Sun Chips Green Bag

Have you seen the new Sun Chips eco-bag?  It’s the one that makes a ton of sound whenever you touch it.  I had a hard time eating the chips, because every time I tried to eat my neighbors would stop by and tell me to “knock it off!”

In all seriousness, I love the idea of eco-friendly bags.  There is no reason that everything known to man needs to be wrapped in plastic.  If you really think about it, half of our landfills are filled not with things that are broken and don’t work anymore, but the packaging for all of our new stuff.  So, I enthusiastically support Sun Chips in their effort.

In case you aren’t aware of exactly what I’m talking about, here is a crash course from the Sun Chips people, themselves.

So, being the really scientific guy I am, I decided to conduct my own experiment.

I have my own compost bin at home.  So, gathered up some of the compost, and put it in a plastic tub.  I’ll be checking back with the bag each week, and showing updates.  We’ll see if the bag is really gone in 12-14 weeks, as they claim.  Here are pictures of the bag, and a short video showing the start of week 1.

Here is the video of me setting up the experiment.

Tweet This Post Delicious Digg This Post Stumble This Post

Thoughts from Taiwan -part 6

Peichi’s Amma must have decided to put all of the events I mentioned in my last blog entry behind her, though, as she was very welcoming to me as we showed up for Chinese New Year.  She didn’t even keep much of a watchful eye over me, as I might have expected.  I cannot be sure that she hadn’t carefully noted the home’s entire inventory and each item’s place prior to my arrival.

Amma and I hit it off quite smoothly this time, with few rough patches.  The most difficult breach of protocol for me to handle is regarding the “house shoes” that each family uses in Taiwan.  Most people know that Asian households require one to take off his shoes on entry.  In Asia there is an added step.  Each family keeps an armada of house slippers on hand just inside the doorway that each guest is expected to use while inside.  You may not opt out of this deal.  Yes, the shoes might not even come close to fitting your American-sized feet.  Yes, one probably will accidentally slip off halfway up the stairs and leave you to hop back down to find it again.  But make no mistake, they must be used.

This part was not the problem for me.  The problem is that each household has a place where you are supposed to take off your outside shoes and put your house shoes on.  In Japan this is clearly marked by the presence of bamboo mats. In Taiwan, this place is marked by some sort of sixth-sensed hoo-bah, that I apparently do not posses.

I would enter the house from the screened in porch via the stairs, leaving my street shoes outside.  At some point after the doorway I would cross the invisible battle line of germ warfare where my “safe” shoes were supposed to come on.  I would usually miss this line somehow.  When the process was reversed and the house shoes made it past the line, sirens would go off in Amma’s head, and she would come after me, gently rebuking me in short vocal bugle blasts.  She was very gracious.  I don’t mean to imply anything less.

My most exciting story with the house shoes was when visiting a household outside of the family.  As I came in, I started to take off my outside shoes and was informed that this would not be necessary at this place.  I looked around for some sign of where the hoo-bah was.  It was invisible as usual.  I asked to use the bathroom and was told it was down the hall.  I gingerly advanced, pausing with each step in case this time would be different and I might actually sense the hoo-bah.  They laughed and told me that I would not need to remove my shoes there either.  I felt safe.

A few minutes later, I went to view the kitchen and again was told that it was safe.  I was very confused.  I had never made it this far without using house shoes before. I did not know how to act.  I shrugged and enjoyed my good fortune.

After viewing the kitchen, I was ushered to the seating area where there was a plate of fruit.  Every Asian household I am invited to has prepared fruit.  It is expected.  It is wonderful.  Americans need to start doing that.  I eagerly went to take a seat and eat some fruit.  Everyone lunged at me noisily. I had crossed the hoo-bah.  I didn’t know.  There was not even a pile of shoes.   Nothing.  I retreated and apologized profusely.  They still let me eat the fruit.

Tweet This Post Delicious Digg This Post Stumble This Post

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.

Tweet This Post Delicious Digg This Post Stumble This Post

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.

Tweet This Post Delicious Digg This Post Stumble This Post

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.

Tweet This Post Delicious Digg This Post Stumble This Post

White Christmas 2009

My Mom came and visited us for Christmas this year.  We had an amazing Christmas.  Here are some of the pictures.

Tweet This Post Delicious Digg This Post Stumble This Post

Our Trip to Colorado

These are videos and pictures are from our trip last weekend to Colorado. I know that most people won’t have the patience to watch any of these, but we just wanted to share all the fun we had with our friends and family.

Tweet This Post Delicious Digg This Post Stumble This Post