Thoughts from Taiwan -part 5

In Tainan, I met Peichi’s grandmother for the second time.  “Amma” is “grandma” in Taiwanese, which is exclusively spoken in most of southern Taiwan.  It is far different than Mandarin Chinese, sounding a lot like Thai would if it weren’t nasal.  Short staccato sounds punctuate each word.  Peichi and her immediate family of origin speak both languages fluently.  I don’t.  I barely speak some Mandarin, but know only a couple of Taiwanese words.  I have very few occasions to speak it at all.  Amma speaks no English and very little Mandarin.  This means that we cannot communicate at all without someone interpreting.  I often say, “Two people can always communicate if they want to badly enough.”  Amma is a slightly different story.  In some ways it doesn’t seem that she recognizes that I am not developmentally disabled, but just speak a different language.  I’m not saying she isn’t bright.  She is Peichi’s stock.  She must be.  She is just from a world that is much smaller than mine in some ways, and the idea of what happens so far away must be unimaginable to her.

The occasion of our first meeting was at Peichi’s and my engagement party in Taipei.  She came in and sat down at our head table as part of the bride’s family.  She is an adorable old lady.  She is only slightly above four feet tall, if even that much, and she looks exactly like you would picture an Asian “amma” should look like.  Just looking at her makes me want to simultaneously bear-hug her and show her great, gentle reverence.

She plopped down right next to me, with her purse set behind her on the chair, the way some Asian ladies do, both to prevent someone from stealing it and so as to not forget it is there.  It seemed to me at the time, that was probably not quite the most appropriate for the situation, and thought I would endear myself to her by being helpful.  Big mistake.

I patted her on the shoulder, smiled, and reached for her purse to hang it from the trestle on the chair back.  Her eyes grew wide and she reached for it as well, holding it in a death grip.  We played a brief game of tug-of-war as I tried to calm her.  I lost.  The purse was returned to its location.

It was a busy evening, and I was never able to revisit the situation with her.  But somehow I am sure that she was convinced I was trying to steal her, Peichi’s Amma’s purse at my own engagement party.  She must have been thinking that all of the rumors about these Americans must be true.  We are all uncouth charlatans and thieves.

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Thoughts from Taiwan -part 4

When we arrived in Tainan somehow the news of my knee had spread south at a pace that left our stuck-in-traffic 50 km/hr clip.  I have always found that dealing with ailments abroad (or the prevention thereof) is a fascinating experience all on its own.  In Iceland, the family answer to bee stings was for me to eat ice cream.  In El Salvador, they suggested that after being in the rain I absolutely must wipe my whole body down with alcohol.  Every country has some sort of strange sounding advice.  The old wives are alive and well, and telling their tales.

You go through stages in dealing with their medical advice.  In stage one you wonder if they really believe the advice they are giving you, knowing no one in the modern world could possibly believe such hoodoo.  In stage two you try your best to ignore their helpful advances, slightly annoyed that they keep trying to help you despite you clearly not wanting to cover your head in chicken blood to end your malady.  Next stage has you accepting their help and doing what they want, mostly so that you’ll have peace and quiet.  Finally, wondering why their advice worked, you begin to realize that at home we have some hoodoo-like ideas of our own.

In most of Taiwan, their thoughts regarding medicine are quite modern and sensible, unless one is having a baby, and then I doubt there are enough stages for me to stop calling it hoodoo.  This time, I wasn’t assaulted with weird ideas, but I was covered constantly in patches and sprays, and pills shoved down my throat.  Saying “no” was not an option to any of this.  Not only would it not have been heard, but it would have been rude.  So, I became their test dummy.  I felt like a rabbit in a medical lab of some pharmaceutical company, a white one.

Their concoctions did help, and my knee started feeling a bit better after a few days.  I wasn’t sure whether it was the medicine, or time.  Either way, I really appreciated their care.  Taiwanese people don’t have the warmth of Italians or Greeks, who smoother you with affection rather quickly, but they do have a quiet consideration.  When they take you into their circle, they do little things, things that become huge in your mind.  My brother-in-law filling his car stereo with American music so I wouldn’t feel homesick or bored on the long trip, my mother-in-law always filling my cup or offering me something to nibble on, or the entire extended family trying to figure out anything they can do to ease my knee pain.  It makes me thankful for a wonderful family.  It makes me have such a deeper understanding of how little my corner of the world really is, and that my mind and heart are often much smaller than that corner.

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Thoughts from Taiwan -part 3

In Tokyo, I got lost at a major Shinto temple at closing time.  Peichi ended up at the exit we were supposed to be at, and I ended up on the opposite side.  It is easier to do than one might think, with surrounding tall trees, and darkness encroaching.  The guards would not let me go back in to find Peichi, and made me wait while they chattered into the walkie-talkie. They finally did give me directions to the other side of the park from outside streets.

By the time that I got the security guard to let me go, it was 20 minutes after closing.  He said that it was a 20 minute walk.  I was worried.  Both Peichi and I knew how to get back to the hostel where we were staying, so I wasn’t worried that one of us would be scared and lost.  But we did have many plans for the rest of the night that did not include 30 minute trips back to our room.  So, I ran.

My legs were already tired from walking all over Tokyo.  My knee had been recovering from some strange pain that I acquired weeks ago, and I was generally exhausted from the trip.  I ran anyway, not wanting to worry Peichi, or miss her.  I arrived out of breath, to a generally unhappy wife, but relieved that tragedy had been averted, or so I thought.

As I regained my composure and we began to walk down the stairs into the subway at Harajuku station, I felt a strange clicking in my knee, and a wonderful explosion of pain with every step.  Walking hurt, climbing stairs was excruciating, but I grinned and bared it.

The next day (the day of our afternoon flight to Taipei) my knee felt the same.  I was beginning to get worried, but I was determined not to let this cause too much disruption to our trip.  I did my best to keep it to myself, although of course Peichi knew.  All of this is important back-story to events in Tainan.

P.S. To alleviate anyone’s fears, while the clicking remains, and there is still some pain, I am confident that I will get over it in time.

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Some pictures from Taiwan

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Some Videos from Asia

Here are just some of the videos that Peichi and I made in Asia.  We made them mostly for our youth group in Texas.  I hope you enjoy watching even close to as much as we did making them.  Several places, crowds gathered as we made the videos and asked me afterward if I was someone famous.  Of course, I am.

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Thoughts from Taiwan

We arrived in Taiwan after a whirlwind tour through Tokyo, and my knee was sending distress signals with every step.  The story of how this happened is a matter for another day, but suffice it to say that every step hurt, a lot, and stairs were impossible.  After a four hour sleep, it was off to the city of Tainan.  It is normally about a four hour trip, but at Chinese New Year it takes twice as long due to traffic.  I ended up in a world very different than the one I usually inhabit.

Taipei is a world-class city, in many ways identical to every other big world city.  There is Costco, TGI Friday’s, Saks 5^th Avenue, and million other exports of Americanism that has homogenized the world.  That is good.  It is also grievous.  Anyone who has traveled much can attest to both.  I’m not complaining.  Taipei is awesome.  It is a pleasure to visit.

All of Taiwan, and Taipei in particular, has an energy that is frantic.  It never stops.  Tokyo is always busy, but there it is business.  In Taiwan it is life in general.  The mopeds speed endlessly along, constantly jockeying for position.  When the work day stops, the night markets open.  If New York is “the city that never sleeps,” then Taipei is the city that never stops to catch its breath.

Night markets are ubiquitous here.  They are constant crowds and energy.  Exotic birds flutter in their cages, while men hoarsely squawk into loudspeakers hawking their wares.  Men stir and fry in endless arrays of food booths, as throngs of people shuffle by.  They are shoulder-to-shoulder, talking about which booth has the best Stinky Tofu, or which jeans are fake Levis. The night market is more than a crowd.  It is a living, breathing organism.

Taiwan is energy in ever form and every way, and its people feed that energy with a constant supply of food.  When they aren’t out at a nice restaurant, they are snacking from street vendors, or chewing on fruit and seeds at home.  When they aren’t eating, they are looking at food or talking about it.  This place is a food-lover’s dream.  There are millions of choices, and each city has its famous specialties.

Most Americans could not appreciate the food here.  It is more opposite of the American palate than any food I’ve ever tasted.  Some dishes require a lot of commitment and character, but in the end it is usually rewarding.  Sometimes it is a real challenge though, and Taiwan does not have a robust Health Department or FDA enforcing any codes or standards of cleanliness.  Bathrooms are always dirty, furnishings are a distant afterthought, and I can’t figure out how street vendors could clean their hands and cookware.  I’m sure they don’t.  Many Americans would use all of this as reason to stay away from the food—their loss.

For as much as they eat, the people are quite thin.  Many are more rugged and old-world as compared to the West.  Dentistry is probably a few decades behind the US in much of the country, but maybe it is more noticeable because they smile a lot more than people do in many other Asian countries.  Sometimes the people who smile most have the worst teeth to show, but that is often because the people in the rural areas seem to be a lot happier even though they have a lot less access to the modern things we think should make us happier.

As a “foreigner,” I stand out everywhere I go.  I can’t help it.  My eyes, hair, and skin are all a different color than theirs, and I stand a lot taller than many people.  It isn’t like one might imagine.  I don’t feel like Gulliver among Lilliputians, but I am taller.  I stand out, literally.  Some people choose to ignore me and hope that I go away.  Many times this is due more to them feeling uncomfortable by me.  There is a sense of inferiority in Taiwan in general, and especially toward white Americans.  This is true in many parts of the world.

Other people look right at me and smile.  Some of them walk right up and start saying all of the English words they know.  This means that several times each day I am greeted by some stranger shouting “America!  Hot dog!” at me as if my white skin also makes me slightly deaf.  As they grin from ear-to-ear, I smile back and say “Hi!”  It is humorous, but also really heart-warming.  I’ve never shied away from being a spectacle anyway.  Most Taiwanese are very warm, and if they invite me into their home or business, they take care of me with great warmth and fastidiousness as if I were a greatly honored guest.

For all their focus on food or commerce as Taiwan’s greatest asset, I think they really miss the brightest part of their whole culture.  Their people are their greatest resource.  They are not outwardly warm in the way many Southerners are in America, but once you are their friend they will not only give you the shirt off of their backs, but will convince you that it is for your own good that you take it.  They will give endlessly with the same passion that they devour a bowl of noodles.  This is Taiwan.

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Tokyo part 1

OK, here’s just a teaser from the beginnings of our Tokyo trip.  There’s more on the way, but I don’t have time right now.  It is 6:30 and we’re off to see the fish market and have some Sushi for breakfast.

This is our plane descending into Narita airport, and our first views of Tokyo.  Of course, like most other major airports, Narita airport is not in Tokyo itself.  The first views are of farms, which are not Tokyo-like in the slightest.

This is from the train ride in.

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Google Suggestion

Most people don’t think much about the Google engine’s Suggest feature. Basically, when you type something into Google, whether it is your search bar in your browser, or into the google page itself, it gives you suggestions based on your browsing habits (above a line) and the most frequent searches done by others*. This is a really great time-saver often, but sometimes there are funny or poignant results.

The sad thing is that somewhere there is an overweight, bipolar, alcoholic, who is concerned she is pregnant by the man she loves.  She just realize these suggestions all relate to her, and now she is depressed.

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Our recent San Antonio trip

Peichi and I recently got a free trip to San Antonio for the weekend.  Here is some of what happened.

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Today’s Video Infection

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