my own private typhoon day

Today was supposed to be a typhoon day. A typhoon day, FYI, is a day when the government decrees that everything shuts down because of a typhoon. Like a snow day back home, or a, um, tornado day, say, down south. I guess. I mean, I don't know what they pause for down there.

Anyway, everyone was watching it with anticipation. Who doesn't like a day off? Angry, crazy sadists, that's who. I mean, we only get paid for one hour (paid to stay home? Rock!!), but you don't have to go out in this shit.

And do I mean shit. This is my first typhoon (update: someone reading the newspaper behind me said that it had been downgraded to a tropical storm. She also said that there had been an increase in the price of vegetables [DAMN YOU STORM], and that according to the Chinese prediction chart, it was a good day for nothing, and a bad day for auspicious events. Today can eat a dick.), and so this kind of weather is new to me. Wave upon wave of pounding rain and high winds make you groan at even the thought of leaving your abode. Well, at least the rain is warm. Biking in it is still more pleasant that biking through the cold rain of Ottawa.

Realistically, this is more just complaining than anything. I've walked through a -40 degree blizzard to work when I lived in Ottawa, and I endured many Saskatchewan deep freezes. As my level-headed brother said of (slightly more pleasant) weather like this: "It's only water."

UPDATE: It's been raining for TWENTY-FOUR HOURS, and it continues. And the winds are more than I've ever encountered in Canada. Whoo!

BKP101: my introduction to backpacking

While I was visiting my brother in Australia, we elected to spend our nights in hostels, the crash hut of the backpacker. My brother is an old hand at this by now, having stayed in hostels in over a dozen countries (traipsing Europe will get you that kind of record). For me, I was a hosteling virgin* - even my parents had stayed in a hostel before I had (when they visited my brother) - so this was a new venture for me, one that I planned to take into account, as I wanted to use this new-found knowledge on my own adventures on the road.

Two weeks was a good learning period. I had a variety of experiences, some falling into the yay category, some falling hard into booland. I met people who were hosteling for the weekend, some who had been doing it for a long, long time (one girl I met had been traveling and working for two-and-a-half years!), newbies, student travelers, and grizzled hostelers like my brother, and everyone had their tale. We stayed in four-person rooms, six-person rooms, a giant tent known as the Pentagon (which we later found out was a girls dorm, but there were no girls in it when we were in it**), my brother's temporary apartment, and, one very late night, a motel room. We roomed with girls, boys, and a mix. I always took the top bunk.

And I got a bit of a cross-section of backpacking. Not everything, but that just leaves more for me later. I did have things stolen, like everyone experiences - a bowl and spoon at the Arts Factory, my shoes (in a hallway full of shoes much less old and smelly and used and dirty than my, but everyone's got their fetish). We left some beer at one hostel by accident. We almost didn't find a hostel in one city due to a huge rugby match in town that weekend (England-Australia, and England had won the last time they had met in the World Cup. Australia kicked England around the field.) I found out how little privacy there is in a hostel. The hostels we stayed in were mid- to large-sized, and usually had a fair number of people in them, so I didn't get the experience of an empty or near-empty hostel, or a small hostel consisting of a few people. I also managed to miss the slobbering drunk stumbling into my room in the middle of the night (though we had one in the next room one night), the guy who brings the girl back to his room and is thusly loathed by his roommate, the mean-spirited, completely ruthless, and/or lazy and spiteful and hateful hostel manager, and the early-rising jerks who pack and talk as loud as possible, though my brother had had enough of these to provide me with stories. Other things I learned: carry your own padlock, your own utensils are nice, pasta is the backpacker's best friend, and, true to life everywhere else in the world, there are people who won't do their dishes.

Probably the biggest complaint I had was not with backpacking itself - I can't wait to do it - but with the lifestyle adopted by some. It's really the same complaint I can have anywhere - people drinking away their money - but it really irked me here. The case that particularly was a couple of people who told my brother and I that they wished they could go out and take surfing lessons like we were doing one morning, when they had spent twice the amount the lessons cost the night before on a booze cruise and various bars.

I'm not on a drinking is a waste frenzy - hell, that was what I did my first night in on four hours sleep, after six hour drive and a dinner of chips and pop), but in my opinion, when you're in a place that you're only going to be in for so long (and their time was fast approaching), I would think that you'd try to get a few unique things in, like learning to surf in Australia, over getting drunk. Maybe that's just my compulsive personality speaking. Anyway, nothing like learning to surf in a place called Surfer's Paradise. From a man who has infinite patience, and was also #13 on the world circuit at one point! If you're ever in Surfer's, check out Godfathers of the Ocean. I also recommend Aquarius Backpackers Hostel.

One thing my brother brought up to me that is definitely worth mentioning, however, is the very nature of backpacking and the toll it takes. You essentially find yourself finding a new home every couple of day, or every week, or every two weeks at the longest, and it wears a person down. You need rejuvination, you need the comfort of others, sometimes you just need to relax. I'm actually a little apprehensive of burnout in this manner, but I'm sure I'll adjust. I hope.

Time will tell.

*Not 100% true, I did stay in a hostel when I went to Taroko Gorge here in Taiwan. The double room turned out to be a double bed.

**OK, so we got in to the dorm and were setting up for bed when a strange girl came in and told us to watch out for a strange girl who had been stayin' without payin', then was caught looking through other peoples' packs. Who should show up not fifteen minutes later? You guessed it. She was last seen talking to security - no problem. Well, until 6 a.m. the next morning when Chad wakes up, sees her sleeping between two matresses, and asks her where her stuff is. She holds up her purse and says she travels light. Uh huh. Off to security, who chase her out again. We got a small reputation the first night as "The Guys in the Pentagon", plus we told the Story of the Strange Girl to a few people. Celebrity!

blood, sweat, and film

So, the eater of time lately has been getting these damn pictures up. Naming, organizing, sorting, deciding, sizing, posting, and captioning has occupied way too much of my time as of late, but it's finally done. Well, the online version, anyway. This is only a small slice of what I saw, but I want to share it with you just the same. There's even two albums for your perusal and enjoyment - Australia, general and a specific one for Fraser Island. Yeah, it was that amazing. Go ahead, slack off work and take a peek. They're worth it.

This should mean a pick up in posts. Cross your fingers, and keep checking back. I'll try. I promise. Not a bad boyfriend promise, for real this time.

UPDATE: Links fixed. Thanks.

time tables turning

Now, I will first issue a disclaimer that this has been both a more social and work-intensive week, what with these pictures taking up crazy amounts of time, hanging out with good friends, my roommate's birthday, and seeing a friend whom I haven't seen in many weeks, but I have not gotten to bed before four-thirty a.m. in six nights*. Granted, I've slept past 11:30 a.m. three of those following mornings**, but I've also gone to Chinese class once for two hours in the morning and I have a staff meeting tomorrow morning. But the thing is, I can do it here, and get away with it.

Can you imagine a schedule like this? I couldn't, back home. Hell, I could could the number of times I stayed up past three a.m. in the year before I left on two hands in the year before I left. I've seen more sunrises here in the past seven months than I have in my entire life. I still don't know whether to greet that fact with joy, disbelief, or a simple tired smirk.

It'll be hard to readjust, I can tell you that.

*Three of which were spent drinking, including tonight.

**No hangovers!

making fun of children

At this morning's staff meeting.

K: You can even make colouring educational by getting the kids to ask for the colour by name, getting them to repeat it after you at first. I mean, everyone sees that you skip over the kid who couldn't say it, and give a crayon to the kid who could. They'll start whispering (albeit in Chinese), but you know they're asking how to say it, what to say. They want that crayon.

Me: (giggling) I can just see this kid bouncing in his chair. "I'll say anything you damn well want, just give me my CRAYON. I need my fix, man. Come on, what do you want? Religion is the opium of the masses? Any excuse will serve a tyrant? What will it take?

late night scratchpad

For my last post, I was going to have something in about the Borg, but elected against it. However, my interweb searchery yielded its usual twisted contents tonight:

I love the sample given for the #3 result when I went searching for borg quotes. "Discuss how you feel about the Borg at my Star Trek Fans Forum." Thanks, that won't label me, ohnonononononotatall. Of course, I am the one looking for borg quotes. The best, though, is Resistance is Futile. You Will be Assimilated, which pulls together a summary of the borg, current technology, the antichrist, and has a picture of a baby in a woman's uterus (not a real picture). The internet: six degrees no longer pertains.

I'd've called them chazzwazzlers (note, the title would've been even funnier if explosion was pluralized). Funny story, my brother was watching a nature show in Australia with some friends, and it started talking about bullfrogs. How can you not utter that phrase in a situation like that? Unfortunately, it was LOST on the audience, them having not seen that particular Simpsons episode before. In Australia. Where they have more episodes of Simpsons on per day than interesting tourist things in Canberra (I think it's around six. Either one doesn't really matter.)

And to finish with down/up combo, Vivendi is closing Sierra. Many childhood hours of mine were spend police- or space- or king's-questing. You will be missed.

However, robot insurance! (courtesy LYD

when you're down

"You know," a friend told me the other day, "hospitals are quite different here."

And so they are. When you go into the hospital here, all you get from the nurses are needles and drugs. There is no such thing as hospital meals in Taiwan. There is no button for you to push when you need to be turned or go to the bathroom or be turned or anything.

Harsh? Not really, as those are all things that your family do. In keeping with the Chinese tradition of taking care of your own, the family take care of all of your needs while you are in the hospital. They bring you your meals, stay by your side, take you to the bathroom if you need it, fluff your pillow, and do everything except give you needles and/or drugs.

Sometimes, you the effect of family here almost seems excessive, coming from a society where one is not seen as an adult until they detach themselves from their family (OK, that view is held here too) and once that detachment is in place, it becomes an impenetrable, unrepairable barrier (that isn't the case here). I've seen entire families go on vacation (i.e. seven or eight people, possibly more. There were so many people running around at the airport, I could tell that there were a small number of parties, but not how many were in each party) and people cancel late-night plans with friends because they had plans with family the next day. Say what you want about the westernization of values and morals here, but family still holds a lot of sway here.

Anyway, as a foreigner, it makes you feel kind of alone. If you happen to be down and out enough to find yourself in the hospital, you are totally dependent on your friends, and really, who wants to bring a friend meals two or three times a day, day after day? I would, but I can tell you, it would get pretty boring unless they were pretty damn entertaining (said friend who brought this up has a sufficient level of entertainment-ness, so it would be cool). And I just think back to my momentary thought at getting surgery for my collarbone. Sure, I wouldn't have this model of the Juan de Fuca plate on my shoulder, but I'd be working hard all the time on new material.

Friend: Hey, Ryan, look at what I have! Now, make with the funny.
Me: So the nurse today...
Friend: Ah, man, the nurse again? Is that all you've got? You'd better have backup material, or else all you're gettin' is kimchee.

Hospital life ain't easy, folks. Ew, kimchee.

sydney - not just the canadian home of the cossit house museum

Well, the dust is finally settling and I'm finally getting things back under control here in Taiwan. Settling dust, you say? Under control, you ask? You know, you ask a lot of questions.

Yes, that's right. In case you had been so bored to tears that you simply stopped reading and have come back to give me one last chance (thanks!), I was recently down on the other side of the equator, visiting my brother in Australia, who is there for an indeterminate amount of time working and traveling. He had, in fact, been in Australia, specifically Sydney for three months, and was coincidentally ready to start moving around again with my arrival in town. He was, to be truthful, the reason I decided on Australia for my summer vacation from the nagging nattering SCREAMING children that antagonize me every day (just kidding, I dearly love every one of my students). There are any number of amazing places to see around here, but having a guide who knows the ropes and has transportation is a huge asset anywhere, especially in Australia. It had also been quite some time since I had seen my brother, so I was understandably excited to go.

We didn't really have a set plan for my time down there, and in fact, the plan changed almost daily.

The first day, we did make it down to Canberra, the country's capital, for an amazing view of ABSOLUTELY NOTHING, as everything closed about fifteen minutes before we got there. And it was cloudy. Well, actually, it was still interesting to see the capital building, and we got some pictures of a fountain.

And then, that night, we got thrown out of a bar! Yes, that's right, quiet little me was simply minding my own drunken business, yelling things at my brother (but yelling helpful, encouraging comments, you can be sure of that). The funny thing was, even though I was the yelly one, he was the first one dragged out in a headlock. Funny, that. Then I was too. Eh, the bar was expensive and the hip hop downstairs was TERRIBLE and they had been known to throw out stone-cold sober people, so no biggie.

The next day, my brother showed me a bit of the town which he had called home for three months. We saw the Sydney Tower (from far away), the Australian Mint (the Mint! Many of you know my OBSESSION with The Royal Canadian Mint. Unfortunately, this one was closed that day, my only chance to see it, but I still felt tingly being that close to it), the Botanical Gardens (close up), the Harbour Bridge and Sydney Opera house (from far away AND close up), Hyde Park (though this wasn't really until the next day, it just fits well here, like an old smelly shoe THAT SOMEONE STOLE FROM ME. More on that later), a gelato shop (believe me, it's worth listing, especially after a six month dearth of gelato in Taiwan), and some other fun things. Probably.

I also saw his Capoeira class, which is a Brazilian type of martial art/dance thing/acrobat/game/breakdancing kind of thing. Seriously, it's pretty cool, and quite physically challenging - I almost broke a sweat watching. Good thing I'm in good watching shape. If you want to learn more, do so. Here's some Capoeira information. Then you can play this cool Capoeira game! It has the music and jumping and everything!

I also had the chance to visit some (two) authentic Australian wineries, and let me tell you, there's nothing like having a country's wine, um, in that country. True story, the wines are sometimes changed to better accommodate the market they are going to, i.e. sweetened to go to America, which is very wrong, but that's just my opinion. Though, now, I'M the one who's had Shiraz in Australia. Also, another Australian native grape known as Semillon that makes a great young wine and a divine, mature, and complex aged wine. We also so wild grey kangaroos, a first for both of us. I didn't hop in any pouches, mainly because they ran away from us, and also because they'd probably kick my ass if I got close (and they've been doing it! Have you been reading the news! Look at my exclamation points!)

And that concludes my time in Sydney. Detailed? Not as much as it could be, let me tell you! I could bore you with anecdotes and stale jokes until you cried, but I won't. Today. That's right, folks, I'm going to give you my summary in installments. Don't want it? Tough. And anyway, you, the reader a higher-value post. More of the laugh-packed, mile-a-minute action-adventure thrill ride that will knock your socks off and have you rolling on the floor! OK, maybe not. I'll let you keep your socks on.

STAYED TUNED FOR THE NEXT THRILLING EPISODE WHERE I FIND A PART OF ENGLAND IN A GROCERY STORE IN SMALL TOWN AUSTRALIA!

those kids, sometimes they know

Talking about the use of the word 'should'.

Me: OK, class, Grandma Lee buys an expensive hat that she thinks is very nice and that she likes a lot. Grandpa Lee doesn't like it. He thinks it is ugly. Grandma Lee asks him what he thinks of the hat. What should Grandpa Lee do?

Ben: (who rarely speaks in class, whose pronounciation is usually not so good, who misses most of what I say above 30 wpm) Run. He should run. Far away. And fast.

Me: (a little shocked and not really successfully holding back giggles) Uh, yeah, good Ben!

***************

Me: ...and this is my brother.

Students: EWWWWW! [hey, they're six and seven. Kissing isn't big for them yet.] Teacher is that his girlfriend?

Me: Nnnnnnnno.

(later)

Me: And this is Chad doing what we call a handstand. See how he is standing on his hands?

Students: (sniggering) Ahhh! Girlfriend! Teacher, your brother has lots of girlfriends!

Me: (chuckling) Yes. Yes, I guess he does.*

*In all fairness, every time they see a picture of a girl in my photos or a girl's name on my phone, the first question is invariably, "Teacher, that is your girlfriend?" Oh yeah kids, I'm that popular with the ladies. Today's word is booty. Heh heh.

shivering

1. The Eye. It's a Chinese horror film, and these Asian horror movies are top-rated for suspense. There's no gore at all, but they're scarier than anything I've ever seen (see also, The Ring trilogy*). One scene from this movie gave me the shivers for about two minutes straight that night, then again in the middle of the thirty-odd degree temperatures the next day, when I simply thought of the scene, and again that night as I described the movie to friends. I can feel it sitting under the surface right now as I type this. Wow. And don't tell me you can't get it - I was made aware of it by a friend back in the US. I had to download it to get the English subtitles. How much do you want to bet I'll get English subtitles on a Chinese movie in a Chinese country from a movie store/entertainment industry that already slaps Chinese subtitles on everything, including Chinese TV?

*Incidentally, I have seen the second ring movie, although with Chinese subtitles, which, with the movie being in Japanese (I got the original), didn't help that much (Ahhh, my language centre! The subtitles do nothing!). The horror and suspense made their way through, though there was only one REALLY freaking me out scene.

2. I had a dream the other night. Well, the other morning, really, as part of it, I believe, was spawned by my subconscious knowing that I was late for Chinese (I awoke five minutes before class started). However, in the dream, I was returning home to Canada after a long time away, and the two feelings I remember almost paralyzing me as I pulled into a parking lot in a snow storm in the back of a cab to meet someone were those of unpreparedness and straight-out fear. I wasn't ready to return. Everything seemed so different. People would want to hear me speak Chinese (news flash I learned in Australia - no one cares that I'm learning Chinese) and I couldn't remember anything (non-studying/late for class guilt? check.)... It was the first such dream, and I awoke with a feeling of nervousness and jitters like I have never felt before. Will going home really feel like this?

taipei

Often, when someone talks to me in Chinese, I get the little boy's look. A little understanding, but more senseless staring. Especially when that person is a green clown.

Yes, that is some kind of witch woman beside a blob creature with a mask eye and a gerbil that moves by having a tiny bird carry it. Yes, they're speaking in Japanese. Yes, those are Chinese subtitles. Now shhhh, I'm trying to follow this. Incidentally, you missed the giant baby that turned into three bouncing heads that can open doors while you were in the washroom.

This dog has terrible English. I can understand why he's 'missing'.

Taipei 101: It's Pretty Tall, I Guess, And You Can't Go In. I looked for the suggestion box for my motto, but couldn't find it. How do you suggest that someone needs a suggestion box?

'TKS' is a song by Big D and the Kids Table, meaning Those Kids Suck. Funny, as this sign was in a toy store. Well, funny to me. The Taiwanese aren't really into ska-punk. Neither, come to think of it, are most people I know. But still. Ha.

Really, either definition makes me laugh. It's either a place for cursing or a completely superfluous thing. I felt it was both, and subsequently utilized both properties (well, as much as one can utilize something useless.)

the best lesson plan i have ever heard of

Me: So, what am I going to teach you today, Sandy?
Sandy: (completely serious) Teacher, I think you should teach us how to watch TV.
Me: Watch TV, eh? Don't you already know how to do that?
Sandy: Oh no, teacher. I think it is very hard. I think we will need a lot of practice.

Related (in terms of kids). A friend was arguing with a student.

Teacher: ...that's not true. You're a liar!
Student: No, you're a liar!
Teacher: Liar!
Student: Liar!
Teacher: You lie like a rug on a floor!
Student: .....(pause).....So do you!

If that was me, I'd totally go home thinking, "Yes, I totally zinged that 12-year-old in class today." Cause with kids, you gotta take them when you can. Take no prisoners - that's the rule in my classroom.

hey, here's some stuff

Friday night. Enjoy.

1. OK, this just plain old sucks.

Bush named Iran as part of the Axis of Evil along with North Korea and Iraq almost three years ago. A US government official, speaking on condition of anonymity, said that military action would not be overt in changing Iran, but rather that the US would work to stir revolts in the country and hope to topple the current conservative religious leadership.

The official said: "If George Bush is re-elected there will be much more intervention in the internal affairs of Iran."

Holdonholdonholdonholdonwaitaminute. "Hope to topple the current conservative religious leadership"? Isn't that what the terrorists tried to do to the U.S. in 2001? Intervention in the internal affairs of another contry? *cough* anotherexampleofthehypocrisy *cough* Sorry, something caught in my democracy...er, throat.

2. Walking the talk. Just so I can find this in the future by a simple search: Jeffrey Sawyer is someone who'd I'd like to meet sometime. [via cardhouse]

3. Rock, Paper, Saddam is already like a million Internet years old, but I just saw it Wednesday night, which is only about a quarter of a million Internet years ago, so it's new to me. One of those timeless favourites, like glam rock or yelling at people or Urkel-O's.

4. It's the children, for Christ's sake!

5. I don't know if I've mentioned it before, but you should really check out 3hive.com. It's like that friend that you have (I have two or three of these friends) who always seem to know some hip new band, and they've got every genre covered, unless you're really, really out there.

6. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Ok, this is just getting out of control. 'Night, folks.

i iddn't do it, i sewar

From: "Teresa Michel"
Subject: rboert said you sotle my wtach

Sincreely,
Ryan

australia, the continuing saga

At the end of the previous episode, I left you with the unexciting cliffhanger of leaving Sydney. Well, uh, we did, finding out along the way that, according to local signage, Aged Pedestrians Taste Better. Who knew, eh? We spent most of the day driving and doing some brotherly bonding. Actually, seeing as we drove over 2700 kms of highway road during my time there, we had plenty of time to bond, and surprisingly (or perhaps not), we talked during most of it (well, when
I wasn't passed out in the passenger seat). That's when you know you have a good traveling companion, let me tell you.

The shining jewel in the otherwise dull crown of a day spent in transit was a stop at an absolutely lush beach called Seal Rocks, an out-of-the-way bit of sandy heaven recommended to Chad by some hippie girl in New Zealand. And let me tell you, she wasn't hepped up for this one! A beautiful secluded beach with sand that is so fine that it actually squeaks (though this occurs all over NZ and Australia, which is fantastic beyond words, let me tell you) that yielded some
excellent pictures and a great place to stretch and explore for a while. The other entertaining tale occurred upon our check-in in Byron Bay at the wonderful Arts Factory Lodge (AFL) (where Chad continues to work, relax, and generally enjoy life to this day), where we were checked into a girls' dorm that had been evacuated the night before due to some light thievery (and was therefore empty for us - damn!), and were visited by the amateur thief (who really wasn't as much a thief as someone who just wanted to stay there without paying). A
little bit of an adventure for the first night!

The AFL was one of those hostels that is so amazing that its reputation carries much further than any planned advertising campaign could carry it. There was so much to do at this place - drumming, fire-dancing, yoga, gypsy weaving, movie nights, volleyball, surfing, trapeze lessons, and more - that I sincerely regretted not being able to be there any longer. However, I had one goal on my list, and that was DIDJERIDOO. Yes, that's right folks, if you didn't already know, I am now in possession of my own, custom-made BY ME didjeridoo, and not only that, I can play it WITH circular breathing (being able to breath in my nose and out my mouth simultaneously in order to continuously play the instrument for stretches for up to...well, as long as I can keep going.)*

We spent the next two and a half days creating beautiful musical instruments and learning how to play them. Machetes, bark, wood, beeswax, sandpaper, linseed oil, blood, sweat, and tears all went into or came off of the wood/me in that time - 15 hours of work time, all counted (Chad ended up going back and spending almost double that on his, lucky bugger). Without going more into detail, suffice to say, it's beautiful and I love it. Unfortunately, it did take all of our time and energy - we were both quite dead each evening. Oh well, more
to do next time 'round. :)

For the record, there was a little grocery store we went into one day for some food, and, listed on an aisle sign, between the baked beans and the light globes, was Manchester. I didn't investigate, deciding instead to continue imagining that there was a little part of England in that aisle in a small town in Australia. That, or Michael's friend Manchester from Montreal had emigrated once again, this time to Australia, and was in fact LIVING in a GROCERY STORE. Keep the dream
alive.

The last adventure for this email is Surfer's Paradise. The best part of this place was, funny enough, the SURFING. Chad and I woke early one morning to catch a ride to get some surfing lessons - a first for both of us. We learned from a man named Munga, who was, incredibly enough, #13 at one time on the world circuit. After an hour and a half with this patient, patient man, I could catch a wave and ride it all the way in. The top of my mouth may have felt like a salt lick, the sun may have started beating down, but by God, I could ride a surfboard. And what he said was true - it really is just like standing up. No matter what age you are, I recommend trying this. There's nothing like controlling a board on a completely dynamic surface, feeling the power of waves that have been traveling for thousands of kilometres building and breaking under your feet.

The end.

STAYED TUNED FOR OUR NEXT EPISODE WHERE OUR HERO SHOWS THAT HE CAN STILL KEEP UP WITH THE KIDS, EVEN THOUGH HE IS AGING AND DORKISH.

* Just a quick lesson on the didjeridoo, for those who are interested. They are made (the REAL didjeridoos) from eucalyptus trees. They gather their hollowness from termites crawling up and eating the soft, tasty (so I would guess) insides, leaving the harder wood with a hollow center, perfect for amplifying sound.

re: the bitterness

I've been here almost eight months now (eight months? Crazy, man...), and if there's one thing that pervades the environment here, it's the bitterness.

Almost everyone just gets to a point here - everyone has a limit. It's different factors for some people, and a combination for most. Pollution, food, traffic, crowds, language barriers, cockroaches, discrimination (funny, since it goes both ways), a very small English-speaking (and sometimes very gossipy) population, the pervading argument that life here isn't 'real'.... Any way that it happens, once it strikes, it's hard to shake.

There are plenty of people afflicted with this. Out here, we just say that they're done. They stop experimenting with anything. They don't go anywhere. They constantly complain and critcize. They can even stop eating anything local - some people swear off of rice and noodles for the rest of their lives. And they're never happy. It's kind of a mixture of mild depression and culture shock, except that this usually comes after a good amount of time here. It's more like a culture rejection.

Why are they out here, then? Money. Pure and simple. They were drawn by it, and now are locked in - contracts, finishing paying loans, just want that one last vacation - and yet they resent everything that comes along with it - being here. You can't tell them to cheer up, cause they won't (that's the depression side representing itself nicely), they can't just up and leave (well, they can - companies don't usually pursue broken contracts too hard, but again, the money stops them), and there's no respite - you can't change anything here, you're the one trying to press your values on their society.

It's really sad to see someone fall into this hole, and nearly impossible to pull them out of. Discussing the effects of culture shock academically is one thing, but to see people affected by it (or to experience it first-hand) is another. And then, of course, there's reverse culture shock, which I am kind of expecting whenever I make it home. I already had a taste of it in Australia.

What makes me the saddest is when someone fresh off the boat meets one of these people and starts turning, like bad milk. I mean, it can happen - friends of friends have had nervous breakdown months after getting here and had to go home - but it's not fair to these people who have the chance to do and see and experience so much to close their minds to so much before they get to do it for themselves.

It really gives you a wee bit of insight as to why problems persist all over. Change is hard.

it's all in the words

Following a two-tiered discussion of things Saskatchewan, I was pointed to this article on the word 'bunny hug' - a Saskatchewan regionalism for what is known these days as a hoodie (which, ever since I first heard it, has sounded dirrty to me). Of course, there's the Oxford Canadian Dictionary, but there's also studies into it, posts, and (I love this) The Canadian Phrasebook, which even has a column for Saskatchewan! (Don't get me started on the confusion of moving cross country and having a case of beer change from 12 to 24. Also, calling Upper Canada 'Those Eastern bastards'? Nail on the head, folks.)

You get regionalisms wherever you go, and they're what make exploring fun. In Australia, I heard "Maccus" for McDonald's ('Let's go get some Maccus' sounded unappetizing to me), my brother was laughed at for referring to a roundabout as a traffic circle, and when talking with one American, heard her refer to the time as a 'quarter past' (agreed to by the other American), not the 'quarter after' which the Irish and Canadians in the rooms used. Here, we have fun discoveries of other peoples' speech quirks, having and Irish girls, numerous Canadian guys, and an American manager, the least of which is soda vs. pop (since the Canadians rule the school, pop is the more popular). A 'gong show' is a really crazy night out in Kaohsiung (I don't even know if it's left the city).I've heard it used before, but never with the frequency I hear it here.

I know that there's plenty of regionalisms (I'd love to hear them if you know any, they're always fun!), but do you have any that are really regionalized? Saskatchewan is a province of less than a million, and yet every Saskatchewanite seems to know what a bunny hug is, no matter where you go (believe me).

homewreckers

I'm sitting watching 13 Going on 30 (Hong Kong copy purchased by roommate, aiding in the growth of piracy - it's pretty bad, though if you like 80s stuff (you know who you are), you may enjoy it), and it suddenly struck me on a trip to the kitchen - many Hollywood movies are terrible relationship icons. There are so many movies that give the impression of 'if you think a relationship is wrong, it's OK to try and break it up, because the person you want really loves you'. And it goes for both sexes. The Wedding Singer. The Wedding Planner. My Best Friend's Wedding. Notice a trend?

Where is this leading us? We are just seeing now a sexualized generation coming into power, going forth in new relationship directions. What will come of a generation whose relationship pointers came from Hollywood clap-trap?

practicing

It's a damn stretch more than I've done, but I love reading the boards at TEALIT (Teaching English And Living In Taiwan), especially for language exchanges. Title and summary highlights:

I AM A KOREAN

if you need to study Chinese and a little Japanese.We can practice each other.I am a nice guy.and very humor.I can use some interested way to teach you Chinese.trust me you can make it ^Q^(p.s although my English is no good but I promise you can understand my mean.)*

I need a Korean [hey, they should meet with the first person!]

show me your Chinese and I will show you my English.

I want best to be perfect

You can share me with yours.

Now, I'll freely admit that English is a terrible language to learn (honestly, I think Chinese, other than the tones, isn't really all that hard, and that I'd totally rock the chopsticks if I sat down and studied. Hence, I'm surfing the language exchange boards. Gettin' there), with all of the double entendres and multiple meanings and such. And anyway, their English is still better than my Chinese - I've told people that I really like washing my hands a few times (instead of resting - changing 'syllables' around).

And c'mon - it's Chinglish. It's funny.

raising kids: the preview

Since many of these kids are just learning English, they are like very small children in an English culture: they latch onto words. Most notably, the bad ones. I've had kids come up to me and ask, "Teacher, what is F-U-C-K?", followed by the (obvious), "My mother said it and she did not think I heard but I listened and I heard it and what is it?" I tend to treat my kids like adults - there's no big reaction when they say one, no huge punishment (as long as they don't use it like I use it), and usually just an explanation that it is a bad word there will be many, many, OH SO MANY pages written out if they use it in the school.

With the older kids, I take it as a given they have at least heard the words. I had at their age, and though I didn't use them until much later, I knew what they were.

We now find ourselves watching MIB as a supplementary feature to reaching the young adult/learning english tiny book (which is pretty decent, actually - compressing a movie like MIB into a 37 page book composed mostly of words that a student studying English for three years can understand is no small feat). This class includes Ben (you remember Ben, don't you? I swear, that kid has a whole factory going full blast under the surface, and just plays a little dumb).

J: (on TV) Man, I don't believe this. This is BULLSHIT.

Ben: Heh heh. Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit.

(Class laughs)

Me: OK, everyone, just because you heard it at school, does not mean that it's OK to say it at school. It's funny, aaand that's enough.

If this is what raising a two-to-four year old is like, I figure I should be able to handle it. Of course, I'm only around these kids for a few hours a day (as opposed to the next 18 years) and they don't drive with me. OHMYGOD, these kids would either run home crying or be confessed swearaholics by the time I was done.

In Taiwan, where no one can understand what you scream. At them.

this just in

From my good friend Michelle:

I normally hate hoax warnings, but this one is important. If a man comes to your front door and says he is conducting a survey and asks you to show him your bum, do not show him your bum.

This is a scam; he only wants to see your bum.

I wish I'd got this yesterday. I feel so stupid and cheap.

(Don't ask me how to say, "Please show me your bum," in Chinese. I don't have my dictionary handy.)

travel advisory

Avoid China Airlines.

My roommate just returned to Taiwan after a trip home on the scariest flight of her life. She's not even all back home yet, as she was delayed nine hours due to a 'fuel filling problem'. They sat on the runway and were not allowed to leave the plane, despite the fact that they could see fuel spilling and sitting beneath the plane. They eventually took off in the same plane, luckily making it over the pond without a problem.

Her travel agent, the person who is fill you with confidence and excitement about a trip, mentioned to her that China Air seems to have an accident every couple of years, after the comment of, "Well, it's been a couple of years since their last accident," was made. Not exactly a confidence builder. Check out the evidence yourself, versus a couple of other frequent fliers around here.

I've certainly made my last trip on them.

bwoken

Posting will be a little lighter than usual. My hard drive's been acting up for a while, and culminated last week with a STATUS: BAD. BACKUP AND REPLACE message. So the old (old!?) girl's going into the shop for a little while. I'll try and keep up, but I guarantee nothing. Harry Potter has once again cast his spell upon me and I can't stop reading. Have a great weekend!