9/28

To my cohorts in Taiwan, Happy Teacher's Day! Though the day has actually been labeled such to commemorate the birthday of Eastern scholar and teacher, Confucius, it's become used to recognize educators island-wide as well. While I didn't take in the morning festivities this year at the city's Confucius temple, it was still a day made a bit sweeter by the well wishes of students. For some reason, many seemed quite excited this year to bestow greetings, cards, and treats. It was such a nice day that it would have made for a great Friday to leave the work week on such a happy note, however, one more day to go. I rarely dread Fridays, but this week, I make an exception. What I hate more than going to the doctor's is going to the doctors in Taiwan, something I've gotta do tomorrow morning. Okay, time to redirect my focus to something more favorable - Sarah arrives in one week!

Cool.

Yesterday I was bestowed with good news not once, but twice. One of my best friends from the U.S. bought her ticket and is coming for a visit and a NZ photo of mine has been included in a newly released Christchurch guide.

Sarah-babey is coming to Taiwan - woo-hoo! Yeah, I'm beaming slightly. A friend from home is coming for a visit and in just 2 weeks - eek! - so much to do, but how exciting! The timing is great. She arrives on Moon Festival Day which means a 3 day weekend for me. Sadly, the day probably won't wind down by eating bbq and wearing pomelo peels on our heads under the full moon, traditions for such a holiday, but it's bound to be an exciting weekend nonetheless. Better still is another built-in day off while she's here, Double 10, Taiwan's national holiday. (Glad we'll be out of Taipei for that one, kid.)

As for the photo, that process began over the summer when I was approached about permission to have a photo considered for an upcoming Christchurch city guide. I had almost forgotten about it until I received word this week that is was accepted for inclusion and appears in the new guide. It's by far not one of my favorite trip photos, however, I guess it happened to be of something they were looking for.

and now... i've seen it all

I thought I had witnessed the most interesting dog-in-traffic senario the time I saw a man stuff his compact canine into his scooter seat, close the lid, and drive off. That one beat out the time it appearred that an English Sheepdog was driving a scooter as it stood on the floor with front paws on the handles while its peitite owner was behind it somewhere buried in a mass of flying fur. However, based on this afternoon's traffic encounter, I've surely seen it all.

In Taiwan, we have a plethera of what we refer to as "blue trucks." They're a small delivery/service/construction/makeshift-food-or-produce-stand type of pick-up truck, invariably painted blue. They have a rep for having careless, accident causing, often betel nut chewing, drivers. Yesterday, one such truck was ahead of me at a red light. Nothing unusal about that, expect perhaps that the truck was stopped at the light instead of trying to barrel through, but I digress. No, the unusual part was that a medium sized dog was sitting on the roof of the truck - not in the bed, but on the roof of the cab. The dog looked around lazily and yawned while the growing pack of scooter riders pointed and stared. As the light changed to green and the truck proceeded onward, what should the dog do but rise to its feet and stand, roof-surfing, as the truck made its way through traffic winding and weaving. True to blue truck driver fashion, the driver made wild illegal turns and sudden breaks. How that dog stayed aloft standing on the roof is beyond me. What a moment to not have a camera.

Instant Success

Ever find yourself wishing you could have instant success?

Well, now you can! Just head on down to your local Taiwanese baking supply store and get yourself a box today.

What must be baking powder, or baking soda, is a box labeled Instant Success. Though I've seen it here for several years, I still crack a smile when I pass it in the aisle.

Why didn't some marketing genius in the US think of this, or perhaps one had? Just think of the possibilities - All you need to make the perfect cake is a pinch of Instant Success. Sounds like something right out of the 1940's or 50's.

Blest Be the Tie

I was reminded of a favorite hymn as I played a cd this evening that was given me over the summer. The cd consists of guitar music performed by a member of my home church - mostly the musician's favorite hymns and some patriotic stuff, but I've been enjoying it greatly nonetheless. When it reached track 10: Blest Be the Tie, I was flooded with memories of singing that tune in church, especially during times when the church or its members were facing hardships. It's amazing now to reflect upon those times and see how things have changed or unfolded since then. What a joy it is to see how God worked through some of those challenges.

The song also brings a touch of comfort. Hearing someone I know, someone I even had weeknight "jam" sessions with on my bass, made home feel not so far away and somehow makes Heaven feel not so far away either. It's cool to think of the ties that bind us to others - others across town, across the country, across the world. This summer Becky, Rick and I had the opportunity to share a bit of our life, work, and ministry in Taiwan with our home church. It was great to form stronger ties with those already connect to us as prayer partners and wonderful to make new ties.

Finally, despite my current longings to be home experiencing a beautiful Fall, the song serves as a reminder that my delight should be found in the Lord, that my heart should be set on Heaven.

1.Blest be the tie that binds
Our hearts in Christian love
The fellowship of kindred minds
Is like to that above.

2. Before our Father's throne,
We pour our ardent prayers;
Our fears, our hopes, our aims are one,
Our comforts, and our cares.

3. We share our mutual woes,
Our mutual burdens bear;
And often for each other flows
The sympathizing tear.

4. When we asunder part,
It gives us inward pain;
But we shall be joined in heart,
And hope to meet again.

-John Fawcett, 1782

What a great reminder that no matter what far reaches of the earth I find myself, I am tied to those who lift me up in prayer and to those I pray for, bound to others by burdens shared, and joined with hearts in friendship and love.

Re-adjusting

My first week back on island from summer vacation could be characterized by a week of a solid Pop-Tart and popsicle diet followed by a week of cereal and slushies, though not combined. I'm pleased to say that I've finally incorporated the healthier and wiser choices of salad, fruits, omelets, and even soup. Due to my prevailing desire to have American foods, especially ones I can fix fast to limit my time spent in non-air conditioned rooms, I once again took to rummaging the cabinets in search of some treasures among the array of boxed and canned goods I've accumulated. What I found and settled upon was a can of Cream of Asparagus I bought a while back.

During all my years in the U.S., I never knew Campbell's made such a soup but leave it to Taiwan to import such an oddity. Anytime I have asparagus related grub, I'm usually reminded of the episode of Alf when Brian had to dress as a stalk of asparagus for a school play and his dad wrote a ditty for him to sing. It's one of the few episodes I remember. It's funny the things that stick with us from childhood, and sad the things that don't.

My discovery of the soup also brought to mind an episode with another American tv family. I couldn't help but recall the Simpson's episode with the hurricane that hit Springfield where everyone flocked to the store to stock up on necessities and all that was left when Marge got there were things like Creamed Eel. I suppose that while my meals for now might seem random or a bit odd, there will always be far worse, or at least more imaginative alternatives out there. As for now, I'm content to stick with the asparagus.

Kara needs . . .

I had forgotten how funny this can be until I was reminded by an old roomie's blog.
The basics: go to google, type "[your name] needs", and see what funny sentences are waiting to be made.

Here it goes:

1. Kara needs some eyebrow help.
2. Kara needs to be more humble.
3. Kara needs to remain as confused and as troubled as she is right now. (oh yeah!)
4. Kara needs a man.
5. Kara needs to have a civilian ID.
6. Kara needs to read on a daily basis. (Read. I knew I was forgetting to do something.)
7. Kara needs a little help getting her dress form out of the corner - and Santino won't help her - he's being really silly, honestly. (Dang you Santino, stop being so silly!)
8. Kara needs more cowbell! (I gotta have more cowbell.)
9. Kara needs prayer for a better job.
10. Kara needs to be picked up at the Ronald McDonald House.
11. Kara needs to be an esl teacher in Togo.
12. Kara needs to hear about Jesus.
13. Kara needs a man like a fish needs a bicylce.
13. Kara needs no one.
14. Kara needs a part time job and at least $400 a month from her parents. (Mom? Dad? Are you reading this?)
15. Kara needs to be trained by the Man of Steel.
16. Kara needs breathing space.
17. Kara needs business cards that say "Crash."
18. Kara needs a personal Tango guide.
19. Kara needs to be taken to a Pacific Island (Can I make a request? Tahiti or Bora Bora please.)
20. Kara needs someone to confide in
21. Kara needs coffee.
22. Kara needs to define who she is.
23. Kara needs to follow the yellow brick road.

kids in the kart

To my friend E, you're a dangerous gal. I think you remember people's childhood stories better than they do.

Well, here's a new one for ya. As I made a quick stop at the supermarket this afternoon, I was nearly run into by a mom pushing a shopping cart containing 2 young kids. Although, getting hit by a cart at this particular supermarket would not be anything out of the ordinary for me. Anyway, in place of a glare or eye roll, I couldn't help but crack a smile and chuckle when I saw the younger of the two boys in the cart, a tike under 2 years old. This was because his legs were decorated with marker doodles. I wonder if this was self-inflicted or the handiwork of his older bro. In any case, it reminded me of the good old days when my brothers and I used to give marker tattoos to each other, but particularly to my baby bro, something I had long forgotten about until today. For some reason, Mom was never thrilled to find the surprises on Todd's body when it was time to bathe him. Think what you will of me now, but in my defense, it was washable marker and I was not the worse culprit.

What else could I possibly drop in the toilet?

That's my question of the day. It seems as though my natural grace, a.k.a. clumsiness, is in full swing today. I don't even have lack of sleep to blame this time. It's just me. I'm just that clumsy that I dropped things in the toilet on 3 seperate occasions today.

Feel like some Japanesy?

Okay, this makes for my second question of the day. On my way home from work tonight I saw a sign for a Japanesy Supermarket. Umm, is that anything like a Japanese supermarket?

Back from Summer Bliss

Here I am, back from my month and a half disappearance from blogging. As I mentioned in a previous post, the summer, which is quickly fleeting, has been full yet fulfilling. Here's the break down of what's been happening:

Madness and mayhem began in June when it once again became time to teach children to jump through hoops on demand, or at least to teach one child to jump out of an oven while others chased him shouting- otherwise known as this year's kindergarten graduation production, The Gingerbread Man. Following the big event was a two day frenzy of converting the prop and costume making dungeon back into the livable space my apartment once was in time for my mom's visit.

Before the close of June, my mom arrived in Taiwan to begin her month long adventure. What a joy it was to have someone from my family finally come to visit and share in the experiences I talk and write about (okay, not the ones like the floor erupting or the gas explosion). It was great to have an excuse to visit my favorite restaurants and coffee/tea shops for a month, as well as a good reason to take weekend excursions to places like Kenting for a sand and surf break, Taipei to shop, sight-see, and ride in the world's fastest elevators to the observation level of the world's tallest building, Tai-chung to visit with friends, and Meinong, the hand-painted umbrella capital of Taiwan and place to make a special kind of tea.




As many moms tend to like to keep busy and feel useful wherever they are, it took awhile to get used to suddenly having a housekeeper and personal assistant around. I've been living sans roommate for almost a year now, so it was strange waking up to dishes that were already done. In all of her helping though, I especially loved that she was able to not only see but assist with a weekly children's Bible class that I lead.

My mom was able to visit my school and classes on a number of occasions. The kids, especially the younger ones, were usually excited to see her and not only because she often brought some candy to share. I let a few of my classes have an interview session and ask her questions. My highest level class with 10-12 year olds surprised me with their questions of "How did you meet your husband?" and "How did your husband ask you to marry him?" Not surprising though was the "How old are you?" question, but no cheating allowed. Several of my classes had been primed with my mom's real age, so they knew if she was trying to pull one over on them, much to her dismay. The best, however, had to be when one girl asked my mom what kind of make-up she uses because she wanted to tell her mom to use that kind so she can look young too.

I hope that with all the activity she was able to find her time in Taiwan relaxing and enjoyable, but if not, that's what our few days in Hong Kong were for - a sort of mini-vacation before a return home for my mom and a 2 week vacation at home for me. It amazes me how much we were able to cram into 3 days and yet still reflect upon the time in Hong Kong as relaxing. The highlights include visiting the not yet year old Hong Kong Disneyland, the Bird Garden, Flower Market, Jade Market, Hard Rock Cafe (for some Western food therapy, though the Chinese food we had was yummy), and a harbour cruise at night.




By the end of July, I was home at last. My mom, friends Becky and Rick, and I made the 3 hour ride home from the airport in style as my dad surprised us by picking us up in a stretch limo. Aside from the close proximity of family and friends, other wonderful things about being home included: fresh air, cooler temps, blue skies, green spaces, and stars. I also loved the fact that it doesn't get dark until around 9pm in the summer, I can drink the tap water, I can flush the toilet paper, I don't have to figure out how to translate things, and I can drive my car. Oh, and I love coming back and being able to shop at places such as Target and Walmart. It can be an almost overwhelming experience to suddenly be bombarded with so much choice and selection. I mean, whole aisles of nothing but cereal - who could want for more? Really though, it's not so much what's available as it is the fact that it is available, and at a fraction of the cost of imported goods in Asia.

For as much as stays the same from my year to year visits home, change is always inevitable. There are the tougher things to come back to, such as seeing loved ones in declining health and realizing those who have passed away within the course of the previous year really are no longer there. Thankfully, there are also joyous things to bring balance, such as marriages of friends and the birth of their children. Good or bad, it's sometimes challenging to come home to the reality of the life that goes on in my absence.

While at home this time, I greatly enjoyed hanging out with my bros, kayaking and road trips through the countryside with my dad, shopping and spending time with my mom, visits and phone calls with friends, backyard picnics, sleepovers, late night swims, cooking for my family as well as dinners out with them, visiting my home church, taking in a regional theater production, sweet corn from my uncle's farm, bowling, spending time with people, and just being at home.




My apartment never felt so empty as it did after spending a month and a half with people I'm closest to. Walking in the door after arriving back felt both awkward and sad, as reminders of my mom's visit still littered the apartment. Though I've made this trip several times, for some reason, I just wasn't anticipating the sudden shock of being alone again, something that I usually don't mind. My foreign apartment felt just that - foreign. As with each trip home, for the first few days I wake up in the morning expecting to open my eyes to my room in PA, to warm sunshine and a cool breeze, to birds chirping outside the window, but that's not the case. In its place is the drone of the air conditioner, a dog barking on a balcony, someone practicing a piano upstairs, and construction on the street below. It takes a bit before I stop wishing I'm still at home, before routine takes over, before life keeps on racing on.

It's the Grand Cha-hee-hee's birthday!

Wow, I can hardly believe my baby bro is 20 years old today!
I can still remember the day you were born - the day it was confirmed that I indeed had another brother and not a sister as I specifically requested. Oh, those crazy storks. Well, I learned to love you anyway. Happy Birthday Bro!

What's hiding in your cabinets?

Times of packing for travel or moving often bring about the discovery of things long forgotten in the back of closets, cabinets, or under the bed. While this certainly rang true while preparing for my recent trip home, my surprise discovery today was made while rummaging for a snack in the kitchen. I found a bag of Christmas tree shaped Doritos hiding in a cabinet. It's Christmas in July, okay, August. Wow, I wonder what other surprises await.

Departing

"I'm leaving on a jet plane, don't know when I'll be back again."

That song seems to be on replay in my mind this evening as I gather, sort, and pack. I've just enjoyed two wonderful weeks at home on vacation and sadly I depart for the airport in about 2 hours to return to Taiwan. Each time I come home I find it a bit harder to go back and during my last few days I usually find myself wondering, "Why would I ever want to leave this place?" If it were not for returning to friendships in Taiwan, it would be even more difficult to convince myself to go back.

Though changes do occur in my absence, the ease with which I've been able to slip back into my life at home makes it all the more difficult to believe that a whole year passes between my visits. Falling back into place at home makes it difficult to imagine I have a whole other life on the other side of the world. However, I'm about to rejoin the reality of that other world quite soon. Fortunately my work schedule has been a bit lighter than usual this summer, so I appreciate that I'll have a bit more free time to unpack and process the past two weeks and two months. It's been a full yet fullfilling summer and there are still a few more weeks to go before another summer draws to a close. I hope to soon bring you up to speed on the events of my summer but for now, I've got to finish packing!

blogging blitz

No, your eyes don't deceive you, I have suddenly been writing, a lot. Actually, I just came to the realization that I needed to dust off the cobwebs and finish the half-dozen drafts that I had saved.

I've got a busy summer ahead. The kindergarten graduation program is next weekend, my mom arrives in 9 days, and in about a month I'm going to Hong Kong and home for a visit. I can't promise my writing will ever become more consistent, but I'm sure the summer will provide plently to write about, when I eventually have the time. Hope your summer is shaping up well.

a dark-eyed boy, aye-chihuahua!

For the most part, I'm strictly a no dog sort of person. I don't mind the occasional pet sitting and I don't mind going to my friends' homes who are dog owners, however, I'm content to do without a pooch in my pad. However, I have perhaps met my match. If there was ever a dog to cause me to stumble and consider pet ownership, it's a tiny, dark eyed chihuahua my eyes beheld last night. Usually, I don't even give chihuahuas a second glance, they strike me as annoying, not cute, but this one knew all the right moves to look pathetically adorable. Sigh. I should have inquired as to the price. That would have fixed my fixation real quick. Pet shop pups are not cheap, which is why a lot of foreigners opt for adopting a park dog.

Don't worry mom, there won't be any 4 legged friend waiting to greet you when you come visit.

under an indigo sky

Last night I went for an evening dip in the pool at my friend's place. While the pool is outdoors, most of it is covered by an overhang, above which an apartment tower rises. There's a small section where the pool juts out from the overhang and suddenly you're between towers and beneath the sky. As I lazily floated at the end of my swim, I hung out for a bit beneath the indigo sky. It was nice. I felt almost as though I was no longer in the city. Thoughts drifted to an evening when we relaxing on a riverbank under a starlit sky, soaking where water from a hot spring and cold river merged. Ahh, the mountains, haven't been there in awhile. For now, I'll have to make due with evenings beneath an indigo sky and the memories of the world that exists beyond the city.

throw another squid on the barbie

About 2 weeks ago I decided to gather a few co-workers and friends for a BBQ at my place. Perhaps it was Taiwan finally wearing me down, but I had a hankering for grilled squid as I perused the meat dept. at my local supermarket. I knew most of my guests enjoy this tentacular treat so I picked up a few.

Then came the realization that I'd have to clean them. Now I've cooked squid before, but it was part of a Thai cooking class and I think they were already gutted and cleaned, we just had to skin and slice them. Anyone who's been fishing with me knows, I love to fish but I have two rules: I don't touch the bait and I don't touch the fish. I'll gladly catch 'em if I can, but handling slimy or crawly things is not really for me. So there I found myself facing a cutting board of fresh squid and no one to pass the dirty work along to.

Well, after some quick online research and a few deep breaths, I handled those squid like a pro, or so I'd like to think. Actually, I got the hang of it right away and didn't break a single ink sack. I also didn't vomit or faint, always a plus. After getting past the first one, I really didn't mind cleaning them. I'm also pleased to say that the post-grilled squid turned out quite well too. Most of it never found its way to the table as people quickly snatched it from the grill or from the plate as it was passed from the balcony, through the living room on the way to the kitchen. I was lucky to even get a piece to try. Mmm, squid. ; )

happiness is . . .
morning dew,
a new photo to adorn my walls

Tonight I was able to pick up a picture I purchased from a recent photo gallery showing of a friend of a friend's work. He has taken some amazing photos and I've enjoyed checking out his work online as well as reading about his and his girlfriend's travels in SE Asia. I was glad to see that one of my favorite photos was not only included in the show but also available for sale.

According to the photographer, the story behind the photo is this:
It was taken on Christmas Eve in 2005 in the morning light after hiking all night up a mountainside under a full moon. Being amongst the clouds, a soft dew covered everything in the morning, including insect life. The mountain he hiked happens to be Mount Merapi, the one that's been erupting recently in Indonesia. What a unique experience and a cool memory to capture, huh?

So why do I like this photo so much? I thought the details on the butterfly, right down to the droplets of dew, were amazing. I also liked the contrast between something that seemed so delicate and fragile next to something rugged and harsh. Finally, I liked how the softened background makes the vivid colors of life all the more apparent.

(um, for anyone who hadn't noticed, I set up links so you can view the photo as well as The Black Azar's other work, if you wish.)

Mr. Creepy, Part Deux

same city, new guy, the next day

After an evening of cultural enhancement, a.k.a. catching a theater production in a neighboring city, 2 friends and I returned to our city an proceeded to catch a cab ride home. Oh, somehow the mouth strained red from betel nut should have been the give away to select another cab driver; we have been in Taiwan long enough to know better. But it was too late, we were already opening the doors and crawling inside. Rather than the three of us cram into the back seat, I thought I'd be courteous and take a turn up front, and therein lied mistake number two. Mistake three was attempting to fasten my seatbelt. You would think it should be the other way around, but it wasn't. Normally when sitting in the front of a cab, the driver will remind you and even insist upon the seatbelt being worn because it's the law so they're afraid of getting fined. However, as we pulled away from the train station, our driver began flailing his arms, making a choking/strangling gesture, and speaking loudly in unintelligible Chinese as the red spit from the betel nut flew from his mouth.

What? Does he really think I don't know how to fasten a seatbelt that he thinks I'm going to strangle myself? He gestures something from behind. My friend tries her best to understand some scrap of his dialog to interpret for us. What? Is he trying to tell me don't put the top part behind me or I should put it behind me? More gesturing, loud unintelligible comments, and spit from the driver. Umm, is he trying to say that someone was strangled by the seatbelt in this car? By this point we're almost halfway back to my friend's house and my seatbelt still isn't fastened because the driver is insistent that I don't buckle it and he's paying frightfully little attention to the road. Is he trying to tell me that if there's an accident, I could be decapitated or strangled by my seatbelt? Then why is he wearing his???

I give up. I let go of the seatbelt and any hopes of wearing it hoping the driver will abandon his efforts as well and pay attention to actually driving but alas, he doesn't. He now doesn't seem quite as distressed that I'm going to try to buckle up and my friend can begin to understand a bit more of his speech, though that didn't make things any less confusing or disturbing.

When all was said and done, basically what we synopsized was this: He was trying to tell us something about if we are riding with a stranger and they use the highway, we should never wear our seatbelt if riding in the front seat, especially if they insist upon it because they could use it to strangle us. This is apparently something that has occurred in Taiwan. As troubling as this piece of information was, what was disconcerting is that he still wouldn't let me buckle up. First of all, we weren't on the highway, we were in the middle of the city. Secondly, it's not like I was traveling by myself, we outnumbered the guy 3 to 1. And third, he was in no condition to try anything. So why, in this particular instance would he not let me buckle up? Okay, we get the story, thanks for sharing, but what does that have to do with me not buckling up now? Are you trying to say that if I buckle up, you're going to try to strangle me? Seriously, that's what we were all starting to wonder.

Finally, we arrived safely back at my friend's building. As I was getting out of the taxi, I noticed the open can of beer in the cup holder and an empty one on the floor, the sight of which had been previously blocked by my bag. Nice, very nice.

Mr. Creepy

Forget about skulking in dark alleys, some people are content with being creepy in public places in broad daylight.

On a particular afternoon a few weeks ago, I had decided to head downtown to spend my lunch break strolling in a park that I really like yet rarely frequent. Besides wanting to get outside to enjoy lovely spring weather, I had ambitions of finishing up a roll of film during my outing. Upon entering the park, I saw at a distance a man walking my direction. Nothing unusual about that, this park is frequented by many people on their lunch break. As soon as he sees me, however, he makes a quick right turn and proceeds through some bushes. I also turn because it's the direction I need to go for the afore mentioned photo taking.

As I pause to finish a text message, I begin to have the funny feeling that I'm being followed and notice that the man is walking parallel with me, yet still at a distance. I take a few steps, he takes a few steps. I pause, he pauses. As I pause again to pretend to look at some sculptures (really it's to figure out what to make of the guy and get a good survey of the other people in the park) I find that he's now sitting on a large rock, yet looking back over his shoulder at me.

I once again proceed towards the object of my photographic endeavor, walking more briskly this time. I glance back to see if I'm being followed. Nope, no sign of him. Wait. Oh yes, there comes the floating head from behind a big rock. There he stands just staring at me and there I stand just staring back, in disbelief that he thinks I have no idea he's watching me. "Oh no, if your body's behind a giant rock, there's no way I'll notice a head sticking out from the side of it!" Come on. As I continue on, I have to walk through an area of tall shrubbery and evergreens. This is an easy place for someone to lurk, however, there are still people around chatting, landscaping, reading, etc. so I feel in no real danger.

Suddenly, dunt-dunt-duh ... the phone rings and I begin to explain to my friend the events of the afternoon. I sit down in a spot that's a bit blocked from view by anyone approaching from behind. This happens to be right beside the object I wish to take photos of. Within a minute or two, mr. creepy crosses the large walkway infront of where I was sitting, heading in the direction away from me. I continue to hang out and give my friend the play-by-play. Meanwhile, good old mr. creepy "disappears" behind some bushes on the other side of the walkway. Oh yes, most of his body is hidden from view, but there comes the floating head again bobbing up and down between the hedges. Every now and then he'd disappear from view for a bit, but sure enough, 'bloop', up pops the head again. I just stood on a ledge watching him, still entertained by the fact that he probably honestly thought I couldn't see him or that I had no idea he was watching me. By this point, about a half hour had transpired from the time I entered the park. Finally I lost sight of him in between the bobbing and then a few minutes later I saw the back of his red shirt in the distance as he walked away, or at least, as he appeared to be walking away.

Now was the time for me to make my move. I got off the phone and began checking out the angles of what I wanted to photograph. It was a structure that I could step inside, and sure enough, about a minute or two after I did, out pops mr. creepy from the bushes, only I think he had lost sight of me this time, as I noticed him searching around a bit. As he did, he came right up to the structure before seeing me inside. This was the closest he'd come and it was at this moment I decided to whip out my camera and point it right at him, and that was the end of mr. creepy. He disappeared really quick after that. When I was ready to leave, I kept looking around to see if I was still being "secretly" followed but nope, no sign of him. Still, I didn't breathe a sigh of relief until I was on my scooter in traffic again. Ya, one of the few times I was ever actually relieved to be in traffic.

Just another day in traffic

While driving home during my lunch break this afternoon, I witnessed a woman fly through a traffic light and strike a man on the crosswalk. I'm sure she would argue that it wasn't her fault since, after all, she did honk her horn insanely to warn everyone that she had no intention of stopping at the light. My impression here is that if you honk your horn loud enough and long enough, that sort of relinquishes any responsibility on the part of the driver to actually obey traffic rules. Here I come, you've been warned!

I think one of the things that bothers me the most about driving here is the number of avoidable accidents if people would just exercise some common sense. Prior to coming here, I had read something in Lonely Planet to the effect of "the Taiwanese would drown in their own bathtub," which is totally harsh but it sort of summed up the writer's impression of common sense in Taiwan. Sadly, on far too many occasions, I've seen how one might come to such a conclusion, especially while on the road.

Today I started reading a new book that I recently acquired and already, I'm hooked. While I've read several good books so far this year, it's been awhile since I've read one that I just couldn't put down and once again look for scraps of free time when I can squeeze in some more reading. I consider myself a slow reader so it's nice when I have something that I'll push myself through quickly. Ironically, my latest literary addiction is a book about addiction.

English is Fashionable

"A day for chic dream genies and decadent dandy lion nights, for periwinkle platinum and arcane delights" - as seen on a shirt recently by a friend.

Here's a throwback to my days of perusing wearables at American Eagle or scoping out a unique gift at Pier 1 with scrawlings of Chinese or some form of Asian calligraphy. Did I ever stop to wonder what things said or if they even said anything at all? Not really. Sometimes words appear as art and the content seems irrelevant. I've now entered a life on the flipside where I crack up at the saying on clothing because I understand what the wearers often don't. I also understand when there's nothing to be understood, just random letters on something.
Ah, English is fashionable. So why am I never in-style?

"Do you have a Zans for cans?"

Oh Dr. Seuss, how I wish I had a Zans for cans. For 8 months I've been fighting with a can opener that seems quite good at chewing the labels off of cans but not good at actually OPENING CANS! Arrh.

Recently, feeling inspired to make some chili, I resigned myself to the fact that I'd first have to open cans, many, many cans. Part way through the can butchering experience, I started thinking about how often things work backwards here. Throw your "righty-tighty, lefty-loosey" out the window, it will get you nowhere. Then I started to wonder what would happen if I turned the can opener handle the opposite way, an idea so against my years of conditioning that I never considered the possibility that it could turn the opposite direction. Wouldn't you know it, the can was sliced open with relative ease.

Oh the object lessons that can occur in daily life. It's funny how something as simple as a can opener needing turned the opposite direction can be a reminder of stubbornness, blindness, and pride. While there are certainly things worth persistence despite the frustrations and setbacks that will be encountered, there are other things worth throwing out because pursuing them would be as silly as taking 8 months to figure out how to use a can opener.

Friday at last

Another work week has drawn to a close and a weekend island hop awaits. Shao Lui Chui, here I come - where the water is salty, the air humid, and the pace of life just right for a relaxing weekend.

Off to the store to pick up some snacks, drinks, and a camping and beach essential, nail polish. Oh, you think I jest, but sadly, I do not. Spending a length of time outdoors means a whole host of gangly stuff is going to take up residence under your nails and try as you may to be hygienic, it's somewhat of a losing battle, so I'd rather just not see it. Out of sight, out of mind. Ignorance is bliss. (Okay, I'm not really that gross.)

Also on the packing list, some New Zealand Beauties, my new favorite apple. I've found munching fruit a helpful way to keep hydrated. Now time to catch a whopping 2 hours of sleep before an early morning drive and boat ride. It seems as though the fumes of the insecticide sprayed at my apt. complex yesterday have finally seeped inside so I think my planned escape could perhaps be saving me from finally being done in by toxic city life. On that happy note, have a great weekend!

Spring Green

asparagus, Granny Smith apple, shamrock, inch worm, fern

Have you toured a crayon box lately? Things sure have changed since I was a kid. As I worked on a project with students that involved a bit of coloring, I began taking notice to the names on the broken bits of color sticks that comprised our giant Crayola box.

Today's names come in an imaginative variety from macaroni-and-cheese, to wild blue yonder, fuzzy-wuzzy brown, outer space, Purple Heart, purple mountain's majesty, wild strawberry, and tumbleweed.

A quick visit to the Crayola website revealed many of these colors were not as new as I thought them to be, thanks to the handy chronology of colors. What began as 8 colors in 1903 has expanded to the present 120 hues. Even more interesting was seeing how changing times in the U.S. have influenced the names of colors.

A lift in spirits has recently accompanied my days of city dwelling as two of my favorite colors, blue and green, have become more prevalent during daily commutes and outings. The usual grey funk that rules the sky has given way to blue made all the more lovely with the addition of white clouds.

Not only is spring in the air but on the plants and trees that line the roads and fill the parks. I had almost forgotten about that tint of green that exists with the newness of life that blossoms this time of year. In a place with year round greenery and subtle season changes, the radiant color of spring green highlighted by warm morning light reminds me of what it means to have spring return.

Yo-ho, yo-ho, a pirate's wife for me and the tale of 7 virtuous ladies

My wardrobe selections have been getting interesting reactions at work lately though i haven't been wearing anything out of the ordinary or even new. However, here are some of my favorites from the past few weeks:

the pirate's wife- Something about the skirt I wore had a whole class declaring I must have married a pirate since the previous day.

Cinderella- Wear a choice bracelet and suddenly you're Cinderella, though later in the class I was demoted to the step-mother.

Thailand vacationer or beach mystic - While part of the class thought I looked as though I'd just returned from a weekend in Thailand, a few others thought I could pass for a beach fortune teller. Ahh yes, I can see homework in your future. On this particular day as I entered school everyone sort of paused and stared until one secretary declared, "It's your birthday!" No, but thanks. Seriously, do I dress that poorly the other days of the year?

Greek statue - Okay, this one was not based on something I wore but rather a suggestion for the future. My highest level class has been studying ancient Greece and the Olympics lately and during class one boy had the brilliant idea that if I were to dress as a Greek statue and pose outside the school we'd suddenly gain new students by the droves. Why? Because they'd all stop and think, "what interesting and funny teachers they have there. I must go to that school." I can't help but think my appearance as a Greek statue would have the reverse effect on the school.

And now coming full circle to the topic of pirates (arrrh!), here's something interesting I recently came upon flipping through the pages of a Taiwan guide book:

Cimei Island, the southernmost of the Penghu archipelago, is named after seven legendary local beauties who threw themselves down a well rather than have their virtue despoiled by a gang of marauding pirates. The simple Tomb of the Seven Virtuous Beauties at the island's southern tip honors their sacrifice; the tomb is built over the well. - taken from National Geographic Traveler Taiwan

the fine art of text messaging

One benefit to living in Taiwan is that cell phone service costs far less than it does in the U.S. As a result, friends and I take advantage of text messaging, however, user beware, you never know what you're going to find when you open a message. My personal favorite thus far this year reads as follows:

"Just found out that a new sign in my elevator says, 'please take your garbage down to the dumpster and do not just throw it out your window.' "

Life in Rewind

It's hard to believe I haven't blogged in about 2 months! I guess for part of that time, too much was happening that I didn't have time to write and for the other part, there wasn't much worth writing about. Without some freak catastrophe occurring at my building, I suppose life can be a bit dull, but that's okay. Between things falling apart at will, the living room floor cracking open, and the gas explosion, I've perhaps learned to start expecting the unexpected around here. For awhile I found myself approaching the elevator with caution wondering if a cable snap would be the next big surprise in store for me. Where did I put my Worst Case Scenario Survival Handbook?

Basically, to recap, since my January entry we've had a few holidays in Taiwan, starting with Chinese New Year, or Lunar New Year. I enjoyed 2 weeks of vacation between the end of January and the beginning of February. The first week of my time off I spent at home doing very little. I did enjoy catching up on sleep, movies, things around the house, and catching up with friends here. I got to hike one of the mountains near the sea that offers some great viewpoints as well as cool banyan trees perfect for climbing.

The second week of vacation was spent in New Zealand. Though I had been wanting to go there for awhile, my trip was actually planned quite last minute, as in I bought the tickets one day and flew out the next. Until I actually got there and got settled, I couldn't help wondering, "Did I just make a huge mistake? What am I getting myself into now?", but it was great! A week is certainly not long enough so I definitely hope to go back one day. I spent most of my time touring the South Island but spent a day and a half sailing and sight-seeing in Auckland before returning to Taiwan.

As 9 rolls of film might suggest, for a trip that was only a week long, there's a lot to say about New Zealand. I'll spare you from most of it right now, but I did want to share a few journal entries.

1/31/2006

Where am I? My body is currently at rest on a most comfy bed at a hotel in Queenstown, N.Z. My body, however, feels as though it's still in motion aboard a bus or a boat, two places which I spent the day.

Where am I? Right here and a thousand miles away. Transfixed on the scenery before me, a feast for the eyes, my thoughts are free to roam from what I am seeing to what I saw this time last year and from the possibilities of the future to the memories of the past. Thoughts drift from old desires to new, old friendships to new ones, the old year to the present.

One day, a million thoughts, indescribable beauty. Lakes, streams, mountains, plains, hills, glaciers, fiords, palms, pines, lowlands, highlands, sheep, deer, cattle, ostrich, green, grey, yellow, blue, white, clouds, rain, and sun. It was a full day, nay, it's been a full few days.

2/3/2006
I look out the window. Colors and lighting seem perfect here. The sky's always a perfect blue. The lighting has a way of making things look amazing. Yellows, greens, and blues are so rich, not washed out. Even the clouds look amazing. They have an almost unnatural quality about them, as though they're from a painting.

What a whirlwind week it's been. The days have been so full they've felt like more than single days. I don't mind though. It's great to be back somewhere with long summer days, where there's still light until 9-9:30pm.

Today's been a day of planes, trains, and automobiles not to mention buses and vans. This morning I left Franz Josef to complete my circle of the South Island. From there it was travel by bus to Greymouth, stopping at some scenic spots along the way. Once in Greymouth, I boarded the Tranz Alpine Train for a 4 hour trip from the west to east coast across Arthur's Pass. We went through numerous tunnels, one extending for 5.6 miles and taking 15 minutes to get through. We also crossed over several viaducts - high train bridges through the gorges. Arriving in Christchurch, I was met by a shuttle van to get back into the city where I transferred to a cab to get to the airport where I presently find myself still waiting for a flight that was scheduled to depart 40 minutes ago.

About a week after Chinese New Year was Lantern Festival, generally one of my favorite holidays in Taiwan. I've always enjoyed an evening stroll along the river checking out the lanterns. This year I was a bit disappointed. I think the displays have been better in the past, but it was still nice.

Since then it seems like it suddenly became March and now here we are nearing the end of the month already. Last weekend I got to enjoy the company of 2 old roommates who stayed over on the weekend. It was a bit like old times again, only better. Last Sunday we celebrated Becky's birthday outdoors at the Youth Activity Center where the young at heart can act like kids again while the kids, at least the jr. high ones, rolled their eyes at our childishness. It was a great afternoon complete with water fights, cargo nets, suspended rope bridges and chair swings, and crazy group activity obstacle things like we had back in the days of summer camp.

Hopefully this will fill you in a bit as to the past 2 months and hopefully it won't be another 2 before I write again.

An Odd Sort of Wednesday

Odd discovery: toothpaste expires
Odd piece of knowledge acquired: how to pop an eyeball back into place should it happen to fall out
Odd contrast: while driving to work bundled in layers: t-shirt, sweatshirt, winter coat, I pass another foreigner wearing a t-shirt, shorts, and sandals
Odd rival: having to contend with karaoke music from a nearby streetside wedding reception while teaching class
Odd sighting: on my way home from work, being passed in traffic by a man riding a motorcycle, clad in motorcycle garb and a bear head (?)
Odd timing: within an hour of picking up the apartment key, my former soon-to-be-new-roommate's boss called to inform her she's being transferred to Taipei in a few weeks
Odd way to end the day: having a Nudge war on messenger

Pieces, Paper, Pictures, Peace

Monday was a more difficult day than I had expected. I thought cleaning up the pieces Sunday night would have me feeling more whole by the next day, but as I shared on Monday, I couldn't escape reliving the event in my mind.

I'm glad to say that with each passing day, the thoughts of Sunday night have become less frequent. In my memory, the force of the blast lessens, the sounds dampen, and the images dim. I hardly even thought about it yesterday and today unless, for some reason, I've had to. I can move about the apartment with confidence again and even going onto the laundry balcony at night doesn't bother me. The quiet of my afternoons and evenings at home is once again full of peace rather than uneasiness.

Like a breath of fresh air, good news recently came from a friend back home and from friends here. Such glad tidings have been carrying me through the week as well as God's grace.


News of what happened did reach the local papers with front page color photos. With the aid of some students translating the Chinese, I learned the story of what happened, most of which I already knew from the rumors and speculations flying amongst the neighbors Sunday night. The basics: gas explosion in home behind my building, 3 people injured - one inside the home and 2 passing by on the street (though this didn't take into account the people injured in my building), husband and wife had been arguing, wife left the home and man attempted suicide by turning on the gas. I got back some photos this week, a few of which show the broken glass at my house and a view of the damage at the home of the explosion, looking directly down from my kitchen window (and one looking up at broken glass awning).



On a final note, this morning I got to ride the elevator with the man from my building who was injured by the explosion. His hands were bandaged and his walk was labored. In fact, he could only walk with the support of someone. Still, he managed a faint smile as he exited the elevator. I'm sure his life will not be the same for some time yet.

Stuck on Replay

I thought I wouldn't sleep well last night after what happened, but I did. As I soon discovered, it's not my sleeping that's haunted, it's my waking.

How do you forget something that, in every recess of silence, replays itself? A scooter beside me in traffic backfires and I nearly jump out of my skin. Someone closes a classroom door too hard and I hold my breath waiting for shattered glass to fall. Even the soft sound of water flowing through the upstairs neighbor's pipes makes me nervous as it sounds too much like the hiss of gas.

Home can not be the sanctuary it once was. I used to consider this place a treasure because it's rare to find places in the city so quiet. Now the once peaceful silence is uncomfortable as every sound seems magnified. Even as midnight approaches the day after the event, I can still hear the occasional sound of glass hitting the pavement below. In the daylight, things are better, but at night I approach the kitchen with hesitation.

It really is stuck on replay in my mind. I could feel it, hear it, and see it over and over again all day. I can now begin to imagine what it must feel like to live somewhere effected by war and bombings. I've had only a glimpse of this - the surprise, the force, the sounds, the commotion, and that was more than enough.

an explosion, shattered glass, darkness, alarms, screams, crying, blood, panic, sirens, questions. This was my Sunday evening ...

...but now, Monday morning has returned. It's raining outside as though to wash away the thoughts of what happened last night, but the memories of such will not be so easily forgotten, at least not until the clean up is finished. For now, the sound of broken glass being swept and gathered can still be heard from the street below.

It occurred sometime near 6:00 pm. The evening was suddenly disturbed by an invisible force- a loud blast, an explosion, and the sound of breaking glass, shattered and raining to the floor. Darkness seemed everywhere. Evening had already settled in outside and the lights inside were off except for that of the tv. Was that a bomb? Get out! Those were the first thoughts I could process. Flinging on my coat, shoes, and purse, I fled. Outside the door, fire alarms were ringing and flashing on each level. Proceeding down the stairwell 9 floors, I was met by neighbors. Glass, plaster, and mortar crunched underfoot on the landings between floors. Outside we waited. The sirens of approaching fire trucks, police cars, and ambulances filled the night, as did the voices of panic, yelling, and crying.

I reached for my phone to call Becky but what do I say? "I'm okay, I'm okay" is all that comes out at first. I must have sounded crazy but it was the first time in all of this I was forced to pause, process, and vocalize what had just happened. And what had just happened? I still didn't know. How do you describe something you've yet begun to understand? Looking around, windows and glass doors were gone everywhere from lower level apartments and neighboring houses. The sounds of glass falling could still be heard through the commotion. Look! There was one of my downstairs neighbors, someone I've shared the elevator with a number of times. Tonight though, he was staggering from the building, shirt-less, shoe-less, and still in shock, cut and bleeding all over, no doubt from flying glass.

Eventually the crowd dwindled until mostly only those from my tower remained, awaiting instruction. By this point we had learned that a gas explosion occurred at a home directly behind my apartment building. Once things were under control at the source, firemen came to inspect our homes, the building manager came to take photos, and friends came to be of support and help clean up. What amazing friends I have here! Having a better idea of what transpired and knowing that I was okay should have been enough to make me feel okay again. However, I suppose emotions operate on a sense of logic all their own. I sent Becky a message that things were okay now, we could even go back into our homes, so she didn't have to come over, but she still did, along with Rick. I can't tell you how much of a help it was to have them around, not just because Rick cleaned up most of the glass and Becky contacted the landlady to notify her about what happened. Their presence alone was a comfort to me and it was nice to have someone to babble to about what happened. At that time, I think conversation was the only thing saving me from having the event replay in my head. I hadn't realized until later how much I needed the diversion that they provided.

We got the glass cleaned up rather quickly, headed out for some fresh air and a bite to eat, and then came back and watched a movie. Dinner and a movie with friends - seems like such a normal way to spend a night on the weekend - an ending so different from how the evening began.

life, death, and the heaviness of uncertainty

Where's a rooftop when I need one? No, I'm not thinking about jumping. The rooftop has become a place I associate as my safety when the weight of the world and the heaviness of the day become a bit too great. At my previous apartment, the roof became my place of solace where my roommate, and friend, Becky and I could escape the day for a bit at night. On the rooftop I could release my burdens, casting them into the night without knowing where the wind would carry my words, my cries, my tears, my songs. On the rooftop, burdens shared became burdens lightened. What joy there is in having someone to confide in, someone to dump on, someone who continues to want to listen, and someone who will pray with you and for you.

Though I moved from that place 2 years ago, there are still nights when I miss those evenings on the roof. I think this past week in particular was a week made for the roof. Each day seemed to bring bad news from some direction back home - news of death, hardships in life, and uncertainty for the future. My heart was heavy this week with a burden for those I'm far from but feel so near to. However, there's comfort in knowing I don't need a roof to cry out to God and that good friends are still close by.

Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore.

This morning I discovered that if I ever long for adventure, I need bound no farther than my own back door. The back gate opens to narrow streets and alleys, often dead to the world except for the activity in the schoolyard. Though on its sidewalks and streets I may have stepped a hundred times, give time a twist and none of that matters. Containers of live shrimp that one can select by hand and strange fish I've not seen the likes of before are presented for purchase. Tables of beautiful tea boxes and long rows of incense easily catch one's eye, as does a feast of colors at fruit stands. Behold, freshly picked oranges with leaves still attached.

It was clear as I turned the corner, I was entering a world that was not mine. It was clear that I was seeing an old place for the first time. It was clear that I was going somewhere many foreigners did not venture. Neighbors moved about from table to table aquiring fresh ingredients for afternoon and evening meals. And there I was, in the middle of it all, feeling completely out of place in a place I thought familiar. Before me, a feast of curiosity for my eyes and yet, an overwhelming sense that I didn't belong. Not even my hat and sunglasses could disguise that I was not the typical sort to frequent this early morning market, yet I was glad to have had an opportunity to see a world I never knew existed beyond my own back door.

when the brakes go and other tales of broken things

Scene 1: road. female scooter commander maneuvering like something out of a video game in effort to survive another afternoon commute to work. a row of traffic lights, red, then in a wave, green. without haste, traffic regains its pace. taxi driver, 2 o'clock, disregards his own red light and attempts to proceed through the steady stream of on-coming traffic. nearest to kissing yellow metal, yours truly. brakes applied. unfamiliar snap. no slowing, no halting. left hand brake makes contact with handlebar and does not recoil.

make a face and brace for impact. this is gonna hurt.

or not.

freeze. for the next second or two, surrounding world appears to have paused during which time the current situation and inevitable fate become apparent.

enter plot twist. impending doom rejected. taxi slows and a last second duck and dodge save the day.

new hobby, dodgeball. after all, if you can dodge a taxi, you can dodge a ball.

Scene 2: kitchen. after a long run, thirsty apartment dweller seeks glass of H2O refreshment. open cabinet door below sink to check water filter. cabinet door falls off.

Scene 3: bathroom. afore mentioned apartment dweller seeks post-jog shower. turn on tub faucet. turn on shower. shower head falls off into tub below.

* Side note: In the story of the brakes going, under normal circumstances, the right hand brake (front brake) would have come to my aid. However, it just so happened my scooter was due to have the oil changed and front brake tightened that week, so I really had basically no stopping power. What a time for the brakes to go, when faced with what appeared to be inevitable impact! Thankfully things worked out differently.

the song in my heart and on my lips as I awoke this morning:

Create in me a pure heart, O God,
and put a new and loyal spirit in me.
Do not banish me from your presence;
do not take your Holy Spirit away from me.
Give me again the joy that comes from your salvation,
and make me willing to obey you.

(Psalms 51:10-12)

as I enter the new year, I find this to be my prayer, my cry, my song

God forgive me for approaching what you ask of me unwillingly, provide a peace in taking on new challenges, and please accept what I do as it is now done with a willing and joyful heart.

Floor Update:
It's getting repaired tomorrow - yeah!

Not a Typical Evening At Home

Finally, an apartment story worthy of topping the $300 imported toilet seat. Despite the Christmas busy-ness that begins this week, my life is obviously not exciting or full enough. I though the highlight of my day would be the lovely new hairbrush I purchased, but oh no, that would not be the case. Something more groundbreaking would take place, literally. While there was no earthquake this evening, at least none that could be felt, my living room floor would give the impression otherwise.
There I was, minding my own business, watching A White Christmas and organizing gifts when suddenly, there was a loud 'pop'. I was startled, for I hadn't noticed knocking anything off the coffee table. As I leapt to my feet, I noticed some small particles fall to the floor. Immediately I looked up expecting to see a crumbling ceiling, but the disturbance had not come from above, but below. There, across the length of my living room, was now a 2 ft. x 6 ft. 'v' shaped mound of popped up, cracked tile.



More than anything, I think I was stunned and baffled as to why my floor would choose this moment to erupt. The following hour or so went something like this: I called my friend Becky who then came over, we checked with the neighbor below who, as it turned out, had no damage, the security guard checked out the floor, and finally, we contacted the landlady who came over to survey the damage. Oh, somewhere in there, while waiting for Becky to come over, I called home to talk to my dad who suggested, among other things, that I should throw a rug over it. Thanks dad.

Apparently at some time in the past, this had happened before, explaining the mysterious section of replaced tile on the opposite end of the living room. That time, however, the damage was the result of an earthquake. It's believed that pressure below the surface forced the floor to break on this occasion. It was explained to me that the floor was laid too tight, not allowing room for shifting. As there are no pipes running under the floor, I was assured the cracked floor presents no danger, however, it may be a week before it can be repaired. In the meantime, I'll be here, unless the floor should open and swallow me up. Okay, not funny.

Hey Baby It's Cold Outside

That about sums it up as a cold chill has imparted itself upon us this week. Whether it's the onset of winter or just a teaser remains to be seen. However, there's no mistaking it's downright chilly outside and inside too as most places are not equipped with heaters. It's currently a blustery 64 degrees.

What! The 60's cold? I know, I must be turning into a wimp. While I embrace the cold and gladly welcome cooler temps that reflect the winter season, well - winter in Taiwan at least, it's hard to imagine that it's already been feeling winter-like for quite awhile back home. As the temperatures here were still climbing into the 80's until a few days ago, I've found the need to remind myself that we're actually approaching winter, not summer.

Again I've returned to:
- tiptoed sprints across cold tile floors
- piles of blankets upon the bed
- wool, fleece, sweats, sweaters, gloves, and hats
- Winter Love (an imported chocolate only available in the cooler months)
- hot chocolate
- shoes over sandals
- waiting for the water to fully heat before jumping into the shower
- deliberating over whether to drive home faster and get the cold commute (on scooter) over with quickly or slow down in an effort to reduce the speed by which the biting air passes

Lamenting Things Lost

Warning: Should you choose to read on, your likely to find the confessions of a foolish girl who cares too much for the things of this world.

The news came this past weekend confirming something I've allowed myself to be in denial about over the past 4 months. Luggage an airline lost on my trip home this summer is indeed lost for good. As my mom read the letter which had just arrived in the mail, the desire to hurl the phone against the opposing wall welled up inside, as though stopping the news from being heard would somehow stop it from being real. I wanted to get out, to go back out for another run until my legs could no longer move, until I'd given way to exhaustion. But I neither pitched the phone nor went for a run but laid in a sort of stunned silence. It could not be a surprise to me that this news would eventually come. I guess I had just hoped a more favorable message would take its place.

Sure, it's a bit of an over-reaction to some lost luggage but it's not just a lost bag, it's a bag that's been with me on nearly every excursion abroad and domestic. It's contents were not just things, but things carefully selected from Nepal, Thailand, and Taiwan; things not only for myself, but mainly for others. Gone with the things are the stories of where they were bought and those I met along the way. It's as though by losing the tangible reminder of people, places, and days gone by, somehow the memories will be lost forever too.

My thoughts drift to a particular pashmina shawl I had selected for a friend. I know that she would have not only like it for it's warmth, softness, and design, but for the story that came along with it of a woman I met on the side of a mountain after a sunrise trek in Nepal. Her pashmina creations, beautifully woven and depicting her original designs, were handmade on a specific kind of rickety old loom, one of 2 of it's kind still around in that region. I can still remember the smiles on the faces of her children who are fed, clothed, and sheltered by the hard work of their mother and the generosity of strangers who stop to purchase her handicrafts. I suppose my loss is still her gain, and that is, perhaps, more important.

My gaze now passes to my feet, propped up and clad in thick, wooly socks, one of the few remnants of my travels earlier this year. I'm suddenly reminded of the ancient kingdoms I visited where locals now peddle their goods outside crumbling palaces and guarded city walls. As my mind wanders back to a place much different from the one I presently find myself, I can still recall the shopkeepers who seemed as eager to engage the sparse tourists in conversation as they were to sell their goods. And how could I forget the pair of Tibetan refugee women who invited me to visit their village and my ten-year-old tour guide who saw the opportunity to escape boredom and to practice his English for an afternoon. Invitations were extended to tea, to trek, to trade.

I guess I'm proving that not all my memories have been lost with my things, though some will be a bit more difficult to preserve. Some favorite photos from my childhood and a travel journal were also among my vanished possessions. Weighing on me more than the 70 lbs. of missing baggage, is my hang-up with loss in general. Each visit home brings reminders of those no longer there and fears of those who may no longer be there the next time I return. As with my most recent journey home, the summer, too, quickly passed and with the autumn came the reminder of an aunt who died and with the previous month came the news of two relatives who passed away. Buried in work once again, I've been too busy to give it much thought, but somewhere my mind has been processing all these events and I think the most recent news, though not as significant as the loss of a person, served as a reminder of things lost throughout life and the sentiment that I've grown weary of losing.

Then, as I rode back to work this afternoon, I watched a boy with crippled legs labor his way across the crosswalk with his grandmother. Once again my world was brought back into perspective and I was reminded I have nothing worth complaining about. For the first time in 4 months I was able to let go of a foolish hope and a bitterness I'd been holding onto. I was finally ready to accept that the things lost were just things.

Flaming Stick Arms

With Christmas less than 20 days away, I elected today as the day I'd start preparing my kindergarten students for the approaching holiday. Since science was one of our subjects for the day, I thought we'd talk about winter and snow. As a treat, I brought in a snowman story book and found a corresponding activity in their math book - a dot-to-dot snowman. Surely by the end of class they'd be experiencing those warm, fuzzy feelings that this time of the year brings.

Umm, NOT! As our final morning activity progressed, the dot-to-dot snowman with subsequent coloring, I observed that the snowmen were becoming more sinister looking than jolly, including a snowman of death - colored all black, and a snowman with wounds. Two even set their pictorial snowmen ablaze by coloring flaming stick arms. So much for displaying their artwork to make the classroom look more festive.

I suppose I cannot profess to being entirely surprised by their askew view of the holiday. Despite seeing an increasing number of festive displays over the past 4 years, it was just last Christmas that I came upon a startling discovery. While perusing the tables of Christmas cards at the stationary store, I discovered a whole table of Christmas cards gone wrong. At first glance, it would have appeared as thought the table top was covered in Halloween cards, as those are something we all find ourselves rushing to send out each Fall. Peering up for the cards were faces of ghost, vampires, pumpkins, skeletons, Frankinsteins, and other ghouls with a banner of "Merry Christmas" splashed somewhere on the card. Okay, I know Halloween and Christmas occur within 2 months of each other, but really, you just shouldn't cross the two. A contender with these misguided message bearers where the cards with some cartoon figure guy giving the middle finger while yelling "MERRY X-MAS" and the ones decorated with cartoon piles of poop, plungers, and flies. With this in mind, it's not surprising that many here seem to have no idea what Christmas really is, other than a time of year they should be buying more stuff and apparently sending disturbing cards.

My Black Hole

My stab at blogging started out the way every one of my journals has - full of good intentions. This time around, I had hoped I'd be a bit more successful at writing more faithfully knowing that someone besides myself would be reading it. Alas, that would not be the case.

A quick scan of my apartment reveals that other areas of my life have been getting a bit neglected over the past 2 weeks too as evidenced by the clean laundry piled on a chair, an unpacked bag from a weekend trip, dry goods in a grocery bag waiting to be put away, an inbox full of new messages, and plants wilting on the balcony.

So what do I have to say for myself? Two words - Harry Potter. Every now and then something comes along that occupies my interest for a spell. Up until this year, I've ignored and dismissed the Harry Potter mania but after watching the third movie last year (the only one I've seen), my interest was peaked. So, from the beginning of this year, I began working my way through the book series.

Over the past 2 weeks however, I've not only read books 4 and 5, I've been consumed by them. They've become my personal black hole as though, from out of nowhere, I've been sucked into something I could not have imagined or foreseen. At break times at work, you can find me curled on the sofa or tucked away in a classroom reading. At night I've found it easy to make excuses to skip my evening run in order to get in some extra reading time. And though tiresome mornings of kindergarten have me longing for a nap on my lunch break, the thought of resting has already been replaced with the excitement of reading by the time break time rolls around.

I can still remember the summer when book 5 came out and how my roommate suddenly seemed to vanish, submerging into the solitude of her room to read. I was thankful that we worked together because that was becoming the only time I saw her other than the occasional retreats to the bathroom or kitchen. I remember, too, how sick she was feeling that week and even had to call off from work for a day, though I don't think she entirely minded a day at home confined to her bed reading. What I could not understand at the time, I finally understood about 2 weeks ago as I became captured by book 4, probably my favorite one. I too would not have minded a sick day to have a little extra time to spend reading.

Though I began book 6 yesterday, I've decided to give myself a bit of a break this evening to come up for air and connect again with the outside world. In some ways I'll be glad when I've made it through book 6 but saddened at the same time. While there's a satisfaction in completing each of the books and knowing more of the story, there's a sadness too in leaving behind the excitement of racing through the book to find out what happens. One great thing to come out of it is that I've been returning back to the book loving days of my youth. I'm happy I've taken the initiative to read more this year.

Fish heads, fish heads, roly, poly, fish heads

A few weeks back a friend came for a visit to bestow my balcony with some greenery and a grill. Snazzed up balcony + grill = time to barbecue with friends. Since this is Taiwan, I thought I'd offer some seafood options for the make-your-own-kebob shin-dig and I headed to the grocery store to pick up some squid and shrimp.

Now normally at the grocery store as I pass by the meat and fish departments on my way to produce, my eyes are greeted by a variety of fresh fish and seafood. However, on the day I need to buy things, all I can find are fish and fish heads. That's right, fish heads on ice, fish heads on trays wrapped in plastic, big ones, small ones, fish heads, fish heads, fish heads! For about $5 or $6 US, you could be the proud owner of a fish head.

Needless to say, 5 stores later I finally found what I was after and headed home for a fish head free barbecue. Of course as I headed back to the grocery store this week and once again passed through the fish department, I couldn't help but notice they were once again fully stocked with fresh squid and shrimp. Why is it that my endeavors in cooking rarely require a trip to fewer than 3 stores to obtain necessary ingredients? Grrrr...

P.S. While you may fish heads at the super market please note that roly poly fish heads are never seen drinking cappuchino in Italian restraunts with Oriental women.....yeah....

R.F.O.s

Not to be confused with R.O.U.S.s (Rodents of Unusual Size), R.F.O.s are what greet you like a brick wall as you pull up to a red light, go for a jog at the park, step out of the 7-Eleven, or open the door to your apartment. They are the Random Foul Odors that pervade Taiwan, permeating from a drain system nearest you. There's no mistaking an R.F.O. and there's little hiding the cringed face that takes over upon noticing the unpleasant aroma. Waiting to Exhale may be a movie, but waiting to inhale becomes standard practice as the search begins for a pocket of fresh air.

Sleep, Where Art Thou?

Sleep has always been a funny thing for me. It's the thing I hate giving into at night yet hate letting go of in the morning. Whether luxury or necessary evil, sleep is also what I've been living with in short supply lately. For the past few weeks I've been dealing with insomnia, last week being the worst where I averaged 1-3 hours of sleep per day for over a week. Well it's all fun and games until you forget where you're going in traffic.

It didn't help the situation that I'm by nature a night owl and love being awake at night. There's just something very peaceful about being up while the city sleeps and watching the morning light break the night sky can be worth staying up for too. Also, I'm just more productive at night - that's when I'm best able to get things done. And finally, I work so much that if there's something that needs to get done, basically night is the only time for it to happen.

What can start out as annoying, not being able to sleep, can soon feel like I dose on invincibility - feeling super-charged and rarely tired by night or day. But finally the breaking point comes when the ability to function properly during the waking hours becomes impaired and rest becomes imperative. That's where I found myself last weekend - sleep necessary but still unattainable. However, by Sunday the spell of sleeplessness was finally broken and rest has been coming in large doses since then.

After a two month break, I returned to running after work this week, further ensuring my exhaustion and ability to slip into sleep at night. So, gone are my nights of being up until 4:30 or 6:30am, for now at least. I'm slightly sad to part with the night and I hate that I'm too worn out to get much done in the evenings, but sleep can be good too. At my former apartment, scrolled across the side of the fridge was "Sleep is a weapon." Guess someone else needed to be reminded of that too.