Post-Thanksgiving quick-hits

Well, it’s Friday morning for me; Thanksgiving night if you’re reading back in my homeland. I’ve had a splendid morning – woke up early, talked to my family via the magic of Skype, and watched the Cowboys win. I hope your Thanksgivings were the stuff of legend, punctuated with an endless trail of gravy. But enough rambling. Here are some things I wanna tell you. Let’s do it quick-hit style.

Categories!!
If you’ll please cast your eyes over to the right side of this here blog (beyond Norm’s picture), you dear readers will notice that you now have a little list of categories from which to pick and choose stories. When I first started this little thing, I had no idea what I was going to be doing or writing about or any of that nonsense. Clearly, I still don’t, really. But last weekend I went through all of my past stories and rants and such, and filed each into a category. So there you have it. Wanna only read my self-important stories involving the deathcycle? Now you can! Or perhaps you only stop by for the Engrish – have at it. It’s a small thing, really. But I hope you like it. If I had a nickel for every time I’d said that…

Baby, it’s cold(ish) outside!
Initially, I was going to tell you that despite living in this tropical climate, it finally was kinda feeling like fall (or something resembling fall) here in Kaohsiung. But as I write this, it’s 11:15 am, and it’s currently 84 degrees outside. As my kids say when they’re disgusted, Aye-yuh! This is not fall. This is madness! Well, ok… it is cooler now than it ever was in July or August or September. We haven’t seen a high above 90 in maybe a month. So that’s all well and good. But last week, it was cold. Or again, cold-ish. The highs were still in the upper 70s or low 80s, but the nights were downright cool. Maybe even all the way down in the 60s! Ok ok, that’s not really cold at all, and as a lover of autumn and the like, it’s not much. But, let me tell you this: riding around on a scooter when it’s 50 or 60 can get pretty damn cold. Perhaps I should invest in a full-head helmet; or perhaps some riding gloves; earmuffs? Or maybe I’ll just figure out a way to bottle molten hot lava, stash it in my little under-seat compartment, and give myself a nice little ghetto seat-warmer.

A very Thai Christmas (and New Year (and (30th) birthday))
So as we all know by now, I will not be going back to the States for Christmas. It saddens me, but it’s true. However, as I mentioned in my last post, how often am I gonna be living in Southeast Asia? I need to be taking advantage of all the beauty around me that’s so close, and so cheaply available. And so I’m going to be in Thailand for Christmas and New Years. I’m meeting some friends in Bangkok on the 26th, but I’ll actually be in Thailand on my own for the 22nd-25th. So yeah, I’ll be alone for Christmas day, but I’m actually somewhat excited for that. I can do whatever I choose and go wherever I want. In all likelihood, it’ll involve Thai food, some sort of cocktail, and the beach. This is good.
And then, on the 28th, said friends and I will travel down to Koh Samui for some sort of epic New Year’s party that they have there every year. New Years Eve will also be my 30th birthday. I have no idea what to think about this. But the whole experience should be great, and I’m pretty damn excited. I’ll keep you posted. Also, if you have any ideas/suggestions of places for me to go while in Thailand, please do share them with me. Your support and generosity power my soul.

Taipei for the weekend
Speaking of going places, I’ll be in Taipei for the weekend with some teacher friends from school. I haven’t been there since my first five days in Taiwan. Now that I have a slightly better grasp on this country, I’m pretty excited for the getaway. I’m gonna try to hit up the National Palace Museum on Saturday, and some hot springs on Sunday. You will find out soon enough if I am successful in fulfilling these endeavors. It actually is going to be cold in Taipei. Like, real actual cold. Do they have lava for sale there?

I finally need another haircut…
…but I’m a bit apprehensive. You know why. Wish me luck tonight.

Is it ok to be a little homesick?

Last Thursday night, I was sitting at my little desk in my little classroom that I use twice a week at our sister school. It was break-time, and I was grading papers. The classroom door was open, and Keith, an Irish gentleman who’s been teaching over here forever, leaned in.

“Ah, I almost forgot,” he said. “You’re American. Happy Thanksgiving.”

I sat back and had to think for a second. Was it Thanksgiving? I hadn’t become completely oblivious to life back home, had I? Were the Cowboys playing at 5 am the following morning? No, no they weren’t. It wasn’t Thanksgiving. That was next week. I related this all to Keith, but thanked him nonetheless for his charming well-wishes.

And then it hit me. No, this wasn’t American Thanksgiving – next Thursday was; but next Thursday would be the same as this Thursday – I’d be teaching English all day, eating rice or noodles when I got the chance, and coming home exhausted. And when it actually was Thanksgiving, Keith would probably pop his head in the door and extend his well-wishes again, and I’d be pretty sad that I was sitting in my little desk in my little classroom, instead of eating turkey, laughing with my family, watching football, and playing games.

I fully realized when I signed up for this adventure that homesickness would be part of the toll. And every so often since I landed here in July, I have gotten a bit homesick. It never lasts very long – maybe an afternoon or a whole day; certainly nothing emotionally crippling. But as summer has turned into fall, I have started to get that little twinge a bit more often. Seasons are changing back home (and here, to a far lesser extent, weather-wise), and I guess subconsciously I’m fully realizing that I’m gonna be away from home for a good long while. I do love this time of year back home, too. I miss taking walks with Bonzo in the crisp autumn air; miss being a 3-hour drive from my mom and my childhood home; miss going to the State Fair – there’s something magical about eating corny dogs, playing corny games, riding rides, and perusing booths selling everything from shampoo to the Sham-Wow; I miss playing with my friends, and watching football at normal hours.

And I miss the holidays. I love the holidays. I love Thanksgiving – the cool air outside, exchanging stories and laughing with my family, watching football, playing games, and, of course, the food. My God, the food. Taiwan’s fare is okay, but it’s got nothing on turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and gravy. Sweet Jesus, I’d teach one of my classes completely improper English for a whole semester just to have Thanksgiving with my family. “Teacher like the Thanksgiving much a lot.”

Engrish / Chinese Insanity #6b

Asia in general is known for its… amusing… ways of translating things into English. Store names, product slogans, t-shirts… you name it. I’ve been trying to document all the “Engrish” I’ve seen in Taiwan for my own amusement, but it occurs to me that you, the good strong reader, might want to be amused as well. And so this is a semi-regular installment here on Nick in Asia – not to poke fun, mind you, but belly laughing a few times is always good for the soul.

In Part 6a of this ongoing and award-winning Engrish series, we looked at several hats I saw while spending a weekend in Kenting. As I’ve mentioned before, these adorable yet horribly wrong attempts at English are all over the place here, and I’m going to try to take more pictures of it. But it’s hard to be inconspicuous as a white person in an Asian land when you’re taking pictures of things written in English while laughing hysterically. Especially when those things are written on someone’s chest, or their head. Ahhh well. I do it for you.

One thing that I had not seen prior to arriving in Kenting, though, is what we’ll be focusing on today. Remember, I said last time that 6a would focus more on the Engrish, while 6b would have more of a Chinese Insanity flavor. Well, here we are. As I told you, the couple of main streets in Kenting had all sorts of clothing shops for the beach-goer in you (flip flops, board shorts, t-shirts) or for the Asian beach-goer (big sunhats, long-sleeve jackets, and SPF 14,500 sunscreen).

Well, quite a few of these shops had mannequins proudly displaying their ware. Now, I’ve always found mannequins a bit unnerving, what with the impeccable fashion sense, the dismissive attitudes, and the vacant stares. But let me tell you, the simple mannequins of the West have nothing on their counterparts here. These mannequins were some of the creepiest things I have ever seen with my own two eyes. They had personalities and life sculpted into and painted onto their faces. I suppose they’re made this way to appear more lifelike and make Johnny Consumer more inclined to buy the clothes hanging from them. But I fear it has the opposite effect. We were all too busy recoiling in horror from the crazed stares these mannequins were giving us that we never even much looked at the merchandise.

And they all looked different, too! It was like the proprietors of these stores had killed a band of gypsies, taxidermied them, and then dressed them each in a different shirt/shorts combo along the street. Truly disturbing.

So there’s some Chinese insanity for ya. Enjoy the mannequins after the jump. Do not look them in the eyes.

In which I accidentally say something wildly inappropriate

I have a boy named Woody in my first class every afternoon. Yesterday, he was late. After I took roll, Woody walked in as I was telling the kids to take out their books. Without thinking, I shouted his name excitedly. I literally said, “Ok guys, take out your WOODY!”

I then giggled hysterically to myself for 5 minutes.

Engrish / Chinese Insanity #6a

Asia in general is known for its… amusing… ways of translating things into English. Store names, product slogans, t-shirts… you name it. I’ve been trying to document all the “Engrish” I’ve seen in Taiwan for my own amusement, but it occurs to me that you, the good strong reader, might want to be amused as well. And so this is a semi-regular installment here on Nick in Asia – not to poke fun, mind you, but belly laughing a few times is always good for the soul.

Previous installments:
Engrish / Chinese Insanity #1 – Hats
Engrish / Chinese Insanity #2 – Inappropriate but funny
Engrish / Chinese Insanity #3 – Her boyfriend is mean
Engrish / Chinese Insanity #4 – Sports Edition!
Engrish / Chinese Insanity #5 – Soul Creams

It has been far, far too long since we’ve had an Engrish post here on Nick in Asia. Nearly two-and-a half months! Now, part of the reason is that I’m… gasp… almost getting used to it. I’ve actually seen no less than three (three!) people wearing their Luck Caps – the amazing headwear detailed in my very first Engrish post.

Oh, I still recognize a good Engrish slogan when I see one, but I don’t hustle for my camera and try to get a shot from every angle anymore. But that’s a crime, really. And it’s a disservice to you, the dear reader. And so, I will re-dedicate myself to the study and photography of Engrish everywhere, beginning with installment #6, which will be a two-parter! (This one will be more focused on the Engrish, and part B will give you some insanity. My god, will it ever.)

Now, despite the fact that I am getting a little accustomed to seeing Engrish around the Taiwan, sometimes it’s just too flagrantly wonderful not to stop and giggle. I saw a 20-something guy a couple weeks ago in a shirt that said “Bates Mice Poop Watt,” laughed uncontrollably to myself for a couple minutes, and cursed the world that I didn’t have my camera.

All of this leads us to here. A few weeks ago, a big group of us went to Kenting for the weekend to celebrate a friend’s birthday. Kenting is one of the best destinations in Taiwan – it’s a national park that encompasses the entire southern peninsula of the island and has some amazing beaches. I’ll post on that entire trip later. Right now we’re here for funny.

So, because Kenting is such a tourist destination, there are many, many shops along the couple of main roads; a lot of these shops sell clothes – swimming shorts, sarongs, shirts, and hats. There was a lot of failed English to be seen on these clothes, but this one shop in particular had the greatest collection of Engrish ever.

After the jump, please enjoy four hats and a shirt from that one store, all guaranteed to make your day a little brighter. Oh, and tell me which one is your favorite.

Boat Burning at Dawn

No matter where we happen to grow up, there are always certain things that are an inherent part of our particular society. These things are so woven into the fabric of our everyday lives that the very notion of them exists in the subconscious of our collective identity. In many ways, these things define who we are, both as a society and an individual; and yet, these are things we rarely ever step back and think about.

I’m not sure I’m making any sense here. Let me give you an example of what I’m trying to say.

In the US, and most of the Western world, people generally subscribe to some denomination of Christianity. Said denominations might not agree with each other about certain things, but most of their ideals and language are fairly universal. You sing in the choir at Church? We understand. You have a bible verse at the bottom of your email signature? We get it. You get a good-sized helping of gravy on your chicken-fried steak and shout “Prasie Jesus!” while waving your arms about? We nod our heads knowingly.

It’s a Christian world I’ve grown up in, and that’s just what I’m used to. I’m not much of an avid churchgoer myself, but a society’s predominate religion permeates so many aspects of that culture that it’s impossible to live completely outside of its influence.

And that’s just another reason why living here in Taiwan is pretty neat. And pretty different. There’s no Christian subtext here. Not too many church bake sales or “Jesus saves” bumper stickers around. Christianity’s actually more popular here than I expected, but it’s still pretty far down on Taiwan’s religion pecking order. About 70% of the island is either Buddhist or Taoist.

And of course, I’m sure there are Buddhist and Taoist subtexts to life here of which I’m not even aware; but life here is definitely different. Okay, now I’m getting into a realm about which I know very little, so I should stop speculating and just get to my point already.

Both the Western world and Taiwan (and the rest of the Eastern world, of course) have religion-based traditions that have been handed down from generation to generation. In the Western world, for instance, we celebrate the birth of our savior by buying a fir tree, putting it in our house for a few weeks, and giving stuff to people we like. To celebrate the death – and subsequent rise from the grave – of said savior, we hide eggs and make children find them.

In Taiwan, in order to expel plagues and bring in good vibes, we build a giant boat every three years. And then we drag it to the beach and burn the hell out of it.

Now please, follow the jump to read all about my experience at this year’s Boat Burning; plus, see my extensive gallery – and even a neat video – from the event! Huzzah.

And sometimes, Taiwan eats you [Part 3]

I’m chronicling my post-scooter-wreck saga, in which the woman who participated in the accident with me tries to take all my money, by any means possible. This is the final installment.
PART 1; PART 2

For the next two weeks, I felt pretty good about things, and I didn’t much think about Phyllis or the impending negotiation or money. All in all, I had dodged a bullet, I thought – a sour-faced, money-hungry bullet.

On Monday – the day before the second (and we hoped final) negotiation – I called James, to remind him that I needed the formal proof of me missing time at school due to the accident. He said I could pick it up that evening. He also said that Thomas was very much ready for Round 2 with Phyillis, and that Thomas would once again meet me outside the police station at 2:15 on Tuesday.

I woke up early Tuesday, and I was ready. I took my customary morning walk around the park, ate some breakfast, took care of some things, and then got all gussied up.

I met up with Thomas outside the police station, and we again strolled down the long corridor, through the imposing doorway, and into the wide negotiation room. We looked left and saw that Phyllis and her sour face had managed to get here early this time. Thomas and I didn’t even have time to sit down before they called our case. A different negotiator than last time told us to go over to the right side of the room and meet him in the area between the end of the table and the wall. We all walked over there, shook hands with him, and once again sat in a little negotiation circle.

There were two major personnel changes since our first mediation, and these would prove costly for me. First, as I mentioned, our negotiator was a different man. He was another middle-aged Taiwanese man, but his face was more serious than our last one, and his eyes more intense. In a kind but stern tone, he let us know right away that he had the power to decide this case at any time, and if either of us refused to accept his decision, we would go straight to court. And remember, court scared me, because of the whole not-having-a-license thing.

The other new person at this mediation was a woman who’d come with Phyllis. At our first hearing, Phyllis’ sister came in halfway through, but her presence was very inconsequential, and she seemed there more for moral support than anything. Thus, I made no mention of her in Part 2.

But the woman who was with Phyllis this time – I can’t tell you word-for-word anything she said (because of the Chinese), but I can tell you that, as far as I’m concerned, she’s not a nice lady, and her soul is polluted with darkness and frowns.

She was a tall, slender Taiwanese woman, in her late 30s maybe, with straight jet-black hair to the middle of her neck; her eyes danced with villainy, and the only smiles she had in supply were of the sarcastic variety. The perfect Thelma to Phyllis’ Louise.

Just like our first mediator had done at the first hearing, this one began by asking Phyllis why she had requested this meeting and what she wanted from me. Buoyed I guess by the presence of her evil companion, Phyllis embarked on quite the diatribe. I wasn’t sure what she was saying, but she didn’t seem to be talking about our agreement. Spittle was flying out of her angry mouth, and she made a motion with her hands, showing the negotiator how I’d “turned left” right into her on that fateful morning. I looked at Thomas; his mouth had fallen open from his shock.

When Phyllis was done, she sat back in her chair, he face, as always, contorted into that sour countenance of hers. Thomas finally had a chance to fill me in.

“She says that you hit her with your scooter, and that she broke her ankle and cannot work, and that she wants you to give her two-months’ salary – $2,600 US.”

“What??” I barked. “We had an agreement! Tell her that! And ask where twenty-six hundred came from! Last time she said that two months’ salary was two thousand!” Thomas relayed my message, and a few of his own, probably. And that’s when Phyllis’ friend chimed in. Thomas never told me exactly what she said during the whole hearing, but he kept telling me that she was saying it was all my fault. Everything was my fault.

And sometimes, Taiwan eats you [Part 2]

I’m chronicling my post-scooter-wreck saga, in which the woman who participated in the accident with me tries to take all my money, by any means possible. You can read Part 1 here.

This piece of mail soured my mood a bit, and it brought all the worry and grief I’d successfully shoved into the recesses of my consciousness racing right back to the front. Of course, this summons was mostly in Chinese, so beyond the general message I didn’t really understand what it said. Cynthia (the new head of my school’s Chinese staff) told me exactly what it was and said it wasn’t so bad. “It’s the government,” she said. “Not court. So it should be okay.” This made me feel somewhat better, but still… It would have been nicer if, instead of the summons in my mail that day, it had been, say, a chocolate cake from my sainted mother, or a giant check from Ed McMahon in heaven.

Now, remember, I’m in Asia (hence the title of this here blog), so I assumed – correctly – that any government hearing would be conducted in Chinese. This put me at a distinct disadvantage. But as I said, my school had my back, and so I called my boss, James (the same man who interviewed and hired me). James is Canadian, but he’s been here eight years, and his Chinese is flawless. He said he’d be happy to come, but that he thought it would be better if I had an actual Taiwanese person in there with me, instead. He put me in touch with his friend Thomas, a young Taiwanese man who had dealt with an accident negotiation of his own a couple years back and done quite well for himself. This made me feel ok.

And so, on the afternoon of Wednesday, October 14, Thomas and I met at my school and scootered to the police station about 2 kms away. We both had our Sunday best on – I wore a tie and everything – and we arrived at about 2:15, 15 minutes before the hearing was slated to begin.

This wasn’t your typical police station. This was a tall government building on the corner of a busy downtown intersection. Our destination was the 5th floor. We exited the elevator and walked down a long corridor, toward a pair of sizable wooden doors, which were open, inviting us in with an icy sterility.

We walked through the doors and entered an incredibly wide room with all the charm of a prison cafeteria – white tile floor, off-white walls, and a giant rectangular table in the middle that nearly stretched from wall to wall. On the opposite side of the table, facing us, were several older, government-looking Taiwanese people. Some of them were reviewing notes, some were talking in hushed tones back and forth, and a couple were simply staring straight ahead.

I suppose it’s not often a white person walks through those doors into that room, because as soon as Thomas and I did, the record on the jukebox scratched, the music stopped, and all heads turned toward us. It’s not that they weren’t expecting me – I’m sure I was the only person on the docket that day with an English name; so they knew who I was as soon as they saw me, and they all promptly started trying to pronounce my name to each other. “Neek-O-lahs.” “NEEK-o-las.” “Neek-ha-LOSS.” That was amusing. It’s funny here – it’s almost like you’re a mini-celebrity simply because of your whiteness and your English-ness.

Thomas and I sat in a couple of chairs on the near side of the gigantic table, facing the government types. As the minutes rolled on, a few other groups of people here and there straggled into the room and took their seats on our side of the table. “Good God,” I thought, “Phyllis is enlisting the entire cavalry for this hearing.” But no – there are actually several hearings at once, and each mediator (which is what each of the government types actually is) takes a group in dispute and listens to their arguments.

At 2:40, there were still no signs of Phyllis. We thought she might no-show and drop this ridiculousness. But then, at 2:45, her sour face entered the room, walking with what may or may not have been a legitimate limp. They called our case next.

And sometimes, Taiwan eats you [Part 1]

So there’s been quite the saga unfolding for me here over the past couple of months. But due to the nature of said saga, I’ve chosen to be hush-hush about it on our little blog. But it finally came to its ultimate resting place yesterday afternoon; and so now I can finally open up to you, the dear readers, about what exactly has been going on, and why I’m suddenly quite a bit lighter in the pocketbook.

As you’ll no doubt recall, I was in a bad scooter accident a little more than two months ago (it was a riveting three-part series on this very blog!). Long story short, I was driving through a big intersection where the street narrows – from having scooter lanes on my initial side to not having them on the other side. I was angled left to accommodate this narrowing; I also briefly entertained the notion of getting gas at the service station on the opposite corner from me, so I may have been angled slightly more left than normal. But this woman comes flying up beside me on the left, too close and too fast. We both notice that we’re headed for disaster, she tries to angle more to the left, but her back tire clips my front tire, and it’s all over… She falls immediately to the left, her scooter crashing onto her ankle; my scooter hits her fallen bike, and I go flying off, burn my leg against her muffler mid-air, and land on my head in the middle of the street. I jump up immediately, help the woman’s bike off of her leg, and the next few hours were a blur of cops and hospitals and breathalyzer tests (it was 10:30 in the morning, so no, I had not been drinking, thankyouverymuch). Anyway, if you want to read the full account and you have some time to kill, I highly suggest you do. (Part I, Part II, Part III). It’s compelling and rich. Or some such.

There was a little paragraph in Part 3 that, at the time, might have seemed a bit innocuous. Let’s revisit it, shall we…

I have heard time and time again (and even noticed myself to a small degree) that the Taiwanese are notorious for looking for and pouncing on any and every opportunity to get money. They’re wonderfully nice, happy people, but when money gets involved, they apparently turn bloodthirsty and will exercise any and all methods to obtain said money. And maybe my [Western] friends are paranoid, but they’ve told me that this is true especially when the Taiwanese think they can get money from a white person, because they assume we’re all rich saps.

In fact, this little paragraph was quite the foreshadowing nugget of doom, and the emotional tumult over the last two months has been decidedly un-fun.

Less than a day after I’d written this, I received a call from a private number. Never one to turn down intrigue, I answered. A woman in broken English asked if I was Nick. I confirmed, and she proceeded to tell me that she was a friend of the lady that I’d “hit” with my scooter (let’s call her Lying Vengeful Sourfaced Lady Phyllis henceforth, because I don’t know anyone with that name to offend). The friend said that Phyllis worked at a department store, where she was on her feet all day; she had broken her ankle in the wreck, and the doctor said she wouldn’t be able to work for four months. And so, the friend said, Phyllis wants to know how much you’re willing to give her as compensation.

In a rare instance of intelligent reticence from me, I told the friend that I would have to speak to some people first, and that I’d get back to her the next week. I wasn’t avoiding the issue – I was just blindsided, stunned, saddened, and a little guilty; but I was also a smidge incredulous.

The Computer’s Out of Commission

In case you’ve been dearly missing me – and I’m oh-so-certain you have been – let me explain. This isn’t one of those “I’m busy and I can’t find the time to blog” excuses… nosireebob. The sad truth is, my trusty and beloved computer has gone on life support.

You see, after signing offline last Wednesday night, I woke up last Thursday morning, and, as I tend to do most mornings, I pressed the power button on the ole computron… and nothing happened. I thought maybe my eyes were simply tired, or perhaps my fingers has lost some of their previous ferocity. But no, it was true – my computer was dead.

And as of right now, it still is. I took it to a shop on what is known as “Computer Street.” I think I trust these people – it’s a licensed HP retailer – but who really knows? Initially, I thought the problem was my battery, but this shop’s little tests (i.e., plugging other batteries into my computer) showed otherwise. Shoulders slumped, I accepted their diagnosis, and have now been without my trusty device for nearly six days.

Are they telling the truth? Who knows? Are they ripping me off? Who knows? Are they werewolves? Who knows? All I know is that they told me it would be about a week, and that puts us at T-minus two days. Anything more than that will be saddening and rage-inducing. And nobody wants that.

Now, you may be asking, “How in the tarnation are you blogging without a computer?” Well, the answer is simple – Adam’s been gracious enough to let me use his from time to time. But I feel bad using it to write an extensive post. So we should probably end this here.

BUT – and I kid you not – there are good things awaiting you when the ole, beloved computron is back. And when that happens, we will be so happy, we do the dance of joy!