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.