This is the Kat

Phoenix Fix

2010-07-23T14:07:00.002+08:00

Just a head's up for anyone who wants to see how I see Arizona -- I've got a new photo blog, Phoenix Fix. Enjoy!

Transitions

2010-07-15T05:23:00.007+08:00

I guess it's time to update the subtitle of this blog, seeing as Taiwan is not my locus anymore. I'm sure it will still play a significant role as I transition from expatriate to repatriate, but the "Life in Kaohsiung (Redux)" chapter is behind me and Phoenix is where the story will next unfold.

Phoenix is beautiful. I don't think I ever would've expected to say that, seeing as I'm fond of green and rainy places generally, but the desert has its own personality and I'm enjoying getting to know the feel of the place. In Taiwan I measured humidity by how clumped up the salt in my salt dish got; I knew a typhoon was coming when leaves fluttered up to our windows on the fourth floor. I haven't been in Arizona long enough to get a sense of when changes are coming, but I am noting how the shadows move, how early in the day the pavement gets hot, what kind of clouds gather at night to reflect the pinks and oranges of the sunset back down to earth. The saguaro were in bloom when we landed, and while those blooms are starting to fade others are taking their turn -- prickly pear bearing plump purple fruit, waxy green round-leafed shrubs dotted with tiny jasmine-scented white stars, and marigold-colored pompons on low dense hedges that feed the white-tailed rabbits that live in this neighborhood.

I visited a ghost town today on my way back from downtown. I went looking to replace something I'd broken, a souvenir I'd gotten last summer. As before, the ceramic wares were set out on tables and shelves in front of the shop and in the shop -- with no shopkeeper in sight. A cashbox stood beside the door, with newspaper and plastic bags laid out so you could wrap up fragile items and get on your way. I like the honor system. I like that even in a tourist destination, where people are free from the constraints that often keep us on our best behavior, this craftsman trusts his creations -- his livelihood -- to strangers.

Taiwan has made me more of an observer and also more of a joiner than I used to be. I'm eager to establish community, to connect with the people in my new church, to meet neighbors and teachers and get to know the fabulous crew at Trader Joe's (because TJ's always has a fabulous crew). This is what settling in feels like. I haven't had to do it this fully since our first move to Taiwan in 2001, when everything was foreign and every day was spent clearing new trails, relationally, culturally, linguistically. Coming back to America after so much time away there are trails to be broken here now, but it's a smoother terrain and the wide open skies make it easier to see where I'm going. It doesn't quite feel like home yet, but it's getting familiar, and that's the first step.

Voyages

2010-06-15T15:34:00.004+08:00

This has been such an intense month, I'm not even sure where to start....

A friend of mine has this posted on her Facebook profile:

"The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes." - Marcel Proust

I have learnt the difference between traveling abroad and living abroad -- I enjoy them both, and can say that the first made the second possible, as tasting other cultures whetted a serious appetite in me. Traveling made me see my home with new eyes: what did I take for granted? what did I like better about other places, and what seemed unnecessarily hard or frustrating? how could I integrate my experiences abroad once I returned to a pretty comfortable existence back on American soil?

At first, living abroad was the same. Every new thing was examined for its comparison, which is really the only way to learn something new, whether a language or skill or culture: "What do I already know? How does it work in this new place? What do I need to do differently now?" I was busy discovering this new landscape. The standard, the referent, was always home, but that word quickly became burdened with two distinct and distant meanings, Washington and Taiwan.

We lived in Taiwan for two years before returning to the States in 2003. I had a baby, started homeschooling our son, and waited for life to get "normal" again, but it was hard -- hard getting back into step financially and culturally as well as personally. After the challenges of life in Asia, America seemed so boring. Not bad, per se, just so lackluster. I felt as if the river, the constant flow of difference, had started to shape me. Then the river changed course and I was out of the stream, missing the rush that was sometimes overwhelming but, apparently, also addicting.

After two years in Washington and not a lot on the horizon, we returned to Taiwan. I was eager to make the move, but it wasn't easy -- I knew we'd be here for a longer commitment, at least five years and probably six. But as hard as it was to leave friends and family again, I was able to jump back into the river with some understanding of what was in store, to appreciate the constant challenges. I made closer friendships, took on more responsibilities, enjoyed the culture and shed a lot of the self-consciousness that had hindered me before. I made myself smile and make eye contact with people who would then ask me questions I couldn't understand, or at least couldn't answer without sounding like an idiot. But I was happier. To say, "Sorry, wo ting bu dong" with an apologetic grin is far more satisfying than to avoid the whole encounter.

This has been home for my children for most of their lives. It has been my home for most of the last decade. It's not an easy place to love, but it does grow on you -- in you -- and now that our time here is coming to an end I am acutely aware of how much my concepts of home, normal, healthy, satisfying, and happy are shaped by this place. Certain people have made my time in Taiwan bearable, some even more than bearable. I will miss my Ladies English Club students, my Bible study group (my sisters!), my private students (who taught me at least as much as I taught them), and all the friends and almost-family who have shared their lives, troubles, hopes, adventures, and accomplishments with me and helped me feel so connected here. Thank you to everyone who made me different, better, shaped into something that I wear proudly. You have given me new eyes, not just for seeing Taiwan but for seeing myself, where we all fit in the order of God's creation, and the beauty that is sometimes hidden in plain sight.

I'm usually pretty good at looking at clouds and seeing silver linings; this move is different, and I am struggling more than I ever have in my life. It's not the move, although the move doesn't help. It's life, and changes, and brokenness, and not knowing how to make better what you can hardly even wrap your brain around. I don't lead with my emotions, so most of this year I've been holed up in my own head, trying to mentally sort through something that defies a cognitive approach. I guess I put that out there so I can then say, No matter what comes next I will be glad I was here. I will be sad I left. And I will always have two homes.

Hohuanshan: check

2010-05-20T16:37:00.004+08:00

As our time here winds down it seems to be picking up speed. The list of to-do's, the stack of empty moving boxes, the myriad details that I have managed to avoid confronting full-on are now getting too big to ignore. I tend to work best under pressure, so I say bring it on and let's get this thing going.

My mountain weekend was fabulous -- just what I needed, in fact, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat. Like most popular hikes in Taiwan the terrain was not particularly challenging: clear paths, stairs carved or built into the hillside, and a fair number of other people on the trail. What made Hohuanshan different was the altitude. Three of the four peaks we bagged were over 3,400 m (11,000 ft); coming from sea level I found catching my breath to be much harder than I'd expected. Setting up camp at 2 a.m., I got winded unrolling my sleeping bag and wondered how on earth I was going to climb higher when the sun rose in four short hours.

Thankfully I didn't need to keep up with the others in my group -- I was the lone female, and certainly the least athletic -- and kept my own pace up to the peaks. The point of the trip for me was to make good on a promise (Cole goaded me into making a New Year's resolution this year) and to check something off my dusty old "Do Before Leaving Taiwan" list. It was also a way to tackle something physical when most of the year I have been grappling with intangibles. As one friend said, the great thing about a mountain is that you can kick it. I did not, in fact, kick it, but getting to the top of those peaks brought a great sense of satisfaction every time.

The mountains were socked in almost constantly; there were some moments where the clouds would thin to a wispy mist and part just enough to give you a hint of the vistas beyond, and then they'd roll back in again, thicker than ever. I have seen the views from Cing Jing, have crossed the mountains by car, have taken some lovely pictures of the heights of this island. It would've been nice to capture some pictures from the heights, but I learned some lessons while I was climbing in the fog (see "grappling with intangibles," above) so I will not complain.

I really appreciate how Mark at Blue Skies Adventures organized all the details and took care of us so well. The whiskey was a nice touch. If we were staying longer I'd happily join him on other outings -- I haven't ever been to the outlying islands, and do regret never visiting Penghu (the Pescadores). I have learned over the years, though, that I have no idea what lies in store, so I will wait for another opportunity to come back and see more of this lovely country. For now, though, it's time to move on.

Leave and Learn

2010-04-23T19:01:00.004+08:00

As our time in Taiwan draws to a close, I find myself getting sentimental about the small things, the daily or weekly interactions that I know I'll miss: buying magnolia blossoms from the lady on the street, chatting up my tea guy, exchanging pleasantries with folks at the morning market. I have also begun to distance myself from people I'm closer to, not unlike picking away at a bandage in hopes that the eventual ripping-off will be slightly less painful if the edges have already been pried back. I will miss the Taiwanese women I teach on Tuesday mornings, and the expat women I study with every Thursday. When I sit in church now I just want to close my eyes and listen, not sing. I hear about events in the not-too-distant future and realize they are nevertheless too distant for me. I am inching towards the door but still facing the middle of the room.

I'm also having to face my biggest disappointment about my time here: I have not learned Mandarin. I first came to Taiwan, way back in 2001, with a certain linguistic confidence. I had mastered German in school, was working as a sign language interpreter, had dabbled in French and Swedish and could even sing a hymn in Swahili. I liked languages. I could do languages. Since I was the only student in the "survival Chinese" class that year I expected that I'd pick things up fast, but even in that one-on-one environment I struggled -- I couldn't discern the tones, couldn't remember new vocabulary once I walked out the door, sometimes forgetting words as soon as I learned them. My teacher was patient, and commended me for my pronunciation, but my brain would not retain this precise, demanding, homophonic language. The irony was that the grammar of Mandarin, which is a hurdle for many foreigners, was so close to the grammar of ASL that it made perfect sense to me already. I didn't need reminders that time markers came first, or question words came at the end. But could I tell the difference between all those guos and guas, the shis, syes, and shrs? Could I buffalo.

I have learned enough from my intermittent lessons and bursts of solo studying to handle the day-to-day interactions. I can be polite, combining the right words with the right cultural cues for the most common situations. I can ask the time, tell a friendly stranger how old my children are, answer the question "Do you teach English?" with wo bu shr lau shr and an explanation of where my husband works and what he teaches. But I can't say much about my own life, talk about my interests, explain how I spend my days. I can ask, "What's that called?" but not remember the answer five minutes later. I dread asking someone his name, knowing that it will bounce off my ears and land, gently but irretrievably, at my feet.

I should've started with characters. I am a visual learner, not auditory, and love the meaning and images that are wrapped up in characters. This is a late-blooming realization, and not much use to me now that we're leaving, but I will keep it in mind. If Arizona is going to be home for a while I should start working on Spanish now, I suppose. And maybe if it comes too easy I can dabble in Apache.

It's All Greek to Me

2010-04-07T16:59:00.002+08:00

Okay, here are the answers to yesterday's puzzle in no particular order (heh heh). See if you can match them up:

A. Head and shoulders above the rest.

B. If it's Tuesday, this must be Belgium.

C. She's too good for you.

D. Sometimes bravery is just ignorance.

E. Out in the boondocks.

F. Strong start, weak finish.

G. It's Greek to me.

H. Patience is a virtue, OR don't be lazy (depends on context).

Ready... Steady... Go!

Listening to Thunder

2010-04-06T19:35:00.002+08:00

It's Tuesday, one of my busier days: I get the kids out the door with their lunches (instead of waltzing them over to school at the sound of the lunch bell like I usually do), and then I head downtown to teach my ladies' English club. Part of my routine is buying a ring of white fragrant magnolia blooms from the old woman who sells them at the same intersection every week. She sees me coming, and always has a huge smile and Taiwanese thank-yous. I hope to get a picture of her before we go.

Today's class was good. About ten women gathered around the ping-pong table to discuss the second half of our chapter on languages. I was especially looking forward to the section on Chinese proverbs which had been transliterated into English, and which the students were to explain to me. As I looked down the list of these odd (at least odd-as-transliterated) sayings, I tried to guess the meaning. Some were easier than others. I'll let you have a go:

1. A place where birds lay no eggs.

2. Tiger's head, snake's tail.

3. Riding a horse, looking at the flowers.

4. Standing by the tree stump waiting for a rabbit.

5. Ducks listening to thunder.

6. A crane standing among chickens.

7. The newly-born calf does not fear the tiger.

8. Thinking of eating swan's meat.

Let me know if you think you've got them figured out. I'll just be over here, in a place where birds lay no eggs, listening to that distant rumbling sound....

Easter Update

2010-04-01T20:03:00.002+08:00

The Ho Huan Shan hike has been postponed until early May, so my Easter morning will not be spent on a mountain top... this year, at least. In case the May dates fall through, too, I'm looking into another mountain-related challenge for my birthday. I'll keep you posted.

Teacher Potato

2010-03-26T18:54:00.009+08:00

I like to find myself in odd situations. It means I'll be different afterwards.

Wednesday night found me in a small white classroom crowded with long narrow tables and metal chairs. I sat quietly in the back while Ray, one of the foreign teachers in this after-school program, taught an English lesson in his crisp, rhotic Guyanese accent. Only two students had shown up for the five o'clock class, and it was already quarter past. Ray led Jimmy and Benny in a children's song, "Frogs Around the Pond," which was rather juvenile for these boys of eleven or twelve, but they repeated the words and sang along when asked. As the lesson went on, another boy, Arthur, came in. Then came a couple of girls who were quiet and compliant, and whose names therefore were never said very loud.

After going through the vocabulary of the song -- "hiking, biking, wishing, fishing" -- Ray turned the class over to me. I walked to the front of the narrow room, set my bag of supplies on the floor and my notebook on the front table, and greeted the children. "It's been a long time," I said. "Do you remember my name?" "Teacher Potato!" the older boys yelled out, and I gave them a grin. Teacher Potato indeed.

This class might be taught by foreigners but it is clearly under the guidance of a thin, large-eyed Taiwanese woman named Christina. She attends a weekly English club I lead, slipping in silently about halfway through my lessons, careful not to interrupt the discussion. About this time last year she asked if I would teach a lesson on the story of Easter to her buxiban students. Native English speakers from around the globe come to Taiwan to teach in these cram schools, yet I had never set foot in one; so out of curiosity -- as well as a desire to encourage my quiet friend -- I agreed to come. Christina asked me to focus on the religious side of the holiday, whose more commercial aspects were appearing in the markets here. The students' English comprehension levels were all over the map, as were their ages, interests, and enthusiasm. I had no idea how I was going to reach across these gaps. I ended up doing a lesson on symbols (this was a new word to them), starting with symbols of spring -- flowers, bunnies, eggs and lambs, all signs of new life -- and juxtaposing them with the cross, not an obvious sign of new life until you hear the whole story. They followed the lesson well, and the older ones were comfortable enough to tease me about my drawings: my Easter egg had come out a bit misshapen, ergo my new nickname.

I have returned to the class several times over the past year to teach lessons on summertime, Thanksgiving, and two cooking classes at Christmas (rice pudding and scones). What the students now know is that I will come with props, I will teach them strange new words, and I will make them do something. When Christina asked me to again teach an Easter lesson, I agreed. After some thought and a very timely suggestion from a friend, I came up with a craft that combined elements of the Easter story. Strands of hot glue trailed across the tables as we attached leafy fronds, coins, twine, thorns, nails and gauze to their papers. It was messy and out of their comfort zone and glorious. As we talked about the women coming to the empty tomb on Easter morning, coming to finish the burial preparations that had been cut short by sundown on Good Friday, I gave them cotton balls spritzed with perfume to symbolize the heavily scented materials they would've carried. The boys coughed and waved away the heady lavender that wafted their way, but the impression was made, the story taking shape in a new way in their minds.

Someone asked me recently if I am in Taiwan as a missionary. Technically yes, as we are one of the staff families at a missionary school. But I don't wear that label easily. I'm not here to win converts. I don't consider myself a missionary in the sense that I have a job to do and numbers of souls to tally. I know many missionaries, actually, and that doesn't describe them, either. But I do value my faith and know that if I were somewhere mundane, somewhere more ostensibly Christian, I would say less about this rather vital subject than I do here. People here are interested. Not easily offended, not easily swayed, but interested. So when I am asked, I share. It grows me as much as it might grow those who hear me speak, and it is only the former that I am in position to measure. As we prepare to return to America I wonder what will grow me there, what odd situations will present themselves, and how I will respond. I find that my faith, like the Easter craft, gets messier the deeper I try to delve into it, the more I try to apply it. I don't know what God has in mind for Jimmy and Benny and the rest, but I know that He made them and loves them. I don't know what God has in mind for me, but the story is the same.

Peaks and valleys

2010-03-21T17:03:00.004+08:00

All sorts of titles are coming to mind for this post, many of them film references. Hm. Anyway, I had said in my last post that I had something in the works, and now that all systems are go I'll fill you in. On New Year's Eve, at Cole's behest, I made a resolution -- which makes obsolete my circa-1999 vow to never make another New Year's resolution -- to climb a mountain this year. For years I've wanted to scale one of Taiwan's peaks, so now that our move is looming I've been looking for a way to make good on my recent promise to Cole and the long-standing one to myself.

Thanks to Blue Skies Adventures I'll be hiking Hohuanshan (insert one of many alternate spellings here:_____) the weekend of April 3rd and 4th. At first I thought the timing was terrible. It's Easter! How can I take a solo trip that weekend? But Cole insisted that I should go, Tim is willing to manage the holiday details, and I am now free to watch the sun rise on Easter morning from a height of 34oo meters plus change. It promises to be amazing.

Hohuanshan comprises eight peaks, and on this trip five will be up for grabs. Three are quite mild hikes, two others are a bit more challenging. I'll see how it goes once I'm there. At this point my goal is to do four, but I'm saying that with very little information on the conditions. My own condition is another factor. Must get out the boots and pack and start breaking them -- and me -- in.

If you're on island and want to come along, contact Mark at Blue Skies. And if you want to partake with me in Eucharist Under Special Circumstances on Easter morning, let me know; I'll bring more wine.

Home and Away

2010-03-15T16:38:00.002+08:00

Time for an update, or rather, well past time for an update. It's been a crazy year, and not necessarily in a good way -- lots of changes ahead, but as Cat Power would have us believe, "What comes is better than what came before." (Although I hear she needs to lay off the sauce.)

Okay, musical ramblings aside, here's the scoop: We'll be moving to Phoenix this June. Both my parents and Tim's have retired to Arizona, so this is a good place for us to land. The hardest part of living overseas, for me, is not having the kids grow up close to their grandparents. So this is a good thing. [Hey, as I was just writing that "What Comes Is Better" started playing. Spooky.]

Other news... is scarce. At the moment things like renewing passports, packing up the house, getting tickets home, house hunting from 8,000 miles away, and looking for work seem to be more than filling up my time. Well, to be honest, thinking about those things is filling up my time. I'm making slow progress. We have three months yet; plenty of time for panicking later. Not sure how often I will get back to this, but I will try to post occasional updates and maybe some pictures of any farewell jaunts we take. Kenting is certainly on the list of weekend trips, and I am planning a little expedition to make good on a New Year's promise. News at 11:00.

Merry Christmas!

2009-12-25T16:19:00.002+08:00

The big day is here, at least in our time zone, so Christmas greetings to one and all and wishes for a very happy new year. Here are some new recipes to keep the holiday cheery, sweet and warm. Lots of Christmas love from Taiwan!

Recipe update

2009-12-14T15:08:00.003+08:00

(Because if I'm going to resurrect one blog, I might as well resurrect the other....)

I've been cooking with my students a lot this fall, literally taking my show on the road, so the new recipes I've posted on Wonton Woman are field-tested and Taiwan-approved. Hopefully you'll like them, too.

Show of Hands

2009-12-11T20:41:00.008+08:00

One benefit of letting my blog languish for months is that I can come back to favorite topics without fear of wearing them too thin. It is no secret that I like driving here -- I like the organic nature of it, the hierarchy of the moment, the freedom to fill a gap when staying within a set boundary would only cause problems for those in your wake. It's not Western logic, but that doesn't mean it lacks logic. You just have to let go of the known way before you can really embrace the local driving mentality. It took me about a day to figure out that I was going to like driving here. Other people never get to that point. We're all made a little differently, so I don't judge -- I just wish everyone could enjoy the Galatians-like freedom of driving in Taiwan (grace and law being the two major forces battling it out in the foreign driver's heart).

So this brings me to today's Adventures in Licensure, Wherein Two Friends Take the First Step Towards Getting Their Taiwan Drivers Licenses and Are Stymied at Every Point Along the Way. This is not the first time I've considered getting my license but I never got past the at-home practice exam's morbid pronouncement of my skills. I am rope shy. With this attempt, however, I don't have to go it alone, so I am hopeful that I might, in the coming weeks, actually come home one day with a real Taiwan license. This is an illogical hope, really, but I cling to it; if I did not, I would have given up ever accomplishing the first of three steps, the physical exam, at the first sign of trouble today. Or if not the first sign then definitely the second, at the very least the third.

The process seems straightforward enough, albeit a bit drawn out: you first submit to a physical exam at a local hospital, which is equipped to test your abilities and determine if you are fit to sit behind the wheel. If you pass, you proceed to the written exam and driving test when you are ready, but no later than one year on. The physical exam involves checking your weight and height, verifying that you possess two hands (yes, really), checking for colorblindness, performing a vision test and a night-vision test -- which simulates the very real situation of a car suddenly turning its headlights on right in your eyes while you are staring at a sign you can't quite make out (probably the most practical part of the entire three-part testing process) -- and finally, confirming your ability to discern whether a tuning fork is thrumming in your left ear or right. This is useful when trying to balance the speakers, although the buttons on our stereo are so mysterious I leave all adjustments to Tim.

Our adventure started well -- we found the hospital, and even found the parking lot. We got as far as registering (this is called gua hao, the same as when you register a letter. I don't know why I was surprised that it's the same term, considering we use register for both situations, but I was). After paying the registration fee (NT$120, or about US$4.00) we toddled off towards the physical exam wing where we gladly handed over our health cards and registration forms to the nurse. She took them, then asked us for our photos. Screeeech, and... halt. We had no passport-sized photos with us, and the hospital had no photo booth. The nurse told us we could go to the Department of Motor Vehicles a few miles away and get photos done there, then return. Our registration would still be valid if we came back the same day. (Have I mentioned that my M., my friend-turned-licensing sherpa, had left her infant son at home with a sitter, and we were hoping to get back before he woke from his nap?)

We gathered our documents and drove to the DMV; I was pleased because we had spent so little time in the hospital we didn't owe any money for our few minutes of parking. My friend pointed out that the NT$20 we saved on parking would be used up in gas. But no matter! We (meaning I) managed to negotiate the very tricky Nanzih interchange and get us going the right direction on the right road, and within minutes we were there. I knew right where the photo booths were, so, again, our confidence was strong. All went well until suddenly it didn't: after M. got her photos I hopped in the booth, practiced my most natural non-smile, and then waited for my visage (times eight) to drop into the slot. I was told to wait 27 seconds, but after a full minute went by with no photos, I peeked in and saw an error message on the screen. M. went for help, and before long someone came along: she told me to use the other photo booth, the one with the "Out of Order" sign pinned to its curtain. "It's not really out of order, it just won't take bills. You'll have to use coins."

Back at the hospital (after reversing our Nanzih interchange journey), we made our way back to the exam wing, noting the undeniable smell of cigarette smoking wafting through the waiting area. We handed the nurse our papers, again, and our photos. She gestured to a counter and stools behind us, where we were to use the provided scissors and glue to affix our photos to our documents. Hand sanitizer was also provided, thankfully. M. and I enjoyed our brief crafting session before she was called in for her exam; I believe she passed. Mine followed, and while it's likely that the nurse's hao le just meant you're done, I'm hoping that I passed, too. She stamped my health report twelve times -- that has to be a good sign. Right?

Food for Thought

2009-11-24T19:48:00.004+08:00

I have been leading an English club for over a year now, one which was started many years ago by a good friend as an outreach ministry. The women who attend are from slightly different social and economic backgrounds, but most fall into the stay-at-home-mom or work-to-keep-busy-wife categories; many of their husbands run businesses in China or Vietnam, and their children are not babies anymore. The women are happy to have something to do on Tuesday mornings that is both social and edifying. We spend the bulk of our time studying English ("Chat Room" is our current textbook), then move on to a shorter study of something Christian in nature, and finally end with prayer. This was the format when I took over, and while I am not a "preach it and teach it" evangelist by nature (preferring the "preach the Gospel; use words when necessary" approach), I was happy enough to keep the discussion going on spiritual matters. I enjoy their questions about my faith and culture as well as the chance to ask about theirs.

Today's lesson was about food, and went particularly well. First, we ran through a list of about forty vocabulary words and then took turns answering questions from the book: What is the most disgusting thing you have ever eaten? When you are nervous or angry does it affect your appetite? Do you have an oven? (Not everyone does here, although toaster ovens are common.) My favorite was, What should a foreigner know about food customs in Taiwan? This opened up quite a conversation on cultural differences related to food. I noted that westerners linger over a meal much longer than locals; when we go out to eat the table next to us might go through several different parties who come in, order, eat, and leave, while we eat and talk and talk and talk. (And maybe ask for the menu again to check out dessert.) I was instructed on how to avoid second helpings of foods I don't care for (don't finish the first helping), how to avoid offense with my chopsticks (don't stick them upright in my rice; don't point with my index finger while holding them, lest I point at the gods or ancestors; and don't bang out a rhythm on the table with them), and how to hold my rice bowl properly (do bring it nearer your face, but not in your open palm, which looks like a beggar holding a bowl; rather, secure it with your thumb, which not only looks less beggarly but also prevents spills).

We talked about congealed blood as an ingredient, about the hidden message in the English phrase, "That's different," and about why foreigners say "congee," a Japanese word, rather than "rice porridge" when speaking about that traditional breakfast food of the Taiwanese. Our time sped by as we compared two cultures and their food beliefs and traditions. Next week we will use our class time to cook -- scones, cheddar crackers, and rice pudding are all on the menu. They are curious to try nutmeg, which was a new word to them (the fact that I happened to have an actual nutmeg in my pocket didn't help, sadly, since a whole nutmeg doesn't have any aroma). I am looking forward to seeing what foods they'll bring to the cooking party. Winter is just around the corner; I'm sure I'll get a lesson on which foods to avoid and why I shouldn't have iced drinks despite the temperatures still being in the low 80s. If they don't volunteer it, I'll ask.

Touching base

2009-11-12T15:10:00.003+08:00

I feel guilty whenever my two most loyal readers, my mother and Tim's mother, say that they still check my blog to see if I've written anything lately. I've not posted anything in a very long time, and part of that is due to Facebook. Being far away from friends and family, I like the immediacy and the interaction it provides; in comparison, blogging feels like monologuing in an empty theatre. I have stopped most other kinds of writing, too. No poems, no essays, no progress on the back-burner book that was an active project last year. I am not feeling writerly these days.

Writing about Taiwan is in its own category of non-writing. When you first arrive here you are surrounded by blog material. Everything is noteworthy, intriguing, odd. After more than six years here, though, the novelty is mostly worn off, and what remains is leftover observations and complaints. One of my cardinal blogging rules is No Complaining -- it does no one any good at all -- so in the absence of anything fascinating to share my posts have dried up.

November is here, which historically is one of my least favorite months in Taiwan. It's still hot, the skies are steadily grey, and the holidays lurking around the corner will bring with them too many responsibilities: church programs, school programs, and the need to make Christmas fanciful and lovely despite being nothing like what I'm used to. This is not a problem for Tim and the kids -- this feels like home for them more than it does for me -- so really my issues with feeling untethered and without traditions are pretty contained. I am grateful that they are content with being here; I am conflicted, constantly wanting to be here and somewhere else at the same time, but I appreciate that this place and time in our lives is good. We are safe and fed and enjoy the company of some very good friends. We are healthy and busy and just generally blessed, and therefore able to wail the lament of the well-off: why can't we have all of this, plus more? So maybe now you see why I haven't written much lately. I know I do.

I have been pursuing some new interests this year: I've taken up guitar and I'm really enjoying exploring a different musical side of myself. Improvising on guitar is much more satisfying than doing so on the flute. (It's also easier to sing along to.) I've been accepted into the University of London's divinity program and will commence studies as soon as my materials arrive; I can sit my exams in Taipei, and plan to enter at least two exams this May. I am still tutoring one private student, and I lead a ladies' English club once a week. I have been setting up a new Sunday school program at our church using the Godly Play approach, and love to see the kids really connect with the stories instead of just filling in worksheets and placing stickers on a page. I think children are so close to God; it's a joy to give them the chance to work through the stories in ways that are meaningful to them.

The kids are doing well -- Nora's in kindergarten, Cole is home schooling. They are funny and kind and getting bigger all the time. Nora's reading more and more, and Cole is learning guitar along with me; they're both pretty happy with where they are.

I won't promise to write more often, but I will promise to write again. I know it would be good for my soul, like any discipline. We'll see how it goes.

2009-02-14T23:11:00.006+08:00

I plugged this blog into the wordle machine and this is what I got. (Click on the image to make it larger.) I notice I have a lot of time words in my mix. Go figure.

Go make your own at www.wordle.net.

Numbering my days

2009-02-11T09:10:00.003+08:00

I like a bargain. I especially like a bargain in an otherwise-pricey store. Last year, in my search for a personal calendar, I found the perfect thing at MUJI: a plain brown blank calendar, with room for notes at the back. It was less than a dollar, and just what I was looking for. (MUJI often has just what I'm looking for, but rarely at a price I want to pay.) It's a 16-month calendar, so come April I'll switch to a new one. This means before April I'll need to sit down and fill in the dates for the next year and a quarter, so I've put that on my to-do list now (I sometimes require a long lead time). It was an interesting exercise when I did it last winter: filling in every day of the coming year, thinking about the seasons and holidays that are predictable, wondering where summer would take us and what else the year would bring--a year is full of both the mundane and the unexpected. Numbering the days made me appreciate how many days there are, and yet how quickly they can be counted and how quickly they will pass.

Looking ahead, the next few months are getting full, and summer is once again on the horizon and demanding some attention already. My week is full. My day is full. I skipped the farmers market this morning and kept Nora home with me, just to have a quiet morning hanging out together. She heads off to kindergarten in August, and my days will seem a lot emptier. No less busy, but emptier. Today I have lessons to plan, meetings to organize and pray over, lunches to make and dinner to think about; but for now, I can enjoy her company and my tea, and know that those things will wait another hour or two.

New Year, New Post

2009-01-24T16:52:00.000+08:00

It is time to write. Well past time, really, but not much I can do about that (aside from rigging the date I publish this under). 2009 is underway, and the Year of the Ox is upon us. Having just crossed from Saturday night to Sunday morning, it is officially New Year's Eve and the country is on the verge of massive migration. Later today, millions and millions of people will take to the roads and rails as they make their way back to their husbands' and fathers' familial homes for the first night of celebrations. On Monday, New Year's Day, they will move on to the wives' and mothers' families. There will be food, and drinking, and fireworks to frighten away bad spirits (you'd think the karaoke would take care of that, but apparently not). People will clean house to sweep away the old year -- but no sweeping on the first day of the new year, lest you sweep away any good luck inadvertently.

For those of us not obligated to follow this drill -- which just means foreigners, really, because everyone else is expected to go whatever distance to fulfill the New Years duty -- this is a holiday of peace and quiet, and a holiday for staying home. For many of us, living among Taiwanese and Chinese during New Years is akin to how a man must feel when his wife goes into labor: we're next to the action, but we're not really doing it. Sure, we get excited for the holiday, and put up red banners over our doors and greet everyone with "xin nian kwai le!", but we are not ringing in a new year that really registers as such. I'm not going to consider myself a year older tomorrow, I won't don red undergarments for luck, and I have no plans to hand out red envelopes of cash to my own children, let alone someone else's. I hope that doesn't sound Scrooge-like -- it's a rich and colorful holiday, and fun to observe, and I love that the two weeks of celebrations are capped off with the charming Lantern Festival which fills the skies with lights. But there remains that invisible barrier between "mine" and "theirs," and it doesn't seem likely to budge.

Our Christmas holidays were busy, but not terribly so, and before that we had family visiting in October and November. This week off from work and school will be a real pleasure: time to catch up on some projects around the house, and catch up with friends over dinner here and there. So often we say we need a vacation after a vacation; with an early Chinese New Year, that's what we've got. Happy New Year, everyone! May the Year of the Ox bring you peace and joy. And maybe a red envelope or two.

Belated goodbyes

2008-08-31T02:30:00.000+08:00

It's two o'clock in the morning here in Taiwan, and I am finally saying goodbye to my parents' house. A sensible person would have said goodbye when she was actually leaving the house, I suppose, but the morning of our departure after our long summer home was harried: load up the car, rouse the sleeping children, make one last pass through the house for any overlooked belongings. I'm sure we forgot some things--I'm expecting a box from my mom any day now with assorted summer leftovers--but the thing is, it's the house I left behind that I'm missing now.

Today--as in this moment, while it's dark here but nearly noon in Washington--my parents are holding an estate sale, downsizing as they prepare for their move to a new home in sunnier climes. I had all summer to set aside anything I particularly cherished and didn't want sold, and I did tuck away some favorites. Still, my mind is now wandering through all the rooms (dodging all the bargain-hunters who are doing the same thing), as I recall what goes where, and imagine how it will look when it's gone.

I am happy for their move, truly. And I'm happy that they are sorting and selling and saving aside as they see fit. I've done that before our moves overseas, and it's liberating. I just wish I could be there today. I'm sad that the house is beginning its transformation from "is" to "was" without me, and am feeling a little adrift. Perhaps it's not right to keep an anchor on the other side of the world, but it has been a comfort to me. I will miss it when it's gone.

I really must get to bed, but first, Mom, if you haven't sold the elephant mug I made in 5th grade, and the chromed boat bell that dad told me I could have one day, please stick a "sold" sticker on 'em for me. Thanks.

Headlights & red lights

2008-06-16T15:42:00.003+08:00

It's late, and I should be sleeping, or if not sleeping then getting our bags packed for tomorrow's jaunt to destinations north and an overnight with friends.

However.

Yesterday we were on the peninsula for a family get-together and on the drive home Cole was struck by the sight, as we came over a rise in the highway, of a solid band of headlights in the on-coming lanes and a solid band of tail lights ahead of us. He said, "That looks cool. Headlights and red lights." For some reason that resonated, like some sort of metaphor for life, or at least travel. Today it formed into a more concrete thought after rattling around in my brain: I do love coming home to Washington for the summers, seeing friends and family, eating favorite foods, losing sensation in my toes because it's so freakin' cold here in the summers; but when I'm here I have a general sense that I am looking at everyone's life from behind. It's not that I couldn't live like most people here, but the lifestyle seems one step ahead of where I want to be; if out of reach, only because I am taking small steps while everyone else marches on. Staring at the back of the American Dream: those are the tail lights.

On the other hand, living in Taiwan virtually guarantees that I'll not fit the mold. I live better than most locals, but am poorer than most expats; I am valued for my ability to speak my native tongue yet frustrated daily in my inability to speak Chinese; I do not really understand the culture around me, am not sure of my real reason for being there, but still persist in trying to make sense of all the whys and hows. Taiwan stares me down every time I step outside my cozy little nest: headlights.

This would be a great spot for an epiphany, or at least a platitude, but I have none. It's a puzzle, how we sometimes end up in unexpected places and then start calling those places home. And what was home becomes home again only when you're not there.

Spring goes zing!

2008-05-29T13:38:00.003+08:00

How can it be May already? Not just May, but the end of May, even? Well, for once I've got a really good reason for not writing, and you can see her to the right, here. This is Nian Yu, a lovely little girl who was born two months premature and needed a caring home for awhile until she could make her way to the orphanage. From there she will travel to a new home in America, but only after the paperwork is done and the judge says okay. It may take some time, but I'm hopeful that by the end of this year she will be in a family for good.

We had never fostered a child before this, and hadn't really thought about it; but when a friend who works with the orphanage asked if we would consider taking Nian Yu in, I couldn't think of a single reason to say no. I knew she'd wake for feedings at night, and need lots of attention when we're all at our busiest, and make everything just a tiny bit more complicated, but none of those things seemed more important than providing an infant with the chance to bond to someone at such a critical time. So we said yes.

Lots of people asked if I thought it would be hard to let her go. I knew that it would be. If it wasn't, that meant I wasn't doing a very good job of mothering her. And indeed, last Sunday when we handed her to the very loving and dedicated couple who run The Home of God's Love, it was hard to say goodbye. I'm not really in the market for another baby -- those 1:00 and 4:00 a.m. feedings did take a lot out of me! -- but she was my constant companion for five weeks and I felt guilty for letting her go. I am grateful that she is in capable hands, and I am praying that her transition to the orphanage is going well and her stay there will be brief. Wo ai ni, Nian Yu!

And then there were five...

2008-03-13T13:36:00.000+08:00

Yes, I realize that a title like that is a sure-fire way to start rumors and invite people to look at my stomach to see if I'm in a family way, but really, now, I'm only speaking of the hamsters. Over Chinese New Year we decided to bring home two new hamsters (our super, best-in-the-world hamster, Cutie, having passed on last November). We found a nice pet store, with clean cages and a helpful staff, and asked for two hamsters that would cohabit happily in our big cage at home. I should have known something was wrong as soon as we got them in the car--they squeaked and scrabbled and appeared to not like each other at all. But we did take them home, and introduced them to their new home, and watched them continue to harrass each other. One was larger and generally sweet-tempered; the other--possible a runt--smaller and bizarre in behaviour, seeking out the larger one but then rolling on her back, practically begging to be bitten. Indeed, the larger one did just that after a few days together, so we dug out Cutie's first cage, a smallish one, and separated them. It was only a few days later that the little one, Indi by name, gave birth. Both of our hamsters are girls, and with a gestation of 20 days there is no doubt anyway that she was pregnant when we bought her. The suprise is that such a tiny thing could hold three babies and still be so slight. But mother and pups are all doing well (there is one runt, but it seems to be doing all right). They are two weeks old now, their eyes just opening and their legs finally taking them out of the nest they were born in. They are small-eared and downy-soft, and I want to name them all Beatrix.

In other news, 2008 is blowing by and with nary a dull moment: we enjoyed our Lunar New Year break, although we didn't do anything particularly festive; I went to Taipei on the high-speed rail All By Myself (that went on the calendar in red ink, don't you know) to give a talk to the Amnesty International group up there about the current state of affairs in Burma and how the Free Burma Rangers are working behind the scenes to help; I've led worship at church (not my gift, but my offering, I like to say), led Bible study, and planned the church picnic; I've volunteered at school for after-school activities (Nora and I head up free draw, or as she calls it, "Draw School") and with Cole's class as they prepared for their big chapel program and with the middle school drama group as they tried to figure out how to write dialogue; I have written a cooking article for a local magazine (I will probably write it as a regular feature from here on out), and worked on some other writings that have been languishing in the far reaches of my mind for a while; and amid all that craziness managed to make an astounding dark chocolate sorbet that is at this very moment begging me to finish it off. I may have to heed that call shortly.

I know at least one person will read this and appreciate the update (even though most of this he already knows, but maybe hadn't heard about the sorbet, eh, Kevin?). Hopefully there are a few others who continue to check in despite my long gaps between posts. We are doing well here overall, but are eager for Tim to finish his degree this fall so we can all see each other a bit more. Easter and the perfectly-timed Easter break are just around the corner--it is one of my favorite holidays here because the weather is usually gorgeous and the island is hard at work, leaving the scenic corners and beautiful drives wide open for us. I hope your winter is melting into a lovely spring wherever you are.

Sawaadi bi mai!

2008-01-13T23:22:00.000+08:00

Happy New Year, that is! Well, as is obvious to everyone, I did not post a word from Thailand. We weren't too terribly busy, but with limited internet access and abundant shopping and pad thai all around, blogging did not happen. Our trip was fabulous, the weather perfect (not too hot or humid, but very pleasant), and we met--and met up with--several friends. We are eager to return, maybe as soon as next Christmas. In the meantime I'll wear my Thai scarves, lather up with mangosteen soap on my new loofah and just enjoy lots of happy memories.

Cole and Nora both give Chiang Mai a thumbs-up. They loved the hotel room and big hotel breakfast (although Nora's usual choice was chocolate cereal, which she dubbed Cocoa Deluxe--a fitting name for a US$4.oo bowl of brown corn flakes). They were good sports through all the shopping, and had plenty of their own adventures: riding an elephant, birding in the jungle, swimming in the icy hotel pool... they loved it all. They particularly enjoyed our jaunts across town, whether in a tuk-tuk or a song-taew (a motorized surrey and a red pick-up truck, respectively), the chief modes of transportation in Chiang Mai.It has been so long since we've traveled anywhere besides the U.S., I'd kind of forgotten what fun it is to see new places. Taiwan is an adventure, but a more familiar one to us now. Thailand was full of new sights and sounds, all quite pleasant, and we are grateful for the chance to ring out the old year and welcome the new in such a relaxed and friendly place.

The new year is already presenting some interesting opportunities. I will be speaking later this month in Taipei to the local Amnesty International group about the situation in Burma (I'll be sure to get you an A.I. bumper sticker, Marc). One of our new friends in Chiang Mai is Alex, who coordinates the relief team efforts for the Free Burma Rangers. Please check out their website (www.freeburmarangers.org) and support them if you can. The FBR is the only aid group sending teams into Burma to provide humanitarian relief. The need is great, and the Rangers put themselves in great danger by crossing the Burma border and remaining there for weeks or months at a time.

I will also be writing more regularly this year. I have been given a cooking feature in a local magazine, and will be writing other articles for them as well. I'm looking forward to working with other writers and photographers, and meeting some people outside of our usual circle.

I hope 2oo8 is off to a good start for you, too. Please drop me a line and share your New Year's news.

Cheers!

Christmas wrap (up)

2007-12-29T00:09:00.000+08:00

Just a quick note to say that we are off tomorrow to start a real live vacation: first to Taipei for a Chinese wedding (a family friend's step-daughter is the bride), and from there on to Chiang Mai, Thailand. The bags are packed, and we'll leave early tomorrow to catch the high-speed train to the capital city. The trip will take 90 minutes, instead of the 4+ hours it takes by car.

Our Christmas was very nice, and hopefully yours was, too. We enjoyed several great meals with friends, and the kids had a fun morning opening all the lovely gifties under the tree. Santa was good to them, as were their grandparents! I broke with tradition this year and went to see an acupuncturist, squeezing it in between opening presents and Christmas dinner. My neck has bothered me off and on for years, and I'd had a twinge for a week that was threatening to totally seize up. I will (maybe) give you the whole story later, but for now I'll just say that it was a success, and with follow-ups every day this week I am feeling very relaxed.

I must get to bed now, but I'll write more when I can, maybe from Thailand. Happy New Year, everyone!

Ironing sandwiches, winning the lottery, and other Taiwan commonplaces

2007-12-18T12:28:00.000+08:00

I hesitate to say that the drought is over, but I do feel like writing more lately. Not to put all this on you, my small cadre of faithful readers, but it is hard to write to a silent audience. A person needs a little feedback, and sometimes she needs even more. But regardless of who stops by to read, I still need to sort through life from time to time and you, my friends, get front-row seats. No fear, though--I'm not going to unload three months' worth of the expat experience on you (at least not in one telling). But perhaps some highlights....

The immediate crisis in my life is my broken range. Since Thursday last I've been without both stove and oven, due to the fact that I complained that the oven was not heating properly: 55 minutes to heat the thing to 350º means wasted gas and a hungry family. Anyway, this led to a visit from our maintenance man, who deemed the problem bigger than he could handle and called in an appliance repairman. The repairman came and gave it a go, but realized a part would need to be replaced. Of course the part had to come from Taipei, so it would be Saturday--Monday at the latest--before he'd be back. He returned Tuesday. That was yesterday, and after he'd retrofitted the part (because it certainly couldn't be exactly what was needed straight out of the box) he discovered that there was another problem as well, requiring another part, this time (thankfully) a bit closer to home. He did come back today but still hasn't finished up the job. In the meantime I still have a family to feed and a strong desire to make Christmas cookies before the holiday passes us by, so I've had to get creative. Enter: ironed cheese sandwiches. It works, I did not invent it, and Cole prefers them now to cheese sandwiches made any other way. They actually cook much quicker, but there's a tendency to be a bit underdone in the middle (which, honestly, is what Cole loves about them: more melty than toasty). There was a little improvement today: when the repairman came by he hooked up the gas to the burners again, so at least I can make a decent supper. Cookies, however, are still on hold.

Considering how often I win the lottery here, you'd think I could exert a little pull and get these kind of problems dealt with straightaway. At this very moment I am sitting on two winning receipts (yes, receipts) worth a total of four hundred dollars. Of course, those are New Taiwan dollars, or NT$, so they're only equivalent to about US$12, but still, I won. You see, every odd-numbered month the winning numbers are announced and people all over the island pull out their stash of cash register receipts to look for a match--and I am right there with them. I once had five digits match, which was a nice little bonus of NT$4000 (US$120), but all my other winners have been small fry: three digits, about six bucks a pop. The great thing about winning, though, is that you don't have to go to some distant lottery office to collect (well, unless you win big). They can be used same-as-cash at any 7-11, and there's not much you can't find at a 7-11 here, so that's a pretty good deal. The whole point of the lottery is to ensure that businesses issue receipts in the first place. With everyone clambering for official, lottery-eligible receipts, the government has a much easier time of keeping track of sales and collecting taxes from businesses. Without the receipt incentive a lot of money would never hit the books, and there'd be no reliable record for the taxman. So what the government saves in henchmen they give back to people as lottery winnings. Well, not all of it, I'm sure, but I can't complain. Somewhere there's a million dollar winner with my name on it. I just have to keep shopping until I find it. If only they'd fix my stove, so I can go buy groceries and get back in the game.

Violet skies

2007-09-23T10:45:00.000+08:00

I like blogging, I do. But the last few months have been so crazy: traveling all summer and then settling back in, the start of a new school year for Cole and Tim, and me heading up the pastoral search at our church. I am busy with life here, but not exactly the parts I want to write about. On top of all these duties and distractions, so many things that I would share about living in Taiwan resist capture. I saw the most striking hue cast across the low clouds at sunset the other day – a typhoon was passing to the north of us, and our sodden skies had dried just a bit, with clouds like wet cotton absorbing the light and melding the colors into one giant sheet of violet across the sky. It gave a dull glow, unearthly, and completely unphotographable. It just looks grey on film.

In the same way, when I sit down to write I fear that anything I try to put in words will be diminished in the end. I feel like I am drawing from a shallow well, so now I am planning a time to get away, by myself, to fill my reserves. I have months of observations of Nora in my head, waiting to go into her journal; I have pieces of a scrapbook for Cole tucked into various drawers and closets; I have essays, poems, manuscripts, that I want to finish, maybe publish, but no energy to do it all. I forget sometimes that my nature is more introverted than I let on, but I think when I can't write it's clearly time to step away from all the hubbub and give my soul a little rest.

We have a week-long break in October, as Taiwan celebrates the founding of the R.O.C.. I am thinking of places I can go for a day or two, either in the mountains or by the ocean. Somewhere where I can sit and think and write. In the meantime, I am happy to be where I am, doing what I am doing. But I do see that it's not giving back to me as much as I am putting into it. Blogging will resume, eventually, but maybe just not yet.

Kat, unplugged

2007-08-20T13:12:00.000+08:00

Yes, I am still here. I took the summer off from blogging -- this is my Taiwan blog, for one thing, and I was 7,000 miles away -- and figured I'd get back into things once we settled in. Well, we've been without internet access for most of the last week, so my plans have been thwarted. I'm writing from the library at school, and will just say for now that we're all doing fine: one small earthquake, two small typhoons, and weeks and weeks of rain since we returned. So everything's back to normal.

Cole started 5th grade today, by the way. Can you believe it?

Living high

2007-06-03T08:15:00.000+08:00

For my birthday recently, we took a trip down to the new Dream Mall, the largest retail center in Southeast Asia (for the moment, anyway). The mall features not only a Marks & Spencer, T.G.I.Fridays, and Toys 'R Us, but tops off it's 121,000 ping (that's 400,000 square meters for the ping-impaired) with Taiwan's only Hello Kitty ferris wheel. Oh, yes. You can see it here (along with a giant cup noodles) lurking in the background. Everything behind us is mall. Mall, mall, mall. We've been three times and still have only seen a portion of it: Muji, Starbucks, Baskin-Robbins, Nitori, McDonald's, the National Palace Museum shop, Birkenstock, Mont Blanc, Hankyu (a Harrod's wannabe, but we'll take it), Mister Donut, and more. The entire fifth floor is devoted to children's shops and an indoor playground. There are three levels of underground parking (below a six-floor garage). The food court is massive. I don't even know where they've hidden the movie theatres.

For my birthday, however, our mission was clear: ascend from the ninth floor to the roof and finally – finally!– ride the ferris wheel. On our two previous attempts the lines had been ridiculous, but on a Monday, at five in the afternoon, we hit it just right: one couple ahead of us, lovely light, and fifteen minutes of spectacular city views. It really was a nice ride. (In this photo you can see the view from the ferris wheel, when we were just coming over the top, looking back at the main plaza where the first photo was taken.)

I took a dozen pictures (a couple more of which can be seen here and here) as we made the trip around, then we hit the ground running (the wheel never stops moving) and headed in for dinner. It was a great birthday, and a great way to wrap up our fourth year here. The kids and I leave tomorrow, and I'm ready to come home for the summer (though with not nearly as much on my shopping list anymore, since Kaohsiung is now a shopping mecca). I'm ready to see family and friends, ready for zucchini and raspberries and littlenecks, ready for cool summer days and no typhoons. But Kaohsiung is home now, too, and it will be good to come back in August and get back into the swing of things. Have a wonderful summer, everyone!

Free as a what?

2007-05-22T05:27:00.000+08:00

A while back, when I was regaling you with tales of Nora's new underwear, I made the observation that, in Taiwan, any printed surface should be approached with caution. This is not quite true. Foreigners love to read the English on clothing, bags, scooters, panel trucks – we share our "best Chinglish" stories and laugh at how mangled English can be and still convey some meaning (maybe not the intended meaning, but still). I have never detected a sense of superiority in these stories – most of us have very limited Chinese skills, and we appreciate any effort to put things in our language – but we can't help but read anything romanized, and the results are strangely rewarding. There is no caution, only delight.

Some of us (well, at least one of us, ahem) actually buy things simply for their English content. I have a collection of canned drinks – several coffees ("let's be black," "let's be bitter," and the one everybody's searching for, "God"), a Snoopy chocolate milk and a matching milk tea (both with histories of their respective drinks), and a very Parisian-looking coffee with a poem by the great beverage connoisseur and caffeinated thinker Gertrude Stein. My favorite, however, has to be a tinned white fungus drink, which, quite appropriately, goes by the brand name "KKK."

All of this comes to mind because I've finally used up the last of a not-very-good shampoo that I bought last fall. We needed something other than baby shampoo in the guest bath since we had company coming, but Pantene or Dove or Prell wouldn't do. Oh, no. It had to be:

Sakura Moisturizing Shampoo

In such a crowed & nervous city,
I refuse to be the same,
In my own way,with my own style,
I want to be myself,
as free as a fish, walking along the
city,
free my own pace,
as I wish..

I am as free as a fish, walking along this city. If only the shampoo were better – I'd buy it every time. Now that I've run out, though, I'll just have to find something else to amuse the guests.

The birds and the beads

2007-05-13T13:23:00.000+08:00

A Japanese White-eye slammed into our window this week. He was alive, breathing really hard, but otherwise totally still. I was afraid he'd broken his neck, but after 20 minutes or so he flew off, so I guess he was just shaken up. They're very pretty birds, quite small, and they do have a lovely song.

Speaking of song, we were awakened at 6:30 this morning by a temple parade: gongs, horns, drums, wailing voices – all of it being broadcast from the back of a truck so we wouldn't miss a note. Firecrackers punctuated the music. Big ones. This month has been unusually active for the local temple – they've strung up red lanterns, a couple miles' worth, all along our road, to mark which areas fall under their jurisdiction. This is for the benefit of roaming spirits, I believe, not just for us foreigners in the neighborhood. The next nearest temple had something going on today, too, so it could be a Taoist, island-wide thing, or something local. I wish I had more insight into those goings-on. I will have to ask my Chinese teacher to shed some light on it.

We had an outing today to the aboriginal (Paiwan tribe) village of Santimen (pronounced "san-DEE-mun"). This is my fourth trip to visit the bead shop there, but every time I go there's something new to look at, and the drive into the hills is refreshing in its own right. There are beautiful pieces of jewelry to buy, which I did, but the main reason we went was for the DIY beadmaking craft. It's a bargain: for NT$200 (about $6.00 US) you get to make your own large glass bead, then choose accent beads and have it made into a bracelet or necklace right before your eyes. The kids both made necklaces; Nora's is a gift for someone (I won't ruin the surprise), and Cole made a "pearl of great bravery" for himself. The beads all carry meaning within the tribe, and were worn like badges, proof of someone's experience or character. They were originally made from clay, but have been translated into glass. I'm sure we'll go again soon. Tim hasn't been yet, and just this evening a friend said, "Oh, let me know next time you go...." Maybe next weekend. Let me know if you want to tag along.

Pix

2007-05-04T03:50:00.000+08:00

Now that I have my camera back, I've added some more pictures to Formosa Fix. The funny thing is, I've only uploaded photos taken the day before my camera broke, back in January. But I will get snapping and post some new ones soon, too.

Odds 'n ends

2007-05-03T00:08:00.000+08:00

Time for a little loose-end trimming. With summer travel just around the corner, I sense the need to start wrapping things up – not that I can't blog from home, but my mind is already halfway across the ocean and I don't want to leave a bunch of unfinished Taiwan stories lying about while I chase after it.

First, the MV Doulos. We did get a tour the night I took doubles to Roopa; she was leading her team in drama practice, but her friend Hannah graciously led us around. We covered the whole of the ship, from engine room to laundry room, and then had dinner in the mess with both of them. (Roopa happily skipped the chow line and just nibbled on her doubles.) My camera was broken at the time, but the picture I would put here for you if I could is the view from the darkened ship's deck, looking into the brightly lit laundry: giant, bright yellow commercial washers line the walls, clean shirts on hangers hang from the pipes that traverse the ceiling, and in the foreground, hanging in the doorway, a dozen clown wigs – hot pink, lime green, rainbow-striped – dangle from the drying rack they're clipped to. It startled me and made me laugh. (And curse my broken camera.)

A few days later I did pick up Roopa for her Big Day Out, and Hannah joined us, too. They were in need of a day of rest, so we picked up some steak and potatoes at Dollar's and came back to our house for dinner. They were thrilled to sit in a room that wasn't moving, on a real couch, and just have the time to catch up with each other. Their duties on board keep them running in different directions, which is harder on them as their time to leave the Doulos approaches. Hannah will leave this month, and Roopa has to decide if she will leave in September and return to Trinidad, or remain on board one more year before marrying and moving to Australia. It was a pleasure to get to know both of them better, and to learn about the inner workings of such a venture. The protocal for courtship on a boat full of young men and women was particularly fascinating.

Next, the bread. My rosemary-sea salt loaf had good flavor, but I was surprised to see that the salt which I sprinkled on top blackened. It didn't burn so much as smoke, so the flavor was actually fine, but aesthetically, black salt was not what I was looking for. I will dig around to see what solutions I can find. In the meantime, I have another loaf going today, cinnamon raisin this time. It'll go in the oven in another couple hours.

And I recently added another book to my reading list, Peter Hessler's Oracle Bones. I got it for Christmas, blazed through it, but then forgot to mention it here. Highly recommended reading, especially if you read his first book, River Town. (It stands alone, so read it either way.) Hessler has a real talent for finding the hidden threads that connect seemingly disparate ideas and events, and his general love of China comes through, even as he struggles, frustrated, to understand her.

I, on the other hand, have no brilliant thread running through these lines, other than the relief of getting these lingering details out of my head and into print. I feel a bit freer now to move forward, but I will try to stay in the present long enough to give you a few more stories about happenings here.

Man cannot live by bread alone; woman, however...

2007-04-30T13:50:00.000+08:00

I just found a boss hog bread recipe (love you, Eryn!) at chocolateandzucchini.com. Like Clotilde, I did not find immediate success. My first attempt was dough soup, baked into a golden brown curling stone in my Le Creuset dutch oven (curling stone, because a hockey puck would be too small). But undaunted (thank goodness Clotilde admitted her own third-time's-a-charm luck with this recipe), I made a second loaf today and, my dears, it's nearly gone. I did share a large hunk of it with some fellow bread-desperate friends, but mostly it's just been the work of me slicing into it all evening, slathering on the butter, and telling whoever walks into the kitchen, "I'm so happy! I made good bread!"

Find the recipe here, and then pull out your scale – kitchen scale, that is; pull out the bathroom scale and you may never make bread again. The key to this bread is the moisture content, and humidity is gonna mess with standard cup-of-this, cup-of-that measurements, as will variations in measuring a cup of flour (scoop? spoon? tap? level?). The loaf I'm nibbling on now (yes, right now), is plain Jane, strictly by the book. I have started another loaf tonight with the addition of three sprigs' worth of fresh rosemary needles, and will top it with coarse sea salt before baking tomorrow morning. See, that's the beauty of it: there's no kneading. You mix it, let it sit forever (or at least the next 12-18 hours of forever), drop it into a hot cast-iron lidded pot, and bake in a very hot oven. No mess. No kneading. No more crappy white Taiwan bread.

I am SO happy. You have no idea.

Who is the crazy lady hugging a box of Grape-Nuts in aisle five?

2007-04-25T05:53:00.000+08:00

Oh, that would be me.

After the last post got me thinking about raspberries, and how much I crave them, I started thinking about how many things we can get in Kaohsiung now. I mean, raspberries have a short season in Washington, and luckily I fly home at the start of it, so I can't really complain about how scarce they are here. But other foods I have longed for are beginning to hit the shelves on our little island, and for that I am deeply grateful. When western foods become available, not only do I get to enjoy them right now, but it also frees up a lot of space in my checked bags at the end of the summer. My bring-back list is getting shorter and shorter every year.

Here are some of the goodies I've found around Kaohsiung in the last nine months:

Grape-Nuts (I really did hug them).

Cream that doesn't taste funny. It's still UHT, but it has no weird ingredients, only cream, which makes a huge difference in homemade ice cream and such. Plus, it's from Ireland, where all the cows are clean and happy.

Green peppercorns.

Bourbon vanilla extract.

Orzo, or rather Rosemarino, which is a bit more needle-like but still cooks up into a lovely pilaf.

Sea salt, and loads of it: New Zealand salt, Chilean red salt, local salt -- it all makes me happy.

Yogurt starter, with even more bacterial strains and a creamier taste than the starter that I've been smuggling over here for years.

Chili powder -- Costco size.

Rye flour. Haven't bought it yet, but I know where to find it now.

Brown rice flour. Bought it, but haven't used it yet. Somewhere I have a great lavender shortbread recipe that calls for it.

Ginger snaps.

Fresh dill! A friend bought some at the morning market and shared it with me. It's salmon with dill butter on the menu tonight.

There are still some essentials that elude me: beef bouillon, couscous, tapenade, chutney, vanilla beans, lentils, dried pears, powdered sugar that doesn't make your frosting gritty. But when you consider how cheap the fresh produce and meats are here, and how easy it is to get western staples, it looks more and more like a cook's paradise. And with all the extra room in my suitcases, maybe I can bring more books. Or travel lighter. There's a thought.

Signs of spring

2007-04-21T13:12:00.000+08:00

Easter is behind us; kids are counting down the days 'til the end of school, and teachers are counting down the hours; the days are getting warmer, but rain's in the forecast.

All true, but that's not really what I mean now when I say signs of spring. I mean spring in Taiwan, spring as an expat, spring that takes some getting used to. (By the way, was anyone else out there taught to capitalize the seasons? It is a deeply entrenched habit, one that I fight only half-heartedly.) Anyway, spring (Spring), for me, is this:

Walking through piles of dry brown leaves that have finally fallen off the trees.

Looking for giant caterpillars, or their dessicated casings, nestled in the crevices of our school wall.

Mangoes the size of a lap cat.

Making mental lists of what I need to buy in the states this summer. Every morning for the last two weeks I have said to myself, "I should buy two of those lipsticks this year." Every morning.

Dead baby birds in the carport. Did they fall? Were they pushed? Why don't they get eaten?

Constantly feeling like I'm forgetting something. Too many parties, projects, and weekend trips as the school year winds down and people make ways to spend time together.

The accompanying feeling of sadness, kept just below the surface, as the end of the year means saying goodbye to dear friends.

Chirping geckoes.

National auto taxes (bad), and an automatic extension on my IRS filing (good).

Daylight that lingers long after the garbage truck's anthem, Für Elise, has faded away.

Swinging between two extremes: wanting to see everyone this summer, and wanting to do nothing all summer.

Scarred and charred hillsides, after families have come to fufill their duty to ancestors on Tomb Sweeping day. There is some small irony in the living honoring the dead by wiping out all of the plants that have grown around the tombs. We show up at a grave with flowers; they show up with weed trimmers and lighter fluid.

Strawberry season is over.

Raspberries await.

What would Jesus do?

2007-04-07T03:40:00.000+08:00

Just came back from school where Nora and I had lunch with Tim. On the way home Nora was holding a bookmark Cole gave her, imprinted with a cross and those ubiquitous letters, WWJD. She held it up and asked, "What does this Bible say?" (I guess the cross gave her that connection.) I told her, "It says, 'What would Jesus do?'" Her eyes lit up. "He would give me a present before Christmas gets here a long time from now!"

Well, why not? Actually, today being Good Friday and all, I think we can say He already has.

Blessed Easter, everyone!

Two words

2007-03-25T00:30:00.000+08:00

Last weekend I had an enjoyable exercise in following one's impulses: two little words I blurted out set into motion a series of events that, in fact, continue to unfold. I don't mean to be oblique, but I am rather tickled by how the week has gone, and it can all be traced to one moment. Last Saturday night, we headed down with some friends to Fisherman's Wharf on the Kaohsiung harbor. Docked there at the moment is the MV Doulos, which sails to ports all over the world to provide books, medical assistance, and, when possible, a message of faith. The crew of 350 are all volunteers, from the captain on down, and crewmembers commit to a one- to two-year assignment on the boat. Over the years, more than 19 million people have come aboard to buy books and tour the vessel; she was built two years after the Titanic, and was first used as a cargo ship (she carried onions) but was later converted to a cruise ship. She has been running as a ministry since the '70s.

So this is how my two little words came into play. Before boarding the ship, we all decided to find some dinner at the restaurants along the wharf. Nora and I stopped at the first place we came to, a quiche and coffee shop, but the others wandered farther on looking for something else (something more manly, perhaps). At any rate, as Nora and I were eating, a performance began near our table, songs and dances from the drama department of the Doulos. We finished up and made our way over to the stage to watch them. Nora loved the dancing; the audience loved Nora (at one point, all the women squatting down in the front row had their cameras trained on her -- she is such a fascination to them). At the end of the show the members introduced themselves. The crew is made up of people from all over the world, and this group of about ten represented North America, South America, Europe, Asia and Central America. This last one, a woman from Trinidad, had already gotten my attention by using some American Sign Language in her music performance; now she stood on the stage and said where she was from, waiting for some recognition from the audience. People had clapped for France and Sweden and Canada, but no one seemed to have any idea where Trinidad was. She was playing up her disappointment, but still, I felt moved to say something. I called out, "Go, Trinidad!" She smiled, I smiled, the Chinese ladies around me giggled, and that seemed to be the end of it. Nora wanted to see the dancers, though, so we walked over to where the troupe was putting away their gear. The woman from Trinidad, Roopa, came up to me, so excited that I had even heard of her tiny island. She offered to give us a tour of the boat, so I rounded up everybody and we made our way up the gangplank. We did not get far, however, as tours were supposed to end at 8:00 and it was already past. But Roopa extended the offer if we were to come again.

I wasn't sure when we might make it back, but as the days passed I kept thinking about Roopa, about how far away from home she is. (Yes, I'm far from home, too, but I get to go back every summer, and people come to see us here, and the time seems to go quickly. She lives in a room that's smaller than your average walk-in closet. She shares it with three roommates.) I got online and Googled "food of Trinidad." I soon discovered the national treasure that is doubles, a fried bread filled with curried chickpeas. I found a recipe for it; I found I had all the ingredients. I knew we would go back.

Friday was a half day for the kids, and Tim was free in the afternoon, so after lunch I started making doubles [see my recipe here]. Everything went together easily, the house smelled fantastic (cumin and curry and onions, oh my!), and before long I had a bag with ten baras (fried bread rounds) and a little Chinese lunchbox full of channa (the curried beans). Tim came home and we piled into the van, back to the wharf to deliver the goods. I had sampled the doubles, and thought they were great, but I had no idea how close to real they were. Once on board, I handed the bags to Roopa, who asked what was inside. I told her to take a peek and see if it looked familiar. She poked around in the bag of bara and looked up at me with big, big eyes. "Doubles? You brought me doubles?" I smiled. She smiled, and then she started to cry a little. I did, too. How can you not? She was so happy to have a taste of home, and I was so happy to provide it. I feel a real kindredness with her, for whatever reason, and am still searching for ways to make her time here a little more comfortable. Monday is her day off, so I am picking her up at 1:00 for her first and only outing in Kaohsiung (the ship sails Tuesday for Taichung). I haven't decided yet how we'll spend the day, but doubles might factor into it. She did say they were very good.

The thrill of the road

2007-03-21T09:49:00.001+08:00

Check out this video for a taste of driving in Taiwan. It has several great illustrations of Kat's Taiwan Law of Vehicular Attraction: When three or more vehicles are on the same roadway, all traveling at different speeds, their paths will align at the narrowest, curviest, or otherwise most dangerous part of the road. Pedestrians, poor weather, and road crews increase the effect.

The video was taken somewhere on the east side of the island. It's beautiful country, but it's hard to appreciate the view when you're behind the wheel.

Enjoy!

A little housekeeping

2007-03-19T23:59:00.000+08:00

I just dusted off the books section on your right, there. That's been wanting some attention for a while. You may notice that I've renamed it, so I can lump in more titles, not just what I'm reading At This Moment (because I'm not a diligent-enough blogger to give you the play-by-play). Gilead and The Time Traveler's Wife are both novels; I would recommend the former to anyone – it was excellent. The latter I enjoyed, but it did get a bit steamy as the story wore on, so if your sensibilities are easily offended, perhaps you'd best skip it. I was too far into the story to put it down (and after she worked Gordon Gano into a scene I was willing to overlook many a transgression). Overall I liked it quite a bit. Time travel is hard to wrap your ahead around, but then again, I've got to use my fingers to figure out what time it is in Seattle, so it's partially just me.

The other two titles are non-fiction: Madeleine L'Engle's Story of a Marriage is a beautiful description of her life with husband Hugh, which she recounts while also parting the veil on his last months and days. Very emotional, but lovely. The Art of Travel I've just started. It looks to be an enjoyable read, one that I considered setting aside for the long flight home this summer, before remembering that I no longer get to read on the airplane because I am den mother, pack horse, and chaperone to two. I choose sleep over books now on those hops across the pond. At any rate, it's an intriguing look at why we travel, and how. Not a travel guide, but rather a guide to one's motives for traveling (or not, as the case may be).

I have cleaned up the list of "My" links, as well. I had added another blogging neighbor recently, but found out that she has switched over to posting photos on Flickr rather than blogging. So, Laura, you're out. (Auf Wiedersehen!) I updated my friend Clint's link so you go directly to his blog, rather than his photography site. Do check out his pix too, though, and stop by the grand opening of his new studio in Bellingham at the next Art Walk. He's very skillful with the camera.

So everything's tidied up now, and I can blog in peace and harmony. Enjoy it while it lasts.

Another busy day

2007-03-02T15:49:00.000+08:00

Some days get the time sucked out of them, but others seem like they last forever. If you'd asked me this morning, I would have guessed that this was going to be one of the former. I will spare you the play-by-play of my day, but I will say that it involved getting Nora to preschool, mailing a package, cashing in some winning receipts, taking Cole to the pediatrician, having a follow-up with my own doctor, and taking a load of hemming and mending to the seamstress. It was a little crazy, but some days require a lot of you, and that's just the way it is.

Two things stand out from my busy day, sitting here now in a quiet house. The first happened at the hospital. I have a national health card with my name on it, last name printed first in the Chinese way; it is the same on my alien resident card and my hospital ID. Perhaps because they are familiar with the western order of names, every nurse or doctor who sees my name on those cards calls me by my last name – or rather, the feminine version of it: Michelle. It is uncanny, that not once in very many visits has anyone ever called me by my right name, nor even my right last name. So today I sat waiting for my number to come up, for the nurse to come out and say, "Please? Michelle?" And she did. That was not surprising. What did catch me off guard is that while waiting to pick up some pills at the pharmacy, the player piano in the lobby (this is a very posh hospital) started playing the theme to Cheers. I was humming along, and then came to that bit. You know, where "everyone knows your name." It was very hard not to laugh. But when the pharmacist handed me my prescriptions and said, "Thank you, Michelle," I very nearly lost it. Poor woman, she must have thought I was nuts.

The other great moment came after our visit to the seamstress. This errand has been a long time coming, Tim and I having amassed a sartorial stash, two bags worth, of things to be altered or mended. Our good friend Tiffany offered to go with us, to interpret as well as get some of her own things worked on. We went after dinner, when the woman's sign was usually set out. We arrived at the home of the seamstress, however, only to find the doors locked, the lights off, and the neighbor insisting that no one there did sewing anymore. No money in it, he said, which I can believe. (Most repairs will run you a dollar (NT$30), but if it involves a zipper it might push three bucks.) Undaunted, Tiffany directed us to a different part of town where she had seen another seamstress' sign before. The three of us walking down the main drag of the neighboring little village, bags of clothes hanging from our arms, must have been a sight. We ended up speaking (well, Tiffany spoke and we tried to look like we were following the conversation) with a shopkeeper who told us that the seamstress we were looking for was no longer in business (a disheartening trend), but there was another not too far down the lane and around the corner. At the OrangeKitchen we found success: behind the darkened cafe front, a back room with a pewter-colored, war-era Mitsubishi sewing machine and glass cabinets of thread was opened to us. We were made very welcome, as our host offered us chairs ("Sit-a down!") and summoned the seamstress in the family. She looked over our various garments (eight pairs of pants, one shirt, one skirt), took measurements, made marks with her yellow chalk, and then announced it would all be done tomorrow.

We decided to walk back to the car via a different lane, one which passed a local church (we had passed two temples on the way in, so it only seemed fair). The lane began to narrow, and then ended -- well, not quite. A passage led off to the left, which was the direction we needed to go. We slipped between the houses on that path, listening to muffled voices and kitchen sounds bounce off the stucko walls, walking farther into the dark, only to slip into an even darker, narrower path before emptying out onto the street. Adventure is too big a word for such a brief detour, but the sensation was there, for a few moments, that we were doing something we hadn't done before, walking where no one we knew had walked before, seeing one more corner of Taiwan which will be filed away under "Remember when?" It was a good day, all in all. Long, but good.

Night noises

2007-03-01T15:47:00.000+08:00

It is the last day of February, in fact the last hour of February. I stayed up to take a warm bath and my last dose of pills for the day (apparently pertussis is what's been going around). As I walked through the house, shutting off lights, I was so pleased to hear the night noises drifting in through the open deck doors. Only February (!), and outside crickets, frogs, some unknown nocturnal birds with a whooping call, all sing to me through the screens, as tan geckoes skitter across. This has been a particularly cool winter (I will refrain from calling 50º cold), and a rainy one, but I'm not sure I'm ready for spring yet. Late winter days here are just about perfect, as are the nights.

Happy Chinese New Year, by the way. My camera isn't working, so I've got nothing to show you from our week off -- but then again, you can probably picture us staying home and laying low without any visual aids. The whole of the country goes visiting on New Year's, so we waiguoren tend to stay put. As it is Year of the Pig, we ate a lot of bacon and I made sausage. I'm not sure how the poor beasts came to symbolize good fortune, but we did enjoy our share of them. Do not, however, draw conclusions about how we rang in the Year of the Dog....

Pretty as a picture

2007-02-14T23:10:00.000+08:00

One of the many diversions available to foreigners in Taiwan is professional modeling; it is not hugely lucrative, but the catalogs make for great souvenirs. The key to being a successful model is being the right height and the right color, the former varying from job to job, but the latter being a fairly fixed idea. Nora, it turns out, was just the right height for a job this week (95 cm), and a most desirable shade of pale. Actually, it's not strictly about skin color, but about looking foreign. Many half-Chinese children model as well, but I know of some mixed-race families where one sibling gets work while the other, more Asian-looking, child does not. The manufacturers know what sells their product: the notion that across the great Pacific little fair-haired, pink-cheeked boys and girls are wearing the very same clothes that hang on Taiwan's department store racks.

So today, Nora and I travelled up to a photo studio in Tainan with a couple other moms and kids, to shoot a children's clothing catalog. The siao jyes oohed and aahed over the kids, and promptly set about dolling them up, teasing their hair and dusting powder on their little noses. It was fun, at least for the first couple hours. It turned out to be a very long shoot, running well past dinner time, and There Were Tears. But the kids were great, the clothes were darling, and the money will be set aside for a rainy day. It's not a way of life I plan to pursue (being a studio mother, that is), and opportunities to model are fairly rare anyway, but perhaps the next time a job comes around Nora will be up for it again. She certainly likes the camera.

Funny undies

2007-01-20T14:56:00.000+08:00

I only have a minute, since I'm trying to get to bed before 11:00 these days, but I just had to share: I picked up some new "big girl pants" for Nora this week, white with a cute little duck design on them. They were sealed in their packaging, so I couldn't really check them out until I got home, but, I mean, it's little girl undies. What could possibly go wrong? (Okay, that's a rhetorical question; this is Taiwan, and any printed surface should be approached with caution by English speakers.) So, I get them home, and upon closer inspection I find that next to the happy little duck is a tiny little fish, labeled "fish," and a tiny little crab, labeled... "crap." Naturally.

I'm thinking maybe I'll frame them.

New Year notes

2007-01-16T14:28:00.000+08:00

Whenever I start feeling like I'm so behind in posting, I click on my neighbor's link to the right here to cheer myself up. (October? Thanks, Matt! I feel better already!)

The new year is off to a pretty good start. My parents are here for a visit, which is great, but Tim, Cole, Dad and I have been feeling a bit off (a couple of nasty bugs have been circulating the building since Christmas), so I'm hoping that it all blows over soon and we stay healthy the rest of their time here. We're planning on touring the east side of the island next weekend. Last Saturday we spent the day in Kenting -- lovely weather, and hardly anyone else on the beach -- but the last two days Cole's been sick and we've not done much.

I have been spending very little time on the computer lately, not on purpose, but as a result of trying to get to bed earlier. Something had to give, and for now, at least, it's computer time. I'm finding that the earlier I go to bed, though, the harder it is to get up in the morning. I will keep at it, but seriously, it makes me want to sleep more, and that's kind of not the point. Could be a flu-related thing, though, so I'm not making any plans to stay up late. Yet.

Not much news on this side of the world. No major aftershocks since the quakes in December. The holidays were quiet and pleasant (except for said earthquakes), but now school's back in session and life's picked up where it left off before the break. We're looking ahead to Chinese New Year already; nothing like two weeks off to make you wish for more. Sort of like the sleep thing....

Speaking of, off to bed I go. Will post some pix soon of our travels.

Twist earth!

2006-12-27T15:57:00.000+08:00

So, if you were three years old, and right in the middle of dinner your house started moving first side to side in one direction, and then side to side the other way, what might you call it? I think Nora's "twist earth" pretty neatly sums up this evening's excitement: two quakes (6.7 and 6.4), coming about eight minutes apart, each seeming to go on longer than anyone here remembers a quake lasting (a minute? half a minute? three? It's so hard to gauge time when you're in the middle of one). After the first, we went out to the hall, heard lots of voices a floor below and headed down to trade stories with our neighbors who had gathered there: fish tanks sploshing most of their contents on the floors, vases falling off tables, books off shelves, small children freaking out. This was the inaugural quake for one of our new families, and for their parents who are visiting from the states as well. (Welcome to Taiwan! Hi! Hug a wall!) While we were all chatting, the second quake hit, and I headed inside an apartment with Nora to find a secure place to ride it out. Several moms hunkered down in the hall with their little ones; they started singing Jesus Loves Me, which was comforting except that it made me realize just how long the quake was lasting. I prayed. And prayed. It really went on and on. Once that one ended, many of us headed out to the lawn, to the relative safety of open spaces. Our building is exceptionally well built, conforming to California earthquake codes, as opposed to local standards (which, in practice, if not on paper, seem to only require that something metal (old coffee cans, rebar remnants) be--oh! we just had another one. Dashed to the hall with Tim and Cole (Nora's in bed), and watched things move. This is getting really unnerving. Eek. At least we're not on the 7th floor; they really sway up there. Cole asked, at the tail end of it, "Is the building still moving, or is that just my legs?"

We have staff families traveling over break to cities much nearer the epicenters of these quakes, and I can only pray that they're out of harm's way. (One more reason to stay in better hotels, eh?) Apparently two buildings collapsed after the earlier quakes, killing at least one person and trapping others. Not a lot of details yet on the English news sites. Please keep the people here in your prayers, that there won't be more deaths, and that the aftershocks subside soon.

We're fine, if shaken a bit. Tim says the last one was a 5.5, so at least things are moving in the right direction. I'll keep you posted.

Christmas past

2006-12-27T08:42:00.000+08:00

Christmas Day is behind us, and there's a sense of relief in the air. It is both a holy day for us and a holiday, so I appreciate that Christmas in Taiwan is a toned-down affair; there's a bit of hall-decking and last-minute shopping, but not the craziness of the season stateside. Still, I miss family, miss being able to carry on certain traditions (someone please tell me who got Willy this year!), and miss the smell of a real tree--I stuck some sprigs of rosemary into our tree so it would at least smell like something in nature--and it's easy to get homesick the more you think about what you're missing. So now that the big day is over, I feel free to enjoy the rest of our winter break without the emotional weight that Christmas brought to the first half. My parents are coming to visit in a couple weeks, so I am looking forward to that, and hoping to get a few things done around the house in preparation.

I hope you had a lovely Christmas, wherever you are, with the company of friends and loved ones. I had a good one, but I'm happy to have it over for another year.

Island in a dry river

2006-12-21T15:55:00.000+08:00

I have not written in two months. Crazy. It's not that I haven't had plenty to write about, nor have I been so utterly busy that I couldn't sit down for twenty minutes and peck out a post or two; I just haven't written. The longer I went without writing, the more I thought about how to explain why–not just to you, my clamoring readership, but to myself, too.

The answer began to coalesce around a Chinese character I learned some time ago and just came across again in a street name downtown: jhou, which friends say means an island in a dry river. A quick (ha ha, quick) perusal of my Chinese-English dictionary (ever thought about how to arrange a dictionary when you've got no alphabet?) calls jhou an islet, or a sandbar. Whichever meaning, I think jhou describes how I've been feeling–stationary yet evolving, able to see everything around me, yet at the same time a bit tired of noticing everything around me. The unexamined life is sometimes a blessing. Of course, the lie in that is that I have still been examining, just not reporting. I can't decide, though, if I identify more with the sandbar or the dry-river island. I will certainly always be a foreigner, will marvel daily at how different things are here, will continue to stand out like a blue-eyed, fair-skinned thumb (if you'll allow me that liberty), but... this is my life, and the longer I'm here the more normal it becomes. I am a little island in a rushing, pushing, pulsing river; I am also an island in the drier tedium of routine, trying to keep from being absorbed into the plainer parts of my days.

Ack, sorry to ruminate all over you. I'm not sure if the cure for that is to write more, or less. Either way, I'm blogging again and hoping you'll pop in from time to time to say hello.

Photos!

2006-12-21T03:58:00.000+08:00

Click on over to Formosa Fix and catch a few new shots of Taiwan.

Whimsy it is

2006-10-15T15:45:00.000+08:00

A friend's question has prompted this post; I will do my best, Clint, to muster whimsy at this late hour, but you will be lucky if it even makes sense.

When I write about the books I'm reading, I usually hyper-link the title to the book's Amazon page so you can read more about it, and buy it if you wish. Turns out, I can (in theory) make a little money by doing so, simply by signing up as an Amazon Associate and then modifying my links to include my special Amazon ID code. Then (in theory), when my readers, who are legion, click on the links, they are tagged as Browsers Who Came to Amazon Thanks to Kat, and any purchases they make within twenty-four hours (for any items, not just the ones I link to) earn me a Tiny Little Finders Fee.

In theory.

The reality, I am finding out, is somewhat different. Either:
a) My readers are not legion;
b) My readers don't buy books;
c) My readers have unwittingly already been tagged by other, less charming and definitely more deceptive Amazon Associates who create programs to randomly tag people as they roam the internet, so that my little tag has no place to hang his hat -- there's no room at the inn; not a square to spare; that train has sailed. You get the picture.

Option a) is impossible, of course; you can see from the plethora of comments as well as the many requests to post more! more! more! when I have the occasional dry spell, that you number in the teens at least. I find b) only slightly more likely, not because my readers, who are legion (see above), don't read, but rather because many of you are known, card-carrying, library card, uh... carriers, and also maybe spend your money on better things (like famine relief, or organic dark chocolate). That leaves us with c), the Tag Pirates. This, though frustrating, is a blessing and a curse, and for the same reason: I can do nothing about it. Yes, it stinks, but think of the time I save by being totally unable to change the situation!

So, my tags are set, and maybe someday I will get credit for a sale, my little tag sobbing before the Academy, "You like me! You really like me!" But there's not a whole lot I can do until then -- except, of course, write. For my readers. Who are legion.

Excuses, excuses

2006-10-14T12:40:00.000+08:00

So, last time it was, "I'm too busy," and this week it's, "I'm too sick." But you don't want to hear it, I'm sure, so now that I am up and moving about I will put down a few thoughts that have been keeping me company lately.

For starters, we have a new car. Not an actual new car, of course -- the day I buy something off the showroom floor you'll know I've been taken over by an alien lifeform. But for us, a 2000 Mitsubishi Space Gear is a huge step up from the '93-ish Toyota Zace that we've been driving. There are bells; there are whistles; there are two TV screens and a built-in refrigerator. (No lie.) It is certainly the nicest car we've had, but I'm not totally comfortable with that. Perhaps it's not the frills that bother me, but rather just the idea that I no longer drive a Zace in Taiwan. Old Zaces are all we've ever driven here, and I love them. Manual transmission, no power steering -- no power anything -- but totally utilitarian and unfussy. And, I guess, a little bit romantic -- for all its dings and doors that don't always open and windows that leak in the carwash, it's a great roughin' it car, and captures a bit of Taiwan in its funkiness. Yet now we're in a silver mini-van. A very comfortable mini-van. I am leery of too much comfort; I think it makes you weak. The reliability, though, is a good thing. And seatbelts for everyone. And room for visitors. And karaoke! Did I mention the karaoke? It really is a hoot. Come see us and we'll take you for a spin. You can have first dibs on the mic.

In other news, Nora starts preschool next week. She turns three on Monday (already!), and Tuesday heads off to Sunny Kindergarten (which is actually quite shady, but who would send their child to Shady Kindergarten? Who knows what bad habits she'd pick up there). She is very excited, had a great time when we visited last week to make arrangements, and is looking forward to the big day. Our little friend and neighbor, George, will be in her class, so I'm hopeful that his familiar face will help ease the transition. I am excited to have a few hours to myself twice a week, for Bible study on Tuesdays and writing/editing/napping on Fridays. I'm also eager to hear our little red-head start chattering in Chinese. I think she'll do fine.

Busy times

2006-10-03T23:16:00.000+08:00

Just wanted to say that I'm too busy to post. Sorry.

Check this out!

2006-09-25T10:29:00.000+08:00

There's a new blogger in town. You can find him here:

colescuttle.blogspot.com

He's having a lot of fun with his entries -- drop him a line and tell him what you think.

Grrr...

2006-09-20T05:39:00.000+08:00

I just posted below, but there's something amiss with the links -- they seem to work all right, but for some reason there's an extra space at the end which causes my commas to dangle precariously all on their own. It probably only bothers me (well, and Tim, and maybe a certain few of you), but now I've got to figure out how to fix it. It looked good in the preview. Sigh.

Books, books, books

2006-09-20T05:20:00.000+08:00

I've updated my reading list over on the sidebar. I recently put in a big Amazon order with some other teachers, which meant I finally got to delete some titles that had been lingering on my wish list. The Eugene Peterson book, Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places, is one that I've had my eye on for a while. I also ordered two cookbooks, The Bread Lover's Bread Machine Cookbook and Not Your Mother's Slow Cooker, which I'm hoping will motivate me to use those two machines a bit more. I seem to be only getting busier, so it's time to put some of these devices to work.

Still on my wish list: Oracle Bones, by Peter Hessler, whose first book, River Town, I thoroughly enjoyed; Orthodoxy, by G.K. Chesterton; and The Poetry Home Repair Manual, by Ted Kooser. The latter I read a couple years ago and still think of often, so at some point I'd like to get a copy.

Books have been figuring prominently in my life lately. I am organizing Scholastic orders for the middle schoolers, which was a bit of a grind to set up but now should go fairly smoothly. I have been working on a children's book, based on a nursery rhyme I used to tell Cole and which might have some publishing potential; and I've been doing some editing work as well. I am happy to be surrounded by all things book, though it does keep me in the house more.

In the interest of full disclosure, I have just today gotten set up as an Amazon.com Associate, which means that anytime someone clicks on one of my Amazon links and then makes a purchase (of that particular item or another), I get a bit of the take. I'm not expecting to make millions off it, but since I've been posting Amazon links in my posts anyway, I figured I might as well take advantage of the opportunity. I've opted to get reimbursement in the form of Amazon gift certificates, so if my nickels and dimes do add up, you can guess what you'll be getting for Christmas.

Driver's Ed.

2006-09-13T06:34:00.000+08:00

I need to get my license.

I have always relied on an international driver license to keep me legal here in Taiwan, but, alas, mine has lapsed and I need to get a local one to get back on the right side of the law. The test is similar to to the one in the states, at least on the surface: you must first pass a written exam, and then take the practical portion. The driving guide is available online, as is a practice exam. I decided to try the test once, without consulting the guide, so I could judge my baseline competency. I wanted to know how hard I'll have to work to pass this thing. The results were not encouraging, as you can see here:

I believe you need a score of 80 to pass, so I've got some work to do -- that death threat has given me new motivation. I'm surprised they used gallows humor in this case, actually; taking an exam in this culture is a big deal, and many young people do take their own lives if they feel they have let their families down.

Passing on the first try is a rare thing among the expats who have tested and lived to tell about it. The problem is not the written test, although it is bizarrely worded and full of arcane details about fees and fines and special rules for taxis; the problem is with the driving portion, which is as impractical as a practical exam can be. The test takes place on a closed track outfitted with sensors and alarms. The student driver gets behind the wheel of a car trimmed out with tags that trip the sensors, which, of course, set off the alarms, every time you make an error. The driver is tested on his ability to parallel park smoothly (without stopping during the maneuver); to negotiate a set of S-curves, both forward and back; and to back into a space, again without stopping the car while doing so. The course has numbered markers to guide the driver: pull forward until you are even with the #13; turn the wheel two turns to the right and reverse until you are even with the #14; turn the wheel five turns to the left and reverse until you are even with then #15; straighten out your wheels. Yes, this is the practical exam. Perhaps this explains why so many Chinese people require assistance when parking their cars. It's commonplace for whomever is riding shotgun to hop out (often to race ahead and save a space, but that's another story) and direct the driver gently into the slot. It doesn't matter how big the space or how small the car; parking is very often a team effort.

I've heard that you must get a score of 85 to pass the driving portion; each error is worth 10 points. I'm not even going to go there. I'll just chalk it up to new math.

Nora's new moves

2006-08-19T04:05:00.000+08:00

According to Weather Underground, we're in for thunderstorms from now 'til next Wednesday. We've not had a lot of rain this summer, so I guess it's catching up to us. Thunder is rolling quietly in the background as I write, but the deluge has moved on. I hope it's still dry when the kids walk back from school. I was thinking of running some errands later, but it's no fun in the rain.

A few nights ago we headed into Nanze, a nearby town of varied spellings (Nanzih, Nanz, Zanze), where the kids bought ice cream cones and Tim and I got to do a little shopping (Working House is having a huge sale). We parked on a side street, and as we walked towards the main drag we passed a group of women practicing their Tai Chi routine. The parks are always busiest at night, when it's cool enough for people to take a little exercise. A tape player sat nearby, its long extension cord trailing into the darkness. Music played as a gentle voice called out the movements. Nora was enthralled, but we had to move on.

After we were done in town and were heading back to our car, we passed a different group of ladies, who leaned and stretched and turned to a tinny little waltz. This time Nora was not going to simply walk by. I put her down, and she watched them intently, not moving a muscle as she took it all in. The women noticed her and smiled. Nora kept staring. Finally, I asked, "Can you do it, too?" Without missing a beat, her little arms rose from her sides, up over her head, and down again, in time with the women and very close to what they were doing. She was enjoying herself, but she was taking it very seriously.

The music ended soon after, and the women all turned towards Nora and gave her a little round of applause. A few of them bowed slightly, and all of them were smiling. Hau ke ai! How cute! As we walked away, Nora called out, "Thank you for the dancing!" I admire her ability to enter the moment, to connect with strangers and still be herself. I hope she always keeps that.

Repeat after me

2006-08-14T00:52:00.000+08:00

Foreigners come to Taiwan for many different reasons, and have just as many opinions about the place, good and bad. The one thing most of us can agree on, though, is that the Taiwanese know how to do rest stops. On Wednesday we traveled up to Taichung, a 2 1/2 hour drive -- just long enough to require a pit stop or two, especially with the kids in tow. Rest areas here go far beyond mere toilet facilities and a patch of lawn: you're likely to find a 7-11, Starbucks, bakery, candy shop and shoe store at your disposal, a playground for the kids, and often a park or garden commemorating a bit of local history.

Apparently the government would like to add an educational element to the mix. They have posted short English lessons on the walls, in the hope that in those quiet moments the citizenry might brush up their skills. Hanging above the urinals (according to Tim and Cole):

"How's that project coming? So far, so good."

"A peaceful body is a peaceful mind."

"It is better to give than to receive." (Yeah, especially at a urinal.)

And our favorite,

"All men are created equal."

Never a dull moment, I tell ya'.

Summer days

2006-08-06T16:36:00.000+08:00

July ended well, and August is off and running. Our new families have arrived and most of our other staff are back on island (except for one unfortunate family whose flights were rerouted and delayed because of the typhoon that hit Hong Kong this week; they were due to arrive Thursday and still aren't here).

Friends from Taichung came for a visit last weekend, so we set off for Chi Jin Island, a popular spot for tourists and locals which we tend to avoid because of the crowd. We had a great time despite the throng: a short ferry ride across the harbor (10NT, about 30 cents, for a 10 minute crossing), shops and street stalls to discover, a close-up view of the giant cargo ships passing by, and a sandy beach patrolled by officers on horseback. A nice change from our usual shopping expeditions.

The school year is fast upon us, so on Wednesday we decided to head south to Kenting for the day even though the weather report was not promising. It did, in fact, turn out to be a nasty, rainy day, but we found an indoor water park and made the best of it. Cole worked up his courage to brave the water slides and had a blast; his cautious side is a blessing, but I love to see him challenge himself and get out of his comfort zone.

This weekend found us again on Chi Jin Island with another set of friends, who introduced us to their favorite seafood restaurant there. (Being a harbor city, seafood is huge here -- every Taiwan town claims some culinary specialty, and Kaohsiung's is fruit de mer.) The evening ferry was crowded with hungry, like-minded travelers, so once we landed our friend Ann dashed ahead to get our order started. Like most restaurants on Chi Jin, the fish is on view in bins and tanks in front, where diners choose their fishes and dishes and then wait for it all to be brought to table. We had some lovely ginger-y clams, smokey calamari, and a simmered white fish that was quite nice, too. Cole lost his appetite with the first dish, however: whole shrimp, with eyes, piled high on a platter. He felt bad for the little guys, and a little haunted, perhaps. He said that no matter where the shrimp were on the turntable, they were always staring right at him. He likes shrimp when I cook them at home; I hope he isn't off them forever.

Tim returns to work tomorrow, and school starts in a week, so our summer is quickly coming to a close. I'm looking forward to getting back into our routines, but these last few weeks have been blessedly unstructured and relaxed. We're usually not here for the summer months, but I've enjoyed having the extra time to poke around, see friends, and just hang out at home before things get busy again.

As I see it

2006-07-24T15:54:00.000+08:00

Someone left a very kind comment (according to Tim, my in-house Spanish resource) on my photo blog, which inspired me to stay up a bit later and post some new shots. Come check them out!

Back in the saddle

2006-07-24T11:47:00.000+08:00

Hello once again from southern Taiwan. We made it back with an unremarkable flight and, remarkably, very little jet-lag. I had a nap the first afternoon home, but otherwise we all three just slipped into local time, sleeping all night and waking at normal times. Unfortunately, I've gone too far, returning to my night-owl ways in the last week, so there will be some adjusting to do once school begins next month. But, we are home and happy to be here.

Last weekend we were hit with a storm (not quite a typhoon), which dumped lots of rain and sent several thunderstorms our way. Nora handled them much better than before, barely even noticing most of the noise, and only making calm commentary on the flashes and booms that did get her attention. Today, Sunday, we are again looking at another storm, this time a full-fledged typhoon, headed straight for the middle of the island. I think it's supposed to hit sometime tomorrow afternoon, which means our Tuesday plans – heading downtown to the science museum – may be off. Typhoons are fickle, though, so I'm holding out a little hope.

Our trip to the States was a good one, and the five weeks flew by. I would have enjoyed perhaps one more week, dedicated to staying on Whidbey and spending time with family there and anyone who was up for braving the ferry lines to see us. As it was, I ended up spending much more time on the road than I had intended. Perhaps next year I will maintain my resolve to travel the 9,000 miles to Whidbey and let everyone else come to me. (Yeah, right.)

I didn't take a camera with me on our trip home (I felt Tim's trip to Beijing trumped my need in that department), but fortunately others took lots of good shots for me and let me borrow their cameras from time to time. We packed a lot into five weeks, thanks in part to some wonderful weather and long summer days. Nora asks often if we can go back to Pop's house, and when I say not until next summer, she replies, "Windy Island is very far away." It is, but thankfully we have a whole store of good memories to tide us over 'til then.

June update

2006-06-29T14:36:00.000+08:00

Well, the month has nearly come to a close, and I've had nothing for you since the 11th. Sorry about that. We are three weeks and a few days into our five-week home visit, and the time is flying by. It's always nice to come back, but I am so grateful for this chance to be with my dad especially; he keeps apologizing that we can't do much because of his injuries, but I'm just thankful that he's still around.

We had a great time in Chelan. Our unit was right on the lakeshore, so we had a lovely view of the first night's thunderstorm (not a hit with Miss Nora), as well as brilliant sunshine reflecting off the water the rest of the week. Lake Chelan is fed from snowmelt, and none of us are crazy enough to brave the cold, but we enjoyed the warmer pools, took a paddleboat out for a spin, played a few rounds of putt-putt golf and many hands of cards. The first few nights we built some roaring fires, but the crackle and pop was, again, too much for the wee flincher, so we gave up on them.

This last week has been a bit of a family reunion with my sister, brother, brother-in-law and niece all around. We celebrated my parents' anniversary yesterday and spent today in the garden weeding and lopping--all the things my mom has had to set aside while she's been caring for my dad. Her gardens are always beautiful, so it was a pleasure to help restore them to something closer to her ideal.

Cole and his uncle spent a day this week building a fort in the woods. I'm hoping they can camp out in it next week--once the railing is up, that is. We've also spent some mornings exploring the bay at low tide this week: we spotted lots of crab, clams, geoducks, tiny flounder, a moonsnail or two, and the odd starfish. Cole and a friend built sandcastles and moats, then watched the rising tide melt them all away.

The days have been warm, though cool by Kaohsiung standards; I've only worn shorts once since I've been here. I see on my Weather Underground sticker that the days are hot and rainy back home. The crazy thing is, if you go to the Underground website it says the Kaohsiung high today will be only 84, while at the same time telling you that with the heat index the current 94 actually feels like 104. (This is how weathermen hedge their bets.) Despite the heat, I'm looking forward to getting home. It's been a long time without my Tim, and I look forward to getting back into our routines and having some family time before the school year kicks into gear.

The next week or so will be busy with visits and shopping; I will post again once we're home, and hopefully have some pictures to share.

The other side of the pond

2006-06-11T16:02:00.000+08:00

We made it! It's been a week now, so jet-lag is mostly behind us and we're having a great time. It was a huge relief to finally see my dad, and I'm so encouraged by the progress he's made since we got home. We are off to central Washington on Monday, a trip I wasn't sure he would be up for - but he is, and we're all looking forward to some swimming and sunning in Chelan. It will still be another month until he's on his feet, but every day he gets a little closer.

The kids traveled well, and both are having a good time with their grandmas and grandpas, although Nora is pretty sure she'd like to go back home now, anyway. She has had this idea that we should just get a different airplane, ever since I told her ours won't be ready for a few weeks yet. She was thrilled when we drove past the Boeing factory - those triple-7's were calling her name. It wasn't pretty when I drove right by, though (I mean, it was a shopping trip, for crying out loud - couldn't we even stop and browse?). I'm not sure if she's more interested in actually getting home, or just getting back on a plane, where Donald-Duck-on-demand beams down from the seat back in front of you, and pretty xiaojie's come calling when you press the right button.

Cole is enjoying himself, having discovered great troves of books to sink into. His Grandpa Marc took him clamming this morning in Dugualla Bay - which reminds me, I think there are some gifts of the sea in Cole's pocket I need to deal with.

I am enjoying myself, too. I find I am less irritated by - well, by America - than I was four years ago when I came home after our first year in Taiwan. Yes, the people here are huge; yes, everything is too expensive; yes, people still think I live in Thailand. Still, it doesn't bother me like it used to. Maybe I dealt with it all that first visit home, and it's not a shock anymore. Or maybe I feel less defined by American culture now, and therefore don't suffer the same pangs of disenchantment. Either way, it makes for a pleasanter visit, and for that I'm grateful.

Tomorrow is a busy day, with a low, low tide, maybe some sun breaks, and two kids who could use some tide-pool adventures. We're happy to be here. I hope you are having a good summer, too, wherever you are.

Busy times

2006-06-02T14:07:00.000+08:00

Sorry to go so long without posting... and this one's going to be short. The kids and I leave tomorrow morning for Seattle (hooray!). Our bags are packed, but not very full, so I'm a little worried about stuff shifting around. I'm fighting the urge to throw in more sweaters.

My dad is doing better every time I talk to him; not on his feet yet but getting there. I'm very relieved to be headed home so I can just be close to him and my mom. This last month has been a challenge.

Tim is off to Beijing to start his graduate studies next week. Cole will be a fourth-grader after tomorrow. Nora may have preschool on her horizon once we're back, and I'm looking at a theology program through University of London for myself come fall. It's going to be a busy year ahead!

Taiwan continues to thrill and amaze. That is perhaps one of the reasons that it's so addictive (many people who leave find themselves back here within a couple years). Never a dull moment, either inside or out: it's not just the cultural differences, but how you adapt and grow because of them. The most dramatic landscapes are those which are beaten and thrashed by natural forces, and that describes, if a bit violently, the effect of living in such a foreign environment. So it will be good to be home – as much as one can go home. That's a whole other cultural adjustment for us now.

I will post a bit while we're back in the states. Hoping to see a few of you while we're there.

Green butterflies

2006-05-20T15:02:00.000+08:00

The massive typhoon that swept over the Philippines last weekend, killing dozens before heading towards Hong Kong, took a right turn as it neared the China coast and started moving up our way. We ended up with nothing worse than some gusty winds and heavy showers on Wednesday and Thursday, but it was a reminder that typhoon season is upon us and we need to get the house ready (especially since it will be sitting empty while we travel next month).

After a typhoon passes by we get to enjoy, with some guilt, unusally clear weather. The improved visibility is like having new eyes. The mountain that is the focal point of our view is reduced to a little pointy hill because there's no haze to give the impression of great distance (and therefore greater size). Bamboo groves stand out in sharp relief, leafy trees suddenly reveal the shape of their greenery, and the gilded temple behind us gleams and shows off its colors.

I talk about the weather a lot, I think because it is a barometer of my foreigness here. In Seattle I know what to expect; depending on the month, the hour, and the direction of the wind, the sky can take on many different shades (of grey), and I read them unconsciously. But here I am often caught by surprise, more so when I am indoors and don't have other clues to tell me the weather is changing. It's a matter of time, I suppose, and experience. The other day as I was washing dishes, I was startled to see a bright green butterfly flicker by my kitchen window. In a flash I realized it was no butterfly, but a leaf, caught up in a gust that sent it four stories high. Within the hour, wind was whistling through our windows and echoing mournfully in the stairwell. Green butterflies are now filed away as harbingers of a typhoon. Now if I could just get used to leaves falling in the spring.

Dad's saga

2006-05-19T16:18:00.000+08:00

It's been a crazy couple weeks. Every time I called home to see how my dad was doing, the news just got worse and worse: released from Harborview, but unable to keep anything down for two days; admitted to Whidbey General, where they discovered a skull fracture (way to go, Harborview); back to Harborview for infection (seems no one put him on antibiotics after putting two titanium rods in his leg); water on his brain; gout in his good foot; total exhaustion and no end in sight.

So yesterday, 12 days after the accident, I finally got to talk to my dad. What a relief! I had heard from my mom that he was doing a bit better the day before, but to hear it from him – just to talk with him – lifted a huge burden off my heart. I have been praying (as have many of you – thank you!) which is exactly what he needed; but I've wanted to do more and have felt a little helpless. I am so glad to be going home in two weeks. I just want to sit out on the deck with my mom and dad, watch the deer and take in the mountains. That's my dream vacation. ( If there was a bowl of raspberries within reach, that would be icing on the cake.)

Remember to tell someone you love them today. And thank God for the blessing of friends and family.

The hard part

2006-05-09T05:09:00.000+08:00

My dad was in a motorcycle accident last week; my sister called to tell me, but I haven't been able to talk with my mom yet. His leg was pretty badly injured – he'll be recovering for the next month or two – but thankfully other than that he's all right. Still, I hate that I can't be there right now. Maybe I'll feel better when I can talk to my parents; for now, though, I just want to go home.

That's the worst part about being here, knowing that bad things happen in this life, but being unable to bridge the distance when they do. At church we often have prayer requests for sick or dying family members back home, and those prayers are always extended to the people here who feel helpless so far away. It's a small world in many ways, but physically, my parents are 9,000 miles away.

I can't wait to see them. Twenty-six days to go.

Easter break

2006-05-04T01:41:00.000+08:00

We had a good break over Easter; sorry for the long spell between posts, but with camping, recovering from camping, and now the busy-ness of spring, I've gotten out of my routine.

On our trip, we traveled with two other families down the west coast of Taiwan (south of Kaohsiung city, towards Kenting), and then cut across the island on highway 9. Across is not the right word, as it implies a somewhat straight line; we curved our way over the mountains, keeping one eye out for people passing from behind, and the other eye on the oncoming traffic they'd be face to face with. It was not a bad drive overall, though – scenic vistas of lush forested valleys, and the blue-green waters of the Pacific were refreshing, as was the clean east-coast air. We camped near Taitung, at a well-appointed campground that was entirely deserted except for ourselves. The sandstone formations that make up the shoreline there are striking, almost sculptural. (You can see some pictures here.) Just up the road we found a wide sandy beach, covered with litter but otherwise, again, empty of people. I found a small cove for the kids where the surf wasn't so rough, and we spent a long morning digging in the sand and playing in the waves.

On our way home we stopped at a water park, stopped for lunch, stopped to buy ice for someone's sunburn, stopped to use the bathroom at a roadside Karaoke bar, stopped for ice-cream at 7-11, stopped to use another bathroom at a small roadside restaurant, stopped to buy onions (and use the potty) at a roadside stand, and finally made it home at dinner time. (I had wanted to stop for steamed water chestnuts, but thought better of it.) At one of our bathroom breaks we spoke with the owner while the kids were taking care of business. She has a daughter who's gone off to Belgium, and recently gave birth to a little boy. She's eager to see her new grandson – she doesn't even have a photo yet – and seemed pleased to have our company and share her news. She also looked happy to have our kids play on her tire swing. Her restaurant is fairly remote, with no other buildings within walking distance that I could see; it would seem a lonely place, but then she gets a lot of visitors like us, so maybe it's not so bad. Like most Taiwanese, she was helpful and friendly, and asked us to come again.

We've had some beautiful weather lately, brilliant blue skies with real clouds, the kind that look like something if you use your imagination. Such a nice change from the usual cap of haze. We've had a few rainy days as well (today is one, with even a bit of thunder this morning, but Nora's handling it better). I think that will be the pattern for a while now, until things are turned up a notch and we get into typhoon season.

We are down to four and a half weeks of school left, so the calendar is filling up. It's a busy time as teachers wrap up the year, and it's also when you start to realize how little time is left with the departing staff. I will be sorry to see them go, but it's exciting to know that they're moving on to new chapters in their lives. And their leaving means new arrivals, as people we've yet to meet prepare to start their Taiwan adventures. Lots of changes ahead.

Elephants and bumblebees

2006-04-19T14:35:00.000+08:00

We had a gorgeous couple of days early last week: really blue sky, billowing white clouds, warm breezes and sunshine. It was perfect. The winds brought with them a change in the weather, though. Thursday's mugginess turned to leaden skies, and by midday the first thunderstorm of the season was upon us. Nora and I were returning from downtown and had a great view of the approaching storm from the elevated freeway. As we pulled into the school the first flash of lightning arced just beyond our campus walls (or so it seemed), so I hurried to prepare Nora for the thunder. I told her that we'd be hearing a big boom-boom-boom, but not to be scared; it was just like elephants walking around. Immediately the thunder rolled over us, and Nora buried her head in her hands: "I don't like elephants!" We made it home, getting drenched in the short walk from car to door. The storm lingered for several long, rumbling hours. Nora hid her face at every flash, but was as brave as she could be. We pulled the blinds and put on loud music to keep the scary stuff away.

The weekend brought cool days, lots of rain, and nothing but grey in every direction. It made Easter feel a whole lot like Easter in the Northwest, though, so it was rather homey (I even wore a sweater). Now and then, though, Nora would peek at the drizzling skies and say, "Elephants are scary," or, "I don't like bumblebees." This last part is a puzzle. Maybe it's how she's remembering the word thunder, or perhaps it's an association with lightning. Whatever it is, I'm afraid she'll be off bees and pachyderms for a while.

We also had a little excitement underfoot. Easter morning, about 6:40, Tim and I were shaken awake by another temblor, same location as before but not quite as strong (6.2). And again this morning, about 9:30, a weaker but nearer quake (4.8, in Chiayi) gave us a little jolt. I suppose it's good to release the built up pressure in a series of quakes like this, but it is a little unnerving. If the weather cooperates we plan to go camping in Taitung with some friends this week, so any more quakes will be right under our noses. I think, though, I'd rather be in a tent on the beach than just about anywhere else.

I didn't feel these last two quakes coming, by the way. I guess my career as a human earthquake prognosticator is dashed. Not a job I really wanted anyway. Too much pressure.

Photo update

2006-04-16T04:18:00.000+08:00

Some time back I promised to post some pictures from the New Year's market; I finally got to it last night, so you can check them out here. I published them under the date they were taken (January), so if you go to the Formosa Fix page you have to scroll down a little to see them. (And remember, you can click on an image to see it full-screen.)

If you haven't stopped by in a while, come take a look!

Good Friday

2006-04-15T13:52:00.000+08:00

Perhaps it's the influence of my German Lutheran roots, but Good Friday is becoming one of my favorite holy days. No Hallmark cards, no candy, no gifts – well, one immense gift (salvation), but no attempt to reduce that to a human level by wrapping up trifles in Good Friday paper bedecked with nails and thorns. It's a day that humbles me and restores my focus; it's a day I feel my insignificance and wonder at the love of our God.

I hope you all have a blessed and peaceful Easter.

River Town

2006-04-11T00:04:00.000+08:00

I've been reading Father Brown for ages – that's what I get for starting the complete works, I guess. I haven't made much headway with Answering God, although I like it. But it needs to be read at a table with a Bible and journal and pen at hand, and I've been trying to read it in bed. I've picked up River Town again, a favorite of mine that I'd lent out and just got back. If you're looking for a peek into life in China, which bears some resemblance to life in Taiwan, I recommend it. Of course the political situation is not the same, but many of the other social traits are intact in the Chinese population here. It's a very funny book, covering two years in the life of a Peace Corps volunteer in an isolated Sichuan town – his reaction to the people, their reaction to him, his struggles with the language and culture. It's excellent; I'd love to see a sequel. The author, Peter Hessler, had an article in a recent New Yorker about life in Beijing, so I'm hoping another book is in the works. I'll have to look for it this summer.

Hungry?

2006-04-10T13:00:00.000+08:00

Just wanted to plug my cooking page. I've got a few recipes to choose from now, so check it out!

Loud neighbors

2006-04-09T14:54:00.000+08:00

I don't know what the event was, but something was going on next door today. I was startled out of my seat when a string of firecrackers was thrown on a burn barrel in front of the warehouse across the street. Cole very thoughtfully ran to Nora's room to see if the noise had awakened her, while I ran for my camera and headed out to the balcony. There wasn't much to see, though, but the preparations of a party. Tables were being set, basins of water and baskets of fruit were laid out; and amid the bustle one woman walked slowly around the tables with long sticks of incense in her right hand, rapping her left hand with them in a steady rhythm. Evil spirits were being warned away, the ones that hadn't heeded the round of fireworks.

We went downtown soon after, so I missed the rest of the evening's festivities. I don't know if there was a wedding, or if perhaps the farmers were having a banquet for their laborers. As we pulled out of our gate, which faces this building directly, a couple men leaning against their truck looked at us and smiled. I waved, and they waved back, but that's as far as it went. They didn't invite us to their party, and we didn't expect them to. I'm kind of sorry we went out, though. I would have had a great view of their festivities from up here.

I'm such a snoop.

Spring forward

2006-04-05T11:38:00.000+08:00

It's 8:30 p.m. and 80º. Where did spring go? It's like we reset our season while you were resetting your clocks. Time to put my sweaters away (again).

Rock 'n roll

2006-04-04T14:33:00.000+08:00

Not sure if it made much news where you are, but on Saturday a 6.4 quake in Taitung (about 60 miles from here) had our building shaking for a good long while. There was a little damage on the 6th floor: new cracks in the plaster, some broken pottery. But except for some kitchen drawers askew, we had nothing to show for it two floors down. It was pretty unnerving, though. All four of us were home, and once we realized that the quake was getting stronger we headed for doorframes. We now know that isn't the safest. Next time we'll lie down next to an inside wall or next to a couch or bed. Hmm. Next time.

The unsettling part for me is that, once again, I felt it coming. All of March I'd been thinking we were overdue, though if I gave it a little more thought, I felt like it was not quite time. On Saturday morning, as I sat at the computer, the thought came to me again, and I felt strongly enough about it that I considered blogging it. But then I shook off the idea and went about my day. The quake was at 6:00 that evening. Weird, huh? Next time I'll follow my impulse and we'll see how accurate I really am.

For you foodies out there...

2006-03-28T07:18:00.000+08:00

Against my better judgment, I've started another blog, Wonton Woman, all about cooking in Taiwan. The recipes will be mostly western-style, chosen primarily because they can be made with locally available ingredients. No promises on how often I'll post, but I hope at least once or twice a week.

I've started with a recipe for microwave polenta. Suggestions are welcome. Please take a look!

Catching you up

2006-03-27T03:23:00.000+08:00

It's been a busy week since I last wrote. I was sick Friday (it had been creeping up on me all that week) and slept all day Saturday. Sunday morning we walked over to the school for the Bilingual Community Church service; the quarter-mile walk was pushing it, though. I was really wiped out.

Monday was a day for staying home, not because I was sick, but because the air was thick with Mongolian dust. We were warned to stay inside if possible – according to the local EPA report, we were well into the red zone of unhealthy air. Cole and his classmates spent their recess times playing board games in the lunchroom. Tuesday was not much better; the winds were supposed to shift to the east and southeast, but stayed put and kept blowing the particulate our way. The dust cloud from China was an anomaly, but poor air quality is the norm, especially here in the industrial south: factories, truck traffic to and from the port, and of course fires – burning fields, burning garbage, burning ghost money. It all adds up.

Wednesday morning I had my Chinese lesson. I learned how to say maybe, probably not, and definitely (each of those requires a different suffix added to whatever the verb is in the initial question). Very useful, but if I don't practice it I'm going to forget it.

Thursday I helped chaperone Cole's class trip to the Leopard King Safari Zoo. We had a great day for it, not too hot and not too overrun with Chinese students (who travel in packs of fifty and a hundred). Still, it was a bit depressing – an old-style zoo with not a lot of room to roam, and a demeaning monkey show to boot (I wasn't sure who was less pleased with being on stage, the monkeys or the handlers). The kids had a good time, though, watching the pig races, petting a penguin, mimicking the whooping calls of the gibbons. We also got to walk among the mountain deer, the only extant deer species in Taiwan. I've eaten it, but had never met one before. They're about the size of a dog, which surprised me – I don't know if I would have found them as tasty, knowing how small they are.

Friday was business as usual, lunch with Tim at school and then an afternoon of catching up on my housework. I took Cole out later to buy some in-line skates, and he's been busy learning the finer points of not falling down ever since. Yesterday was a girls' morning out as a handful of us from staff housing headed downtown to check out some new stores: Muji (Japanese housewares and clothing, much of which is overpriced – but still fun to look at), and Jason's grocery, also overpriced, but where you can buy things you can't find anywhere else (prosciutto, artichoke hearts, and Quaker Oatmeal Squares). No chutney, though. I don't know why I can't find it here. I guess I'll have to make it myself.

So that's a week in the life of. Not terribly exotic, perhaps, but different enough; it grows on you.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

2006-03-18T01:54:00.000+08:00

This morning as Cole was getting dressed (green shorts, orange tee) he said his teacher, Mrs. Dunn, told the kids that they should wear green, but underwear didn't count. I said, "Well, sure, because nobody can see it." And Cole said, "They would if you didn't wear pants."

If you forget to wear some green, pinch yourself for me, will ya? (But if you forget to wear your pants, I don't want to know....)

Summer plans

2006-03-18T01:23:00.000+08:00

I have our summer itinerary: the kids and I will be back in Washington from June 2 to July 10. (Looks like Tim will not be joining us after his studies in Beijing in June, but I'm sure he'll enjoy his downtime here at home.) We'll be on Whidbey for pretty much the whole time, except for one trip east of the Cascades. If you'd like to meet us on the island we'd love to see you!

Remembering Burma

2006-03-12T07:43:00.000+08:00

This Sunday, March 12th, is the Global Day of Prayer for Burma. Ethnic cleansing, forced labor, landmines placed to terrorize the internal refugees – all of this is ongoing, yet these atrocities receive little attention from the west. So today I ask you to keep the persecuted Burmese in your thoughts and prayers. Please also pray for those who are working, often putting their own lives in danger, to keep the Burmese alive.

More information is available at www.prayforburma.org. Or click here to see a short film which documents the situation. It will only take about 12 minutes, time well spent on understanding the seriousness of the troubles there. Despite the oppression and genocide, hope survives – people are hanging on. Please help lift them in prayer.

Where my heart is

2006-03-10T05:56:00.000+08:00

I had a grumpy couple of days. No single reason to pin it on, just a lingering bad mood. Tuesday started off well – I had a nice long chat with a friend in Virginia, a Taiwan buddy from our time here before. She and her husband have moved back to the states, started a family and settled into a new job and community. I miss them, so that's maybe what kicked off my blues. And listening to her talk about how they miss Taiwan reminds me that I will forever have two homes, and will always long for the one that I'm not living in. I wouldn't give up either one, but it's tough knowing you can never be really happy in one place. Maybe we're not supposed to be, though. Complacency sets you up for trouble; I no longer want to root my happiness in stasis.

I updated my books, finally, on the sidebar. I've already finished Traveling Mercies but wanted to post it anyway. It's Anne Lamott's unflinching look at her path to faith. Not G-rated, perhaps, but real life rarely is. I enjoy her honesty, but do wonder how she prepares her friends and family for some of the things she writes. "By the way, Mom, I'm going to be publishing all our family secrets next month. Just thought you should know."

Father Brown is a kick. I've found several passages that speak to my life here, which is one sign of a really good book. Chesterton was not thinking of Taiwan when he wrote his stories, but here I am decades later feeling like he's talking just to me, right where I am. And Eugene Peterson is still a bed-side staple; I have one more to go after Answering God. Hopefully that will get me through the spring, until I can get home and scour the bookstores this summer. Hmm. There's that word again: home. I can picture, quite clearly, whole towns, neighborhoods and streets, gardens and driveways, all thousands of miles away. I know the sounds of a city, the weak winter light, the first signs of spring. I dream of building a little house on our property in Coupeville someday. But right now this is home, and not just because this is where our house is. This is where our life is.

Living in the present is harder than it sounds.

Winter's chill redux

2006-03-03T06:23:00.000+08:00

It's cold! Just when I'd put my sweaters away (set aside for when we return to a nippy Northwest summer), winter came back for an encore. Well, sixty-one degrees may not seem so cold to you, especially if you're under a blanket of snow somewhere right now, but when you don't have a heated home you really feel the chill. I can't complain – I'd rather have A/C than heat, and we do have some space heaters for times like this – but after a couple days in the 90s last week, we're all a bit suprised.

Much more interesting than the weather, though, is the fact that I got my hair washed last night. (No, really, it is.) For about US$4.00, I got a twenty-minute scalp massage that goes by the deceptively gentle-sounding name "shampoo," followed by a hot-water rinse and conditioning, and then finally a shoulder massage. (I was hoping for a longer massage – this was only about five minutes – but I'll take what I can get.) My hair is unbelievably clean today, and my follicles are still whimpering. During the whole two years we were back in the States I only got three haircuts – it's so disappointing after getting used to the treatment (and the price) here.

Last night's outing was with my friend Kristin, who is moving back to Colorado this year. As we sat side by side in our salon chairs, each enduring ten strong fingers vigorously raking through our hair, I said, "You're going to miss this, you know." She knew.

I wanted to write more today, but after an MSG-seasoned lunch all I want to do now is sleep. More later, perhaps.

Reading for understanding

2006-02-26T17:15:00.000+08:00

I need to update my reading list on the right; my parents brought over some books I'd ordered and I've been dipping into them when I have the time. I'm still on a Eugene Peterson kick, just finishing his book on Jeremiah, Run with the Horses, where he writes:

Any part of our lives that is turned over to the crowd makes it and us worse. The larger the crowd, the smaller our lives.... On the other hand, every time that we retrieve a part of our life from the crowd and respond to God's call to us, we are that much more ourselves, more human. Every time we reject the habits of the crowd and practice the disciplines of faith, we become a little more alive.

This is how I felt about our two years of homeschooling, as well as our time here. I prefer living out of the mainstream, although not to an extreme – we're not to isolate ourselves from the world, only live differently in it. And you can't help but do so here.

A friend lent me G.K. Chesterton's Complete Father Brown, which I've just started. I used to read mysteries more often; in fact, Lord Peter Wimsey led me to Dorothy L. Sayers' other works on classical education and apologetics, which I love. (I have to admit, though, that I first discovered Wimsey on Mystery! rebroadcasts before I picked up the books. Thanks, Mobil.)

I bought my dad a copy of Taiwan: A Political History by Denny Roy, and he very kindly left it for us to read after they flew home. I have picked it up and read some random passages, but really ought to read it all the way through. I'm sure I'd understand the current events much better if I had a grasp on the historical ones.

My other reading is mostly along the lines of Where's Spot? and Peekaboo Bunny, which I enjoy for the company that my reading aloud brings me. Books are good companions, but even better when shared.

All there is to see

2006-02-24T06:20:00.000+08:00

Hey, I just wanted to mention that in the post below I've hyper-linked some words to their related photos in Formosa Fix (my photo gallery). In the process of setting all that up I discovered that you can click on any photo to enlarge it -- you'll get much more detail that way. The whale shark is a bit more impressive viewed full-size.

Enjoy!

The grand tour

2006-02-23T01:20:00.000+08:00

My parents left last Friday, after a two-week, too-short visit. We managed to see quite a bit of southern Taiwan while they were here, but I wish we'd had a bit more time together. That's my perspective, though, as one who knows all the places I'd wanted to take them and how many we didn't get to. I hope that in their opinion we did enough... but not too much. I know they were most eager to spend time with the grandkids; traveling was secondary. We were blessed with warm and mostly clear days while they were here. One of our first outings was to the 85-story Tuntex tower. On the right, here, is Nora taking her turn on the coin-op binoculars. She got a really good view of everyone on the observation deck – that's Kaohsiung harbor in the background – and everyone got a good look at her (and more than a few pictures).

After our trip up the tallest building in the city (in one of the fastest elevators in the world), we headed to Costco. This is more of a cultural experience than you might imagine: Chinese Costco is recognizably Costco, but the roasted chickens with their heads and feet intact, the nearly empty carts at the check-out line (for whatever gets bought has to get home, and many shoppers come on scooters), and gray-robed Buddhist nuns poring over their receipts all give you the sense that you're not in Kirkland anymore.

Shopping falls somewhere between sport and chore in Taiwan. My mom and I found a few treasures at Dollars and Walason's, but the outings took a lot of effort. Much more relaxing was our weekend in Kenting (pronounced "kun-ding"). The weather was warm and dry, traffic was light, and the drive was pleasant: we passed betel nut plantations, old women selling wax apples and yellow onions at roadside stands, men standing over barbecues of skewered squid. (On the way home we bought some fruit and a bag of onions, but skipped the squid – the eyes turn me off.)

One of the highlights of the trip was the National Aquarium. This is a world-class facility, with walk-through tanks of tropical fish and coral, a pool of beluga whales, and a giant wall of glass holding back schools of tuna, gliding skates, and a pack of menacing whale sharks. We spent a morning at the fortified lighthouse on the very southern point of the island, Oluan Pi ("o-lun be"). Vendors lined the park paths, selling shells, toys, and coral jewelry. We drank sweet cold coconut juice right out of the shell, and got the soft white meat scooped out for us when we were done. We ended our day at White Sand beach, where it was still warm enough for Cole to chase some waves. Kenting is close enough to be a day-trip; we should go more often.

The second week of my parents' visit went quickly: we shopped, visited Cheng Ching Lake, and went up into the hills to an aboriginal culture village. Mom and I helped Cole's class celebrate Valentine's Day, and my dad spoke to some students about drumming: the history, the discipline, and the joy of playing well. He is a born teacher. We were so happy to have them here. Kaohsiung is no paradise, but there's more here than just the city. I hope they enjoyed themselves, and I really hope they'll come again.

Taking a break

2006-02-11T03:17:00.000+08:00

My parents arrived safely last Friday, whereupon we all got sick to varying degrees. Not the best start to a vacation, but with mom and dad sleeping off jet lag anyway maybe it's not so bad, timing-wise. It's great to have family here – it feels more like home now – and hopefully it helps them understand our life here a little better.

We're off to Kenting for the weekend, so I'll be incommunicado for another few days. I'll get some pix of the sun and sand for you next week. Till then....

Happy New Year (please pass me a tissue)

2006-02-02T07:38:00.000+08:00

Well, it's official: the Year of the Dog has commenced. Cole and Nora both have a fever and cough, and my nose is driving me nuts, but hey, we're on vacation, the weather's been great – it could be worse.

We only had a smattering of fireworks in our village this year, but an unbelievable amount of traffic. The holiday follows a strict heirarchy of family visits – driving on New Year's eve to spend New Year's day with the husband's family, then driving, sometimes across the country, to spend the next couple days with the in-laws (the husband's in-laws, that is – the Chinese always lose a daughter, never gain a son). The flow of people has been uneven, with one side of the freeway crawling along while the other direction is wide open; when we've had to go out, we use surface streets and avoid the worst intersections. I don't think people here are big on shortcuts. Everyone seems to stay on the main roads, even when everyone, literally, is on the road. Most foreigners stay home over the holiday; it's not a good time to go sight-seeing.

Last Saturday we did venture out with our friends, the Pinkertons, to the New Year's market. (I took tons of photos, but have had difficulty loading them – check the photos link in a day or two.) The market is open all year as the dry market – dried mushrooms, beans, fish, tea, assorted grasses and grains, powdered who-knows-what – but I haven't gone before, so I don't know what distinguishes it as the New Year's market right now. There were stalls selling red banners, tassles, envelopes, and so on, and a man creating large calligraphy banners, but otherwise it seemed to be a pretty normal dry market. Just very, very crowded.

My parents will be here in two (two!) days, so I'm going to keep this short and get back to my to-do list. Our study is slowly being transformed into a guest room, thanks to Tim. The rest of the house needs a little attention, though, so off I go. My dirty windows beckon.

Earth & Altar

2006-01-25T14:19:00.000+08:00

Wow. What an amazing book; very challenging. I finished reading it tonight as I sipped a hot chocolate at Starbucks all by myself, which is worth italicizing. I really like Eugene Peterson, and would like to buy about a half dozen more of his titles. Maybe I can get my parents to bring them when they come.

Earth & Altar covers eleven Psalms and shows how praying them will help release us from the self-centeredness that not only stunts our own growth but damages society as well. Lots of good stuff, but the last chapter was particularly relevant. Here's a bit of it, as Peterson delves into Ps. 45, a wedding song. He is describing the bride, a princess marrying a king in another land:

She is in a strange country. She is in unfamiliar territory, addressed in strangely accented speech, away from the cozy securities of friends and family. She is full of longings for what she has left. As long as she is attached to her childhood and her family and her customs (that is, the things that certified her acceptance and significance), she is incapable of a new venture in love.

He goes on to say:

Love launches us into new territory. To explore the new, the old must be left. It means leaving earlier levels of accomplishment and relationship and growing into new ones. Every act of love is a risk of the self. There are no guarantees in love. Much can go wrong: we can get hurt; we can be rejected; we can be deceived. But without risking these perils there can only be a repetition of old patterns, the routinization of old comforts.

And then he addresses the self:

The self cannot be itself if it does not grow, and for a creature made in the image of God to grow is to love. No living being can be static.... Self love is obsessed with keeping what it has and adding a little more of the same. That is why it is so boring. There is never anything new to say, nothing new to discover. Self-love assesses its position by what is has and is panicked at the thought of losing any of it. Forced into new relationships, into new situations, its first consideration is not of the new fields for love but of the appalling prospects of loss. So it clings. It holds. And it whines.

This has been my struggle over the last five years, knowing that great possibilities lie before me if I will only let go of the familiar. Easier said than done, although I'd like to think I've made some progress.

The book has been republished under the title, "Where Your Treasure Is." I recommend it highly.

Across the wall

2006-01-25T14:15:00.000+08:00

This is a picture I snapped last week of the old woman who lives next door. She and her son were walking around the dirt lot that used to be her husband's guava orchard (before it became a giant rock-sifting facility and place where trees come to die). The house is quiet now, so I think she may have moved in with one of her children. One of her sons comes by a few times a week to help pick guava, but other than that it's feeling pretty deserted.

I hope I'm not coming across as some kind of stalker here. This has been a fairly public episode of their lives, and I have been intrigued, eager to glean what I can from it. How we handle death reveals so much about our culture as well as who we are as individuals. I find it fascinating.

Pineapple fields forever...

2006-01-25T06:22:00.000+08:00

I will show great restraint and not use any more Beatles allusions. (You're welcome to hum along in your own head, though.)

This is a view of the pineapples, taken from our roof eight floors up. Not a great shot, but I did say I'd post one, so here it is. I'd like to get some close-ups of the women who work in the fields, but I'm too shy. It would require me to go walking through the rows, uninvited, and then stand there with camera in hand, butchering the little Mandarin I know as I try to explain my intentions – either that, or just boldly start taking pictures. Neither option appeals. I need to get over myself or get a better camera.

I did try to photograph the women last fall. They were working near our school and would take their midday break in the shade of the trees near our gate. Nora and I would deliver lunch to Tim and Cole, and the ladies, crouched over their noodles and tea, would smile and pat Nora's arm as we went by. After lunch, though, on our return home, we'd find the whole group of them sacked out on the sidewalk (never the grass, perhaps because of the spiders, whose little wispy webs dot the lawn in the mornings). Lying on their sides, the women would pull their coats over their heads and just check out for an hour or so. Shou syi, I think it's called – like siesta. A few times I had my camera ready, so I could snap a shot as we passed, but someone would always raise her head as I came near, and I would chicken out. Maybe that's for the best. It doesn't seem right to treat your neighbors as anthropological subjects, even though on one level that is what they are. It's the other, deeper level of our shared humanity that stops me. I wouldn't want someone to be so brazen in their curiosity of how I live. Well, come to think of it, people here are brazen in their curiosity of how I live. But I don't particularly like it, so I try not to do the same to them.

Thoughts on Geisha

2006-01-21T09:05:00.000+08:00

I finished Memoirs of a Geisha the other night. Quite a good read. I hear the movie is well done, too; maybe Tim and I can see it next week. I like Taiwan; I like Chinese people and their culture – but I have to say that they've got nothing on Japan when it comes to raising everyday life to an art form. I used to lump the two cultures together as being artistically sensitive, and while the Chinese have produced amazing art over the centuries, the appreciation of beauty has not been incorporated into the common life here as much as it has in Japan.

The Japanese occupied Taiwan for fifty years (1895-1945). There is still evidence of that in the architecture, the language, even the faces of people, particularly here in the south of the island. The Japanese started the first schools for the deaf in Taiwan, and the local sign language still bears the mark (like Laurent Clerc's French influence on American Sign Language, albeit under very different circumstances). My impression is that most young people here hold a positive opinion of Japan. I came across this article, however, that outlines mainland China's position (and political strategy) that she and Taiwan are united against a common foe: Japan. I don't imagine that this will be very effective, especially with the younger generation here not only lacking the first-hand experience of living under Japanese occupation, but in general wanting to be much more like Japan.

So, any suggestions on what I should read next?

Winter's chill

2006-01-21T02:37:00.000+08:00

Oh, wait, that's just the A/C.

Yes, the air-con is on again - just for a few hours last night, and just in the dining room, but this might be the beginning of summer. Our west-facing bedroom wall was warm to the touch (after two months of being cool and clammy). Once it starts giving off heat then the bedroom A/C will be called into play, too. Lots of fog these last few mornings, which I think means the temperature's making a big jump in the mornings. The humidity is up, as well.

I just added a weather sticker to my sidebar so you can check all this youself, if you're so inclined.

Not much news, otherwise. Tim is headed up to Taipei to photograph a basketball tournament this weekend. While he's gone I'm going to try to get our guest room into shape - my parents are coming in about two weeks. (Yay!) And maybe I can catch a game tonight with the guys – Citadel or Puerto Rico or Settlers. This is quite a partying group of missionaries here. No joke.

Well, Nora is patiently sitting at my feet, waiting to go out and swing, so I better scoot. More soon.

Aren't we forgetting someone?

2006-01-17T15:08:00.000+08:00

This doesn't have anything to do with Taiwan, but when I read this story from The Observer, I recognized this man immediately as a fellow third-born:

A British man kidnapped in Iraq and held for five days by armed men who threatened to behead him was rescued last week by American special forces and astonished to discover that no one had noticed he was missing.

I feel for him, man.

What I know is...

2006-01-17T08:13:00.000+08:00

We had an earthquake last week – not big, but enough to get my attention as I was drifting off to sleep. I mention it because I had been expecting an earthquake for several days prior. It's nothing more than being in tune with the cycles of things – I'm not claiming any special power here – but we seemed due for one, and then there it was. (This happened before the quake in November, too.) I'm not all that fond of earthquakes, but there is some comfort in knowing a place so well.

I've been thinking of the other peculiar ways I know Taiwan. My butter and salt tell me the weather (butter stays hard on cold days, and my dish of sea salt clumps up in the humidity, even when there's no discernible change inside the house). I know what color the sky turns before a big storm, although I am still caught off guard when we have rainy days in the dry season. I heard shooshing in the street this morning and thought, "What is that?" Thirty-some years in Washington should have taught me by now.

I know what other drivers are thinking, or at least I can predict the moves they're going to make. (Whether there's a thought process behind the action is sometimes debatable.) I enjoy the organic nature of driving here, like water seeking the most natural course. It's best not to fight it.

I know when people are surreptitiously photographing my children at Costco, and I can spot fellow foreigners by the way they move (as well as by the content of their carts).

I can identify almost all of the kids in our building by their various cries.

I know that congealed chicken blood tastes lovely until you know what it is.

I know how to say what I want at McDondald's, but I also know that the order will not be right.

I know that my Chinese teacher will utter the words, "What I know is..." at least once in every conversation. It always makes me smile.

I know which parking garages can accommodate our very tall Toyota Zace, including the ones that say they're too low but really aren't.

I know how coin-op grocery carts work.

I know how to use chopsticks, and how not to use them, which is just as important.

I know that I may pick my nose in public (although I don't), but never my teeth (which I sometimes do). I know I use more paper napkins when I eat beef noodles then anyone else around me. I don't know how they do it.

I know my European shoe size, my children's heights in centimeters, and what to wear when it's 16º, 21º, or 34ºC.

I know what it's like to be almost famous. We are stared at, approached, photographed, and whispered about wherever we go. Sometimes it's flattering, and sometimes just annoying.

I know there's a reason we're here, and I know there will come a time to leave. I don't know the details on either count, but God does, and that is good enough for now.

I know the next few years are going to be interesting.

Next!

2006-01-15T06:29:00.000+08:00

Time for a babysitting update:

Su Ruong did not, in fact, come back, but she very kindly found us a replacement. Sandy was able to come for about a month, until her nursing intership began in December. (We had fewer tears with Sandy.) She, in turn, introduced us to Rebecca, who was with us for a few weeks (she is also a nursing student), and who sometimes brought her friend Twiggy along. When Rebecca's time was up she found us Star. I understand that Star is available for two weeks, including her first visit this past Thursday. No other prospects on the horizon, so Nora may be tagging along to Bible study for a while. She behaves well, but I would prefer to go alone and not have to divide my attention.

The one good thing to come out of the whirlwind of sitters is that Nora barely makes a peep when I step out the door now. She's also good with names. When Star left last week I prompted Nora, "Say goodbye!" And she complied: "Goodbye, Star. Goodbye, Rebecca. Goodbye, Sandy. Goodbye, Twiggy. Goodbye! See you next time! Dzai Jien!"

I'll have to teach her to say "Next!" in Chinese.

Resolve

2006-01-12T15:45:00.000+08:00

More exercise is on my horizon. Not as a New Year's resolution (my last one was circa 1989: "No more resolutions"), but as an avoidance technique. I bought a new pair of Levi's last week at Costco. No fitting room, of course, so I bought a size that resembles my impression of myself and took them home. I find that I can get all five buttons done, but another inch in the waist would have been nice. However, making a return is about as appealing as gum surgery, so I'll hit the treadmill instead. I have no gripe with my bathroom scale (don't worry, Mom!), but it would help to get a bit firmer in places.

I don't usually buy clothes at Costco - or anywhere in Taiwan - but my favorite jeans have reached a critical stage of fragmentation. A spot below the right rear pocket is going threadbare, to the point that I've been using duct tape to keep the weft in place. I tape it on the inside, which actually works pretty well. (I dropped this bit of information into conversation the other night when I was compared to Dennis the Menace's mother - you know, the perfectly polished appearance belying the fact that she's about to pull her hair out. I think my tailoring technique put a damper on that idea.)

Despite my long-standing no-resolutions resolution, I feel an urge this year to make changes: more discipline, more writing, more stretching, and stretching my boundaries, particularly regarding speaking Chinese. (Some people live in Taiwan for years and years yet speak very little of the language; I understand why it happens, but I don't want it to happen to me.) My first priority, though, is to get into a better devotion habit. I've been reading a lot of Bible-related texts lately, but if I'm going to get anything out of them I have got to spend more time in quiet meditation. Our women's Bible study is beginning a new book on prayer, so I'm hopeful that it will get me moving in the right direction.

Chinese New Year is right around the corner. I don't know if there is a resolution aspect to it; I know it's a time to be with family and to clean the house. Old debts must be paid (which leads to an increase in property theft this time of year), and red envelopes full of cash are handed out quite generously to the children. In our village it's a week of drinking and fireworks, each for casting out various demons. This will be the Year of the Dog, which happens to be my year (so for those of you who don't know how old I am, I have narrowed it down to a multiple of 12). This supposedly makes me loyal, which is not a bad attribute. I'm not a dog person, though, in general. I hope they don't kick me out of the club.

I feel like we're in a lull at the moment, with the Western holidays just behind us and the Chinese holidays over the next hill. It's good to have a breather. My parents are coming in a few weeks, which we're all very excited about. But for now I feel a bit empty, with not a lot to say (she says, 500 words later). The pineapple fields have been lovely these recent mornings, mellow browns and greens with a bit of gloss to them. I've been meaning to get a picture from the roof so you can see the patterns in them. That's a theme I've wanted to pursue, photographically: order in chaos, the places where the human hand has brought a bit of control to an otherwise unruly landscape. I think I'll work on that for next time. Stay tuned.

Ashes and dust

2005-12-27T14:21:00.000+08:00

I believe the old man next door has died.

I never met him – I have only ever been an observer of his family's life, and even then only the parts that can be seen from my window – but still, the fractious relationship he had with his land revealed a bit of him to me, and I feel like a knew him a little. He was stubborn, but kind, too. I have a vivid memory from when we lived here before, of him and his grandson walking down the gravel lane, holding hands as the afternoon light, warm and yellow, tinted the dust kicked up behind them. I find myself moved by his passing. It's a reminder of the unavoidability of death, of course, and I also find myself wondering what will happen to his widow and their little farm.

The funeral began in the afternoon of the first Monday of December. I took notice of it not from my window, but from the playground, when I looked up and saw several people in our building leaning on their balcony rails, cameras in hand. I could hear something going on next door, but the wall that separates us is high, without windows, so I had to dash up to the fourth floor to see what was going on. In the clearing stood white bundles of ghost money, carefully arranged to form what looked like a two-layer cake, festooned with flowery tufts of golden paper - more ghost money - shoved into the crevices. Family members dressed in white with sackcloth smocks (yellow for women, beige for men) walked around the pile, wailing. A paper palace stood nearby. Four men picked up a sedan chair and began circling the pile of money while another man set it all ablaze. The mourners stood in a ring around the clearing, each one holding tight to a thin white rope. As the sedan was carried about, the seat began to shake - a sign that the spirit of the deceased had taken his place in it.

This went on for hours: the men carrying the sedan, which rattled quite violently at times; the family encircling the massive fire; and continued offerings of ghost money, even the palace itself, being tossed into the flames. A second team of strong men took over the chair at one point, while a single drummer beat out a continuous tattoo. The skies grew dark, but the fire threw a great deal of light on the scene, and I spent most of my evening watching the events below. The chair was sometimes carried to a spot just out of sight, to a display of what I believe was more spirit wealth, perhaps offerings made by the family, and then carried and tipped towards the fire. It appeared that the bearers were trying to convince the deceased that he would be well-provided for in the next life. He was not in any hurry to go, though; it was quite late when the chair made its final, driving rhythm towards the flames and then fell silent. The remaining money was then heaped on the fire - great bags of it - before the mourners left their positions and walked to the funeral tent across the street.

The funeral wasn't over yet, though. The next morning the same party of mourners, holding onto the same white rope, lined up behind the coffin as it was rolled down our street. A hearse led the procession, but I don't believe it was used to carry the coffin at any time. There are many graves in our village, so I expect the old man's final resting place was not too far from home. Music blared from a speaker as they made their way, but otherwise the group was quiet. It would be traditional for the mourning family to come home along a different route, to confuse any spirits who might want to follow them back, and indeed I didn't notice their return. I heard them, though, a short while later back at the funeral tent - short speeches, some more crying. Large wreaths lined the street around the house, and several Buddhist monks were lighting incense and burning brightly-colored papers.

I have read up on some of the funeral practices of Taiwan since then, although not everything I saw has been explained; even so, I certainly understand the motives, the universal desire to honor a loved one and say goodbye with a great showing of respect. Many of the traditions are based on fear, though - fear of the spirit world, of ghosts not properly appeased, of family not provided for in the afterlife. This is a challenge for those Chinese and Taiwanese who become Christians: showing proper respect without bowing to the deceased as an idol to be worshipped. I am glad for my faith, that I can look at death not as a fearful thing but as the moment of transformation from a temporal existence to an everlasting one, and as a moment of reunion. If I fear anything it is loneliness, but not death. I think my ride in the spirit chair would be shorter than a single shake.

The next day the backhoe came and wiped out the circle of ash that remained from the fire. Someone has been hard at work, planting trees in the lot and sifting through the mounds of dirt. I don't know for sure what will become of the farm, but the old woman is still picking her guava, and her son drives it to the market. That is the proof, I guess, that their lives are carrying on.

Edge of the earth

2005-12-19T14:31:00.000+08:00

No, I haven't fallen off of it, just dangled there for a while.

The first two weeks of December I battled laryngitis, mostly unsuccessfully, and still have a bit of a cough. Nothing like a lingering illness to take the wind out of your literary sails. But I am working on an entry now, and hope to have it up in a day or two.

Christmas is less than a week away. (You probably know that better than I.) I do not miss the frenzy of the season, but I do miss family and familiar foods. Still, we've got a tree up, vacation has begun, and we are looking forward to a sane amount of socializing in the next couple weeks. It's not a bad way to end the year.

More soon.

Happy Thanksgiving!

2005-11-25T14:38:00.000+08:00

We have so much to be thankful for! God continues to bless us abundantly. We are grateful for our family, our health, Tim's job, a nice home, the ability to travel and explore new places, and so much more. It's good to pause and give thanks for all those things we take for granted all year long. The holidays are a hard time to be so far from home, but we keep up our traditions and are grateful for the company of friends. May you, too, be among friends and loved ones this Thanksgiving. Peace to you all!