Gently Down the Stream

By: Coach

I recently had the privilege of doing something that I have not done in several years. I was asked to accompany a group of students on an adventure that most kids in the States would arm wrestle for (especially if they could miss three days of school)! This activity is exciting, refreshing and sometimes dangerous. If you are still guessing I will end the suspense now; we went white water rafting.

Now before any of you click the red “X” icon on the top right of your screen because you’d rather watch Kobe and Yao battle it out on the hardwood, let me remind you that we are in Taiwan. So, this means that the trip (and the students) proved to be a little different than an American rafting excursion. When I was younger our youth group would load up a couple of 15-passenger vans, gas up and hit the interstate for a few hour drive to the river, making maybe one stop if we were lucky. For this trip our school rented a 40 passenger double-decker charter bus equipped with our personal AC vents and TV screens for all of the movies we were to watch on this six hour ride (yeah you heard right). Not only did we stop about every half-hour but the drive itself was slow going because we basically hugged a cliff over-looking the Pacific for the majority of the drive. Let’s put it this way, I am very glad that I do not get motion sickness on curvy roads because this one took the cake.

Lunch was an interesting experience unlike any other I had seen. We showed up to the restaurant to find it to be the biggest dining area you could imagine already about halfway full of Chinese tourists. It was very loud but thankfully the language barrier was not an issue on this trip. So, I just waited patiently until we found some tables together which actually only took about three minutes! They wheeled out this huge keg-like barrel of rice where all you had to do was walk up and stick your bowl in the sea of hands and POOF out comes your bowl full of white, sticky rice. Incredibly, as chaotic as this dining experience appeared to be from the outside, the staff was like a well-oiled machine. Plate after plate was methodically brought to our circular table (equipped with a food wheel). Here is where things get very sketchy. This dining style does not cater to those who have issues with sharing germs. As our table ate, we started to help ourselves to more food. But, there were no serving utensils or even extra chopsticks so, yes, everyone was digging into the delicious vegetable, meat and seafood dishes with freshly used chopsticks! Yummy.

When we arrived at our hotel I was shocked and amazed at the location of the place. Nestled in the mountains far away from any scooters or subway stations, I could breathe a lot easier for some reason! The kids unloaded quickly and made their way up to their rooms to hook up the various electronic gaming devices without even looking around at all! The scenery was breathtaking and even more exciting was our proximity to the natural hot springs (more on that later). After assigning everyone to a room and going over some simple rules, we gave them some free time options before dinner. I was thrilled to learn that there was a hiking trail nearby that overlooked the coast, the thought of which gave me an adrenaline rush! However, when faced with the choice of hanging out and playing cards, soaking in the hot springs, or hiking I had the number of volunteers that all of you would predict: zero. So hot springs it was.


Now let me paint you a picture so you totally understand what we had at our fingertips. Imagine being the only group in a small bed and breakfast that also had outside hot springs for your enjoyment whenever you fancy. Yeah, pretty cool huh? There was one hang-up though. They did not provide towels! I thought our Taiwanese teacher who acted as our translator was joking when she told me this. To my horror, it was true and apparently everyone else got the memo because every student who piled in the glorified “hot tub” brought their own personal towel with them. After persisting (more so playing dumb American) I got my way, sort of. The owner of the place gave me her personal towel to use for the week. She did this very graciously but had one adamant stipulation: that I remember to return it to her. I told Rebecca (our translator) to inform her that as much as I like pink and yellow butterflies that I would return her towel before we left for Taipei.

Now many of you have been rafting before and are fully aware of the dangers involved. You may also know that depending on the length, it can be very tiring because of the intense rowing required. Our rafting experience was drastically different. First of all the river was low to begin with. I would estimate the highest rated rapids we scooted over would be a 2 (out of 5). But if the kids could not experience a near-death rapid, at least they could have the joy of their arms turning into noodles after hours of paddling, right? Nope. Our trip was fully equipped with speed boat rafts that not only acted as a rescuer, but a tow boat whenever the kids got a little tired. Basically, all you had to do was stop rowing and hang back and soon you would have the red raft come and save the day. The other American-born male teacher and I were furious! Here we are in a difficult situation, one that most of these rich kids had NEVER faced and what do they learn? When the going gets tough just wait for the speed boat. Ridiculous.

All in all, the trip was a blast and some of the students took pride in working hard on the river and rowing most of the way. On the way home while the kids were singing Chinese Karaoke, I was reflecting on how to sum up this trip, particularly these kids who really frustrate me at times but I have grown to love and appreciate at the same time. All I could come up with is this: they might be lazy but they remember their towels.

Ready to Run

The blood, sweat, and tears of the last eight weeks of my life culminated (okay, so there was no blood, but there were sweat and tears) when international schools from all over the island met at the American School of Taichung for the cross country meet yesterday. Notice the use of the article “the” in the previous sentence. Since sports here are culturally very low on the priority list, we were only able to have this one meet during our “season”. In anticipating this day, I felt a blend of excitement for teaching kids to do something that I love and anxiety that I would be discovered as a fraud of a coach who hasn’t the slightest clue what I was doing. Waking up far too early on a rainy Saturday morning, we got ready to face the day.

We met our kids at 5:15 a.m. and headed to meet up with another international school in Taipei to make the two and a half hour journey south to the city of Taichung. We arrived at AST just in time to take the students to walk their course. It must be noted that AST, being situated in the mountains, has a beautiful campus. However, being situated in the mountains, the hilly trail was more than a little intimidating for those of us who had been training in the flat city of Taipei. But, without enough time to get nervous, it was time for the girls’ race to start. Our girls held their own with our top runner finishing seventh overall and fourth in her age group.

Shortly after all the girls had crossed the finish line, the boys lined up to start their race. We were counting on one of our boys to do really well and were crossing our fingers that he might place. We watched as the first place boy came screaming across the finish line (quite literally), then the second, and the third. Soon thereafter, our top runner crossed the line placing fifth. We were a little disappointed that he wasn’t in the top three but proud that he did as well as he did. However, at the awards ceremony, Chris and I began to notice that they weren’t giving awards just to the top three boys and top three girls. Instead, they were dividing them by grade level. As soon as we realized this, we knew that our guy had a chance. Sure enough, when first place for ninth grade boys was announced, they called his name. He was so shocked that when he went up to the awards table, he told them that it must be a mistake. We assured him that it wasn’t and he proudly accepted his medal.

Now, I have to mention some of the behind the scenes drama that was going on while the students were running. After the student races, there was going to be a “Masters” race in which all of the coaches could compete. I was excited about this race, but the intimidation factor began to rise quickly as I heard all of the other coaches discussing which triathlons they had participated in in recent weeks. To add to my angst about my abilities as a runner and as a coach, one of the other coaches began to give me a hard time about my students. Apparently, it was shocking that I would allow my students to run with iPods. I’m still not quite sure why. Also, for some reason, one of our runners failed to eat breakfast and I got chastised for that as well. Anyway, with her chiseled legs and racing tank top tan lines, this coach quickly became an ominous competitor in my eyes.

Finally, it was time for our race to start. The runners took off speedily and I started to maneuver my way in front of my nemesis. Just being a 5K, the race went by rather quickly and I finished sixth overall and first for the women (though there were only four of us). But, if I can toot my own horn for a second, I totally smoked Ms. Chiseled Legs. I was blissfully chatting away with other runners sipping on water when she came huffing across the finish line. I gloated on the inside – and now on the outside, to you. Thanks for indulging me.

With two first place medals and no one coming in last, I was pleased with how we represented ourselves. However, I will admit that I am not sad that it will be another year before I have to train kids athletically again. I don’t think it is time to quit my day job just yet.

Olives on a Corpse

To say the least, we have had some very interesting culinary experiences thus far here in Taiwan. The vast majority of these traditional Taiwanese treats have been quite tasty. We have learned to genuinely enjoy rice cookies, steamed dumplings, octopus and duck heart. There have been a handful of experiences, however, that left a little to be desired. The most intense of these experiences was most definitely our encounter with stinky tofu.

Stinky tofu is the actual name for this food and it is an incredibly accurate name for this Taiwanese fare. Stinky tofu is one of the vilest smells my nostrils have ever encountered. For the first month or so that Chris and I were here, we didn’t realize that “that smell” was not something that we stepped in walking through the park, nor was it wafting from a passing garbage truck. No, what we were smelling was actually something intended for human consumption. The odor produced by the frying of stinky tofu is a pungent mélange of canine fecal matter and vomit. From many yards away, it reaches up and grabs your nostrils, forcing the unexpecting victim to heed its presence. There is actually a street near our apartment that has several carts selling this “comestible”. Though “Stinky Tofu Street”, as we have deemed it, is usually the shortest way home, we avoid it at all cost for fear of passing out from the stench.

To help you picture this experience, let me give you a quick Stinky Tofu for Dummies explanation of how this is made. First, one takes a bucket of unsweetened soy milk and drops in a few vegetables, dried shrimp, and spices. This concoction is left outside (in the tropical heat of Taiwan) for anywhere from a few weeks to six months or more. You can tell it is ready by its moldy, gray appearance. After this brine has been prepared, a firm tofu is marinated in it for several hours. The tofu cannot be left in the brine for more than six hours as this would make the tofu “too stinky.” After it has been adequately marinated, the tofu is fried and cut into squares. It is typically served with a mound of pickled cabbage and a dollop of hot sauce.

The thing about this food is that it is tremendously popular among the Taiwanese. Stinky tofu stands are as common in Taipei as hot dog vendors are in New York City. Of the scores of Taiwanese people I have polled on the matter, only one has admitted that he doesn’t actually like this delicacy. Wanting to get the full Taiwanese experience, I vowed that I would, one day, try this putrid smelling item. One of our American friends from school tried it and reported back that it wasn’t as bad as it smelled and that he actually enjoyed the flavor, thus bolstering my courage to give it a go. When my brother and sister-in-law visited over our spring break, we knew that it was time to try it.

The night came when we were at a night market in Hualien. Night markets (like flea markets that are open at night) are known for their food vendors and are popular places to find stinky tofu. We had someone direct us to the most popular hawker of the stuff and we sat down to prepare ourselves. As he started frying the brine-soaked squares, the well-known odor penetrated our noses. We were actually going to do it. We were going to eat stinky tofu. After a few minutes of cooking, he pulled it out of the oil, cut it into bite size pieces, heaped on the pickled cabbage, and poured some hot sauce on the side of the plate. As the hot, stinky pile was placed in front of us, we pulled out our chopsticks ready to conquer our fear. Counting down, Harrison, Ali, Chris and I chose a square to taste and into our mouths they went. Let me be the one to tell you. Stinky tofu tastes exactly how it smells. I have a pretty high tolerance for strange or bad tasting food, but this thing I had trouble swallowing. It was a putrid, nasty mess of foul, rancid, spongy goo. I have tried to think of something worse that I have put in my mouth, but I couldn’t think of anything.

The worst thing about our experience is that now every time I smell the acrid odor of this abominable excuse for food, I can actually taste it again. The day after our experience at the Hualien night market, we smelled stinky tofu and someone commented, “You know, it smells a little like olives.” To which my brother Harrison added, “Yeah, like olives on a corpse.” I thought it was an accurate description.

Visitors!

Chris and I renewed our love for our profession last week when we celebrated spring break. This vacation was made all the more sweet because we had our first visitors to our new residence. My brother and sister-in-law, Harrison and Ali, made the trek from Santa Barbara to spend a week with us in Taiwan.

They arrived late Sunday night and we took an unintentional tour of Taipei as our taxi driver decided to take the long way home. As my grandmother used to say, it didn’t take long to spend the night and we were off and running Monday morning showing off our adopted city. We wandered all around seeing the tourist sites and the not-so-tourist sites and, of course, experiencing Asian culinary delights. I think that for the first day, Harrison and Ali were impressed with the Mandarin that Chris and I had picked up. Seeing as how they learned everything that we knew during their one week, the awe-factor wore off quickly.

Tuesday, we had a relaxed morning as Chris watched the NCAA basketball championship game. Needless to say, he was delighted that not only did Taiwan air the game, we had a day off so that he could spend all morning watching it. After the game, we decided to head downtown and journey to the top of Taipei 101, so named for its 101 stories. Until August of this year, it will be the tallest building in the world. We were excited to make it to the top while it still has this distinction. The building brought surprises around every corner; the impressive views were interspersed with random golden ant art exhibits, a coral museum, and ample opportunities to purchase memories from your experience on top of the world. We enjoyed a late lunch at one of our favorite where the chef and owner, Bernie, made the meal quite memorable. Afterward, Ali was feeling adventurous so she and I went to the local salon where they gave us both new styles of their choosing. The hour and a half scalp and back message was a hit, however the Asian coif didn’t go over as well.

The next morning, we were barely in our seats before the train departed to take us to Hualien. Chris and I had been to this city before and we loved it so much that we had to show it off. We spent the afternoon doing traditional Hualien activities such as painting rocks and eating pineapple. If you haven’t painted rocks at your bed and breakfast, you haven’t lived. That evening we went to a night market for dinner to get a little adventurous with our digestive systems. We tried stuffed French toast (known as coffin bread), barbecued chicken feet, duck tongue and heart, and even stinky tofu (more on this experience in a blog to come). Thursday we hired a taxi to take us through the famed Taroko Gorge. We hiked throughout the gorge and even through a “water curtain” where the water was bursting through the cave walls and we wandered through wearing ponchos. We were a little surprised when we came home and our proprietor was shooting off fireworks. Not wanting to miss a party, we joined in and happily complied when she handed us sparklers and directed us to make a heart sign with them. When in Hualien…

After a bike ride through some gardens on Friday morning, we boarded the train back to Taipei. We made reservations at a famous dim sum restaurant and enjoyed being back “home.” Saturday was busy as we tried to fit in everything that we still wanted to do. We went to the National Palace Museum and the Jade and flower market. We attempted to make it to Taipei’s hot springs but were a little late. We settled for the riverside night market of Danshui instead.

Easter Sunday we went to church and before having to bid our guests farewell, we had one last Taiwanese experience as we got some famous “bubble tea.” We had a great time playing tour guide and were sad to see them go. Hopefully, this blog was enticing and we’ll have some more visitors soon! We’ll make sure to have plenty of rocks for you to paint and appointments to get your hair cut.

A Whole New Ballgame

Some of you may or may not be aware that I have taken on a new role here at GCA. Being a small school, we are obliged to take on tasks for which we may or may not be qualified. My new responsibility falls into the latter category.

Chris and I often joke about our many differences: morning person vs. night person, introvert vs. extrovert, rap music vs. country music, caring about Auburn football vs. not caring about Auburn football, etc. However, none of these differences is as pronounced as the disparity in our athletic abilities. Though I am tall and look like I should be good at sports such as basketball or volleyball, I am not. Actually, to say that I am “not good” at athletic activities is a gross understatement. The truth is, as soon as I see any sort of ball, all brain activity ceases and my sole concern becomes how I can avoid coming into contact with said ball. This actually made me a successful dodge ball player in elementary school, until I was the only one left on my team and everyone was depending on me to get other players out or catch a ball to get another team member back in the game. Then I wasn't so hot. My equipment aversion did not prove helpful in any other sporting event.

I give you all of this background information to help you fully appreciate the news that I am about to divulge to you. I have been asked to coach a sport. Yes, my friends, I am not simply on a sports team, I am in charge of teaching and training for it. For so many reasons, I never thought that this day would come, but here I am. Before you worry too much about the health and safety of the kids on the team, rest assured that I will not be handling any bats, balls, clubs or rackets. I am the new cross country coach of GCA. I am teaching kids how to run until their legs fall off. Fun, eh? I am actually pretty excited to try my hand at this because, though I know how to run myself, teaching high schoolers how to run is a whole different ballgame. This is true especially because this is the first time our school has had a cross country team. My first order of business was to train the kids to look forward to our “meet” instead of our “game”. I also had to convince the girls interested in the team (and their mothers) that their legs would not become fat from running. Go figure.

So far, coaching has gone well. The paramedics have not yet been called nor have I made anyone cry… yet. In my book, an ambulance-free practice is a successful one. Here’s hopin’ for four more weeks of successful practices!

Just a Walk in the Park

I’ve had a bit of writer’s block lately and I think that the reason for this is twofold. First of all, many of the things that have struck us as blog-worthy over the past several months we have already recorded in our online journal. Secondly, so many things that we might have written about in August don’t even strike us as out of the ordinary anymore. Things that so captivated us when we first arrived don’t even cause us to do a double-take now. I was reflecting on this jadedness this morning during our daily walk to school. “What is something that we haven’t written about Taiwanese culture that is amusing?” Like a bolt of lightning, it hit me. Perhaps it was the uniformed exercise group to my right or the backwards-walking gentleman to my left. All at once I remembered that walking through Nan Gang Park in the morning is better than a three-ring circus.

As a general rule, most Taiwanese are interested in general fitness and therefore like getting out and exercising. However, their methods can differ quite substantially from our own. First of all, and this may or may not have factual basis, the Taiwanese are convinced that beating a certain part of their body will result in that part becoming stronger and more toned. I can kind of understand their reasoning when it comes to “toughening up”. However, all rationale was thrown out the window the first time I saw a man who I am pretty sure sits as a model for the Buddha statues ambling through the park with his grimy t-shirt tucked above his gut slapping his big belly with a bamboo pole. Does he really think that is going to accomplish something other than giving himself a hernia? My confusion about this practice only intensified when I noticed numerous people slapping places that no one has ever tried to strengthen nor should they ever try to strengthen, such as faces or the tops of their heads. Many stroll through the park loudly clapping their hands together Paula Abdul-style to some rhythm that only they can hear.

The idiosyncrasies of Taiwanese fitness don’t stop at body beating. On various occasions, I have speculated whether I have wondered into a Monty Python sketch full of people perfecting their skills to get their gait approved for government backing by the Ministry of Silly Walks. Someone walking backwards all through the park is as about as normal as it comes. Many people walk with their arms stretched high above their heads or spread out like they are preparing to swan dive. The one who we look forward to the most is a gentleman that Chris and I lovingly refer to as “Mary Poppins” because he looks as if he is trying out to be an extra in the chimney sweeper dance on the rooftops. Outfitted in tiny running shorts, he lifts his left knee as high as he can, crosses his leg across his body and drops it quickly in front of his right foot. His right leg acts as if it were in competition with the left as it attempts to lift itself higher and cross more quickly than the left one did. All the while, Mary Poppins has his arms stretched out wide as if to say, “I am here, and I am marvelous!”

The park is also filled with people choosing a more stationary approach to exercise. There are myriad groups of people practicing tai chi, which is actually pretty cool. However, it seems that most tai chi groups have one or two rogue members who prefer to do their own thing. One man leaves his class every morning to hone his tree climbing skills as he nimbly ascends one of the park’s many trees to get a bird’s eye view of his exercising classmates. Another man steps off to the side and bounces his body attempting to touch his toes. Now, it wouldn’t be funny (or Taiwanese) if the stretching stopped there, but it doesn’t. With every bounce, he propels a mighty amount of air through tightly closed lips resulting in a sound that none would deny precisely recreates the sound of flatulence. That’s right. A man, bouncing trying to touch his toes, making his own farting noises. I wish I was creative enough to make this stuff up.

As I haven’t gotten up the courage to lose all couth and photograph these strange sights, you’ll just have to picture them in your heads. And trust me, they are just as funny as you are imagining them. So, as you go through your morning routines, do a couple of Mary Poppins steps in honor of us.

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.