The Bug

This time of year, it seems that no matter where you are, people are talking about it. Hoarse voices from San Francisco to Moscow bemoan sleepless nights and aching joints. Waiting rooms in doctor’s offices from Nairobi to Buenos Aires swell with sniffling noses and scratchy throats. Just like your cities, Taipei was not able to escape it. It is… the crud. In some demented way, it is slightly comforting to know that we are all in the same boat suffering in the same way across the ocean. Chris’ tuberculosis-style hacking this morning confirmed that we are well on our way through round two of this nasty affliction. You see, working in a small school that houses children ages five to eighteen with their snotty noses and unwashed hands for eight hours in a day turns our work environment into some sort of ill-fated science experiment.

For round one, we were able to watch as kids and teachers fell victim to this illness and waited in quiet apprehension for our turn to come, and it did. It started with the coughing and then came the fever and chills. Having easy access to healthcare, I decided to drop in to the doctor’s office to see what he could tell me. All of the teachers go to the same doctor because he is a parent of one of our students. From the teddy bears and coloring books around the waiting room, I was able to deduce that he is, in fact, a pediatrician. So, feeling a bit like Gulliver in Lilliput, I waited my turn to see the good doctor. After a short time of poking, prodding, and measuring, it was proclaimed that I had an “injected and inframed throat” that were symptoms of the flu and tonsillitis. I went to check out when the person whom I had previously thought was the receptionist handed me an entire pharmacy worth of pills. I literally had six pills that I had to take three times a day. What were the pills that they gave me, you ask? I have no idea. They put them into handy little daily packets thus removing them from the original packaging and rendering them utterly unrecognizable to the untrained eye. Don’t worry, though, I was given an instruction sheet about my medication, but it was entirely in Chinese. I had an emergency pack of pills that I can only assume were horse tranquilizers that I was instructed to take if the first slough of drugs didn’t quite do the trick. And, here’s the kicker. Everything from start to finish including all the pharmaceuticals set us back all of three dollars. Not too shabby, I must say.

Having been healed from the first attack of sickness, we watched in fearful resignation as the horrible virus mutated into a form that was unrecognizable to our antibodies and the wave started again. So, here we find ourselves once again, though Chris is the one debating a visit to the doctor this time. To their credit, the Taiwanese do everything that they can to keep disease from spreading in the crowded city of Taipei. Doctor’s offices being numerous and inexpensive make it easy to get the medication you need, when you need it, keeping people like me from coming into work while hideously contagious. It is accepted practice to wear a medical mask when you are sick to help keep from breathing germ-infected air onto innocent bystanders. In fact, if you are on a bus, elevator, or subway and you cough without wearing such a mask, be prepared to get several stink-eyes shot at you from around the area. In addition to all of my drugs, the doctor instructed me to go to the local 7-eleven to purchase a medical mask as to not infect my co-workers and students. I can officially report, however, that Americans are not ready for the medical mask (though it makes a lot of sense) for when I followed doctor’s orders, I was teased relentlessly by my fellow teachers. To such taunts, I responded with a simple cough in their lunch and went on my way.

In conclusion, if I come home and wear a medical mask, be nice to me or else I might contaminate you with my injected and inframed throat.

A Day Without Salmonella

To help us all survive the short yet somewhat dreary month of February, we celebrated Hot Pot day at school on Friday. I am guessing that you, like me, have no idea what a "hot pot day" might look like or how one might celebrate it. After I heard that it required an extended lunch hour, I decided that was all the information that I needed and looked forward to the day with much anticipation.

For those of you who are not satisfied with the extra lunch time description, let me describe a meal with a hot pot. A large pot set on top of a hot plate is filled with some sort of broth. Diners patiently wait for the broth to heat to a proper temperature and then drop whatever desired fixin's into the soup and wait for them to cook. Our fixin's (that is the technical Mandarin word, by the way) were all quite tasty and included everything from crab and sliced pork to corn and tofu. Once the food has been cooked, it is fished out of the soup to make room for more things to be cooked.

The extra lunch hour was a lovely way to spend our Friday afternoon. Chris and I had our fill of noodles and dumplings and watched the high school boys eat more pork than I had previously thought was humanly possible. We later found out that we, on the ninth floor of the school, were quite lucky because we only had one group of students eating in our room. On some of the lower floors, there were several groups eating which required more electric hot pots which, in turn, freaked out the electric system and caused rolling blackouts throughout the afternoon. When the edibility of your lunch depends on the constancy of temperature, rolling blackouts are not your friend. Eventually, however, we heard that everyone got enough to eat and I have not yet heard of any cases of food poisoning. Any day without salmonella is a good day in my book.

Lesson Learned

We have grown slightly accustomed to our new culture not being aligned with that of the United States. Miniature candy and cheap costumes didn’t line shelves in October, nor was cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie seasoning abundantly displayed at every grocery store in November. So, when February rolled around and Brach’s candy hearts and Sponge Bob Valentine cards didn’t make a debut, we thought that Valentine’s Day would be about as popular here as Arbor Day in the States. We were wrong.

We went to bed on the night of the 13th with a couple of ideas for dinner, planning on deciding for sure in the morning. When we got up, Chris went and got the number for our top choice to call and make reservations. We decided to stick to the “touristy” places so that we could call and find someone who spoke English. I was sweeping the floor when I heard a response that I wasn’t expecting.

“What? You are totally full tonight? No space at all? Oh, okay. Thanks anyway.” Choice number two. “You’ve been full for a week, oh, okay. Thanks anyway." Choice number three. “No tables? How about the bar? Full too, eh. Okay, thanks anyway.” I saw that Chris was really starting to sweat until he finally made some headway with choice number four. “You’ve kept a few tables open for suckers like us who didn’t make reservations? Great! What time do you start serving dinner? We’ll be there.” So, Macaroni Grill it was.

For the early afternoon, we had planned on packing a lunch and taking a hike on a hill behind our apartment. However, during our mad dinner dash, we failed to notice the nimbus clouds rolling in and taking residence just over said apartments and hill. So, just as we stepped out to purchase our lunch provisions, soft pellets of rain forced an immediate 180 and we made our way back indoors.

Plan B. We each grabbed a book and headed to a café where we could sip on a cup of coffee and read for a while. The game plan was to skip lunch, have an early dinner and be sure to get a table at the first come, first serve option. But, Cupid’s arrow wasn’t finished with us just yet. Turns out, cafés are just as popular as restaurants on Valentine’s Day. So there was actually a wait there, too. Plan C. We thought we remembered stumbling across a small coffee shop near Macaroni Grill so we thought we’d give it a go. Spotting a free table, we leapt into action as I threw myself across the table to reserve it and Chris secured a place in line. After people stopped staring because of our bizarre acrobatic display, we enjoyed a leisurely afternoon full of espresso and Orson Wells.

When the gnawing in our stomachs reminded us of our neglected lunch, we decided to try for a table at Macaroni Grill. Seeing several open tables, we strode up confidently to the hostess and requested to be seated. “Absolutely,” she said. “What name is the reservation under?” We sheepishly admitted that we did not, in the most technical since, have a reservation. Apprehensively, she asked, “Can you finish your meal in one hour and a half?” We guaranteed that we could make that happen and breathed a sigh of relief as she directed us to a booth. Dinner turned out to be delicious and we made it out well under our time limit. We hopped over to an international grocery store and grabbed a few “comfort foods” and caught the bus back home. The rest of the evening was spent snacking in front of whatever chick flicks came on HBO.

In all, it turned out to be a pretty fun Valentine’s Day. But, I have learned my lesson. When Arbor Day comes around this year, you had better believe I am making dinner reservations well in advance.

It's Official!

After much consideration, Chris and I have decided to stay another year here in Taipei. We have definitely taken a shine to this crazy Asian culture and, I dare say, they have taken a shine to us. Over the last few days, we have evaluated our expectations about moving here and how they have or have not been met.

First of all, we were very intimidated about moving to Taiwan -- simply because it was Asia. Why is that? For whatever reason, as westerners, we have some sort of deep-rooted fear of the Orient and its "bizarre" ways. I can't tell you how many warnings we got advising us to stay away from all meat because, chances are, it is either rat or dog. I can assure you that, while we may have eaten some odd things, the proud Taiwanese would never ingest either a gutter animal or their best friend. In fact, a lot of Taiwanese are a little grossed out by cheese. It is fermented milk, after all. Now who are the weird ones?

One of the scariest "fear factors" we had about coming here was the language barrier. Just the words tone and character sent shivers down my spine and, frankly, they still do. How would we possibly get around a place where you can't even decipher street signs and store names? The truth is, our Mandarin isn't nearly as good as I had hoped that it would be by this point simply because people are so ready to help. On more than one occasion, a Taiwanese person has taken it upon themselves to "adopt the westerner" and very amiably help us order at a restaurant or navigate our way to the airport. Even when we happen upon some of the local stores that don't speak English, the salespeople are invariably patient as we stumble through broken Mandarin and charades to get our message across. In fact, many people are actually apologetic that they don't speak English! How backwards is that? I am in their country and they are apologizing to me for not speaking English? It definitely gives us a different perspective for the Spanish-speaking communities around the United States because we have become what so many Americans complain about.

Having grown up in suburbia and Chris in the country, we were apprehensive but also excited about moving to a big city. It didn't take us long to come to the conclusion that we both love it. Between the subway, buses and trains, getting around couldn't be easier. As in most big cities, there is always something going on and somewhere to go. Being an incredibly international city, we get to try the Chinese version of all kinds of worldly cuisines. We don't drive so the only time we have to worry about traffic is when we are playing Frogger to cross the street. However, one of the down sides to the big city is the pollution. We were more than a little freaked out when we arrived and saw about 1/3 of the people going about wearing medical masks to protect them from breathing the polluted air. Hopefully no carcinogens will take root over these two years.

We were shocked to learn how incredibly safe Taipei is as well. We live across from a park and on the first day, we asked our principal if it was safe for me to go running alone. She had to stifle her laughter when she told me that it was absolutely safe. And, it's true! I would feel comfortable walking alone at 2:00 AM in just about any part of the Taipei. Maybe it is because of all of those over-crowded, under-fed prisons where the prison guards carry around cattle prods for anyone who disobeys. Just kidding.

All this to be said, we often wonder why we were so afraid of coming here. For the most part, the Taiwanese are actually excited to host Americans in their country whereas if we had gone to Europe, they pretty much would have resented every move we made. On the surface, many things about the culture in Taiwan may seem very different from American culture. But, when you get down to it, it really isn't that foreign. After all, have you ever seen a person from Montgomery try to order a sandwich in New York City? The culture and language gap may be just as wide across the Mason Dixon line as it is across the Pacific.

Xīn Nián Kuài Lè! (Happy New Year!)

While in America, the post-Christmas doldrums have set in and people have begun to deprive themselves for their short-lived New Year’s resolution diets, the holiday season is just now getting into full swing here in Taiwan. As you may or may not be aware, we are currently in the year of the rat, an animal representing charm and thrift. (I’ve always found rats charming and thrifty, haven’t you?) Not to fear, however, as the Lunar New Year is upon us, on Monday we will be safely in the year of the ox, a year of patience and dependability.

Apparently, this time of year, the city of Taipei shuts down like Birmingham in a blizzard. We have been warned that restaurants, grocery stores, and even the post office and hospital will be closed for most of next week. Hair salons, however, raise their prices due to the volumes of women wanting to be properly coiffed when their in-laws drop in. Our students are bouncing off the walls with anticipation as this is the big gift-giving season as well. However, instead of Santa sliding down the chimney with a sack full of presents, Chinese children look forward to the blessed red envelope. Red envelopes are received from all different relatives and family friends and are stuffed full of money. No toy trains, Barbies, or Lego’s here, just cold, hard cash. In fact, the term “red envelope” is synonymous with a gift of money at any time of the year. In addition to money, it is also traditional to give gifts of candy to friends and colleagues. To this end, Chris and I went to the famed “candy street” this week to see what we could find.

Not exactly straight out of the game Candy Land, Candy Street is a stretch of road about a mile long that is transformed every Chinese New Year into a street vendor’s paradise. Booths hawking special holiday comestibles bark products and their prices at passers-by who shuffle along at the speed of the hoard. After the first hundred yards, one begins to feel like a broken record spinning on an endless loop of the same goods for sale: vats of nuts, tubs of different candies, trays of dehydrated fruits and vegetables, a tea station, and finally the token mystery booth selling some unidentifiable product. Since there are scores of vendors offering the same product, they are very motivated to entice potential buyers to their booth to make a purchase. How does one selling strange foods lure buyers? The two most delightful words in the English language: free samples. Vendors practically beg shoppers to come and try their product in hopes of either tantalizing their taste buds or giving them so much for free that they feel too guilty to walk away not having made a purchase.

During our march down the street, Chris and I tried everything from fried octopus to wasabi pumpkin seeds. One of my favorite treats from the evening was the dehydrated and candied kiwi. The food that wins the award for the most quickly expectorated was definitely the dried fish cube that came wrapped in a shiny pink and gold paper, fooling silly foreigners into thinking that it might be candy. We walked away from the evening full of exotic holiday treats and a couple of goody bags in hand.

Fiddler on a Burning Roof

There are many times when tradition is not only appropriate but welcomed with open arms. Other times, it is dreaded like the plague. Having two kinds of pie at Thanksgiving dinner? Good tradition. Watching an oversized rodent every February 2nd give us a weather forecast? Stupid tradition. Game night with friends once a week? Excellent tradition. Taking all students, kindergarten through 12th grade to the fire station every year for a field trip? Very, very bad tradition.

Last week, I had the distinct honor of chaperoning our high school students to the thrilling destination of one of Taipei’s fire houses. I’m not sure how he weaseled out of it, but Chris was exempt from this adventure. I can see how one might find this location exciting and even educational for elementary school students. However, dragging a slough of teenagers to the fire house for the umpteenth time fell slightly short of pleasurable. After confiscating a set of drumsticks and a lighter (the irony was staggering), we herded into the building where we were escorted into the video center. I wish that I could provide you with some clever quips about the cheesy dialogue and ridiculous instructions that they gave us during the 30 minute video, but it was all in Mandarin so the only thing that I understood was the numbers of the steps (and I do have to admit that I was a little bit excited about understanding that much). However, the Jesse Spano Bangs and A.C. Slater pants attested to the fact that the video was filmed during the height of ridiculous early 90’s fashion. My favorite part was when they instructed you to pull out the chute that should be placed next to the window of every building, have a friend attach it to the ground and calmly slide down ten stories away from the fiery inferno. I’m sure that it would go just that smoothly.

We promptly moved on to the earthquake room. This is a room on a platform that simulates earthquakes as severe as the operator wants to make them. For a girl from Colorado, this was quite a novelty and I was actually quite amazed at the quaking floor. However, the kids who not only have been in the earthquake room a dozen times but have lived through scores of real earthquakes were less than impressed. And what do bored teenagers do? They act like lunatics. It didn’t help that they were told that you must put a silver pillow helmet on your head to survive the fake earthquake. After the fake earthquake, we continued to a room that simulated a fire. Like mice in a maze, students were asked to navigate through a series of rooms and hallways filled with the smoke you might have seen at a Cher concert. Like mice that had run the same race more than a few times, they sped through it only stopping to hide and scare or trip their friends behind them.

Just when I thought that we had reached the pinnacle of the madness, we moved into a room where they were going to teach us how to use a fire extinguisher. And, of course, it was a hands-on demonstration. How long do you think it was before the students stopped spraying the “fire” and started spraying each other? Not long. I mean, come on. You’ve “learned” how to use a fire extinguisher at least half a dozen times. You’re a teenage boy in control of a piece of equipment designed to propel water at another object. What would you do?

At last the hour and a half tour came to an end and we loaded the students back on the bus. Lessons learned about disaster survival? Find a slide to jump out of a burning building and make sure to stock plenty of pillow helmets in the house in case of an earthquake. Lessons learned about field trips? I think the fiddler would be more stable on his roof without this tradition.

Happy Birthday to Me!

I want to start off by saying thank you so much to all of you for all of the birthday wishes. It was so fun to have so many people remember and send me a note and make me feel special. My birthday was on a Sunday and I have decided that from now on, all my birthdays will happen on the weekend because this way, the celebration happens for three days instead of just one.

The festivities were kicked off with a bang on Friday afternoon when my students strolled into class bearing two scrumptious birthday cakes complete with candles and the Happy Birthday song. I am delighted to report that both cakes were delicious and red bean paste and pork-free. You really can’t ask for much more.

On Saturday morning, I got to sleep in (something I definitely don’t take for granted after marathon training) and my friend Rachel took me out for a leisurely breakfast of bagels and coffee. When we got back home, it was time to get ready for the next event on the agenda – high tea with some of our friends at the Grand Hotel here in Taipei. The Grand Hotel is kind of a cultural icon here in Taiwan and is a must-see while you are here. Since we hadn’t been, we decided that this would be a great opportunity.

We didn’t really know what to expect for high tea in Asia, so we dressed business casual and put our game faces on. When we arrived, we checked in (since Chris also planned for us to stay the night at the hotel). They politely wished me “sheng ri kuai le” and handed me a small birthday gift – a refrigerator magnet of the hotel. Since this was the best birthday gift any hotel had ever given me, I was very surprised and grateful. We then were shown our table for tea time. I have to admit, high tea was not what I expected. Instead of tiered trays of crustless cucumber sandwiches and dainty petits fours, a vast bounty of food was spread out before us. Everything from lamb to tempura to sushi to ice cream called to us to join in the feast. Part of me was hoping to be snubbed just a little bit to make it feel like a true tea-time experience. No snubbing occurred, however, and after an afternoon filled with good food and good conversation we waddled out of the dining room much fuller than we ever expected to be.

Chris and I said goodbye to our friends and located the elevator to find our room. This next detail that I will share with you may not sound like a big deal, but I assure you that it is. Our hotel room was equipped not only with a thermostat, but also with heating! Now, you may think that we live in a tropical climate and that we don’t need heaters. But, with the humidity and nighttime temperatures dipping into the 30’s, it gets downright chilly. Despite these facts, very few structures are outfitted with heating mechanisms and shoddy window seals are accepted practice. So, it is quite a treat not to be forced to sleep curled tightly in the fetal position with two pairs of socks, gloves, and a hat. To keep the birthday fun going, I opened Chris’ gift which was a beautiful new coat. After basking in this warmth for some time, I donned my new coat and we ventured out of our sauna and wandered around the hotel. We happened upon a dim sum restaurant and decided to return later, no matter how full we still were, since we have been hooked on this Cantonese specialty since we visited Hong Kong and have had a remarkably difficult time locating good dim sum in Taipei. So, after a few dumplings, we went to bed sans ski gear.

Sunday morning we woke up to an unseasonably warm and sunny day. We enjoyed a huge buffet breakfast and left for church. After church, we came home and celebrated my birthday one more time. My parents gave me a gift when we saw them in Mexico and I pulled that out to open. So, Chris sang to me for the umpteenth time and I tore off the paper to reveal a Wii game system. As I inserted the batteries to the controllers, Chris made sure that our friends were on their way over to break it in. So, as I type this, I am simultaneously doing a Google search for “wii elbow” remedies.

In conclusion, please accept my advice to always have birthdays on the weekend, or at the very least, in two vastly different time zones.