Saturday, May 5, 2012

Potty Humor

On a sunny Saturday, all I can say is please enjoy some random photos from bathroom stalls. In no other country have I seen as many weird signs in bathrooms as in Taiwan. This deserves to be noted - celebrated, even.


Why would you throw a hot dog into the toilet?

Purple - OK. Maybe you ate too much red dragonfruit. The grayish color could be baby poop. But if your poo is bright orange or red, shouldn't you see a doctor?

Thursday, May 3, 2012

The Best I Can

from here
Those of you who are my friends on Facebook know that I'm currently trying my hand at a windowsill potted herb garden. I bought two kinds of thyme, rosemary, basil, sage, two kinds of mint, catnip, a raspberry bush, bergamot, tea tree, verbena, chamomile, two kinds of lavender and oregano. This in addition to the plants already out there: two orchids, a huge bougainvillea, a small poinsettia and two plants I can't identify that the former tenant left us along with aforementioned bougainvillea.

I'm not much of a gardener, but I try to check them every day and add a bit of water whenever the soil looks too dry or they look a bit wilted, and am cautiously beginning the task of learning how to add fertilizer - which kinds, how much and how often. I'm not very good at it, but generally speaking, I've been able to keep my plants more or less alive. I figured it would be like expat life - a bit shaky at first, a few brown leaves and wilted stems here and there. Then it would get a little easier and require less watchfulness. Then a bit easier after that, and then something approximating normal and natural. Living in Taiwan has become like that. Most things do. Gardening should follow that paradigm too, no?

Not many of you know that my mother is an excellent gardener. Growing up we always had fresh produce mixed among the staples from the grocery store, herbs growing like weeds, profusions of flowers and a landscaped front and side garden. Lilacs would perfume the breeze blowing into the kitchen window. I loved it, even as I chided my mother for doing things like running outside in a rainstorm brandishing a knife because "I need to get a squash for dinner!" I felt, growing up, that all she had to do was look at those plants and they'd just sprout for her, like fecund, green little servants. She knew exactly how much and how often to water them and while she had failures, she had enough successes that we didn't notice.

But all of you do know that we're currently dealing with a serious family illness, and now I feel I can say that the illness we're facing is my mother's. I'm going to reveal a bit here, not because I'm generally in the habit of talking about family illnesses but for two other reasons: first, it will help you better understand what I'm going to write below; and second, this might be useful for anyone reading who is dealing with the reality of living on the other side of the globe while a close family member faces illness, and the reality of how to approach expat life in such a situation.

So, basically, my mother has cancer, it's not the kind you can "cure", it's metastasized, and while chemo is working for now, eventually all cancers become immune to any available chemo drug after it's been used long enough on the patient. She's healthy now, and things are basically OK...for now...but as you can probably extrapolate from the above information, it's not going to be OK forever, and not even necessarily for very long. The only bright side is that it's not one of those "you have six months" types of cancer.

While, of course, my mother's health is first priority, it does raise the question of what we should do.

My sister has a cram school job that she doesn't even like and a pre-furnished apartment - although she adores Taiwan - and she's 25. So, when she's ready, she can chuck the job and move back home without any major or long-term life consequences. My career is here, my cat is here, my entire social life (except for a smallish group of good friends in DC, New York and Boston whom I've hung on to) is here, my wage earning potential and strongest employability is, if not here, then in a country where English is not the native language. I'm thinking of this also in terms of disposable income. I could possibly find work in the USA, but would have significantly less to spend after taking care of the essentials, and disposable income is, honestly, a very useful thing to have when dealing with a family illness and the reality of visiting often.

After a long conversation with my parents - perfectly ready for my mom to say "please come home as soon as you can", and perfectly ready to act on that, because she's my mom and we're now talking years, not decades - we all agreed that for now, we'd stay.

I would not have made this decision without the blessing of my family. I simply would not have. I could not have, as much as I really do want to stay in Taipei. As much as it's my home - really my home. As in a home I like rather than merely tolerate as so many expats seem to. This is the only thing that keeps me from leaping into a pit of "Jenna, you are so selfish". We all agree that this is what's right for my and Brendan's lives and careers, and that visiting every six months, especially for the holidays, is an acceptable solution for now. This is why disposable income is so important: we can afford it. This is why tending to your career is important: I have the flexibility to do this.

And having most of your social network around you is important, too: I know my friends back home would be there when I needed them. My direct experience, though, has been here: and as upset as I have been these past few weeks, I can say that people have come through. All I've really needed recently is a few sympathetic ears (talking about it helps - this is what I learned from the last time we went through this and I was more secretive, and it affected my physical health), and I've gotten them. A friend cut out of work for a few hours to keep me company the day after I found out (I thought I'd be OK, so I hadn't asked my husband to take off work). Another friend, who is generally a difficult fellow in other respects, came through for me in the evening when I still needed company. A few friends have told me their own stories of family illness, reminding me that as horrible as I feel right now - as much as I fight back tears and my stomach sinks when I think of the future - that everyone has a sad story to tell. Nobody gets a perfectly green garden under a perfectly blue sky.

We also agree that the time will come when something may have to change. I don't fear this in terms of the changes it will bring to where I live and what I do (although I can't lie: those worry me too), but more in terms of knowing that when that time comes, it will be near the end. It fills me with tears, weeks after hearing the first bit of bad news, to think that I might reach that time, look back, and regret the decision we've made now. Will "every six months" seem like it was enough? Probably not.

All I can say is that we're making the best decision we can now, for the situation we're in now, and as much as I might regret it, I will at least have this. I'm doing the best I can.

I used to think of the Pacific Ocean as an annoyingly wide but otherwise surmountable thing. Now I think of it as a deep, unending pit of separation. And yet, I'm doing the best I can.

Students and local acquaintances tell me how great it is that I live here, and have this idea that expat life is this magical thing in which all foreigners are rich and happy and having adventures and have better lives. I say nothing, but there's tension right between my shoulder blades. Do they know the price I'm paying to stay? No, because I've chosen not to tell them. But it is a hefty price, and it sits right there in that knot below my neck. The one that hasn't gone away since all this started. And still, I'm doing the best I can.

I'm jealous of my sister - she can chuck it all and move back home. I can't do it nearly as easily and I'd suffer real consequences.

She's jealous of me because she can't afford to go home every six months, nor does she have the job flexibility. She doesn't have the luxury of choosing to stay. Choosing it, for her, brings consequences I can somewhat avoid.

Today dawned cool and lightly overcast - not the interminable dark gray of winter but a lighter, cleaner grayish blue. It was almost welcome after two days of sweating under a hot blue dome. I parted the sheer blue curtains on our living room window to see how my herb garden was holding up.

Well, it wasn't. My tea tree and bergamot are basically withered stalks (although the tea tree has some straggly hope). My raspberry bush and oregano have noticeably dead brown spots. My thyme is completely gone - this surprised me: isn't thyme a Mediterranean plant? Can it not survive heat spells? The other plants are dangerously wilted. Even the mint was very unhappy - I thought you had to basically actively kill mint to get it to die - what gives? My basil looked sad.  The sage was floppy and hanging off the edge of the pot rather than standing up straight. The chamomile is half gone, not looking like anything I want to harvest for cooking. Only the rosemary, orchids and lavender (surprisingly) are soldiering on, and one of the lavenders isn't quite happy.

I gave the whole lot a good watering, and I see some improvement, but all in all I'm worried. Will my plants make it? Will I be able to continue making pastas, drinks, sauteed meat dishes and stews with my own fresh harvest? I'm doing my best, but will my best efforts pay off?

Was I ever guaranteed a happy ending in which all my plants were luscious and green, and Taipei was eternally a great place to live, without having to worry about life back home? Could I ever really have counted on a green life under a blue sky - no brown spots, no bits that didn't quite work out, no issues that could not be resolved satisfactorily despite my best efforts? Did I really think I could do my best and that it would pay off, always, every time?

Finally, what makes me sad as I survey the blasted heath that is my window garden, is that I know deep down I started it in part because it's something my mother would do - not that she'd ever live in the middle of a big city as I so enjoy doing - but that she finds a way to grow plants wherever she is. She'd have the ability to make those plants thrive. I think I was hoping against all rational hope that I'd cultivate that ability too: a little piece of my mother in Taipei that lives on in the green thumb I am determined to inherit, whether it is my rightful legacy or not.

It really saddens me that, so far, I'm failing.

And yet I will continue to water my plants and hope hope hope - because I do not pray - because I'm doing the best I can.

Updated Post: Indian Food in Taipei

I've done another update of my post on Indian food in Taipei - go have a look. Three more restaurants listed - three I've actually eaten at and I haven't

New listings are for Bollywood Indian Pizza, Halal Indian Restaurant and Mayur Indian Kitchen.

Updates on Exotic Masala House (closed) and Out of India (open but in danger of closing).

To my frequent commenter Nick - sorry I didn't get back to you in time. I would have liked to have met up and tried Halal Indian Restaurant together. Your comment came just as I was finding out about my family illness issue, so I was kind of preoccupied. I apologize!

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

You Stay Foolish, We Stay Hungry



So I had a day off yesterday - even though "teachers" usually don't get the day off (apparently they're not "labor", nor is anyone who works for the government, a distinction that I find ridiculous), I did because most of my students are corporate clients. If they have the day off, so do I. So, yay for that.

I spent the morning roaming the demonstrations taking place at CKS Memorial Hall, as well as a smaller one over by Taipei Guest House (台北賓館) and took a few photos. I didn't stay long at CKS, though, because my friend Cathy and I were starving and wanted to get lunch. We spent more time at the smaller demonstration, as it was organized by her teacher.

One good thing about being a part of a smaller protest - it's easier to get quoted in the paper. And I did!



Yes, that's a quote of me speaking Chinese (they cleaned it up a little I think, I don't remember exactly). It wasn't translated. So clearly my speaking ability far exceeds my handwriting ability. It sounds more like I'm complaining about my own work hours and salary than I'd intended, at least if it's not read carefully, but that's more on me than anyone.
I really was there for my friends, students and acquaintances. My salary's pretty darn good. My working hours, though hectic at times, are acceptable (and if they're not I have the power to do something about it). I am free to take long vacations if I wish. But I know so many people in Taiwan who work themselves to exhaustion - 7am to 11pm, meeting rehearsals before meetings, regular Saturdays, months and months without a weekend off (sales reps have that problem), and they're expected to be enthusiastic and energetic about it, to even agree that it's necessary, to never complain, and to continue delivering at peak performance. "We have to," they often say. "It's not fair, but that's my workload."

And what do they get for this? Salaries that have not kept up with inflation. Salaries that won't allow even white collar workers to buy homes in Taipei City. Salaries that I, personally, would laugh at if offered for the amount of work expected to bring them in. You want me to work how many hours a week, for NT $40,000-$50,000 per month? Enough to live an OK but not extravagant life? And that's considered a good salary for someone with experience? You want me to break my back for that? And to like it (or at least put on a reasonably convincing show of it)? You offer me that, and you can take your job and stuff it.

I feel I can say this because I'm not trapped in that grind. I hear this sentiment a lot among my students, and yet it's always followed up by some super humble comment about how it "has" to be done, it's "important", it "can't be avoided", and how they still want to do the best for their company. Which I'm sure they do, but deep down I think they're afraid that if they don't tack these things onto the end that I'll go tell their bosses. I won't.

Anyway.

A few photos:

This is more for my students than myself.

I don't know what she was protesting about - something about Buddhism, and doomsday, and Taiwan...it didn't really make sense. 

My friend's protest signs for Ma's "Facebook page"

This game was supposed to symbolize the wealthy keeping money and resources from the poor, but hitting them with longer work hours

People wrote all sorts of things on this huge poster of Ma's Facebook page. If you can read Chinese you'll be amused by some of them.

過勞死 and 財神請道我的家門口 are mine (yes, I know I wrote 財 wrong). I did not write the paper in English.

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Love in the Butt

So, just a quickie - does anyone else think that this movie poster really, really, REALLY needs a better typeface?


Because I dunno about you, but I think this looks like "Love in the Butt".

But apparently not.

And I love how pretty much every single person who sees this poster for the first time misreads it. 

Clearly some graphic designer should be praying that he doesn't lose his job (although if it brings us more of these wonderful mess-ups, I say promote that person).

Thursday, April 26, 2012

Ten Random Things I *Heart*: Reason #26 to Love Taiwan

Also, pets in coffeeshops.
                           
Continuing my weird love letter to Taiwan, here is a set of ten things I absolutely love about living in Taiwan - as random (and seemingly annoying, at times) as they are. I'm not going to write about the obvious things, like great hiking, ridiculously beautiful mountain vistas, temple festivals, stinky tofu or friendly people, although those things are all great. I'm trying for something more random - although some entries are obvious, if not obvious reasons to love this country.

With that, please enjoy:

1.) Beer: Anywhere, Anytime


Seriously, you wanna hang out in a manhole and drink beer? GO FOR IT. You can also drink beer in your apartment building's main doorway, at temple festivals, in a temple (just try sneaking a Pilsner into church. I dare you), walking down the street, in many movie theaters (and you can sneak it into ones that don't sell it outside without a problem), in the park with old guys, while rowing a dragon boat. Once, we got beer for free on Donggang, because we wanted to buy some on the street to walk around while the boat burning was starting up. The vendor was so pleased that there were enthusiastic foreigners that the beer was free - I guess he was doing his part to thank the Thousand Years Grandfather, or 千歲爺, for another year of good luck. Whatevs, man. Cheers.

2.) Sleeping Guys in Office Clothes


I know, I'm a total meanie for snapping this picture and putting it on Facebook with the caption "every Taiwanese coffeeshop needs a Sleeping Guy in Office Clothes - it's part of the 風水 (feng shui)". Seriously, I think coffeeshops hire feng shui masters to carefully calibrate the flow of qi through their establishments and then hire a Sleeping Guy in Office Clothes to sleep in an auspiciously-oriented position so as to help control or manipulate the qi for profit, success and customer comfort. That is pretty much the only explanation for why every single coffeeshop in Taiwan, from Starbucks to Dante to Ikari to  more local places has a Sleeping Guy in Office Clothes during all business hours. I'd say I was joking, but peek in next time you walk past a coffeeshop. You'll see that it's basically always true. I love this. And it's not the only place where people sleep.

3.) Ultimate Convenience

Imagine it: it's 3am. You're awake for some reason. You really need whiteboard markers, a bottle of whiskey, disposable underwear, a poncho, 45 AAA batteries, microwave dumplings, six cans of Red Bull, bleach, K-Y jelly, three decks of playing cards, lip gloss, a road atlas, a box cutter or two, a Hello Kitty charm, some Lindt chocolate, a pre-fab apartment rental contract, access to a copy machine, a place to pay your gas bill and bullet train tickets, and you need this stuff like right now. Nevermind why you might need all this stuff - you just do, and you have five minutes. 

Well, you've come to the right country.

In the USA this might sound like a frat house hazing ritual in which you speed to the nearest 24-hour Walmart and run around like a crazyperson before the brothers whip you for failing, but in Taiwan this is a perfectly doable list: you can have all that stuff in a matter of minutes at any time of day or night, and you can usually walk to a place where it's all sold.

Seriously - I know "it's really convenient" and "there are a lot of convenience stores" are easy things to say about Taiwan, but seriously. In Shilin, there's an intersection where, from one 7-11, you can look across the street directly into the storefront of another 7-11. There is a crosswalk connecting them. Around the corner is a 3rd 7-11 and one of the three is next to a Family Mart. It's insane. Near me, there are two 7-11s and a Family Mart within a 2-minute walk, and that 2 minutes includes the time it takes to get out of my building. Sometimes I want a Sam Adams and think to myself, "eh, but the 7-11 that stocks Sam Adams is across the street. It's so inconvenient to have to cross the street! If I stay on this side of the street I can go to the 7-11 that has Asahi Dry." Once, I bought myself a bottle of plum wine (also sold at the 7-11 near me!) and six bags of M&M's to make cookies...and I didn't even worry that the cashier might think I'm weird.

Because clearly I've been here too long.

4.) Ridiculous Dogs

This one is best captured in photos:



This one's my buddy 胖胖 who lives nearby. Don't make fun.

5.) Crazy Things People Say To Other People

And I don't just mean the insane things that locals say to foreigners (although that can get pretty crazy, too). Even things locals say to other locals.

I have a student who is a doctor, and she works with a lot of elderly patients. This particular student is in her late 40s or so, and is married but has chosen not to have children. An example of a conversation (translated into English for you) that she might have with one of the old folks she works with goes thusly:

"Doctor, are you married?"
"I am."
"How many kids do you have?"
"I don't have kids."
"Why? Are you infertile?"
"Uhhh..."
"Oh, I know. Your husband shoots blanks, doesn't he. That's too bad."
"Uhhh..."

6.) Designers of Packaging for Consumer Goods Who Have NO IDEA

Again, I'll express this one in photos for you:
WOW! Frog eggs!

Taken by a friend




My Nuts: a timeless classic

I also want to put up a picture of "American Style 6 Hot Dogs in a Jar" but I can't quite find it (it's a friend's photo).


7.) Random Beautiful Things


You know, you're walking through a Taiwan cityscape, one that's maybe more ugly concrete than usual, or is all motorcycle repair shops and betel nut stands (although betel nut stands have an amazingness of their own), and you look down, or look more closely at something, and see a little bit of beauty amid all that gray:




This is why I just can't get behind the notion that Taiwan is all that ugly, even in cities. It has its bad points - there's a lot I'd like to see torn down - but it has its little points of beauty, too. Most major cities do, but some more than others. I'd say that at street level Taipei is one of the more vibrant cities I've visited.

8.) Signs! Signs Everywhere!

Because everyone loves coffee that tastes of coal.

Well, it makes sense...

This is an eyeglass shop. My husband's glasses came from C*NT. Really.

This company has apparently changed its name. I haven't seen this sign in awhile - it changed on the original establishment where I spied it. Too bad.

Oh good. I wanted some pot plants.




Oh no! You killed Grandma!

I'm a monkey. Please throw bricks on my head. Yay!


9.) The Amazingness of Consumer Goods


From here - go visit



I actually have one of these - I just ganked a photo from the Internet because it's a pain to get out my digital camera and impossible to take a photo of my iPhone in its GameBoy case with my iPhone. You know, because of Physics or something.

These are available outside Taiwan, but I do think their availability in night markets says something about the ridiculous and varied consumer items one can find here. Here is another thing I own, thanks to Taiwan:



Yes, this is a lighter shaped like a crab claw, with the flame coming out when you open it. It used to spit out a much bigger flame - can't say much for the quality of this thing!

I mean it, though - from giant chicken head masks (which I have seen) to bright pink fuzzy pencil cases (bought one for my sister) to glitter pants to lobster lighters, the stuff you can buy in this country never ceases to amaze me.

10.) The Willingness of People to Laugh at Themselves

I don't mean this in a bad or insulting way - I mean a certain willingness in Taiwan to self-deprecate a bit. In China, I felt that if you dared to make fun of anything about China, even in jest, and even in that "we laugh about it because we actually love it" sort of way, you're met with silence: either non-comprehension ("why would you make fun of something you actually like?") or offense ("you disrespect China!!!!"). At best people just don't seem to get what's so funny about, well, any given hilarious thing about their country - and every country has hilarious things. It's a little sad to pretend that your country is to be taken 100% seriously. I felt that "don't laugh at us!" attitude in China, and I also come across it too often in the USA - although these days I look at the USA, especially the political realm, and I just feel sad.

What I love about Taiwan - and also India - is an innate sense of humor about themselves. You can imitate an obasan, make a joke about Kaoliang or 藍白脫 (the iconic blue-and-white plastic sandals you see everywhere) or make a humorous observation about culturally-learned behavior, and people will laugh - really laugh, not a fake "I think this is meant to be funny" laugh - rather than stare at you like a weirdo or offensive foreigner who Just Does Not Understand Our Culture. I appreciate that. It keeps things light.