no more grey-eyed morns for me

So, it's done. Has been for almost a week, actually. This is a follow-up and summary of the surgery itself. Sterilization! LASERS! Eyedrops! It's an exciting chronicle.

This particular visit started much the same as the other one - more vision tests. They want to be sure that what they have down is right, and honestly, if possible, I want that more than they do. So, no problems with that. Payment was before the surgery, of course, then I got to select a GREAT new pair of shades. They said that I would get a pair of sunglasses for NO MONEY, and I assumed they would be your typical cheap, dressed up and cleaned up inside the sterilized surgery waiting room. My favourite part was the nurse coming up and telling me, "I'm going to sterilize your face." If I didn't know what sterilize meant, that could sound threatening. "I'm going to sterilize your face, McFly!"

Another woman who came in in front of me went first. I sat in the waiting room, listening to generic Taiwan pop music and the LASER MACHINE going in the room next door. VROOOOOOO. VROOOOOOOOO. Pause. Pause. Pause. VROOOOOOOO. VROOOOOOO.

And then it was my turn. Lay down on a table, get covered by a blanket, then a paper blanket for your face. They stick some sort of covering right on to your face with holes for your eyes. Keeps anything else from getting cut off by the LASER, I guess. "Whatever you do, just keep staring straight ahead at the green light. Even if you can't see it, keep looking straight," they said. With a warning like that, OF COURSE my eye wants to look at everything else in the room except for the green light. Those who know me know how easily distracted and forgetful I am about important things like don't move this or hold that here, so the terror sweat from that was off and running. "Just relax." Right. Tell the terror sweat.

They started by sucking the eyeball up a bit, then slicing a bit of the cornea. It's a weird sensation, because during that portion, the machine covers your eye completely. Your eye is open, but you can't see anything at all. I really realized how important vision is at that point, and steeled myself to LOOK STRAIGHT. Probably the most surreal part is when the doctor comes in after the cut - you can see again - and flips off the sliced piece of your cornea. Everything becomes a blur. Not a 'forgot my glasses' kind of blur, but 'everything is pure, gelatinous blobs of light' kind of blur. And then the LASER came on. VROOOOOOOOOOO. It really only took about 15 seconds, though my sense of time was viciously warped, so don't trust me completely. Flip the cornea back on, add lots of drops of unknown composition to my eye. "Feel OK? Alright?" Yeah, just let me unclench every muscle in my body. I'm still staring at that green light like it was Jesus Christ himself at the Second Coming, and I would be incinerated if I looked away.

Lather, rinse, repeat. Same deal for the other eye. And the aftermath? I have to add artificial tears every half hour or hour (I got different answers at different times) for either one, two, three, or four months (again, unknown quantity. I'll clear that up this week). The first week also has a two different drop, four times a day regimen, and the first two weeks find me wearing weird plastic eye guards to bed every night. I assume they have a purpose, like keeping things away from my eyes at night while they are still vulnerable (don't want night-time infection, now, do we?), and weren't assigned just to make me look like a bug.

Final result? I've noticed a little bit of haloing at night, but I don't know if this is unnatural. Do you see a little bit of light outside of a light at night? To be honest, my glasses were generally not clean most of the time, so it's pretty much the same thing... The drops are annoying, but they will drop off (hahahahaha). And I (still) suffer very slightly from astigmatism in my right eye (can't focus near or far). Other than that, 20/20.

I have many friends here who are planning on getting it and for whom I was a bit of a guinea pig. I also have friends back home who have expressed interest and apprehension at it. I probably wouldn't have done it back in Canada, due to expense and the fact that I never thought about it before, but here, it just kinda made sense, despite my previous thoughts on it. If you are seriously tired of corrective lenses and have the time and money available, I would recommend it. The surgery is supposed to be good for the term of your eyes (naturally degrading as everyone's do, of course), so it's a worthwhile investment. Go for it!

burning a hole in my pocket

Shortly after I got here, I found out how easy it was to spend money when you have it. English teachers make very nice money here (not everyone comes here for the adventure of living in a heavily polluted city), and living costs are cheap. When I first started out, I was always mentally converting the amount to Canadian dollars, and thinking about relative costs. I'd be a liar if I said I still didn't, but it's not usually on the forefront of my spending thoughts. My mind now generally runs on New Taiwan Dollars (NTD, or just NT, as we call it. That, or dollars.) For reference, 100NT ~ $4CDN.

After a few months, I found myself reflecting on the change in my spending habits. Decisions were made much more lightly. Anything less than 100NT (which is a surprising amount of stuff) got exactly zero thought before purchase, and even things up to 400NT or so didn't really raise any considerations. 1500NT ($60CDN) was about where I began to seriously think about purchases.

But I had no comparison, except my existence in Canada, which wasn't the most fair comparison. I wasn't going hungry in my last year or so, but the money wasn't overflowing. Also, I was living in Ottawa, which isn't exactly cheap. Was I overcompensating, pulling a good old student rebound - having money and feeling the need to spend it?

The first test was my trip to Australia. Australian money is almost on par with Canadian money in terms of worth (and much higher in terms of prettiness!), so it would be a good test to see how the money flowed. First, it was a shock to have things MUCH more expensive than I was used to. I'm sure my brother got a wee bit tired of, "Back in Kaohsiung..." - at one point he even said, "You know, this isn't Taiwan." Oops. Anyway, even though I had money to spare and a sweet job to get back to, I still felt that I was pulling back in my spending. I honestly think it was because there was no calculation - it was a direct monetary translation, no interpretor needed.

The lynch pin for my personal thesis came in Hong Kong. HK dollars are more devalued than Canadian or Australian dollars, but not as much as Taiwanese cash. ($100NT = $20HK = $4CDN). Hong Kong was possibly one of the most expensive cities I have ever been in - the Western (Irish) pub we ate in Saturday night had a steak sandwich (nothing special, though my roommate said it was quite good) for $150HK ($30CDN) - no meal was less than 75HK. Pretty expensive pub grub. However. I spent. Yes, I was just there for a weekend, but I merited it a fair comparison to Australia - just less time (and more money. hooo boooy). The money flowed pretty easily.

My theory that flows from this is that money flows much easily when you move from a highly valued currency to a relatively devalued currency. And vice-versa (I know I've been fairly careful in the past in the U.S.). It's pretty simple, when you think about, but it's something to watch for. I've dumped a lot of cash into crap just because it didn't seem like much. I'm both excited and apprehensive for my trip to Indonesia at Christmas. $100NT = 27,000 rupiahs. I'll be a millionaire.

Also, as a side theory, devalued currency is easier to carry. On the mind, that is. I think nothing of carrying $500-1000CDN around with me for a few days. And it's not just me. A friend had $2000NT chewed up by her dog. She was angry, but not too much. Shit happens. That kind of shit happening back home would have torn me up back home, but here, meh. Crazy.

I know some readers have done some international traveling all over. Your thoughts?

odds and ends

1. Fireworks in the middle of the street are great and all (as a friend said, it's great to be in a country where you can set off fireworks at 3 am and wake people up, and they're all like, "Yay! Evil spirits are scared away! Good luck to you too!"), right up until flaming embers land on your foot.

2. My 'kids'.

"Teacher, you're a cock!"
"Well, that's...what? What did you say?"
"You know...[points to animal poster]. A cock."
"ROOSTER. We say ROOSTER."

3. Feel that candidates seem the same these days? Disillusioned? Feel trapped as of late? You're right on all counts.

Lifted from Joey.

4. Scott is currently recounting his time in Hong Kong. His travels and descriptions are better, providing many more lurid and interesting details. Check it out. He recently wrote about a visit to Mong Kok. (snicker)

5. Speaking of links, Screenhead is a great new way to find weird video and waste your time. Written by the scathingly funny Dong Resin.

6. Noted without comment.

7. If you ever have to put artificial tears in your eyes, I recommend against keeping the container very close to your body. When you go to pour them in, no matter how much you know it's not true, it feels like someone's peeing in your eyes.

8. If the situation every arises, I recommend Peanuts coconut flavour coated over Peanuts chicken flavour coated. While both are NON STOP CRUNCHY, the coconut is a little less...violent. In taste, not crunch. Both are unstoppably crunchy. (Why aren't there any googles for this phrase? I plan on using it more in the future. That, and naked high fives.)

There are so many things here that are chicken-flavoured. Rice. Peanuts. Chips. Vegetables. Chicken. No beer. Yet.

and bend and stretch and OW and stretch and bend

Mark this day upon your calendars, ye of little flexibility, for today, I did, veritably and with great bendiness, touch my toes. The full on, legs-locked, straight-down toe touch. I even surpassed that and went on to the floor with my fingertips. It's no palms on the floor (as some can do), but it's getting there.

My yoga instructor/leader/??? said I seemed like the kind of guy who gets into a lot of stuff, then plateaus and gets a little frustrated, which is EXACTLY me. He just forgot the part about quitting when I plateau. I lose interest and find something else. Case and point? Oh, I don't know, most things I do. Swimming (har), gym visits (har har), piano (har har har), morning exercises, getting to bed early, and so on. I have a bit of patience with yoga, first off because I feel really good after it, and second, I know it takes time to build flexibility. It cannot be forced. BELIEVE ME, it cannot be forced.

But. Go me!

i liked them when I was a kid too

Blogfucker on that funny smell that is like markers that gets you going and talking and you can't stop good night!

acclimatization

Or, Everyone I Know Who Reads This Will Hate Me.

It's cooling down here. Not so much as it sounds like it is in Korea, but the difference between this past week and the week before was noticable. I could complain about how I felt a bit of a chill riding home at night this week, or how I had to start sleeping with a sheet over me at night, but that's not what I'm here to do.

I'm here to bitch about acclimatization. It really hits you when it starts getting cold. Last December was great when I got here, leaving Canadian winter behind me. Chinese New Year proved to be one of the coldest in a decade (and it did get cold. Single digit temperatures with - and this is the key part - no heating. Let's review. NO HEATING AT ALL. ANYWHERE. Except stores and work. It felt like living in Ottawa and living under super-expensive electric heating again, except I couldn't even pay money for more heat.)

However, as the temperatures warmed up, the clothes came off (hey baby). Summer was a big sweat-fest for the majority of the time (though acclimatization worked in my favour a little bit there, I guess) - it was easily 30 degrees plus a whack of humidity every single day. But with fall here, it's no longer summer, and I am a bit apprehensive of sub-twenty temperatures. It has been previously noted that I hate being cold.

Someone told me that it was zero in Ottawa the other night. I can't even imagine zero anymore. May God have mercy on your frozen souls.

damn you gmail!

Although this proves nothing (I am eternally forgetful, always have been, always will be), I was just arguing with a friend over a minor fact. It was in the vein "I told you that" "no you didn't" "you're a jerk" "no, YOU'RE a jerk" etc. She insisted she had told me in an email this summer of said fact. I came up with the awesome idea of searching my email to prove her wrong. I would be the victor here and stand, glorified, on my mountain of truth and evidence.

Gmail's ability to search your email is truly fabulous. I've used it numerous times to check for phone numbers, addresses, and other minor points long forgotten. So I typed in the key - Afghanistan. And there it was. In bold no less, grinding salt into the wound. Irrefutable. My God, the laughter. The pain.

Gmail, you have just made THE LIST.

A short time later: you know your hair is getting a bit long when you lose your pen in it. I will be eternally forgetful.

taiwan is trying to kill me

Oh, no, wait. It's my own stupidity. That's right. That's it.

Let it never be said that scooters (and, logically, motorcycles) are perfectly safe. This may surprise you, but they're not. Oh, sure, they're fun, driving 'laws' are mere suggestions when you drive one, and what girl's engine doesn't start purring when she sees you coming up on a scooter, but I am a living monument to the dark side of scootering.

In case you're wondering, I had my second wipeout last night. It is entirely possible that it was because the tire was not at its optimum level, causing it to slide off the rim. Whatever the cause, my scooter left its upright position with my ass on the seat while I was taking a turn at 40 km/h. I'm alright, just a couple of scrapes. As a friend put it today, realistically, it's nothing. There's a guy out here who had a broken femur and couldn't walk for five months. Some guy a few years back had to have his leg amputated.

If you're keeping count, that's one accident, two wipeouts, five stolen helmets (they only steal the cheap ones, though. If they take an expensive one, they take your scooter with it. So experience dictates, anyway), a stolen scooter, a stolen bicycle, and a stolen crappy cheap-ass stupid bike lock.

Taiwan is not to blame, however. It's me and my own lack of...thought? I still love you, Taiwan. No, I love you more. No, I do. Me. Me. Me. [You'd better leave, this is only going to get worse.]

UPDATE: Turns out, this may have been a blessing in disguise. As I'm wheeling my bike out of the shop, it started squeaking. Hello, what's this? Seems the front bracket is very old. "Very dangerous," says the mechanic. "Must change now." Go ahead, no arguments here. Frankly, I'd rather have the back wheel slip than have the front wheel fall off. Taiwan's not trying to kill me, it's trying to save me. In an indirect, lucky, still-hurting-me-but-it's-good-for-you kind of way.

let the eagle soar

I enjoy Michael Moore, but find him ranty and off-base sometimes.

I dislike the current U.S. adminstration.

I enjoyed LOTR, both the movie and books (with, of course, the latter being greater).

Anyone that can roll all of these elements together into a fifteen minute parody is a genius.

Ladies and gentlemen, here's that genius: Fellowship 9/11 (courtesty of fark)

#2 pertains to vinyl

#1 Rule for Naked Internet Surfing:

Know your roommates' (coworkers', bosses', internet cafe employees') schedule down to a T. Be aware of exceptions to the routine.

I can't stress this enough.

oh irony, you are a vengeful mistress

Despite the fact that I am supposed to be teaching English, I think the kids are winning the battle. Observe.

This week, after winning a game of Uno against of the students (I totally rock at Uno), I threw up my hands and declared, "I am win!" Which was, of course, immediately followed by, "What did I just say?" (The kids say it all the time.)

I'm not quite at, "My house have a one people," yet, but once you start on that road...

because it's worth mentioning

I personally believe that Jon Stewart is a brilliant comedian. I consider myself a very lucky man that I can get his show online on a semi-regular basis. The comedy is biting, but not steeped in intellectualism and a sense of one-up-ness. As he's said, he makes his jokes off the absurdity of the system, not any particular person.

I already admired the man, but after watching him on CNN's Crossfire, sparring with the hosts, pleading with them to stop helping the corporations and the politicians and help the people, getting down to fighting with Tucker Carlson, I could say I idolize him. He stuck to his message the whole time (which is absolutely true), refused to be their 'monkey' by giving them gags, and throwing their accusations of his softness on John Kerry by saying if they're looking to Comedy Central for signs of news integrity, we have problems. And we do.

Here's a transcript. Also, I like the MTV.com headline (gleaned from Ariel) that says it nicely - Jon Stewart Bitchslaps CNN's 'Crossfire' Show.

break the silence

It's funny, I thought after a show, it was supposed to get less busy. Hm. Well, I have a couple of late heavily considered diatribes posts hopefully coming down the line this weekend.

For now, I leave you with this, my favourite once-a-week treat.

We take eighteen ounces of sizzling ground beef, and soak it in rich, creamery butter, then we top it off with bacon, ham, and a fried egg. We call it the Good Morning Burger.

I can actually feel my blood slowing down through my arteries as I eat it. I mean, it's got TWO kinds of gravy AND an egg! How can you go wrong?

today, part four of our series of the agonizing pain in which I live in every day

I realized tonight, near the end of my first African dance class (dance class! So fun! Me and seven girls!), that I am paying the Mindful Phoenix, the organization I have fallen in with, to hurt me.

In six weeks, I have gone from not doing anything here (well, except my Chinese) to yoga (five times a week for the past three weeks, soon to drop back down to a now-inadequate three), gung fu (or kung fu, if you don't live in a Chinese environment or practice it. Once a week. Even then, I die a little each time.), African dance (dance!), being part of an improv troop, being part of a barbershop...quintet, I guess (sing!), having a part in a major production (McBeth - I'm a lord! I die! But I get a big sword-fighting scene in doing so!), and acting in an Xtreme Theatre production (24 hours to write, practice, and perform a short (10 minute) play.) I've even volunteered to build and organize a filing system for the organization, which it so, so desperately needs, because I like to leave things nicer than when I came.

However. I've pulled muscles I swear I've never used before, stretched places that I didn't know could actually be stretched ('There's a muscle there? Fantastic! Ouch!'), and walked away sore a few days (continuing for days after. At least, when starting a new activity.) In fact, I sit here now with a pulled hamstring and two toonie-sized (or 50NT-piece sized, or silver dollar-sized, wherever you're from) blisters on the balls of my feet. I've spent every day in the last week in the studio for one reason or another, and woken up early every morning to get there.

And I love it. The pain (the pain, the pain of it all!), the busy-ness (I thrive on being busy), the camaraderie, and, of course, the experience. I've discovered a new love for acting (I'm still a bit stilted, though), gained a huge increase in flexibility (no legs behind the head yet, but I can do a free-standing headstand!), found a group of singers and a great way to stay in shape without doing something that I actually consider exercise, and so much more.

So bring it on. It's a good pain.

blasphemy

I know I'm going to take flack for this, but I just watched my first full episode (God bless the interweb) of The Monday Report (though I watched the clips all the time from the first season), and I have to say that I found it generally, well, lacking.

I know, how can Rick Mercer not be funny. Believe me, I've seen him do stand up, and I, like so many, always loved his presence on This Hour Has 22 Minutes, but the show just didn't hit me. There were a couple of parts that did, indeed, make me laugh (Pierre Berton was fantastic, as was the Brent Butt, friend to the Taliban, bit), but...

Have I been gone too long? Personally, I think he worked better with other people than on his own - comedy, in my opinion, almost always compounds with the addition of other funny people. But hey, that's just an ex-pat's opinion.

Did people in Canada find it hilarious? Am I out of touch here?

they forgot the puppies inside

This has to be the worst, most depressing-sounding thing I've read all day. Thanks a lot, headline.

Flaming truck smashes into Children's Aid building

Really, can it get any worse-sounding than this?

speechless

I watched a man get beaten the other night.

My first encounter with a crime in Taiwan (OK, second. OK, third, if you count my bike.), came to my knowledge by a series of loud yells outside my apartment. Leaping to the balcony, I watched a man, nine stories below in the street, getting pummelled by two or three other guys. I watched as they threw him against a car and began kicking him repeatedly.

And I was helpless.

How do you call the cops in a foreign country? I probably could have gotten through to an English-speaker, eventually, but all I really know is the emergency number (119 here). And although It also made me realize how (still) inadequate my Chinese is, it also reminded what being a foreigner encompasses. That I'm not from here. That I don't know all the customs, the language, and the goings-on around me.

Luckily, the security guys in my building had spotted them and called the cops. After the guy had endured a pretty decent shit-kicking, they arrived and got him away. The attacker was either VERY stupid or VERY, um, not in full possession of his capacities, because he tried to take two runs at the victim as he sat on the sidewalk, while the cops were surrounding him and trying to find out what had happened. Not to mention the threats he was constantly yelling, right up until the time the ambulance took the victim away, after which our protagonist started yelling at the cops. This continued until he started taking swings at the cops, after which he found himself on the ground. Him and his friend continued to stalk around, yelling, eventually drawing seven police cars in front of my building. I don't think I've ever seen seven police cars for one event, ever. And this wasn't more than a scuff.

Anyway, it made for an interesting night. Of course, I took a few pictures

adaptability

One of the things that lets me know that everything will always turn out right is the street dogs.

If those mutts can adjust to the traffic lawlessness, I should be able to get by.

So what if most of them have a better track record than I.

subtitles

Reading dooce's comment on her dad watching subtitles in order to not miss anything dredged up a memory here.

Because I'm in a non-English society (surprise! They don't speak English here!), the imported entertainment all has Chinese subtitles. It's actually a great way to learn some Chinese characters - numbers, swears (interjections are the easiest to learn), common words, and so forth.

The most bizarre thing that I've heard, however, is that some Chinese will read the Chinese subtitles for Chinese movies (yes, they do it on their own TV shows. no, I don't know why. yes, it seems a little ridiculous. but, I am in Taiwan), as the speech is sometimes too fast for them.

I like to think of it as an idiosyncracy. Weird, but charming.