Close up are the cold foods (many of which are microwaved for you in the store) and the rows upon rows of drinks.
Monday, August 27, 2012
7-eleven
I get a lot of my food from a convenience store, which isn't as bad as it would be in America, although it's not fine dining, either. Most people here eat out for every meal, so there's a wide variety of cold and hot foods in convenience stores for people to buy. Most even have little eating areas, usually a raised bar with seats by the window.
Fruit! Here we have papaya, apples, and guava. I rarely see papaya in a fruit pack, so this was a treat!
These little babies are tea eggs. They're literally hard-boiled eggs that stew in tea all day, so they get a kind of rich, salty taste. They're NT$8 each, which makes them very inexpensive and a good source of protein.
Friday, August 24, 2012
sharing the strange and beautiful
More than travel books or tourist review websites, I've always found I get my best information about a place by reading personal blogs or written biographies by people who've lived there. Personal accounts should always be taken with a grain of salt, because the perspectives aren't unbiased, they're opinionated--human experiences. But they touch on the "sense of living" that books describing vacation spots and the online reviews of tourists can't give, because they're only giving an impression of the surface.
Take, for example, my readers' experience of Taiwan. It's though this blog, which is a personal account of one individual's experiences in a small corner of the country. My accounts can't give readers a clear expectation of what they, themselves, would experience if they came here, or what they'd find if they lived in a different area. But my stories and descriptions are from a "ground zero" level--they're from and by a person who is interacting with life here from the perspective of actually living in it. A travel book will tell you how to get to Taipei 101, where the best tourist hotels and beaches are, how to convert money and what the average meal will cost.
I may get around to some of that too, but my information won't involve as many facts as impressions.
Take where I am right now: It's a little street-facing coffee shop called Rufous, located in Taipei. The name means "reddish-brown," like rust, the dark and rich color of "true coffee." Coming inside is like walking into cup of espresso; dark brown decor and a smooth, thick coffee smell suffusing the air. The scent blends with the soft sounds of slow piano jazz. A coffee bar stretches along the right side of the interior, which is only about twenty feet wide and twice that length deep. Tables with cushioned chairs line the wall opposite the bar, and a group of three friends sits in the back speaking in quiet, comfortable tones. Behind the bar, two baristas--a tall young man with hair swept to one side and a short-haired young woman in a black polo and glasses--press, mix, stir, and whip varying drinks into existence with the ease of experience. One drink, set in front of me, is marbled with caramel, milk, and black espresso, their colors still gently swirling together.
I order a hot chocolate, which comes in a curved glass with a metal handle like half a heart. The cocoa in my drink is so thick it's like sipping hot cream, and the natural bitterness of real cocoa beans almost punches past the drink's added milk and sugar.
These are the kinds of little things--the nook experiences--that you get from personal accounts. There's traffic going by me outside, and people coming in and ordering drinks, or paying and leaving. There are friends and couples and business people. There's life going on around me, human experiences playing out in a concerted dissonance, all at the same time but not all in the same way or at the same pace. Everything around me is an important facet of the whole experience, from the coffee smell to the height of the bar (perfect for resting the elbows on while typing on a laptop) to the swirl of color in a drink just after it's made. These little things all combine into one whole experience, and those little things, to me, give a far better impression of the "real" sensation of being in a place than a description of costs and locations.
All of you reading this, I want you to share my experiences here. Very few of us in the world will have the opportunity to travel to all corners of it, whether we desire to or not. But one of the great gifts of our technological age is that, although I'm the only one of all of us (you, my readers, and I, the writer) who is actually in Rufous right at this moment, you are still all able to be here with me, to get a sense of the place, the smells and sounds, the taste of chocolate in a drink and the growing discomfort of one's elbows as they rest on the edge of the bar. (I have that issue everywhere, though. My elbows are never comfortable on a hard edge.)
So when I write about a meal, or shopping excursion, or an observation of pigeons eating bread in a plaza, I'm not simply sharing it to be hearing myself talk. I'm putting it out in the world for all of you. These little scraps of human experience, I hope, will accumulate into a whole experience of Taiwan, one that is as baffling, strange, frightening, and beautiful for all of you as it continues to be for me.
Cheers. <3
Take, for example, my readers' experience of Taiwan. It's though this blog, which is a personal account of one individual's experiences in a small corner of the country. My accounts can't give readers a clear expectation of what they, themselves, would experience if they came here, or what they'd find if they lived in a different area. But my stories and descriptions are from a "ground zero" level--they're from and by a person who is interacting with life here from the perspective of actually living in it. A travel book will tell you how to get to Taipei 101, where the best tourist hotels and beaches are, how to convert money and what the average meal will cost.
I may get around to some of that too, but my information won't involve as many facts as impressions.
Take where I am right now: It's a little street-facing coffee shop called Rufous, located in Taipei. The name means "reddish-brown," like rust, the dark and rich color of "true coffee." Coming inside is like walking into cup of espresso; dark brown decor and a smooth, thick coffee smell suffusing the air. The scent blends with the soft sounds of slow piano jazz. A coffee bar stretches along the right side of the interior, which is only about twenty feet wide and twice that length deep. Tables with cushioned chairs line the wall opposite the bar, and a group of three friends sits in the back speaking in quiet, comfortable tones. Behind the bar, two baristas--a tall young man with hair swept to one side and a short-haired young woman in a black polo and glasses--press, mix, stir, and whip varying drinks into existence with the ease of experience. One drink, set in front of me, is marbled with caramel, milk, and black espresso, their colors still gently swirling together.
I order a hot chocolate, which comes in a curved glass with a metal handle like half a heart. The cocoa in my drink is so thick it's like sipping hot cream, and the natural bitterness of real cocoa beans almost punches past the drink's added milk and sugar.
These are the kinds of little things--the nook experiences--that you get from personal accounts. There's traffic going by me outside, and people coming in and ordering drinks, or paying and leaving. There are friends and couples and business people. There's life going on around me, human experiences playing out in a concerted dissonance, all at the same time but not all in the same way or at the same pace. Everything around me is an important facet of the whole experience, from the coffee smell to the height of the bar (perfect for resting the elbows on while typing on a laptop) to the swirl of color in a drink just after it's made. These little things all combine into one whole experience, and those little things, to me, give a far better impression of the "real" sensation of being in a place than a description of costs and locations.
All of you reading this, I want you to share my experiences here. Very few of us in the world will have the opportunity to travel to all corners of it, whether we desire to or not. But one of the great gifts of our technological age is that, although I'm the only one of all of us (you, my readers, and I, the writer) who is actually in Rufous right at this moment, you are still all able to be here with me, to get a sense of the place, the smells and sounds, the taste of chocolate in a drink and the growing discomfort of one's elbows as they rest on the edge of the bar. (I have that issue everywhere, though. My elbows are never comfortable on a hard edge.)
So when I write about a meal, or shopping excursion, or an observation of pigeons eating bread in a plaza, I'm not simply sharing it to be hearing myself talk. I'm putting it out in the world for all of you. These little scraps of human experience, I hope, will accumulate into a whole experience of Taiwan, one that is as baffling, strange, frightening, and beautiful for all of you as it continues to be for me.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
fashion: put it all on me
Lady Gaga: Fashion
And maybe it is, for some people, but then again, no matter where you go, there will always be people who worry too much about their appearance and not enough about who they are, just like there will always be nice people and rude people and caring people and people who wouldn't stop to help you if you were on fire. A friend here theorized to me that there are the same number of a-holes in every culture, no matter where you go. I'm sure it's the same with fashion; some people dress up here because they're smart and certain of themselves and the look completes them, and some people are more worried about what people will think of how they look than of how they feel about looking that way.
After hotpot, the group split up. I, being insanely full, had some difficulty with decision-making when it came to defining what, exactly, I'd do next. I wanted to stay with Amelia and Susan (both because I like them and because I view friends who've been here a while as security blankets) but I also really wanted to go shopping. Clothes shopping. I'd been dying to do so since I came here and saw all the clothing stores. Sensing my uncertainty about what my options were, Susan told me there were a lot of shops in Ximen. "You'll love shopping in Ximen," she said.
She was so right.
I hadn't given Ximen credit for the number of little shops it has. When you start going into places and looking through the racks, you realize there's a lot. You also realize that half the stores have all the same things, and most of them carry the exact same styles, but sometimes you'll find something different or for a better price or of better quality, so it's always good to keep looking. (Side note, the quality of clothes in Taiwan depends on where you shop. If you want good, quality clothing, you'll be paying a few hundred quai more, and probably won't find anything that fits the bill in a street shop. If you want something cheap and don't mind that it won't last that long, you can spend almost nothing and find the same item almost anywhere.) I spent hours walking up and down the streets and going through shops, and finally, finally I bought a shirt, a poncho-type knit cover to go over a tank top and a pair of shorts. Finally, my shopping-in-Asia journey has commenced!
I've always been entranced by fashion. Not by what's in style or what looks good, but how each individual uses it to say something about themselves. Everything from the clothing pieces to the overall "look" is an expression of the person's idea about him or herself, and how he or she wants to be viewed.
This is one of the reasons I've always been enamored with Asia, particularly Japan. The sense of fashion there is very theatrical, and more concerned with having a "look" right down to the details. Just by looking at people, you can tell what they think of themselves and what they want others to think of them. Fashion is wordless self-expression, visual communication. The way people dress here is much more stylized than it is in the US, at least where I'm from in Ohio. Even adults (well, the ladies) are wearing frilly shirts, detailed shoes, pants and jackets with a few more enhancements than you'd see on the same clothes in the US. Not everyone, but enough of them that it doesn't stand out; it's natural. You'll also see girls with really short skirts, high heels, embellished tops--but they only stand out because their look is more complete than, say, that of the person in denim shorts with a cute top and a necklace. The people with "complete" looks don't stand out the way they would in the US, where people would think, "Whoa, you're trying way too hard to get attention, hon."
Me, I've always tried to be the former kind of person, but often end up as the latter. Dressing up for myself, to be honest, has always baffled me. Partly because, seriously, where are you going in those clothes? The grocery store? Who wears heels to the grocery store? How many occasions do we, as Americans, have in our daily lives to wear the things that say who we are, not where we work or how many Race for the Cures we participated in? Around here, people go outside, in public, for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and every errand in between. People see you on the street, in the bus, in the MRT, at a restaurant... everywhere. There are so many non-work-related occasions to just be yourself fashion-wise that it's a little insane.
Which is what I really, really like. In the US, I usually had to base my fashion choices on what I could wear to work, and then I'd end up wearing those clothes to other places, except I'd wear jeans instead of black or tan pants. I rarely bought clothes that said something about me, or were expensive, because I thought, "Where am I going to wear this?" The other day I went shopping, and I got a few pieces of clothing that I'll never wear to work, or maybe not even to an outing with my friends. I might just wear them when I go to eat lunch or dinner. Because I like them and they make me happy.
Insane, right?
I'm definitely going to try to devote some more blog time to the fashion in Taiwan, the things I see and buy, what I see people wearing, that kind of thing. In the mean time, here's me in the clothes I bought in Ximen yesterday!
hotpot 2
Amelia is leaving Taiwan very soon, so she and I and the two other teachers from our school, plus Susan, all went out for hoptpot on Sunday morning. I was so excited about this that I ate a minimal dinner the night before, a small breakfast that morning, and I also woke up at 7:30am to go to the gym before we went for hotpot. Our reservation was for 11:30. When we finally sat down and started eating, I could tell I was really hungry because almost an hour went by and I realized I'd said very, very little. Like, I hadn't contributed to any conversations at all. I'd already shoved two plates of food into my soup and eaten it, and my companions were just going back to the bar for seconds.
Not much of note happened at this outing, except that good times were had by all. :) Walking out of the restaurant was a feat, because we were all so full that "thinking" and "walking" were challenging. Susan and Amelia went to make reservations for Amelia's other goodbye dinner we're having this weekend, and Dennis and James (the other teacher at Shane) went their separate ways as well.
(continued in fashion: put it all on me!)
Monday, August 20, 2012
teaching
Having been teaching classes for almost a month now, I thought it was time to wax some philosophy on the subject.
Teaching is hard. As much as I thought teachers (and all educators) deserve high salaries before, now I believe it even more--and I don't even mean myself, I mean teachers like those who taught me in pre-school, elementary, middle, and high school, and all the teachers who teach at other levels in public, private, and other schools. Teachers who have maybe five or six classes each day, often teaching the same thing in each one, and having to grade all that homework each night (if they don't have the kids do it in class) and then making sure the kids can pass all the tests and, depending on the subject, divide by i or speak the foreign language or not blow/melt their hands off with chemicals or competently discuss what the glasses on the billboard sign mean in The Great Gatsby.
I'm teaching maybe 3-9 kids at a time; some teachers, I'm sure, teach upwards of 30. I currently teach no more than two classes a day. (That will change in about a week when Amelia leaves, I'm sure.) Some teachers teach one class for every period of the day except lunch. (And some probably don't get lunch.) Most, if not all, teachers probably have some kind of government school board breathing down their necks all the time about whether the kids are going to pass whatever standardized test is in the pipes that week.
I'm not saying my job is easy, but man, I think about my job and I realize how much more other teachers have to do.
So teaching is hard. I can't tell you if it's rewarding yet; I simply haven't done enough teaching to see if any of my efforts are proving fruitful. Granted, my CEI01 class full of 6 and 7-year-olds picks up stuff like sponges, but they also come from families who expose them to English and want them to learn it. On the other hand, some of them still add prepositions where they aren't needed, so I wonder if, as time goes on, their having more language will simply give them more grammar and vocabulary to mess up on, somehow proving I haven't taught them anything at all.
I seriously worry about not doing well by these kids, even the annoying ones who won't talk or won't stop talking, or make fun of other kids or ignore everyone. Despite the fact that they are all a bunch of monkeys, I want them to learn English. Being able to speak any second language is a valuable skill that can help you later in life. And I want them to feel like they're succeeding. I want them to feel like they can make big accomplishments when they try hard and put their minds to it. I often wish I could give each one of them a private lesson to help them in the places where they struggle, but it's not possible, so I do the best I can teaching them in many different ways to appeal to different learning preferences.
I've had a few successes, enough that I can start to feel like a legit teacher and get me through the other days where I feel like utter fail. I had what might have been the first successful CJ04 class of my life this past Saturday, and there were only two kids in it. That was nice, though; I felt like I could take the time to get to know them and talk to them and see what their strengths were.
I also felt like I did a good job today with the CEI01 class, the one with 8 kids, half of whom can't stay in their seats for more than two seconds. I feel like they respect me now, which is weird to even type. I feel like they're starting to look to me as an authority figure. I'm not Teacher Dennis (who is, I swear, a teaching genius), but I'm not "the n00b" anymore, even though that "not" is only "just."
I feel that I'm barely out of that "I'm a n00b" stage and setting foot into "I'm new" territory. It's the difference between being a nervous wreck with no sense of how to (or how I want to) run a classroom to being able to ask myself what I want to accomplish in a lesson and how I want things to go down. (I'm not saying I always accomplish that, but I'm able to ask it of myself and sometimes get answers.) I'm also learning to be a realist--because not every class is going to go how I planned it, and I'm learning to be okay with that and compensate for when things go wrong. I'm learning to do what a smart teacher is supposed to do: When the activity is failing, don't force it, just move on.
I think that's enough waxing. I'm still in the learning stage. I don't think I'll be much of a BAMF until I've got almost a year under my belt. But hey, it's a process. Some people love these stages in their lives. I don't. The learning curve stage is a necessary evil that I push myself through every time because I know eventually it'll lead to me being able to take advantage of some new skill.
And I'll see where life takes me from there.
Teaching is hard. As much as I thought teachers (and all educators) deserve high salaries before, now I believe it even more--and I don't even mean myself, I mean teachers like those who taught me in pre-school, elementary, middle, and high school, and all the teachers who teach at other levels in public, private, and other schools. Teachers who have maybe five or six classes each day, often teaching the same thing in each one, and having to grade all that homework each night (if they don't have the kids do it in class) and then making sure the kids can pass all the tests and, depending on the subject, divide by i or speak the foreign language or not blow/melt their hands off with chemicals or competently discuss what the glasses on the billboard sign mean in The Great Gatsby.
I'm teaching maybe 3-9 kids at a time; some teachers, I'm sure, teach upwards of 30. I currently teach no more than two classes a day. (That will change in about a week when Amelia leaves, I'm sure.) Some teachers teach one class for every period of the day except lunch. (And some probably don't get lunch.) Most, if not all, teachers probably have some kind of government school board breathing down their necks all the time about whether the kids are going to pass whatever standardized test is in the pipes that week.
I'm not saying my job is easy, but man, I think about my job and I realize how much more other teachers have to do.
So teaching is hard. I can't tell you if it's rewarding yet; I simply haven't done enough teaching to see if any of my efforts are proving fruitful. Granted, my CEI01 class full of 6 and 7-year-olds picks up stuff like sponges, but they also come from families who expose them to English and want them to learn it. On the other hand, some of them still add prepositions where they aren't needed, so I wonder if, as time goes on, their having more language will simply give them more grammar and vocabulary to mess up on, somehow proving I haven't taught them anything at all.
I seriously worry about not doing well by these kids, even the annoying ones who won't talk or won't stop talking, or make fun of other kids or ignore everyone. Despite the fact that they are all a bunch of monkeys, I want them to learn English. Being able to speak any second language is a valuable skill that can help you later in life. And I want them to feel like they're succeeding. I want them to feel like they can make big accomplishments when they try hard and put their minds to it. I often wish I could give each one of them a private lesson to help them in the places where they struggle, but it's not possible, so I do the best I can teaching them in many different ways to appeal to different learning preferences.
I've had a few successes, enough that I can start to feel like a legit teacher and get me through the other days where I feel like utter fail. I had what might have been the first successful CJ04 class of my life this past Saturday, and there were only two kids in it. That was nice, though; I felt like I could take the time to get to know them and talk to them and see what their strengths were.
I also felt like I did a good job today with the CEI01 class, the one with 8 kids, half of whom can't stay in their seats for more than two seconds. I feel like they respect me now, which is weird to even type. I feel like they're starting to look to me as an authority figure. I'm not Teacher Dennis (who is, I swear, a teaching genius), but I'm not "the n00b" anymore, even though that "not" is only "just."
I feel that I'm barely out of that "I'm a n00b" stage and setting foot into "I'm new" territory. It's the difference between being a nervous wreck with no sense of how to (or how I want to) run a classroom to being able to ask myself what I want to accomplish in a lesson and how I want things to go down. (I'm not saying I always accomplish that, but I'm able to ask it of myself and sometimes get answers.) I'm also learning to be a realist--because not every class is going to go how I planned it, and I'm learning to be okay with that and compensate for when things go wrong. I'm learning to do what a smart teacher is supposed to do: When the activity is failing, don't force it, just move on.
I think that's enough waxing. I'm still in the learning stage. I don't think I'll be much of a BAMF until I've got almost a year under my belt. But hey, it's a process. Some people love these stages in their lives. I don't. The learning curve stage is a necessary evil that I push myself through every time because I know eventually it'll lead to me being able to take advantage of some new skill.
And I'll see where life takes me from there.
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
caitlin savage and the hotpot of awesome
Behold, my friends: the burner. It is the crucible from which all delicious things come. It warms the food above it, makes raw meat into something safely edible, infuses vegetables with juice and wrings spice and flavor from all that is placed upon it.
What you are about to witness is an adventure in food like no other. Those with weak hearts or stomachs should either refrain from reading, maintain a safe distance, or just fly to Taiwan and come with me the next time I go.
This, my friends, is hotpot.
Here is, in short, what happened:
The setting is a restaurant in Ximen, some 30 minutes from my house by bus. Although the restaurant entrance is at street-level, the restaurant itself is one story above, accessible via a flight of stairs. Inside, the lighting is warm and dim, the decor decidedly imperial; understated elegance in red, gold, and black. Each table, dark and solid like marble, has a large burner embedded in its center. Steam billows off the pots on each table burner, like smoke.
Ella and I, after being seated, ordered two kinds of soup: vegetable and spicy. We also ordered two kinds of meat: beef and lamb. We were brought the soup, which was then placed on the burner and set to heat. Ella and I then went to a giant bar full of fresh, raw food (veggies, tofu, fish, fungi) and selected anything we wanted. Anything, and everything. We then took it all back to our big dual-pot of soup and dumped the food in.
While the food cooked, we went to a separate bar and made our own dipping sauces. I put soy sauce, sesame seed oil, vinegar, and a few other things in mine. I am a sauce-making genius. My sauce was very delicious. I am not sure how this happened. Ella made something equally delicious, more fresh and rich than my sauce's salty and savory. I have a soft spot for salty, so I ate mine in earnest throughout the evening.
Ella and I, now back at our table with our sauces, took the meat strips that had been brought to us and put those into the soups, too.
Then we ate the food.
We ate it.
We ate it all.
Ella had warned me ahead of time to save myself for hotpot. "Go to the gym," she said. "Don't eat a big lunch," she said. "Or a big breakfast." And so I had labored at the gym, and I had eaten minimally throughout the day, and did that advice ever turn out to be the best I'd ever received. I ate an appalling amount of food and was only comfortably full.
I even had room afterward for the all-you-can-eat ice-cream buffet.
Let me repeat, the all-you-can-eat ice-cream buffet. With Haagen-Dazs.
I went through the ice-cream buffet twice.
This counted as one of the best nights of my life. EVER.
Saturday, August 4, 2012
the difference
On a day when the increase in humidity is making your sinuses go haywire and you're recovering from a good night's sleep after a busy day when you got almost no sleep, there are few better places to be than at home, on your bed, on your computer.
I had a random thought I wanted to share. I was on the Vlogbrothers' merchandise website looking at the posters, and I wondered if I should put something on my blank walls. Or, for that matter, what I might want to put on these walls at all, if anything. I kinda like their blankness. Makes the apartment feel big.
But what struck me was that I didn't know what kinds of things people decorated their walls with here in Taiwan. If I went to a home decor store, what would I find? What patterns, what items?
And this thought lead to me wondering if that's why I like Asia so much. If you go to a Western country, you will certainly find some new things, no question. But it will also be a bit familiar, in tastes or language or fashion. Here, in Asia, so many things are different that it's like being on a new planet. There are just so many new ideas here about how life should be lived. Like taking off your shoes before walking inside, or keeping your purse on your lap in the train because the "ghosts might steal your money." (I'm not making that up. I don't think people genuinely believe that here, but there is a strong tradition of keeping your bag or purse in your lap or on your person when you're on the train or bus, and that's where it comes from.)
Even ideas about what parts of your body are acceptable to show, or how the trash system should work, or how showers should be--it's all so very, very different here. Sometimes it's a bit too different, and my Western sensibilities start yearning for home where the shower and bathroom sink are not the same entity, and the garbage truck comes to you, and oil is not an ingredient in almost every single meal. I miss mac and cheese, and grilled chicken, and the option to buy nuts that haven't been smothered in salt or sugar. I miss being able to read signs and menus everywhere I go. I miss the autonomy an English-speaking Western culture afforded me.
Still, I also know that there's a lot about this place I do like, such as the allowance for extravagance in fashion, and not having to drive a car to a new place (I just take the bus!), and the shaved ice dessert with mangoes and ice cream (OMG my life changed on that day). And just mangoes, at all, and their availability on almost every street corner.
It's just going to take time to get used to all this. There may be some things I never get used to, and I'm fairly sure that a part of me will always prefer Western society, because it's what I know as well as the breath in my lungs and what will always mean "home" to me. But I wouldn't change this adventure for the world, and I know full well that when this part of my life's journey is done, I will forever be changed in ways I have always wanted and always hoped for.
For the time being, though, I just gotta get used to chicken feet and livers being a viable option for lunch. (If I try them, you will hear about it, make no mistake.)
I had a random thought I wanted to share. I was on the Vlogbrothers' merchandise website looking at the posters, and I wondered if I should put something on my blank walls. Or, for that matter, what I might want to put on these walls at all, if anything. I kinda like their blankness. Makes the apartment feel big.
But what struck me was that I didn't know what kinds of things people decorated their walls with here in Taiwan. If I went to a home decor store, what would I find? What patterns, what items?
And this thought lead to me wondering if that's why I like Asia so much. If you go to a Western country, you will certainly find some new things, no question. But it will also be a bit familiar, in tastes or language or fashion. Here, in Asia, so many things are different that it's like being on a new planet. There are just so many new ideas here about how life should be lived. Like taking off your shoes before walking inside, or keeping your purse on your lap in the train because the "ghosts might steal your money." (I'm not making that up. I don't think people genuinely believe that here, but there is a strong tradition of keeping your bag or purse in your lap or on your person when you're on the train or bus, and that's where it comes from.)
Even ideas about what parts of your body are acceptable to show, or how the trash system should work, or how showers should be--it's all so very, very different here. Sometimes it's a bit too different, and my Western sensibilities start yearning for home where the shower and bathroom sink are not the same entity, and the garbage truck comes to you, and oil is not an ingredient in almost every single meal. I miss mac and cheese, and grilled chicken, and the option to buy nuts that haven't been smothered in salt or sugar. I miss being able to read signs and menus everywhere I go. I miss the autonomy an English-speaking Western culture afforded me.
It's just going to take time to get used to all this. There may be some things I never get used to, and I'm fairly sure that a part of me will always prefer Western society, because it's what I know as well as the breath in my lungs and what will always mean "home" to me. But I wouldn't change this adventure for the world, and I know full well that when this part of my life's journey is done, I will forever be changed in ways I have always wanted and always hoped for.
For the time being, though, I just gotta get used to chicken feet and livers being a viable option for lunch. (If I try them, you will hear about it, make no mistake.)
like a boss
You know those days where you stayed up half the night before trying to create a lesson plan for a bunch of 11-13 year-olds who may or may not even show up to your class, and you're so nervous about it that you end up getting only two hours of sleep and on top of that the humidity is causing your sinuses to run like Niagara Falls so your throat feels like you're a bad night's sleep away from a really bad sore throat and a fever?
That was me today. I turned this crappy day around, though. Like a boss.
Even if you don't know those days exactly, you know how terrible it is to wake up that next day feeling like you just closed your eyes. Then you get to work on time, but you still don't know if the fact that you did all that worrying and not-sleeping the night before is going to even be necessary. Then only one of your students shows up, and you're all, "Well, there goes everything I planned, because 75% of it is group work because I was expecting a group." Except, thank god, two more students show up. Except you're nervous about teaching them, so after re-starting the class and making the on-time student sit through the same lesson twice, you get to 10am having conducted what was probably the worst, most boring and uninformative class of your life and will likely result in the students deciding to quit.
Your only defining moment in that whole two hours was letting them play a sticky-ball game where they got to throw stuff at the whiteboard. And that was the last three minutes of class. You did not in any way redeem yourself for the dull, mind-numbing hour and fifty-five minutes of before.
Moving on, though. Thank god that was my last class of the day. But I had some other stuff to get done, so sleep was out of the question. So after I finished all that, it was the afternoon, and I thought, "You know what, I'm gonna go get myself some food that is delicious and not necessarily cost-conscious, because I am getting paid next week and I have not eaten much at all today."
So after consulting Amelia, whom I swear I'm going to end up making expensive long-distance calls to after she leaves Taiwan because I'm still figuring out how to order food and take the buses, I took the MRT to Dunhua, where there is some very good food.
I ended up eating this:
That was me today. I turned this crappy day around, though. Like a boss.
Even if you don't know those days exactly, you know how terrible it is to wake up that next day feeling like you just closed your eyes. Then you get to work on time, but you still don't know if the fact that you did all that worrying and not-sleeping the night before is going to even be necessary. Then only one of your students shows up, and you're all, "Well, there goes everything I planned, because 75% of it is group work because I was expecting a group." Except, thank god, two more students show up. Except you're nervous about teaching them, so after re-starting the class and making the on-time student sit through the same lesson twice, you get to 10am having conducted what was probably the worst, most boring and uninformative class of your life and will likely result in the students deciding to quit.
Your only defining moment in that whole two hours was letting them play a sticky-ball game where they got to throw stuff at the whiteboard. And that was the last three minutes of class. You did not in any way redeem yourself for the dull, mind-numbing hour and fifty-five minutes of before.
Moving on, though. Thank god that was my last class of the day. But I had some other stuff to get done, so sleep was out of the question. So after I finished all that, it was the afternoon, and I thought, "You know what, I'm gonna go get myself some food that is delicious and not necessarily cost-conscious, because I am getting paid next week and I have not eaten much at all today."
So after consulting Amelia, whom I swear I'm going to end up making expensive long-distance calls to after she leaves Taiwan because I'm still figuring out how to order food and take the buses, I took the MRT to Dunhua, where there is some very good food.
I ended up eating this:
That is angel hair pasta with a cream truffle sauce. It came with soup and a drink. It was the most gosh-darn incredible thing I'd eaten all day because, one, it was really good, and two, it was the first real, filling food I'd had all day. This stuff rocked my soul. The waiter came to get my dish because I was too busy texting Amelia about my awesome lunch to finish the last few bites, and I was like, "No! I'm not done!" So while he wandered a polite distance away and waited, I ate the rest, so he was finally able to take my plate and get my drink (green tea, half the sugar).
Getting to the MRT station after that was a task, because my stomach was over-compensating its digestive efforts due to its shock at even having something real to digest. (I think it'd given up on me by then.) Fortunately, it doesn't require much effort to use the MRT. Find the train going in the right direction, get on it, sit down until you get where you're going. I went to Housampi station, because less than a block away is Wu Fen Pu.
I have mentioned this place before, guys. You know how I feel about the Fashion Mecca of Taipei.
I'm a bit TOO excited about my paycheck, if I'm honest. No, I'm not going to blow it on shoes and shorts and jewelry the second I get it. I have to blow a nice chunk of it on my rent and electricity bill, first. But it's getting a bit depressing looking in my closet for things to wear. I don't have nearly as much Taiwan-appropriate clothing as I'd thought, partially because of the heat and partially because I brought a lot of business attire only to find out that the school buys my "uniform" for me, which is two white polo shirts. (I still need to get black pants.) So I have a bunch of stuff that either doesn't fit the season, is too dressy for everyday wear, or just plain doesn't fit the fashion or dress code here. (Read: my entire selection of tank tops.)
Also, I just really like the clothes here. It's a bit theatrical, which you can't get away with in the States without looking like you're trying too hard. Here, though, there are enough people wearing not just clothes, but a "look" that you can get away with being a bit more flashy and extravagant. I already stand out on account of being white, so I can dress up just a bit more and have a "personal look" that fits my unique, American self.
What made today so great, though, was the fact that I used the MRT and buses and wandered the streets on my own without getting too lost. I failed to get off the MRT at the right stop once, and had to hop off at the next stop and take the other train back to the previous stop so I could get off and get on the right train. No big deal, though. I also got lost in Wu Fen Pu, because when your bladder is exploding from all the green tea you drank earlier, it's hard to concentrate on where you've been or where you're going, but I asked a random white guy how to get to the MRT station and he showed me.
Finally, when I got back to Xinjhuang safe and sound, the familiarity of the area was so overwhelming that I suddenly thought, "This is my city." It was pretty cool.
I'm getting to the point where I can wander around without being too worried about never finding a familiar street again. I'm getting to know the food stands and the shops and even some of the people I see (although it's just the cashiers at Wellcome, Family Mart and OK!, the last two being convenience stores near my home and they see me so much they know me). Heck, tonight I had a partial conversation with the lady whom I got dinner from (veggies and tofu cooked in soup with some kind of pickled veggie on top, so good) without really understanding what she said. I'm trying to learn numbers in Chinese, partially so she doesn't feel like she has to get someone to translate my total cost for her whenever I show up. On the other hand, she asked me questions directly, and I was able to answer them, and the other day I even asked a Wellcome cashier if the bananas were really 51NT (using hand signals and "Quai, ma?" which is the word for the money here, and then "ma" which is like "ka" in Japanese, where you often stick it at the end of a sentence to make it a question).
Stuff like this makes me feel like I might actually, one day, be able to not just live in this city but interact with it. I hate feeling cut off. People here aren't always sure what to make of me and I don't want them to be afraid to talk to me. I'm scared to talk to them, because my Chinese ability is less than one and I don't want to be be snubbed for it. But I still don't want them to be worried about me. I wave at little kids on the bus or on the elevator when they stare at me. If I am the first non-Taiwanese person any of these people see, I want that experience to be a good one. I want them to see me as friendly.
Completely Chinese-illiterate and with a debilitatingly limited vocabulary, but friendly.
Okay, I really need to sleep now because Amelia and I have adventures tomorrow. Toodles!
Dinner! Because I just wanted to brag about the Taiwanese street food I'm eating out of a bowl bought in Taiwan. And how awesomely "authentic" this is. :)
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
typhoon day two
It's still raining. I don't think it stopped at all last night. Is this what it's like to be in the rainforest?
Many businesses are closed, including my gym. (So much sad face!!) The grocery store and convenience stores are open, though--businesses that are chain stores, in other words--so at least I won't starve. Plus I still have power, and internet, and no work, so this day isn't at all bad. The air is still humid, but VERY cool, and I've been leaving my door and window open and getting some excellent airflow through my apartment. I haven't turned on my fan all day. I hope this is what typhoon season means, that the weather will be getting cooler from here on out.
I went out and bought a German sausage, drinkable yogurt, and some little donuts for breakfast. I've been on a peanut-butter-eating spree lately, and I think it means I haven't been getting enough protein. I've been feeling weak at the gym, too, especially when lifting weights. A friend of mine who has been here for a year said that she had the same problem, although her solution was to eat blood pudding and I don't think I'm up for doing that quite yet. I think I'll just eat tofu and find places with less fatty meat. There's a food stand down the street that I'm really hoping is open today so I can go there for lunch. If not, I'm eating sushi. I need the protein and devouring jars of peanut butter ain't gonna cut it.
My camera's battery is near dead, otherwise I'd have film and pictures to show of the typhoon, aka Rain, Rain That Won't Go Away. I'm charging the battery now, so hopefully I'll have something to display later today!
UPDATE:
Battery semi-charged, sushi eaten, and the gym is open! As soon as I digest this deliciousness, I am going to go run/bike and generally exercise.
Earlier, and prior to this sushi-eating, Amelia called me out of the blue and asked if I'd been by the gym yet to see if it was open; I said I had, and it was closed. She then mentioned she was going to Sushi Express, and I suggested we go together. I've been there three times, now, and already I'm getting myself a cup of tea, grabbing chopsticks and filling a little plate of soy sauce like a pro.
I had five plates today. I was really hungry. :) First I ate my favorite, pastries with red bean paste in the middle. They're absolutely delicious.
Next I had grilled eel (I think), and shrimp and pineapple salad, which is just like tuna salad except with shrimp and pineapple. They pile it on top of little sushi rice patties wrapped in seaweed. It's very tasty. I tried ginger with it, my first time eating ginger, and it tastes a little pickled. Yum. :) I love eating at Sushi Express, because everything tastes wholesome and healthy, and unfried! I followed the eel up with milk pudding w/ brown sugar topping.
It didn't last long.
Finally I had cheese lobster salad Mexican-style, which was like the shrimp salad except with cheese, lobster, olives, and a bit of spice. Really tasty. Sometime I'm going to have to try the okra slices and the fried bean curd. Have I mentioned that pretty much everything in this place looks delicious?
After this, Amelia and I went to the gym to see if it was open, and the employees outside the doors said it would be open in ten minutes. We were so excited; we high-fived and everything, probably making the people there think we were nuts. She and I are both really serious about fitness, though, and in Taiwan, where nutrition labels are semi-informative (it says it has 100 calories per serving but there are five servings, for example) and most food is fried (Want some noodles and vegetables? Sure, let us fry/boil it in oil, first.) it's a little imperative to work out regularly to keep your calorie-loss count on par with what you're consuming. Especially since it isn't possible to eat sushi every day.
So Amelia and I went our separate ways, because we both just ate huge meals, but we'll definitely be returning to the gym to get our fitness on. Woot!!
More pics of Typhoon Day:
Many businesses are closed, including my gym. (So much sad face!!) The grocery store and convenience stores are open, though--businesses that are chain stores, in other words--so at least I won't starve. Plus I still have power, and internet, and no work, so this day isn't at all bad. The air is still humid, but VERY cool, and I've been leaving my door and window open and getting some excellent airflow through my apartment. I haven't turned on my fan all day. I hope this is what typhoon season means, that the weather will be getting cooler from here on out.
I went out and bought a German sausage, drinkable yogurt, and some little donuts for breakfast. I've been on a peanut-butter-eating spree lately, and I think it means I haven't been getting enough protein. I've been feeling weak at the gym, too, especially when lifting weights. A friend of mine who has been here for a year said that she had the same problem, although her solution was to eat blood pudding and I don't think I'm up for doing that quite yet. I think I'll just eat tofu and find places with less fatty meat. There's a food stand down the street that I'm really hoping is open today so I can go there for lunch. If not, I'm eating sushi. I need the protein and devouring jars of peanut butter ain't gonna cut it.
My camera's battery is near dead, otherwise I'd have film and pictures to show of the typhoon, aka Rain, Rain That Won't Go Away. I'm charging the battery now, so hopefully I'll have something to display later today!
UPDATE:
Battery semi-charged, sushi eaten, and the gym is open! As soon as I digest this deliciousness, I am going to go run/bike and generally exercise.
After this, Amelia and I went to the gym to see if it was open, and the employees outside the doors said it would be open in ten minutes. We were so excited; we high-fived and everything, probably making the people there think we were nuts. She and I are both really serious about fitness, though, and in Taiwan, where nutrition labels are semi-informative (it says it has 100 calories per serving but there are five servings, for example) and most food is fried (Want some noodles and vegetables? Sure, let us fry/boil it in oil, first.) it's a little imperative to work out regularly to keep your calorie-loss count on par with what you're consuming. Especially since it isn't possible to eat sushi every day.
So Amelia and I went our separate ways, because we both just ate huge meals, but we'll definitely be returning to the gym to get our fitness on. Woot!!
More pics of Typhoon Day:
A claw machine in the mall; with little plushie Spiderman AND Venom! Adorable!
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