lately, i've been having so much fun at work. over the past few months, i feel that my ability to communicate with my kindergarten students has greatly improved. i've started to figure out how they think and how they will respond to the things i say. as a result, i now have a few of them latched onto me at every turn. this makes my day considerably better. i'm also feeling less frustrated with their naughtiness or the controlled chaos that is a kindergarten classroom, and starting to see the humor in the way they behave. today, i laughed so hard in my music and movement class, i could barely compose myself long enough to get my kids back into a line.
why?
i have a relatively new student named carlos. well, teacher chris and i picked that name out for him, and if you could see or talk to him, you would agree that it's perfectly appropriate. i'll admit that i didn't like him at first, but he's grown on me a lot. i'd be lying if i said his borderline insanity makes my day truly glorious. carlos is probably the smallest kid in the whole school. he's 3 years old, and his motor skills have only begun to develop into something constructive. he also has a speech impediment, which he may or may not grow out of. today, i was singing and dancing to some songs with about 20 of the kindergarten students, when we got to "3 little monkeys." for those who don't know it, i've posted the lyrics for you:
three little monkeys jumping on a bed
one fell off and bumped his head
momma called the doctor and the doctor said
"no more little monkeys jumping on the bed!"
(continue with 2, then with 1)
as you might imagine, the actions are pretty straightforward. we show "3" fingers, then pretend that they are jumping on a "bed." we show "1" finger, pretend that it has fallen off the "bed," then pretend to bop ourselves in the head. we pretend to talk on the phone for "momma called the doctor and the doctor said." and for the last line, we shake our heads, wave our arms to emphasize "no," then stomp on the word "bed." unfortunately, some of my younger students, carlos included, don't exactly have the words down. for him, it comes out kinda like "three laeg mooonnksss juuuuuu beeeed. ooonnn fffeeee ooooooo..." you get the idea. he tries so hard, and i love him for it. unfortunately, he also doesn't quite have the motor skills to do some of the actions, though he does his best. but watching him do it today, i couldn't contain my laughter. he put his hands up, showing a random assortment of fingers that was supposed to be "3" while he pretended to sing. he had such a fierce gleam in his eye as he sang... he was being completely serious about this song, determined to show me that he could do it better than the other students. he bore his teeth and bulged his eyes, showing immense concentration, but the effect was absolutely hilarious. when it got to the part where we're supposed to bop ourselves on the head, most of the students understood that you're not really hitting yourself... you're just pretending, and thus, they cushion the blow. not carlos, though. he full-on, full-force, proceeded to smack himself in the head every single time. with the ferocity of his gaze and the force with which he hit himself, i thought perhaps he didn't feel it at all, though he nearly knocked himself over a few times. at this point, i was barely concentrating on my own actions, because i couldn't get over the fact that he was actually hitting himself. he got through "momma called the doctor and the doctor said" fairly well, though he looked positively furious when he said the words. then come the last few words, everybody's favorite because of the stomping. carlos completely bipassed the words and the head-shaking actions, and poised himself for the stomp. he stood on one foot, his pointed hand raised high in the air, anticipating the stomping part. he then brought his foot down full-force, looking both fatigued and incredibly proud of himself for doing the song... only it was a good quarter of a beat after everyone else.
there are countless other moments like this in class. the tearful pleading "teacher, don't want!" when we tell them we will take away their cool cards. students who hoard all their food in their mouths because they don't want to eat. i have one students who likes to pretend he's a car. with others, there are inside jokes, buzz words and phrases, and of course the threat of taking away dodgeball. who knows? the world just might fall to pieces without dodgeball on a friday. perhaps it's cruel, but at least it motivates them enough to finish their essays and pass their tests. ah, sweet, all-too-precious leverage.
i have to get a video and pictures of them, because they're priceless. with teacher chris, mrt rides to and from chinese class are all stories about what kids said and did, sometimes interspersed with fits of laughter that make telling the story difficult. i often feel that i've given up all control of my life, as it's really impossible to make my students do anything. perhaps this is but a small glimpse of what it's like to be a parent. but since i can't force them to do anything they don't want to do to make my life easier, i just hope for mostly favorable outcomes, and generally laugh to keep from crying. i find that the laughter makes it nearly impossible to cry most of the time, or to fathom a more fun job than the one i have. i suppose they're all helping me to see the humor in what i do, despite my chronic perfectionism. it's going to be really hard to leave next year.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
i expected better of you, rowling.
"just because you can doesn't mean you should."
or so the saying goes.
yes, i do realize that i'm 22 and still i enjoy harry potter, though little do i care. to those of you who think less of me, in my defense, i am currently reading one hundred years of solitude. this is mostly because i love marquez, but perhaps stems a little from my need to pacify the little voice in my head that's demanding tolstoy, claiming that i've been feeding the pop culture part of my brain too much lately. to be fair, i don't go anywhere near the general fiction section. that should count for something.
also, on a semi-related topic, life of pi was exceedingly disappointing. it's only good because the story is extraordinary. the mystery of how pi ever survived his adventure carries the whole thing, not the writing, which is trite at best. i thought martel began well when i was reading his prologue. trying to impress upon his audience the shock of his story, he writes that the frail old man who told him about pi described it as, "a story that will make you believe in God." this intrigued me. what a profoundly unusual way to put something. yet, i'm afraid that the writing really doesn't do it justice.
other than life of pi, my meanderings through marquez, and finally finishing in cold blood and the weight of glory, many of you know that i completed the entire harry potter series here in taiwan. i was deeply impressed with all the books, writing about why i think christians are foolish and superficial to dismiss her writing as they do - why it shows a stunted, undeveloped understanding of literature to be hindered at the surface rather than actually absorbing the underlying themes. it's this, along with so many things, that annoys me about christian sub-culture. that we watch inferior films rather than deeply, movingly beautiful ones because of a sex scene or some swearing. that we accept mediocre music and nothing more. that we hearken only to the past glories of western art, but sometimes fail to recognize the technically simplistic, but philosophically complex art of our own generation.
i could go on and on, because there's so much i can say to reprove the christian perception of harry potter that it would probably take another few posts or 10 or a thesis to do so. as i desire not to write that much, i'm going to skip down to why, despite my vehement defense of harry, i am exceedingly disappointed with j.k. rowling right now.
to those who haven't, i suggest you read this article. it came as both a shock and as a fulfillment of something i half-expected to happen: http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20071020/ap_on_en_ot/books_harry_potter
i know you're all expecting me to withdraw my approval. that is, after all, the christian standard. but my disapproval has nothing to do with dumbledore's supposed homosexuality. i am frustrated... nay, confounded... nay, hopelessly let down by rowling's choice to reveal this. if i've learned anything from my b.a. in literature, it's that the best writing is often the most ambiguous, the type that keeps you (the reader) coming back and asking over and over what it is they really meant. this is not because the writing is incomplete or vague. a person with any significant experience in literary interpretation would deign to give it a second thought if it were. no, i am talking about the writing that is woven so compellingly, that is often so complex, that we care enough to ask these questions.
was hamlet really as mad as he seemed?
is milton's greatest work obviously and debilitatingly anti-feminist, or is it profoundly complimentary to women?
virginia, is it simply your madness that led to this?
hedda, why are you so tragically intriguing?
for the love of God, john fowles, do allison and nick ever get back together?
they're silly questions because every story is, in its own way, complete. but great literature, worthwhile literature, raises questions which, even though we know how the story ended, we want to answer because their writing entranced us into caring. though answering them never ultimately changes the story, we still feel that some seemingly innocuous questions matter. we have to understand.
and of all the great questions that might have been raised about harry potter in the future, i am saddened to know that rowling killed them all with her little comment. with her need to make a point, whether it was a stance for tolerance or simply a glorified middle finger to the christian community, she has destroyed a great many debates and questions that might have been asked about her writing. questions that future students would have thought mattered, because it's never exactly clear.
and i find it to be an even further devastating blow in that it truly matters little to the story. though he believed whole-heartedly in love, that it had to become a particular kind bothers me. dumbledore, the asexual dumbledore that i've been reading about in the stories, is great simply because his sexuality is so ambiguous. we start to ask ourselves the usual questions. is he a metaphor for God? what about his love for grindewald? is it a homosexual love, or is it tragic because it was a david-jonathan love? a friendship beyond others, that was destroyed because of power? if he was straight, is there evidence to support it? or was it his troubled past that simply polluted his intimacy with others? but she's answered all these questions for us, leaving us little to ponder and not actually changing the story at all.
since i read this article, my mind has wandered through the many ways rowling could have made a statement with her characters without choosing dumbledore. despite voldemort's inability to feel for anyone besides himself, was bellatrix in love with him, in a twisted, emotionally perverted sort of way? as far as homosexuality goes, i think there's far more evidence to support that sirius black harbored an attraction to james. why dumbledore, rowling? you had so much more ammunition. one of the most interesting, compelling characters in your story, one worthy of thought and debate, and you had to simplify him so.
john fowles once commented on the fan mail he received upon publishing "the magus." one woman vented her frustration, and demanded that he "just say what [he] means!" long did he ponder her opinion, but ultimately decided that the beauty was that he didn't answer all the questions for his readers. these things were left for them to argue about, to decide for themselves. he was partially making a point, in that nothing is ever completely "happily ever after" the way it is in most stories. there are seasons of happiness and seasons of despair, a mixture of good an evil, of love and hate, of clarity and ambiguity. and to simply lay it out for us one way or the other cheapens the human experience.
as many times as i've wished i had the answers, i am certain that worthwhile writing begs to be examined and re-examined. there oughtn't be a quick-and-easy answer, because if it were that simple, we'd fall to madness. a single human being is never simple to identify or label. all the world isn't separated into neat categories for us, in order for us to see plainly why people behave as they do. and the way i see it, the more literature reflects this reality and can still keep me caring, the better.
or so the saying goes.
yes, i do realize that i'm 22 and still i enjoy harry potter, though little do i care. to those of you who think less of me, in my defense, i am currently reading one hundred years of solitude. this is mostly because i love marquez, but perhaps stems a little from my need to pacify the little voice in my head that's demanding tolstoy, claiming that i've been feeding the pop culture part of my brain too much lately. to be fair, i don't go anywhere near the general fiction section. that should count for something.
also, on a semi-related topic, life of pi was exceedingly disappointing. it's only good because the story is extraordinary. the mystery of how pi ever survived his adventure carries the whole thing, not the writing, which is trite at best. i thought martel began well when i was reading his prologue. trying to impress upon his audience the shock of his story, he writes that the frail old man who told him about pi described it as, "a story that will make you believe in God." this intrigued me. what a profoundly unusual way to put something. yet, i'm afraid that the writing really doesn't do it justice.
other than life of pi, my meanderings through marquez, and finally finishing in cold blood and the weight of glory, many of you know that i completed the entire harry potter series here in taiwan. i was deeply impressed with all the books, writing about why i think christians are foolish and superficial to dismiss her writing as they do - why it shows a stunted, undeveloped understanding of literature to be hindered at the surface rather than actually absorbing the underlying themes. it's this, along with so many things, that annoys me about christian sub-culture. that we watch inferior films rather than deeply, movingly beautiful ones because of a sex scene or some swearing. that we accept mediocre music and nothing more. that we hearken only to the past glories of western art, but sometimes fail to recognize the technically simplistic, but philosophically complex art of our own generation.
i could go on and on, because there's so much i can say to reprove the christian perception of harry potter that it would probably take another few posts or 10 or a thesis to do so. as i desire not to write that much, i'm going to skip down to why, despite my vehement defense of harry, i am exceedingly disappointed with j.k. rowling right now.
to those who haven't, i suggest you read this article. it came as both a shock and as a fulfillment of something i half-expected to happen: http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20071020/ap_on_en_ot/books_harry_potter
i know you're all expecting me to withdraw my approval. that is, after all, the christian standard. but my disapproval has nothing to do with dumbledore's supposed homosexuality. i am frustrated... nay, confounded... nay, hopelessly let down by rowling's choice to reveal this. if i've learned anything from my b.a. in literature, it's that the best writing is often the most ambiguous, the type that keeps you (the reader) coming back and asking over and over what it is they really meant. this is not because the writing is incomplete or vague. a person with any significant experience in literary interpretation would deign to give it a second thought if it were. no, i am talking about the writing that is woven so compellingly, that is often so complex, that we care enough to ask these questions.
was hamlet really as mad as he seemed?
is milton's greatest work obviously and debilitatingly anti-feminist, or is it profoundly complimentary to women?
virginia, is it simply your madness that led to this?
hedda, why are you so tragically intriguing?
for the love of God, john fowles, do allison and nick ever get back together?
they're silly questions because every story is, in its own way, complete. but great literature, worthwhile literature, raises questions which, even though we know how the story ended, we want to answer because their writing entranced us into caring. though answering them never ultimately changes the story, we still feel that some seemingly innocuous questions matter. we have to understand.
and of all the great questions that might have been raised about harry potter in the future, i am saddened to know that rowling killed them all with her little comment. with her need to make a point, whether it was a stance for tolerance or simply a glorified middle finger to the christian community, she has destroyed a great many debates and questions that might have been asked about her writing. questions that future students would have thought mattered, because it's never exactly clear.
and i find it to be an even further devastating blow in that it truly matters little to the story. though he believed whole-heartedly in love, that it had to become a particular kind bothers me. dumbledore, the asexual dumbledore that i've been reading about in the stories, is great simply because his sexuality is so ambiguous. we start to ask ourselves the usual questions. is he a metaphor for God? what about his love for grindewald? is it a homosexual love, or is it tragic because it was a david-jonathan love? a friendship beyond others, that was destroyed because of power? if he was straight, is there evidence to support it? or was it his troubled past that simply polluted his intimacy with others? but she's answered all these questions for us, leaving us little to ponder and not actually changing the story at all.
since i read this article, my mind has wandered through the many ways rowling could have made a statement with her characters without choosing dumbledore. despite voldemort's inability to feel for anyone besides himself, was bellatrix in love with him, in a twisted, emotionally perverted sort of way? as far as homosexuality goes, i think there's far more evidence to support that sirius black harbored an attraction to james. why dumbledore, rowling? you had so much more ammunition. one of the most interesting, compelling characters in your story, one worthy of thought and debate, and you had to simplify him so.
john fowles once commented on the fan mail he received upon publishing "the magus." one woman vented her frustration, and demanded that he "just say what [he] means!" long did he ponder her opinion, but ultimately decided that the beauty was that he didn't answer all the questions for his readers. these things were left for them to argue about, to decide for themselves. he was partially making a point, in that nothing is ever completely "happily ever after" the way it is in most stories. there are seasons of happiness and seasons of despair, a mixture of good an evil, of love and hate, of clarity and ambiguity. and to simply lay it out for us one way or the other cheapens the human experience.
as many times as i've wished i had the answers, i am certain that worthwhile writing begs to be examined and re-examined. there oughtn't be a quick-and-easy answer, because if it were that simple, we'd fall to madness. a single human being is never simple to identify or label. all the world isn't separated into neat categories for us, in order for us to see plainly why people behave as they do. and the way i see it, the more literature reflects this reality and can still keep me caring, the better.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
the stuff good stories are made of
"in the struggle for survival, the fittest win out at the expense of their rivals"
or so the saying goes.
last weekend, i decided the time had come for me to venture outside taipei. certainly, i'd been to taichung before, but i'd never visited southern taiwan, much less taken a weekend trip since i arrived in june. then fate smiled upon me in the form of other peoples' general restlessness. as chad is leaving in about 3 weeks, he's been really keen on making the most of his last days here. because we celebrated 10/10 last week, he took advantage of the holiday to go to kenting, a beach town very near the southernmost tip of taiwan. he invited chris and me to come along. while chris was busy with mormon stuff this weekend, i thought it would make a good excuse for me to get out of town for a while. though i would be arriving 3 days later, at least i would know someone there to explore/get into mischief with. furthermore, mitch and his friend sam were heading down there for an extended holiday as well, and as the proverb goes, the more the merrier. when i'm involved, however, it is always an adventure. this is a fact i must always establish, assess, and accept every time i leave the house. establish, because i know how things go. assess, mostly monetarily. how much can i afford the mishaps that will undoubtedly come? and accept, because 99% of the situation is how you deal with it. some say it's the law of attraction at play, but i call it mostly blind luck.
i made my way down to kaoschung early saturday morning. well, early is a relative term. actually it was mid-morning, but the cool thing is that taiwan has already established a high speed rail system, which makes a trip across the entire country merely 1.5 hours of relaxation and countryside. i got into kaoschung before noon, hoping to catch a bus to kenting within the hour and get there by the early afternoon. because i had no idea where anything is, i took a cab, who seemed to mostly understand what i was telling him. unfortunately, mostly isn't quite good enough when asking for the bus station, because he took me to the dodgiest bus depot i've ever seen. and i've seen some dodgy bus depots. i got out and cringed a little, wondering how i was ever going to find a way to kenting, when another friendly bus driver who was on break, noticed my apparent befuddlement and asked me if i needed help. his english was minimal, but i managed to convey to him that i wanted to go to kenting.
wo yao qu kenting.
he pointed to what looked like a city bus, and told me that was a good way to get there. great, i thought. my new-found friend then told the city bus driver where i wanted to go, i purchased a ticket, and hesitantly boarded a bus headed toward oblivion. yes, oblivion. i had no idea where it was going or if i was even going the right way.
this might be a good time to note that while it takes you 1.5 hours to get 90% of the way to kenting, it takes approximately 3 to travel the remaining 10%. southern taiwan is nothing like my world in taipei. taipei is lively and busy. the world of southern taiwan is... desolate... void of human occupancy. the bus stopped at non-bus-stops, and people kept getting on and off at random. i planted myself in my chair, and told myself over and over that, no matter where this bus was going, as long as i didn't leave, i wouldn't be lost in the middle of nowhere. even if i ended up back in kaoschung, at least i could find sign of human life there. my 3 hour trip went something like... shack... shack... bus stop... shack... oh, 7-11!... field... mountain... shack. and on and on until we reached the coast. from this point on, it would be a matter of figuring out which sparsely-populated beach civilization was supposed to be kenting, the so-called tourist capital of southern taiwan. furthermore, chad wasn't answering his phone. he knew i would be coming into town, but i heard nothing from him. i resolved myself to the fact that i would have a good time no matter what, even if i was my only company.
finally, my bus driver pulled over to a non-descript bus stop and nodded in my direction. the thicker crowds of people outside and my semi-useful map in lonely planet taiwan seemed to indicate that this was, in fact, kenting. i stepped outside and found my way to the nearest coffee shop, where i pondered my next plan of attack. let's see... chad wasn't answering his phone, i didn't have mitch's number, and i didn't have a place to stay. first priority was figuring out where i could stay, then devising a way to get a hold of my comrades. the luxury of being in reach to teach is that, while i didn't have mitch's contact information, someone else in my phone was bound to. and! i was lucky enough to find that person. unlike chad, whose phone died, mitch answered his phone and told me that they were at a shooting range, but that they would call me when they came back for dinner. that left only the hotel. despite the fact that kenting is in virtually the middle of nowhere, there is a slough of hotels there. surely, one of them would have a place to stay. unfortunately, at the first 20 i tried, i got an unhappy result:
duibuqi, wo yao fangjian. ni you meiyou yi ge?
yi ge fangjian jiu?
dui. wo yao shuijiao.
meiyou!
aiyo!
this went on nearly an hour until one of the hotel owners was kind enough to call some friends and find me an open room. i had a place to stay and i had reached the guys, so i was good. onto the beach! kenting is arguably the most beautiful place i've visited here. the beach was serene and extremely clean. there are no waves here, and it's surprising how peaceful it is when you can barely hear the feeble crashing of the waves on the beach. i had some good music, and paced up and down, in and out of the water for almost 2 hours. the beach made me feel connected once again to california and all the feelings associated with it. for the first time in a while, i felt like myself again. i really must visit the beach more often.
mitch broke the silence when he called, and i made my way over to their hotel, where i found 3 disheveled men... chad the worst of them all. apparently, through an unexpected twist of events in his own schedule, he had come to kenting with only one change of clothes. this had led him to purchase new underwear just that morning and the best shirt ever. it was a muscle tank with a skinny boy on it flexing his muscles. at the bottom it said "i'm number 1!" i could tell he hadn't bothered to shave in days. tired though i was after my day of travel, i was happy to see them all, and they disclosed their plans for the evening. dinner. night market. possibly a club, a pub, or ktv. beach. hookah. not necessarily in that order. those who know me well also know i'm game for anything, so i told them to lead the way. we wandered through the nightmarket, exploring hand-made crafts and unusual clothes, and playing with the idea of a henna tattoo. i still think i'm going to get one, if only to experiment with how exactly i feel about having something marked on my body. our wanderings eventually led to a nearby pub, where we ordered a large hookah and a few pitchers of beer. i had one of the loveliest conversations i've experienced in months that night. starting over is something i need in my life. i give second chances generously, and grasp any opportunity to build from new chances. after hours of conversation at the pub, we made our way back to the boys' room, where mitch and i stayed up all night watching the rugby world cup and the colbert report... chad and sam made it through some, but couldn't muster the willpower to stay awake the whole time. even i faded in and out. i trudged home rather tired around 5:30am, where i slept on a very hard mattress.
the next day brought many adventures. it began with a quiet breakfast and a morning at the beach, a few hours of shopping and exploring, and then an eventual scooter rental. this time, however, i did not crash it. i found a shop, and the proprietor asked me several times if i'd ever driven one before. yes, i said. yes, i'm a foreign woman, but i have driven one. unfortunately, it didn't look very good that i couldn't remember where the brake was, but she hesitantly handed the scooter over, and i got the hang of it quickly. i drove up and down the coast, attempting to understand the arbitrary traffic rules and praying to God that i wouldn't get stranded. when i came back to familiarity, mitch called and asked if i was up for something. i told him i had planned to take another bus ride from hell back to kaoschung in the late afternoon so that i could catch a train back to taipei. well, he said, he and sam were going to stop at the aquarium and then drive back to kaoschung, so i may as well go with them, right? at least i'd have company, and it would be a new experience. i agreed that it sounded like the way to go.
in theory, that is.
we left the aquarium when it closed, hoping to get back to kaoschung in two hours. unfortunately, after a few wrong turns and way too much time at dinner, we did not get back into town until 9:30. we returned our scooters and dawdled back to the train station, only to discover that the last high speed train had left at... 9:30. we were screwed. the next train back to taipei wasn't high speed and wasn't leaving until 11:30. this meant arrival in taipei around 5:30 or 6:00. or we could wait for the next hs train in the morning, but that would bring us into taipei too late, and sam and i wouldn't make it to work on time. this left the bus. a 4 hour ride that couldn't possibly be too hard to secure, right? well, you would think it wouldn't be difficult, but it was. it felt like the entire city wanted a night bus. terrible thoughts kept running through my mind. what if we were stuck here all night? what if we couldn't take the first hstrain out in the morning? what if we were stuck here all day tomorrow as well, and i had to explain my irresponsibility to my boss? how screwed, exactly, would i be? after an hour of searching and being put on waiting lists, i was beginning to lose hope, though i tried to maintain a positive exterior. sam wasn't talking altogether because he didn't want to lose it, and mitch was getting more noticeably frustrated by the second. i tried to laugh it off, but my brain was screaming at me. i was so tired. i'd hardly slept at all the entire weekend, and i would have to be energetic for my kids the nenxt day. finally, when we thought we might not find anything, we found two separate buses. i went by myself, while they waited for the later bus out. i think mitch felt bad, as it was based on his guarantee of speedy transport back to taipei that we arrived in kaoschung so late. needless to say, i didn't get home until about 5a.m. i slept for 2 1/2 hours, then got myself to work. it was a long day, especially since i have chinese on monday nights, but i kept telling myself that i was lucky to make it at all.
and that, my friends, was kenting. i can't wait to go back.
on a topic unrelated in even the most remote way, i think my ipod is dead. i don't know how or why this happened. it simply froze. i'm running out the battery right now, hoping that it might unfreeze it. i really haven't been abusive to this ipod, so i'm baffled as to what happened to it. but it's almost 3 years old and therefore, will have to be replaced in the not-too-distant future. i'm hoping it can't hear me. sometimes i hate technology.
also, i don't normally talk about music here, and it's been a long time since i've said anything, but... well... i really, really love anberlin's semi-new album "cities." i've been following them on and off since i was a freshman in college, and i'm extremely impressed with the quality of their music over the years. what began as merely an attempt to depart from stereotypical mainstream christian music has led to some truly beautiful songwriting. high five, stephen christian.
or so the saying goes.
last weekend, i decided the time had come for me to venture outside taipei. certainly, i'd been to taichung before, but i'd never visited southern taiwan, much less taken a weekend trip since i arrived in june. then fate smiled upon me in the form of other peoples' general restlessness. as chad is leaving in about 3 weeks, he's been really keen on making the most of his last days here. because we celebrated 10/10 last week, he took advantage of the holiday to go to kenting, a beach town very near the southernmost tip of taiwan. he invited chris and me to come along. while chris was busy with mormon stuff this weekend, i thought it would make a good excuse for me to get out of town for a while. though i would be arriving 3 days later, at least i would know someone there to explore/get into mischief with. furthermore, mitch and his friend sam were heading down there for an extended holiday as well, and as the proverb goes, the more the merrier. when i'm involved, however, it is always an adventure. this is a fact i must always establish, assess, and accept every time i leave the house. establish, because i know how things go. assess, mostly monetarily. how much can i afford the mishaps that will undoubtedly come? and accept, because 99% of the situation is how you deal with it. some say it's the law of attraction at play, but i call it mostly blind luck.
i made my way down to kaoschung early saturday morning. well, early is a relative term. actually it was mid-morning, but the cool thing is that taiwan has already established a high speed rail system, which makes a trip across the entire country merely 1.5 hours of relaxation and countryside. i got into kaoschung before noon, hoping to catch a bus to kenting within the hour and get there by the early afternoon. because i had no idea where anything is, i took a cab, who seemed to mostly understand what i was telling him. unfortunately, mostly isn't quite good enough when asking for the bus station, because he took me to the dodgiest bus depot i've ever seen. and i've seen some dodgy bus depots. i got out and cringed a little, wondering how i was ever going to find a way to kenting, when another friendly bus driver who was on break, noticed my apparent befuddlement and asked me if i needed help. his english was minimal, but i managed to convey to him that i wanted to go to kenting.
wo yao qu kenting.
he pointed to what looked like a city bus, and told me that was a good way to get there. great, i thought. my new-found friend then told the city bus driver where i wanted to go, i purchased a ticket, and hesitantly boarded a bus headed toward oblivion. yes, oblivion. i had no idea where it was going or if i was even going the right way.
this might be a good time to note that while it takes you 1.5 hours to get 90% of the way to kenting, it takes approximately 3 to travel the remaining 10%. southern taiwan is nothing like my world in taipei. taipei is lively and busy. the world of southern taiwan is... desolate... void of human occupancy. the bus stopped at non-bus-stops, and people kept getting on and off at random. i planted myself in my chair, and told myself over and over that, no matter where this bus was going, as long as i didn't leave, i wouldn't be lost in the middle of nowhere. even if i ended up back in kaoschung, at least i could find sign of human life there. my 3 hour trip went something like... shack... shack... bus stop... shack... oh, 7-11!... field... mountain... shack. and on and on until we reached the coast. from this point on, it would be a matter of figuring out which sparsely-populated beach civilization was supposed to be kenting, the so-called tourist capital of southern taiwan. furthermore, chad wasn't answering his phone. he knew i would be coming into town, but i heard nothing from him. i resolved myself to the fact that i would have a good time no matter what, even if i was my only company.
finally, my bus driver pulled over to a non-descript bus stop and nodded in my direction. the thicker crowds of people outside and my semi-useful map in lonely planet taiwan seemed to indicate that this was, in fact, kenting. i stepped outside and found my way to the nearest coffee shop, where i pondered my next plan of attack. let's see... chad wasn't answering his phone, i didn't have mitch's number, and i didn't have a place to stay. first priority was figuring out where i could stay, then devising a way to get a hold of my comrades. the luxury of being in reach to teach is that, while i didn't have mitch's contact information, someone else in my phone was bound to. and! i was lucky enough to find that person. unlike chad, whose phone died, mitch answered his phone and told me that they were at a shooting range, but that they would call me when they came back for dinner. that left only the hotel. despite the fact that kenting is in virtually the middle of nowhere, there is a slough of hotels there. surely, one of them would have a place to stay. unfortunately, at the first 20 i tried, i got an unhappy result:
duibuqi, wo yao fangjian. ni you meiyou yi ge?
yi ge fangjian jiu?
dui. wo yao shuijiao.
meiyou!
aiyo!
this went on nearly an hour until one of the hotel owners was kind enough to call some friends and find me an open room. i had a place to stay and i had reached the guys, so i was good. onto the beach! kenting is arguably the most beautiful place i've visited here. the beach was serene and extremely clean. there are no waves here, and it's surprising how peaceful it is when you can barely hear the feeble crashing of the waves on the beach. i had some good music, and paced up and down, in and out of the water for almost 2 hours. the beach made me feel connected once again to california and all the feelings associated with it. for the first time in a while, i felt like myself again. i really must visit the beach more often.
mitch broke the silence when he called, and i made my way over to their hotel, where i found 3 disheveled men... chad the worst of them all. apparently, through an unexpected twist of events in his own schedule, he had come to kenting with only one change of clothes. this had led him to purchase new underwear just that morning and the best shirt ever. it was a muscle tank with a skinny boy on it flexing his muscles. at the bottom it said "i'm number 1!" i could tell he hadn't bothered to shave in days. tired though i was after my day of travel, i was happy to see them all, and they disclosed their plans for the evening. dinner. night market. possibly a club, a pub, or ktv. beach. hookah. not necessarily in that order. those who know me well also know i'm game for anything, so i told them to lead the way. we wandered through the nightmarket, exploring hand-made crafts and unusual clothes, and playing with the idea of a henna tattoo. i still think i'm going to get one, if only to experiment with how exactly i feel about having something marked on my body. our wanderings eventually led to a nearby pub, where we ordered a large hookah and a few pitchers of beer. i had one of the loveliest conversations i've experienced in months that night. starting over is something i need in my life. i give second chances generously, and grasp any opportunity to build from new chances. after hours of conversation at the pub, we made our way back to the boys' room, where mitch and i stayed up all night watching the rugby world cup and the colbert report... chad and sam made it through some, but couldn't muster the willpower to stay awake the whole time. even i faded in and out. i trudged home rather tired around 5:30am, where i slept on a very hard mattress.
the next day brought many adventures. it began with a quiet breakfast and a morning at the beach, a few hours of shopping and exploring, and then an eventual scooter rental. this time, however, i did not crash it. i found a shop, and the proprietor asked me several times if i'd ever driven one before. yes, i said. yes, i'm a foreign woman, but i have driven one. unfortunately, it didn't look very good that i couldn't remember where the brake was, but she hesitantly handed the scooter over, and i got the hang of it quickly. i drove up and down the coast, attempting to understand the arbitrary traffic rules and praying to God that i wouldn't get stranded. when i came back to familiarity, mitch called and asked if i was up for something. i told him i had planned to take another bus ride from hell back to kaoschung in the late afternoon so that i could catch a train back to taipei. well, he said, he and sam were going to stop at the aquarium and then drive back to kaoschung, so i may as well go with them, right? at least i'd have company, and it would be a new experience. i agreed that it sounded like the way to go.
in theory, that is.
we left the aquarium when it closed, hoping to get back to kaoschung in two hours. unfortunately, after a few wrong turns and way too much time at dinner, we did not get back into town until 9:30. we returned our scooters and dawdled back to the train station, only to discover that the last high speed train had left at... 9:30. we were screwed. the next train back to taipei wasn't high speed and wasn't leaving until 11:30. this meant arrival in taipei around 5:30 or 6:00. or we could wait for the next hs train in the morning, but that would bring us into taipei too late, and sam and i wouldn't make it to work on time. this left the bus. a 4 hour ride that couldn't possibly be too hard to secure, right? well, you would think it wouldn't be difficult, but it was. it felt like the entire city wanted a night bus. terrible thoughts kept running through my mind. what if we were stuck here all night? what if we couldn't take the first hstrain out in the morning? what if we were stuck here all day tomorrow as well, and i had to explain my irresponsibility to my boss? how screwed, exactly, would i be? after an hour of searching and being put on waiting lists, i was beginning to lose hope, though i tried to maintain a positive exterior. sam wasn't talking altogether because he didn't want to lose it, and mitch was getting more noticeably frustrated by the second. i tried to laugh it off, but my brain was screaming at me. i was so tired. i'd hardly slept at all the entire weekend, and i would have to be energetic for my kids the nenxt day. finally, when we thought we might not find anything, we found two separate buses. i went by myself, while they waited for the later bus out. i think mitch felt bad, as it was based on his guarantee of speedy transport back to taipei that we arrived in kaoschung so late. needless to say, i didn't get home until about 5a.m. i slept for 2 1/2 hours, then got myself to work. it was a long day, especially since i have chinese on monday nights, but i kept telling myself that i was lucky to make it at all.
and that, my friends, was kenting. i can't wait to go back.
on a topic unrelated in even the most remote way, i think my ipod is dead. i don't know how or why this happened. it simply froze. i'm running out the battery right now, hoping that it might unfreeze it. i really haven't been abusive to this ipod, so i'm baffled as to what happened to it. but it's almost 3 years old and therefore, will have to be replaced in the not-too-distant future. i'm hoping it can't hear me. sometimes i hate technology.
also, i don't normally talk about music here, and it's been a long time since i've said anything, but... well... i really, really love anberlin's semi-new album "cities." i've been following them on and off since i was a freshman in college, and i'm extremely impressed with the quality of their music over the years. what began as merely an attempt to depart from stereotypical mainstream christian music has led to some truly beautiful songwriting. high five, stephen christian.
Saturday, October 06, 2007
sentences you might hear often
"those who can, do. those who can't, teach."
or so the saying goes.
this week, i realized something when a student decided to imitate me in class. it was rather harmless, since she is 3 years old. it was in the middle of my art class, when some of my students were getting a little unruly. it doesn't take much for them to completely lose interest in our art projects. we were supposed to make spiders, and they decided that it was more fun to throw the spiders at each other than to try to stick legs on them. anyway. i was telling some of them to sit down, and one of my students piped up, "okaaaayyyyy, sit down! now! 1. 2. 3..." i stood there in shock for a moment, because she sounded just like me! she imitated not only my voice and expression, but also my posture. huh?
when i was a little girl, my mom used to tell me that she felt like a broken record, telling my brothers and me the same thing day after day after day. i've noticed that being a teacher is not unlike being a mother in this regard. you say a lot of the same things over and over. so i've compiled a list of my most used phrases, in no particular order. i probably say each of these things about 50-100 times a week.
1. ethan...! sit properly!
2. OKAAAYYYYY everybody quiet down!
3. weber, stand up.
4. line up.
5. ethan, shhhhhh.
6. you're a (something)... (after someone has told either one of us an idea is stupid/nonsensical/moronic/illogical, chad and i just say this in response. it drives chris crazy. perhaps that's why we do it)
7. are you ready?!
8. no chinese.
9. wayne/max/andy, stop talking!
10. 1, 2, 3...
and of course
ETHAN!!!
or so the saying goes.
this week, i realized something when a student decided to imitate me in class. it was rather harmless, since she is 3 years old. it was in the middle of my art class, when some of my students were getting a little unruly. it doesn't take much for them to completely lose interest in our art projects. we were supposed to make spiders, and they decided that it was more fun to throw the spiders at each other than to try to stick legs on them. anyway. i was telling some of them to sit down, and one of my students piped up, "okaaaayyyyy, sit down! now! 1. 2. 3..." i stood there in shock for a moment, because she sounded just like me! she imitated not only my voice and expression, but also my posture. huh?
when i was a little girl, my mom used to tell me that she felt like a broken record, telling my brothers and me the same thing day after day after day. i've noticed that being a teacher is not unlike being a mother in this regard. you say a lot of the same things over and over. so i've compiled a list of my most used phrases, in no particular order. i probably say each of these things about 50-100 times a week.
1. ethan...! sit properly!
2. OKAAAYYYYY everybody quiet down!
3. weber, stand up.
4. line up.
5. ethan, shhhhhh.
6. you're a (something)... (after someone has told either one of us an idea is stupid/nonsensical/moronic/illogical, chad and i just say this in response. it drives chris crazy. perhaps that's why we do it)
7. are you ready?!
8. no chinese.
9. wayne/max/andy, stop talking!
10. 1, 2, 3...
and of course
ETHAN!!!
Monday, October 01, 2007
sometimes (and by that i mean often), i do nonsensical things
like today. i ran 5 miles when i got home from chinese class. this is probably because i wanted to demonstrate at least minimal control over my own life. if i can't control the fact that i still have a meeting tomorrow, i'm not getting paid for another 10 days, i have a chinese test in a week, the clothes i washed 36 hours ago still aren't dry, and my children still don't understand what a yellow (or red) line means, i can at least force myself into shape.
...right?
runs are also the times when i have epiphanies about what i'm doing and why, and when i find a renewed sense of purpose in my life. who knew? today's grand realization was that i need to make myself more lists.
...right?
runs are also the times when i have epiphanies about what i'm doing and why, and when i find a renewed sense of purpose in my life. who knew? today's grand realization was that i need to make myself more lists.
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