Adventure #37.5: Rebekah vs. Acute Tonsillitis (a.k.a. “You are sick man!”)

As an addendum to my previous post, I would like to say that I am fully recovered from the swine flu.  Unfortunately, as soon as I rid myself of the swine flu, I found that I had contracted another wonderfully pleasant ailment—acute tonsillitis.  You may imagine just how flabbergasted I was to have gotten over one disease only to come down with another.  My exchange with the physician, in a mixture of English and Chinese, went something like this:

Me: Acute Tonsillitis?!

Doctor: Yes!

Me: Wonderful.  (Note that this was said steeped in sarcasm.)

Doctor: Wonderful?

Me: I mean… terrible!  Very bad!  (Native Chinese speakers have no concept of sarcasm because the language is inflectionless; Americans tend to forget this on a regular basis.)

Doctor: Okay!

Me: But… acute tonsillitis?  Why?

Doctor: Because you are sick man!

I can only conclude that he meant that my immune system was weaker than usual, dealing as it had been with the swine flu.  I would also like to state for the record that I am not, in fact, a sick man.

Adventure #37: Rebekah vs. the Swine Flu

Actually, in these faraway parts, they tend to refer to it as H1N1. And I don’t know why this is my 37th adventure, exactly, except that 37 is prime and I am predisposed to favor primes. In fact, the only reason I’m not looking forward to turning 24 is because it means I will no longer be a prime number.

In somewhat recent news, I have been to the East and back. In fact, it was more like the Northeast, and it was beautiful. As we were there on a super top-secret mission, I submit to you my case report, despite it’s highly classified nature. It’ll be our little secret, right? You, me, and the whole of the internet. It’s flawless.

MISSION NAME: Super Top-Secret Be-A-Tourist-In-Taroko-Gorge Trip
Agents in question: Grace. Kristin. Kaitlyn. Rebekah.
Location: Taroko Gorge. Marble Gorge located in northeastern Taiwan. Top tourist destination.
Related activities: Hiking. Scootering. Touristing. Tasting pickled flowers.
Relevant details: Turquoise-colored waters. Magnificent views. Fresh mountain air. Peace and quiet. Long hikes up mountainsides. Birds. Flowers. Suspension bridges. Millet wine.
Photographic evidence: See below.

Agent Grace in Full Super Top-Secret Regalia.

The gorge.

A subpar shot of water that is much more turquoise in real life.

Suspension Bridge.

Agents Grace, Kristin, and Kaitlyn, testing the soundness of the suspension bridge.

Getting back now to Adventure #37, I speak the truth. Of all the ETAs, I am the first to fall prey to this dread disease. It’s not so dread, really, more like a pretty average case of the flu, but I tend to repel people like a bad case of leprosy. It is a situation chock-full of irony, as the most likely way that I caught it was from children, and I don’t even really like children. Ah, well. I’m in Taiwan! Taiwanese people get the swine flu all the time. And you know what they say: “When in Rome….”

Ode to a Convenience Store

O 7-11, O wondrous place,
You fill my life with light and grace.
Whatever I need, you always sell,
Which certainly helps my life go well.

If I’m in need of spirits, fear not!
7-11 has got a lot.
If I need to pay my bill,
Hie to 7-11 I will.

If I need a raincoat (whoa),
Then straight to 7-11 I go.
What if I’m craving something sweet?
Or I need caffeine, fatigue to beat?

Perhaps my cell phone’s out of money,
Or I’m in need of milk and honey.
Whatever the cause, whatever the case,
7-11 is my home base.

O 7-11, O heavenly dove,
For you I must declare my love!

This is what happens when you get your hair cut in Taiwan.

Also, today I saw a scooter with a sidecar attached.  It made my day.

They Call it Stormy Monday

I have heard before that Minnesota (or Wisconsin, or Cleveland, or any number of states or cities) has only three seasons: almost winter, winter, and construction.  Granted, I have only spent three and a half months in Taiwan thus far, not nearly long enough to actually make educated observations, but I have up to this point witnessed only two seasons: so-absurdly-hot-I-don’t-know-how-people-survive and still-extremely-hot-though-potentially-livable-but-most-likely-livable-in-an-alternate-universe.  Okay, I’ll admit there is a possibility I’m exaggerating.  Just a wee bit.

That’s not exactly what I wanted to talk about, though.  At this particular point in time, I am more interested in the specific types of weather we experience here on the subtropical island of Taiwan.  As far as I can tell, there are three types of weather, which I expound upon below.  They are as follows: Hot and sunny.  Cool and cloudy.  TYPHOON.

Hot and Sunny

This is by far the most frequent weather in this city.  As I said before, I’ve been here about three and a half months.  I’m going to be liberal and estimate that as three 30-day-long months plus 15 days in this half-month, leading me to conclude that I have spent approximately 105 days in Taiwan.  Of those 105 days, I would estimate that 91 of them have been hot and sunny, leading me to conclude that about 87% of the days are hot and sunny.  And keep in mind that when I say hot, I mean hot.  This is not normal Ohio-summer hot.  This is Taiwan hot, which means 110 degrees and so humid the air feels like a brick wall.  Okay, so maybe that was more August, September, and the first half of October.  It’s true that we’ve finally gotten to the point where I can go outside without immediately breaking into a sweat.  Progress, at the very least.  Also, when I say sunny, I don’t mean a blue sky with happy little cumulus clouds flitting to and fro.  No, when I say sunny, I mean that there are no clouds in the sky.  None whatsoever.  The sky is perfectly, flawlessly blue, leaving no respite from the sun except in the shadows of large buildings (of which, admittedly, there are several).

Cool and Cloudy

Again, keeping in mind that these are rough estimates, I would say that 7 of the 105 days in Taiwan have been cool and cloudy, leaving us with an approximation of 6.5% of the time.  In a bitter twist of irony, despite the fact that my favorite days in Ohio are the hot and sunny ones, the cool and cloudy days in Taiwan are the ones that I live for.  These are the days that I crave because I can put on long pants and a light, long-sleeved shirt and still be comfortable.  Let there be no mistake: it’s almost Thanksgiving and I mostly wander around in t-shirts and shorts.  These are the days when I can sit outside in the middle of the afternoon comfortably.  No sunscreen.  No sweating profusely.  Bliss!  Actually feeling cool has been known to bring tears of joy to my eyes.  I kid you not.  And this coming from a person who is always freezing in America.

TYPHOON

I daresay this requires little explanation.  This has been approximately 7 days out of the 105, leaving me to further conclude that 6.5% of the weather is typhoon weather.  In fact, the only time it rains in Kaohsiung is if it’s typhooning.  If it’s raining and not typhooning, it’s a miracle.

Scooter Culture

Living in Taiwan is an interesting cultural experience no matter which way you cut it.  Driving in Taiwan is not only an interesting cultural experience, but also a surefire way to raise your blood pressure whenever you get on the road.

Many of the things I see while on my scooter are frustrating.  It is evident that driving in Taiwan is not nearly as safe as it could be, and it’s irritating that my fellow scooter drivers fail to do anything about this.  You have to watch all planes and dimensions at the same time; there will be people in front of you, behind you, and on both sides cutting you off or turning into you or just expecting that you’ll be able to read their mind and move accordingly so the two inches separating you won’t become less and cause an accident.  They also consistently run red lights.  And start driving before the red light turns green.  And they make illegal right- and left-hand turns.  So you do the math: drivers running a red light + drivers moving forward while the light is still red + illegal turns = ???

On the other hand, there are also several incredibly amusing things I see on my scooter.  One of the more entertaining of these is when you see entire families on scooters.  I’m not talking two or even three people—I’m talking about an entire four-person family.  Picture this: Dad drives.  Mom sits behind Dad.  Also keep in mind that scooters are rather small and it’s only really feasible for two people to be on them at the same time.  Now imagine Mom holding a newborn baby in her arms—helmetless, of course, since helmets don’t come in that size.  And now put another small child in front of Dad, standing on the floor of the scooter (also helmetless).  If you have done this exercise correctly, you now understand how it is possible to find entire families on extraordinarily small 125 cc-scooters in Taiwan.

Another sight that always gets me is when I see dogs riding scooters.  Just today I saw a woman scooting about with her two huskies chilling on the floor of her scooter.  I’ve also seen dogs in baskets on the floors of scooters.  Or dogs in the small baskets that are attached to the fronts of scooters (very Euro and cool, I know, you don’t have to tell me).  By far my favorite dog/scooter sighting, though, was when I saw a small dog standing on his owner’s lap with its front paws on the handlebars of the scooter.  Tongue lolling about, the whole deal.  And his owner was just hanging out, scooting along down the street.  The most remarkable aspect of all of this is that the dogs never leave the scooter.  There is no barrier holding them in.  They have no leashes.  They just sit on the scooter, even while at a full stop, unless their owner bids them leave.

Another ETA, Katherine, has made several interesting scooter observations.  I could not have written it better, nor with more humor, so I am including what she wrote for your amusement.  Enjoy!

After studying Taiwan's traffic laws for my driver's test, I feel I know the system fairly well.  After two weeks of careful firsthand observation and experience of Kaohsiung traffic, I now thoroughly understand the traffic laws for motorbikes (scooters). Here is the list.

1. A red light means stop. Unless you are turning right. Or left. Or the road is wet so it's dangerous to try to stop. Or the road is dry so you think stopping would be too easy. Or the traffic pulls you through the light. Or you don't see the light. Or you don't feel like stopping. Other than these rare exceptions, a red light means stop.

2. Scooters are not allowed on the sidewalk. Unless it is an emergency. Or you are parking. Or you are driving to a parking space. Or there is too much traffic on the road. Or the sidewalk is more convenient. Other than that, stay off the sidewalk.

3. Scooters should always stop behind the crosswalk line, leaving the crosswalk clear. Unless there are too many people IN the crosswalk, in which case you should go around them. Or through them. Or unless the light is going to turn green in eighty seconds or so, and you want to stay ahead of traffic. Or you are only going one more block, and getting ahead of the crosswalk will save you eight milliseconds when the light turns green. Otherwise, stop behind the crosswalk.

4. All passengers on a scooter must wear a helmet. This law does not apply to dogs, pigs, cats, six-year-olds and any person "just going around the corner and down the street to buy beer." Otherwise, you must wear a helmet.

5. In tunnels, slow traffic should stay to the right. Unless you ride a bicycle, in which case you should weave back and forth across the narrow lane of the tunnel to ensure that all scooter traffic behind you maintains a consistent pace of fifteen kmh.

6. The scooter lane is strictly for scooters. And bicycles. And pedestrians. And cars turning right. And cars turning left. And taxis. And lobotomy patients driving expensive cars very slowly while swerving right with their left turn signal on. And trucks filled with live pigs. Otherwise, strictly scooters.

7. The scooter lane speed limit is 40 kmh. Or whatever speed prevents instant death. In the mornings this varies between dead stop and 65 kmh. Otherwise, 40 kmh. Which I'm sure is strictly enforced. On Sunday afternoons. Between 3:05 and 3:18.

8. Pedestrians ALWAYS have the right of way. They know this. They enjoy exercising their right to right of way by stepping out into the street without looking, walking down the middle of the road to avoid dirtying the sidewalk, and waiting for a green light before crossing four lanes of traffic. Fortunately, no matter how many scooter brakes they destroy, they still have the right of way.

9. You must have a license to drive a scooter in Taiwan. Unless you don't. Then you must not get caught by a policeman while driving your scooter. Otherwise, you must have a license. ;-)

Exhibit A

I now present further evidence proving how highly regarded English teachers are: Yesterday, I had four classes.  The first three passed without incident.  The fourth class never showed up.  My co-teacher, Lucy, called down to their classroom to see what the delay was -- there was no answer.  We later found out that five or six of the students in that class had the swine flu and so the class got canceled.  No one told us.

Holiday Ruminations

Dear friends and family,

Today is Yom Kippur, one of the most important Jewish holidays of the year.  When I was growing up, the only way we ever got the day off of school for Yom Kippur was if it happened to fall on a weekend.  Regardless, as kids, we always took the day off.  In high school I spent my Yom Kippur days doing homework.

Once I started college, things changed a little bit.  I couldn’t always be home on Yom Kippur.  If it fell during the middle of the week, I couldn’t afford to skip out on a day of classes to be with my family.

This is not the first time I have not been home for Yom Kippur, but it is the first time I’ve been quite so far away.  There are no Jews in Taiwan at all, so even if I wanted to “celebrate” (the quotation marks are because Yom Kippur involves a day of fasting) properly, I couldn’t.  I’m used to people not realizing that this is a holiday for me, but I have never been quite so isolated in my observance of it.

I am not religious.  If I had to describe myself as anything, I would say I’m a cultural Jew.  I have no religious beliefs associated with Judaism; I’m simply in it for the food and the good times during the holidays.  Regardless, I find myself missing this holiday more than I anticipated; even if I don’t put any stock in it, it is still a family holiday.  I have chosen to celebrate it in my own way to feel closer to my family.

In that vein, the generally accepted theme of Yom Kippur is that of forgiveness and atonement.  The idea is that you spent the day denying yourself of the things you take for granted, like three meals a day.  You remember that many people in the world don’t have consistent access to ample food or clean water.  And you reflect—you think about your life during the past year, who you have wronged, who has wronged you, and you forgive and you ask for forgiveness.

We are none of us without fault.  We transgress against others just as others transgress against us.  To those I have wronged, I hope you will be able to forgive me someday.  And to my family—I miss you, and I wish I could be with you today.

My Life as a Superstar

If you’ve ever wondered how the other half lives (okay, maybe just the elite 5%), you should come to Taiwan and teach English.

Teacher-student relationships in Asia are quite different than their Western counterparts.  In the Asian classroom, the teacher is king; what they say is regarded as irrefutably true and correct.  It is a relationship brimming with respect.  In Western culture, on the other hand, truth is placed at a higher value than giving the teacher the respect he or she is due.  People are viewed as fallible and open to bias, and so debate is encouraged.  We are taught to be skeptical, to question, to evaluate information from multiple sources in order to come to a well-informed conclusion.

Teachers in general are highly regarded.  In fact, there is an annual holiday called Teacher’s Day (which is next Monday, as it happens), where students show their respect for their teachers by, say, serving them tea.  Foreign teachers, then, are special on two counts; not only are they teachers, but they’re also foreigners, still a relatively rare sight here.

Because of this, I’m beginning to understand what life must be like for celebrities.

Consider what happened in my classroom today.  First, I got a letter from one of my adoring fans… I mean, students.  The letter was folded up in some incredibly complex fashion that I couldn’t figure out, so I had to have my student unfold it for me.  I’m including the unaltered text of the letter below for your perusal.

Rebekah: Teacher:

Thank you!!

Happy Teacher’s day!!

Student: Julie 98/9/24

By the way, one common method of measuring the year in Taiwan is in regards to the fall of the Qing Dynasty, which makes this the year 98.

Anyway, back to my rock star life.  Later today, after the writer of the fan letter had come and gone, I spent about 15 minutes surrounded by cheering children begging for my autograph with tears of joy in their eyes.  Well, maybe they weren’t quite cheering, and maybe they weren’t quite crying, but I must have signed my name about 60 times.  In multiple languages.  I had glittery pens shoved into my hand and blank spots in textbooks indicated, awaiting my signature.  They also liked it when I wrote their names for them.  I should’ve left them motivational messages:

Dear (Student X),

Study your English and you’ll go far in life!

Best,

Rebekah

費瑞白

And, last, as is the pattern every time I leave school for the day, I underwent my 300-foot-long walk of fame.  That is, I have to walk about 300 feet to get from my classroom to my scooter so that I can leave.  Every student of mine that sees me feels personally obligated to offer up some sort of salutation.  I am greeted with a chorus of “hello” and “hi” and “Rebekah!!!”  I wish I could say I at least recognized them all, but the truth of the matter is that I have 15 separate classes with at least 30 students each, giving me more than 450 students.

I highly doubt that I will ever be a rock star or achieve fame or notoriety by any other various means.  In any case, one year of living like a superstar will probably prove to be enough.  Especially if the compensation doesn’t drastically increase.

Good News/Bad News/Other News

Good News: I live in a tropical paradise surrounded by rainforests, coral reefs, and beautiful beaches.

Bad News: It’s unbelievably hot.  Every day.  All the time.  I can no longer wear clothing that extends past my knees because it’s just too darn hot.

Good News: Instead of a normal bell to signal class changes, we get to hear a short excerpt from the English Horn solo in the second movement of Dvorak’s New World Symphony.

Bad News: This is my favorite movement in the whole piece, and I won’t be able to stand it in a week’s time.

Good News: I have an awesome scooter that’s loads of fun to cruise around on.  I also have a Taiwanese driver’s license, so I get to drive legally.

Bad News: I think I am the only person on the entire island of Taiwan that actually obeys traffic laws, including going the right way on one-way streets, not running red lights, only making legal right and left turns, etc.  And someone busted the handle to my front brake the day after I got it (it still works, though).

Good News: I don’t have to work with third graders (too young for me).

Bad News: Sixth graders can be a huge pain in the ass. 

In Other News, I have been to Taipei and back.  All the ETAs were required to sit through a tremendously dull two-day-long orientation with the non-ETA Fulbrighters as well as all the visiting Fulbright professors and such.  I suppose it wouldn’t have been so bad if we hadn’t already been thoroughly oriented from our entire month living on the island.  In any case, here are a couple pictures from that weekend.

This is a picture of Grace and me standing on the Chiang Kai-Shek Memorial Hall.  Of note is the outfit I was wearing, as it was entirely bought in Taiwan.  The shoes and shades were purchased in Kenting, whereas the shirt and skirt were bought in Kaohsiung.  And yes, my hair does always look like that here.  It’s rather humid, in case I failed to mention it before.

Taipei 101, the tallest (?) building in the world.  Some building in Dubai was supposed to be the tallest, but I think the project got canned or something.  Taipei 101 is named for its 101 floors.

The view of the surrounding city from the observation deck somewhere near the top of Taipei 101.  There was some seriously cool stuff going on with the sun and the patches of fog, but unfortunately the reflection of my lens in the window kind of messed up the coolness of the picture.

And with that, I bid you a temporary farewell!  Until tomorrow, at the very least.

Native Sun

The Taiwanese are deathly afraid of the sun.  Not because it can cause skin cancer, although they certainly acknowledge this—no, they are more afraid of getting a tan.

For some reason, people outside of Western societies think that the paler you are, the prettier you are.  Someone here theorized that this was because historically, if you were lower class, you worked outside and ended up quite brown as a result.  Pale skin meant that you were high class—you didn’t have to work in the sun.  In Western culture, though, the darker your skin, the more attractive you are (which, of course, makes just as much sense as equating pale skin with beauty).

Taiwanese women in particular go to great lengths to shield themselves from the sun’s skin-darkening rays.  Keep in mind that the main method of transportation here is scooters, which necessarily involves being exposed to the sun.  I have seen a variety of interesting things on the road that women do in order to avoid getting tan.  They wear jeans a lot, which is death in this heat.  They also take light sweaters or jackets and wear them backwards over their arms so their extremities aren’t touched by the sun.  By far the best innovation, though, are the oven mitts over the handles.  They’re not real oven mitts, mind, but that’s certainly what they look like.  They’re these big, padded, glove-like handlebar protrusions; you can put your hands in or take them out just as you like, since they are attached to the scooter, not to you.  It took me quite a while to discover their true purpose, but as it turns out, the whole point is to protect your hands from the sun.

Pedestrians are also fans of keeping themselves out of the sun.  No matter where you go, if the sun is out, you will see women wandering around with open umbrellas to keep the sun off their face.

Now, I have no objection to people protecting themselves from the sun.  Particularly if you’re looking to prevent skin cancer, it’s a healthy lifestyle choice.  Some people take it a little far, however.  One our last day in Kenting, we rented a beach umbrella (complete with table and chairs) from a woman who might as well have been wearing a burka.  Not only was she wearing full pants and long sleeves in this unbelievable heat, but she also had extra sleeves pulled up over her arms, a face mask, a hat, and just in case, she was carrying an umbrella.  You could only see her eyes.

I suppose this just goes to show that I now live in a heliophobic nation!

Adventure #1 (complete with pictures)

My first month in Taiwan is officially over.  I have a place to live, my very own method of transportation, a place to teach for the next year, and I have taken my first Taiwanese vacation.

On Monday evening I returned from Kenting (墾丁), a national park on the southern coast of the island.  We passed a very enjoyable three days lounging at the beach, jet skiing, snorkeling, wandering around the night market, and hiking through the tropical forest.  There was rather a lot that happened, so I’ll just settle for telling one story only.

On Sunday, we decided it was high time that we go snorkeling.  The southern tip of Taiwan is surrounded by a coral reef, an ecosystem I am entirely unfamiliar with, not having spent a lot of time on tropical isles.  While I was out eating with Caroline, the rest of our crowd made what must have been exceptionally sketchy arrangements for all of us to be picked up at our hotel that afternoon.  Consider that for about US$12 apiece, we got round-trip transportation, snorkel gear—including wetsuits—a snorkeling tutorial, a tour around the reef, and a ride on some inflatable thing you attach via a rope to the back of a jet ski.  Definitely not legal.

We were picked up in an unmarked van around 2:30 and carted off to our in-the-middle-of-nowhere destination.  It took a little while to get there, but as we pulled into the “marina,” we were greeted by another unmarked lot, complete with several shack-like constructions that probably could be entirely deconstructed at a moment’s notice.  Let me tell you, there were some people in that van with me wondering if we were about to be sold into some bizarre form of slavery.

The Taiwanese fellow in charge of our group (who introduced himself as Bruce Lee, by the bye) spoke very little English; this was not so much a problem, but it did make for some incredibly awkward moments.  For instance, he took one look at Grace—tall, blond, lovely (read: curvy) lass that she is—and said in Chinese that she looked very American.  What came out in English, though, was, “You have a nice body.”  Complete with hand movements in the air emphasizing her curves.

We got fitted with wetsuits, which was amusing in and of itself.  The whole production, in fact, made us wonder if the locals were having a laugh at our expense—let’s see what else we can get these foolish foreigners to do!  Fifty points if you can elicit more nervous laughter!  As Taiwanese women are generally rather short of stature and many American women are not, some of the girls were given men’s wetsuits.  I’ll leave the details of where they failed to fit to your adept imaginations.  They gave us boots, too.  And snorkels, which I’m sure had not been properly cleaned.  But here in Taiwan, sometimes, it’s important to just go with the flow and not sweat the small stuff.  I mean, it’s not like one small child in Kaohsiung already got diagnosed with swine flu or anything.

Despite our initial misgivings, after we were let loose in the water, we had a great time.  It’s really amazing how much life there is in a coral reef.  We saw fish of all shapes, sizes, and colors.  Coral, by the way, comes in a multitude of colors when it’s actually alive (in opposition to the only coral most Americans ever see, which is decidedly dead).  In addition to the traditional whites and pinks we’re accustomed to, purple and green are present in abundance.  There were starfish, plants, and crabs (also of all shapes and sizes).  The coral itself comes in a huge variety.  It was quite entertaining watching the fish dart in and out of their watery houses in the body of the coral, and in their native environment, as opposed to in an aquarium.

Alas but our under-the-table snorkeling experience had to come to an end.  Bruce Lee gave us a ride back to our hotel, and on the way back he asked me if I was 30.  It was fantastic.  I mean, I know I’m old, but 30?  Really?

Me with my favorite Taiwanese beverage, fruit tea (水果茶).

The entire southern coast of Taiwan.

Roots that are easily identifiable as tropical, due to their shape and above-the-ground status (a result of poor, water-logged soil, I believe).  We got all our information from a Taiwanese guy who volunteers in the park and gave us a free, two-and-a-half hour tour.  He showed us forest crabs, numerous lizards, and frogs that are about a quarter of the size of your pinky nail.  Pretty incredible, right?

Emulating Asians.  Clockwise from left: John, Grace, Kaitlyn, Carol, Caroline, and Kristin.

Simply a nice view we chanced upon in our wanderings.

In August, the air is thick. The humidity hangs on you like a quilt...

And so it came to pass that I survived my first three weeks in Taiwan, which included numerous home repairs, many hundreds of dollars spent furnishing the apartment, one terrible typhoon, and two earthquakes.  Yes, you read that right.  You heard about the typhoon already, but I hadn’t mentioned the two earthquakes.  For reasons unbeknownst to me, natural disasters follow me around the globe (though, granted, the earthquakes were mild).  Riots do, too.  Even in China, of all places.  Thus far there have been no riots to speak of, but I’ve got a whole year, so opportunities abound.

When I was in China, I used this space to describe my observations on Chinese culture.  I would very much like to continue doing this, but at this point, I don’t have too much to report.  The way to describe Taiwan that makes the most sense to me is to juxtapose what I see in Taiwan with what life was like in China.  As the year goes on, I’m sure I’ll have more interesting things to share, but for now, I’m going to have to stick to surface details.

Superficially, China and Taiwan resemble each other in many respects.  The basic architecture is the same.  Buildings are often crammed so close together it’s a wonder how they got there in the first place.  Temples are interspersed with apartment buildings, high rises, and the like.

However, for two countries that are so proximally close to one another and that even speak the same language, China and Taiwan differ wildly in several respects.  Smoking, for one.  Yes, people smoke in Taiwan, but not nearly as much as they do in China.  After I returned back to America from China, the smell of cigarette smoke would actually make me nostalgic for China.  I find this quite remarkable because, truly, there are few scents I find more vile than that of cigarette smoke.  However, not nearly as many people smoke in Taiwan as in China.  In China, it was miraculous if I could walk five feet out of my apartment without seeing someone smoking.

What’s more, the streets are actually clean.  Parents don’t let their kids take a dump on the sidewalk.  No one spits on the ground.  The air quality is vastly superior to China’s.  And there’s space.  There may not be a whole lot of it, but you don’t feel claustrophobic by default, a result of China’s entire populace converging on you at the same time.

One of the things that surprised me about Taiwan is how people dress.  I was very much expecting people to dress like they did in cosmopolitan China—dressed to the nines all the time.  However, as it turns out, people actually wear flip-flops.  And shorts.  And jeans.  And t-shirts.  This is fantastic, since I don’t have to feel like a slob every time I go outside.  I’m especially pleased that people wear flats all the time—in China, four-inch heels were considered perfect for daily wear, something I never found very practical.  Considering the fact that all the sidewalks are tiled and it rains all the time, I never understood how Chinese women survived walking about every day.

Perhaps the most positive difference between the two countries is that every time I get into a cab, I do not fear for my life.  In China, drivers are beyond insane.  They weave in and out of traffic, they cut in front of other cars with inches to spare, no one wears seat belts, and they honk their horns at least twice a second.  On the contrary, here, people actually stay in their lanes, they don’t constantly honk their horns, and they appear to obey traffic laws.  It’s really quite nice.  You couldn’t pay me to drive in China, but here, I wouldn’t be nearly as worried about it.

Anyway, while I’m not busy experiencing typhoons or earthquakes, being thoroughly oriented, or filling out the apartment, I’ve been getting in a little sightseeing.  Last night we went to Qijin Island, an island just off the coast (as in a five-minute ferry ride) of Kaohsiung.  The idea was to go watch the sunset, but we somehow arrived moments too late.  Instead, we wandered around the beach and ate seafood as fresh as you can get it.  The beach was beautiful, albeit covered in driftwood from the typhoon.  It was a black sand beach, at once dramatic and intriguing.  The shore was littered with shells and what appeared to be pieces of tile softened by the sea.

After the failed sunset, we enjoyed a feast of crab, shrimp, clams, and fish.  All in all a very interesting culinary experience—it came as no surprise that the shrimp still had heads, eyes, and feelers.  One of my fellow ETAs even ate a fish eye.  I didn’t quite have the gumption to remove the spinal column from the shrimp, so I kept my distance from them.  All in good time, I suppose.

I am including with this post two pictures: the first is a picture of the beach on Qijin Island and the second is a picture of our incredible coordinator, Fonda, with another ETA, Grace.

English Villages

Good news: the typhoon is over, the bathroom floor no longer floods when I shower, the door closes, and the showerhead stays attached to the wall where it belongs.  I haven’t even heard from the cockroaches in an entire week.

Well, I promised I would write about Kaohsiung’s educational system in regards to English, so here we go.  Apparently, somewhere in Korea, an educator had the brilliant idea of incorporating English speaking practice into realistic environments.  Following that stroke of insight, they built what henceforth became known as English Villages—supermarkets, clothing stores, subway stations, and so on—that served no real or practical purpose except to provide an area where children can run through dialogues and practice vocabulary that they would use in such a place.

Not long ago, Kaohsiung City began building English Villages and including them in the English language curriculum.  We toured three of the four English Villages in the city, and what we saw was amazing.  There were hotels with front reception desks, rooms with beds and bathrooms and closets.  We saw stores with items for sale on the shelves—food, clothing, newspapers, books.  There was an airplane cabin complete with seats, seatbelts, and so on.  We also saw a subway station, including those handles you’re supposed to hold on to while the train is moving.

The idea is that a native English speaker—that’s me and my fellow ETAs this year—conducts simple dialogues with elementary schoolers wandering through.  For example, in the hotel, the kid might say, “Excuse me.  Where do I check in?”  And a conversation about room numbers, amenities, and the like ensues.  After they are done in the hotel, the kids may complete some sort of activity to help them remember the vocabulary and expressions they used. 

I must say, this is an excellent idea.  Meandering through these English Villages, I found myself wishing that there were places like these when I was learning another language.  I would have loved to go to a French Village, or a Chinese Village, or even a Hebrew Village.  One of the big problems in second language education is the lack of places to actually practice speaking, and this would have been a fantastic place to do such a thing.  Unfortunately, there are a couple problems with instituting languages Villages in the US.  Americans tend not to place a high enough priority on foreign language education to be willing to commit the funds, first of all.  But even if taxpayers were willing to pay, what languages would be taught in the Villages?  I suppose multiple language groups could use the Villages at different times, but there are so many languages that no one group would benefit as much as they possibly could. 

Apart from visiting the English Villages, this week of orientation was not remarkable enough to be worth reporting.  I’m no longer jetlagged, which is most definitely a positive development.  I find myself experiencing highs and lows, which is to be expected.  Part of the time, I’m very happy to be in Taiwan, a place where I get to practice my language skills and not do any homework, for once in my life.  But I also spend a lot of time missing a lot of people who I won’t get to see for a very long time.  I wish I could bring them here to stay with me.  Then I would never get homesick.

Apartment Adventures

Where do I begin?  It’s hard to choose between the typhoon raging outside my window, the cockroaches infesting my bathroom, and the fascinating educational innovations to be found in this city. 

I suppose I’ll start with the most outrageous and work my way down to a relatively normal degree of outrageousness.  Thus we commence with the cockroaches.  I would like to first state that I am quite pleased with my apartment.  I have my own room, and while it’s not enormous, it’s enough space for me.  The rent is rather cheap, which appeals to my frugal nature.  We have a nice common area with a TV and a DVD player as well as ample amenities such as an iron, a microwave, and a miniscule toaster oven.

The bathroom, though, is in a rather heightened state of disrepair.  True, it still functions, and I’m only sharing it with one other person, so that in and of itself is not so bad.  However, the troubles begin when trying to close the bathroom door.  By which I mean it frequently chooses not to close.  The outside panel of the door has separated from the rest of the door, which means it sticks somewhat severely and has to be coerced into closing if you actually want to spend time in the bathroom when no one can see you.

If the troubles ended there, I wouldn’t complain much.  It’s not a challenging fix; our landlord will take care of it for us.  However, once you manage to satisfactorily shut the door, don’t think you’ll be treated to a hot shower.  Or even a cold shower.  In fact, your shower will inevitably be tepid on the cool side.  No matter how long the water runs or where you put the spigot on the temperature scale, the water only comes out at one temperature.

Now, if you don’t mind the tepid water, that’s fantastic.  But don’t think you’ll be able to shower like a normal person, either.  If you’ve ever seen European showerheads, you know that they attach to the wall of the shower, but you can easily remove them and fling them about at your will.  On the other hand, if you’d like to shower like an American, you still have the option of showering with the showerhead attached to the wall so that your hands are free.  In my bathroom in Taiwan, though, this is not the case.  Yes, we have a European-style showerhead.  Yes, it has a clip that attaches it to the wall.  No, the clip is not in one piece and no, the showerhead will not stay on the wall.  Which means we have to hold the showerhead ourselves every time we want to shower.

But the coup goes to the cockroaches that live in the air vent.  Whenever we turn the lights on in the bathroom, we are greeted by a cacophonous clattering of exoskeletons and legs from the ceiling and occasionally a dismembered cockroach leg or two falling down from the vent.  I’ve already sprayed the vent, which apparently was not enough of an impetus to make them go away.  I thought loud noises scared them off for a while, too, so whenever I heard them I would tell them to shove off.  Unfortunately, this has also failed to keep the bathroom cockroach-free.

I remain optimistic that the door, the lack of hot (or cold) water, and the showerhead will all be dealt with by our landlord in due time.  I also hope that “due time” is not actually “three months from now.”  However, I’m not sure what to do about the cockroaches.  I suppose we could attempt to find an exterminator, but I’m not sure the problem is relevant enough on this island nation to warrant an exterminator.  I wonder if this is a normal level of cockroach infestation for an apartment in a subtropical climate and if we should just get used to it or launch a full-scale cockroach genocidal offense.

On the scale of the slightly less absurd, I have been here less than a week and I am already experiencing my first Taiwanese typhoon.  I should revise that; I am experiencing my first typhoon ever.  Upon being hit by a typhoon, I realized I didn’t actually know what the technical definition of a typhoon was.  A wikipedia search later, I found out it was simply a hurricane in Asia, another name for a tropical cyclone.  Since my current location is in a port city on an island, this has resulted in high winds and quite a lot of rain.  Every once in a while, I hear the wind pick up and whistle through the wind tunnel created by the proximity of the buildings to one another and the narrowness of the alley that my apartment looks out on.

Being subtropical, Taiwan doesn’t really get snow, and so the poor, deprived Taiwanese children never get snow days.  However, a typhoon effectively shuts down the city, so instead of snow days, we get typhoon days.  What this means for me is that I am happily enjoying a day off (read: less than a week of orientation and I am already in dire need of a break).  Stores are closed.  No one is outside.  It’s just me in my apartment with Typhoon Morakot.  Fear not, though; apart from perhaps a few broken windows on my street (and not in my apartment), it’s just like a particularly virulent thunderstorm, though up to this point, thunderless.

So in conclusion, someday I'll have the time and evergy to deal with the cockroaches, the bathroom's disarray, and a full description of the amazing things this city does for English education.  For now, though, I think I'll just watch the storm.