, do any of the business guys staying at the Westin submit expense claims for “miscellaneous hospitality items”? A bit farther along is the area where we lived for our first month in Taipei in September 2001. That was the time that we arrived right after the typhoon. It was still raining buckets, and cold and miserable to boot. We had no electricity in our digs and the ceiling leaked like a government policy paper, Lao-puo was as sick as a dog and I had no work for three weeks. Those were the days.

I walked all the way to Zhongshan MRT station, and cut through the underground shopping mall to Taipei Main. I like Zhongshan because I can read it.
Zhong中 Central
Shan山 Mountain
Zhongshan中山 Central Mountain. Giddyup!

After another working-over from the masseur at the rail station, I went to the blood donor clinic at Taipei Main. Some years ago, the late British comedian Tony Hancock did a skit about a blood clinic. My experience was not as amusing as his, but fun nevertheless. The staff could not speak English worth beans, but a bilingual donor was a good multi-tasker. He bled and translated simultaneously. It seems I can multi-task as well. I bled and revised their English information sheets while I was at it. Next time, I will offer my left arm so that I will be able to write (a bit more) legibly.

I had plenty of time to get to my class at Hongshulin, and I had an interesting encounter on the way. A little girl got on the train with her grandfather, and sat across from me. She stared at me, I winked, she stuck out her tongue, I raised and lowered my eyebrows at her, she went cross-eyed, and the fight was on! We spent the time until she got off making grotesque faces at one another. One of the many things I like about being a foreigner here is the extent to which eccentricity is tolerated.

Monday, January 17, 94

A Headline Tragedy, Some Time Off

Taiwan National Health Insurance seems to be better than Canadian medicare coverage, and medical care in general seems to better in Taiwan than in Canada. This is certainly the case in terms of waiting lists, access to specialists, and so on. However, the system has recently failed a little girl badly. There is a big song and dance in the media over here concerning Taipei Municipal Ren Ai Hospital, which is where I went for my immigration medical when I first arrived. Evidently a violent drunk became angry with his four-year old daughter, and threw her against the wall of their home. Since the walls are concrete here, the poor little soul sustained a serious head injury. Ren Ai, for some reason, claimed not to have a bed for her, and sent her to another hospital. For reasons that are under investigation, there was no treatment available anywhere in Taipei and she ended up in Taichung, 150 km away. Now she remains in a deep coma, near death, and is not expected to survive. Perhaps that would have been the case anyway, had she received prompt medical attention in the first place. In any event, the Ren Ai neurosurgeon and medical director have made a formal public apology.

As a secondary issue, the father is in jail, and he is looking at a very long sentence. The legal system here cares about the crime, not the criminal. The judge will not take into account how sorry the guy is, or whether he gets born again in jail, or that he quit drinking, or any of the other BS that offenders use to suck up to Canadian judges and parole boards. I hate to compare one country with another--just like their Canadian counterparts, ROC politicians and officials do stuff that would shame hell—but from time to time I am saddened by the knowledge of how our Canadian systems (medical, legal, and social programs) have gone off the rails.

Some of my courses are over, and they will not again until after Chinese New Year—the middle of February in other words. There is enough to keep me going, but I will have a lot of free time for the next few weeks. We will go to Tainan for the weekend before we return to Canada, as well as to the hot springs in Ilan.

Sunday, January 16, 94

A Routine Sunday—almost, Funny to Me—at least

We spent our usual hour on the 606 bus to get to the church this morning, followed by our bi-weekly study group at Kim and Stephanie’s. The topic has been separation of church and state. This evening, there was a Canadian Society benefit at Shannon’s (a boozer on Dunhua Bei Lu), for “Medicins Sans Frontieres”. This is a worthwhile cause, but likely to be expensive because Shannon is a yuppy-puppy hangout and priced accordingly. I did not require much persuasion to agree to a change in plan, and dinner in “the village” instead. “The village” is a four block by four area of shops and lanes on either side of Xing Lung Lu by Wang Fang Hospital, an area with which we are now very familiar. It’s not really a village of course, but perspective is a funny thing.

We try to get maximum mileage out of a very limited Mandarin vocabulary, and I often anglicize the pronunciation for amusement purposes and for Lao-puo’s benefit. (I’m still showing off to girls, at my age, in other words). I like to change “may guan chi” (it doesn’t matter) to “my gaunchies”, and “may yo bun fa?” (what am I supposed to do about it?” to “mayo bun fight?”

Saturday, January 15, 94

A Busy Day and a Nice Dinner but it’s so Cold!

I look forward to my Saturdays, even though I have to get up early and work like a dog. It’s my busiest day, with private clients who do not like to take time off from work or school to learn English. I was finished in Neihu at 4:30 (early because Jeng Tai-tai was busy). After class, I caught the first bus to Taipei Main, whipped up to the train station next door to get worked over by a blind masseur, met Lao-puo on the subway platform (God knows how I spotted her—the crowds defy imagination at peak times), and whipped out for dinner with Kim and Stephanie. Kim is the minister at Taipei International Church, where we have been attending regularly.

Lao-puo and Stephanie, after dinner. I get a kick out of how they are dressed, as if we live in Minnesota or Manitoba or someplace. Mind you, it was 14 degrees in the apartment when we got home.

We decided on a “Mongolian” BBQ, although I doubt if there are very many pineapples or mussels in Ulaanbaatar. They cook on an enormous circular gas-fired metal grill, at least two metres in diameter. You simply help yourself from great platters of raw fish, beef, pork, mutton, and chicken, and a selection of vegetables for stir-fry to go along with it. You give your selection to the grill guys, and punish the salad bar while it’s cooking. My diet has gone to the dogs, but we must splurge every now and again.

Kim and Stephanie are affable and interesting dinner companions. We certainly didn’t need the hot pot that was provided in addition to the bbq, but there you have it. I loved Kim’s bon mot about clothing the sick and laying hands on the naked.

Friday, January 14, 94

Homesickness, Street Drama

Having grown up in Vancouver, I have been long accustomed to an endless of dull rainy days. Taipei in winter is no better.

I took a picture of the skyline from the fourteenth floor of an office building, while I was waiting for my student. Taipei fails to make a good first impression—many of the buildings look old and dirty and worn out. However, people put a lot of effort into making things nice as possible around here. The apartment building next door to the office building has a beautiful rooftop garden for the residents to enjoy.

Not content to have a mere buzzer to alert the driver to someone wanting to get off, there are electronic sounds on many of the city buses. Yesterday, on my way home, I was treated to “Be It Ever So Humble, There’s No Place Like Home” at every bus stop along the way.

It’s just the way they talk, I suppose, but a lot of Chinese people sound very angry when they are simply having an animated discussion. At first, I even thought that some guys were about to duke it out, but it’s just a style of communication. I took a picture of a little blue delivery truck the other morning, with the old lao-ban niyang, hands on her hips, going over the invoice with a fine-toothed comb and seeming to berate the driver and swamper in the process.

I don’t know why it takes two guys to unload a little truck. There seem to be a lot of unnecessary employees over here. I don’t expect a lot of people get paid very much, but at least everyone is working. The minimum wage is expressed as a monthly salary, but it works out to about $3.05 per hour. Government employees have to write exams to be appointed, and they have tenure. Most large blue-collar workplaces are union here, and so are a few of the large banks and corporations. Annual leave is lousy though—most people only get two weeks. They get about the same number of stats as we do but five of the stats are in a row at Lunar New Year.

Thursday, January 13, 94

Better Chinese Advertising

Not all the advertising over here is as tasteless as the one of Fuxing the skateboarder. There was a really good one in the MRT Station at Zhongxiao Dunhua. Presumably, the advert is an exhortation to buy a particular kind of cold medicine (I would know that if I could read), and it shows an artist painting a snuffly portrait of a healthy-looking young woman.

I hope that the skill of the remedy manufacturer is as good as the skill of the artist, but I doubt it. You might as well drink cool-aid as take most of the stuff that is sold for colds—in Canada and here. Some of the Chinese herbal stuff looks, smells, and tastes so gross that you’ll be wanting to get better just so you won’t have to take the remedies anymore.

I stayed in today and caught up on my record-keeping and marking, some writing, and a few emails to my friends. There are many good days to stay indoors (even though it is clammy and dank), because we are having a lot of rain. It’s not much of a choice really—clammy and dank indoors or cold and wet out.

Wednesday, January 12, 94

Belgian Refugees, So Similar yet so Different

While I was out and about with my camera yesterday, I noticed a city worker power-washing the sidewalk. This is a very necessary job here. There are still a fair number of people who chew betel nut, then spit. Betel nut chewing is, I think, the most disgusting of all human habits, and people who know me well realize that it takes quite a bit of grossness before I get disgusted. Betel nuts turn people’s teeth red and their gums black, and induce the salivary glands to work overtime in order to cope with the irritant. The resulting red expectorations make the sidewalk look like someone had a lung hemorrhage or a gunshot wound, or at least a bad nosebleed. Spitting is, I think, a cultural thing, frowned upon in western society because of the tuberculosis fears in the old days. However, there is no such prohibition in Chinese etiquette. The most refined looking people (old ladies and all) will expectorate with shocking gusto regardless of passersby. What is a “Belgian refugee” you might ask? The answer is easy—expelled phlegm.

Anyway, I was intrigued by the way the city worker was dressed—in a transparent vinyl raincoat, a mask against the air pollution, and a conical hat covered with reflective material.
In the back of the picture the inevitable “San” (Macdonalds) can be seen.

Tuesday, January 11, 94

Free Chinese Lessons, Being a Moron doesn’t depend on Hemisphere of Residence, My New Friend

My company phoned me this afternoon, to tell me that my two hour class in Hongshulin was changed for tonight only. It was only one hour instead of two (but I get paid for two anyway—bonus), and in the company office in Taipei. Since I was consequently finished for the evening nice and early, I went for supper to my favourite little dumpling stall across the street from Wang Fang hospital. The advantages are that a filling meal is less than $2 in Canadian money, and you can get a beer at the 7-11 next door to go along with it. The other fringe benefits are that the grill is right in front of the customers’ seats so it’s nice and warm, and the other patrons are very patient and kind with my halting Chinese. Not bad for two bucks!

How our parking problems, in our respective Canadian cities, might be solved if everyone had a scooter instead of a car! I took a picture of some parked bikes, in little marked spots, because I noticed that three clowns hadparked their bikes on the lines instead of between them.

Coming home on the train yesterday, I befriended a little girl and her mother and father. The family is from Taipei, but they live in Manila where the dad works at TECO (Taipei Economic and Cultural Office)—the de facto ROC embassy. “Pineapple” is one of those affable, cheery little souls who can bring a smile to anyone’s face. Her dad took our picture. Chinese people (when treated respectfully and decently) are generally very friendly to foreigners.

Monday, January 10, 94

The Triumph of Literacy, Chinese Blasphemy

I don’t really enjoy the Ximen area of Taipei, but one thing I do like is the fact “Ximen” was the first Chinese place name I could read.
Xi. 西. West.
Men門. Gate.
Ximen. 西門. West Gate. See Spot run. I’m smarter than I look!

One of the many clothing stores in Ximen uses the slogan “a brand new year, a brand new you”. I was appalled by the disrespectful use of religion in the sign. Three Chinese Gods (of Longevity, Prosperity, and Fortune), dressed as a snowboarder (good luck finding a place to snowboard in Taiwan), a rock guitarist, and a skateboarder, had been pressed into service flogging teen fashions. I’m getting old enough now to start getting grumpy about that sort of thing.

Sunday, January 09, 94

Bringing in the Sheaves

It takes an hour to get to church by bus, but we have been going every Sunday anyway. Most of the people are quite affable (barring the odd fundamentalist here and there) and we have made some nice friends. In fact, I will be teaching Excel to one of the women. Some of the foreign people have lived here for decades, and some of the Chinese people just come for the English environment. There is also an additional service in Tagalog for the benefit of people from the Philippines. For lunch, a gaggle of us goes back to Kim’s (the preacher’s) place for pizza and a discussion. This week was ethics, and the separation of church and state. I learned quite a bit from Kim’s comments.

Pei recommended a dumpling place across the street from Wang Fang Hospital, so we went there for supper and one of the few light meals of the weekend. It’s funny to see people in winter boots and coats with fur collars, and others in winter coats, shorts, and sandals with no socks. We stayed out until bedtime, because it is no warmer outside the apartment than in.

Saturday, January 08, 94

Bring me Flesh and Bring me Wine

It was good to see the Kunyang boys again this morning, even though it was hard to get out of bed and get ready. The temperature is not too bad (14-17) but the apartment feels like a meat locker. I take too long in the shower too, because the idea of stepping out from under the hot water is appalling. Jeng tai-tai fed me a “light lunch” before my afternoon class—pork ribs, salmon steak, kimchi, stir-fired cabbage, and a gallon of miso soup. After class, Pei and Chrissy took us to a meeting of a friend’s study group. It was a gaggle of very nice German fellows, in a restaurant over by SYS Memorial Hall. We had another big meal with lots of good imported red wine. “When it comes to wine, “good” and “imported” are sort of synonyms, but other kinds of Chinese booze are quite nice. Life is good.