Islands Of Light
3 hours ago
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Friday, October 15, 2010
a crab in a bottle and other delights
Things can get weird in Taiwan. Tell me again why I enjoy this place so much? Tonight at the local night market I saw a poor tortured crab stuck inside a teensy little bottle. On sale for 300NT-about 9 US dollars.
The oddities do not stop there. While I'm all too aware of the freakishly large spiders in Taiwan, I had no idea mutant wasps and bumblebees existed. Dangerous bees and wasps. I now know better than to leave my balcony door open to catch a fresh breeze after I came into the room only to find a golf-ball sized bumble bee hanging out on the window. No joke. Apparently the bees are not much to worry about-it's the wasps that are the killers. They've caused more deaths in Japan than snakes and spiders. A photo of my furry visitor:
In a few weeks this blog will have a new home. As I'm sorting out my life, dealing with turning 30, and accepting that teaching may not be my true calling, (throughout this journey, did I ever feel it really was?) I'm also trying to put myself out there and hone my writing skills.
While teaching is rough at times, the kids can be endearing and moments like this make it more than worthwhile. Some photos from today:
One other note: Though my Chinese skills are still mostly at a two-year old level, I am proud to say that I managed to haggle my way through a sale at the night market tonight. The salesman even complimented my Chinese. It went something like this:
Me, pointing to the mannequin: "How much is this dress? It is beautiful."
Him: "650 nt."
He then proceeded to show me similar dresses.
Me: something like "No more?" Pointing again at the mannequin dress. He pulled the same dress out from the rack.
Me: " I want for 500 nt."
Him: "No.(something about the dress costing 750 NT originally, I think) 550 nt."
Me: "500 nt!"
Him: "No, I can't. 550."
Me, sighing, contemplating. "Ok, 550."
Money is passed.
Him: "Your Chinese is very good."
Me: "No, it's very bad."
Him: "No, don't worry about it."
Me: "Thank you. But very bad."
He then proceeded to show me all the different ways the dress could be tied, where I got a little lost. Overall, the conversation was nothing really to be proud of but after the low-self esteem week I've been having it did make me feel slightly better.
They say at 30 and in the years that follow one tends to become completely confident of himself/herself and where he/she is in life. I wish I felt that way but I believe I'm in the process of shaping myself into the woman I want to become. It's a difficult road, filled with many potholes, many internal monsters to fight. At times I feel so weak; other moments I feel like I've come so far and should be proud of what I've accomplished. Whatever the case, this all is adding up to something.
The oddities do not stop there. While I'm all too aware of the freakishly large spiders in Taiwan, I had no idea mutant wasps and bumblebees existed. Dangerous bees and wasps. I now know better than to leave my balcony door open to catch a fresh breeze after I came into the room only to find a golf-ball sized bumble bee hanging out on the window. No joke. Apparently the bees are not much to worry about-it's the wasps that are the killers. They've caused more deaths in Japan than snakes and spiders. A photo of my furry visitor:
In a few weeks this blog will have a new home. As I'm sorting out my life, dealing with turning 30, and accepting that teaching may not be my true calling, (throughout this journey, did I ever feel it really was?) I'm also trying to put myself out there and hone my writing skills.
While teaching is rough at times, the kids can be endearing and moments like this make it more than worthwhile. Some photos from today:
One other note: Though my Chinese skills are still mostly at a two-year old level, I am proud to say that I managed to haggle my way through a sale at the night market tonight. The salesman even complimented my Chinese. It went something like this:
Me, pointing to the mannequin: "How much is this dress? It is beautiful."
Him: "650 nt."
He then proceeded to show me similar dresses.
Me: something like "No more?" Pointing again at the mannequin dress. He pulled the same dress out from the rack.
Me: " I want for 500 nt."
Him: "No.(something about the dress costing 750 NT originally, I think) 550 nt."
Me: "500 nt!"
Him: "No, I can't. 550."
Me, sighing, contemplating. "Ok, 550."
Money is passed.
Him: "Your Chinese is very good."
Me: "No, it's very bad."
Him: "No, don't worry about it."
Me: "Thank you. But very bad."
He then proceeded to show me all the different ways the dress could be tied, where I got a little lost. Overall, the conversation was nothing really to be proud of but after the low-self esteem week I've been having it did make me feel slightly better.
They say at 30 and in the years that follow one tends to become completely confident of himself/herself and where he/she is in life. I wish I felt that way but I believe I'm in the process of shaping myself into the woman I want to become. It's a difficult road, filled with many potholes, many internal monsters to fight. At times I feel so weak; other moments I feel like I've come so far and should be proud of what I've accomplished. Whatever the case, this all is adding up to something.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
a word about nightclubs
Somewhere between setting foot in the door and seeing half-naked women dancing around on stage in furry thigh-high boots, I came to the realization that I'm getting too old for night clubs. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy dancing. However, the whole thing seemed a little silly and I felt slightly out of place. Perhaps the notion that I'm now thirty got to me a little but taking a good look around I felt what I've been feeling the past couple of years--night clubs are not really my thing anymore. After numerous glasses of champagne, wine, and a feeble attempt to dance around a pole, (two friends tried to con me into it) the fog machine and crowd started to get to me. I found myself inching towards the wall and back to our table.
One of the highlights of the evening-
A girl opened the door I thought I'd locked as I was using the squat toilet. The entire bathroom (there were a line of women waiting) got a good look at my bare rear. I hid in the stall for a few minutes after the incident.
Still, the night went well overall and I enjoyed seeing everyone. It did feel nice to socialize a little, even though I'm now used to being a recluse.
Next year however, I plan on doing something really laid-back and low key.
Some pictures from the night:
One of the highlights of the evening-
A girl opened the door I thought I'd locked as I was using the squat toilet. The entire bathroom (there were a line of women waiting) got a good look at my bare rear. I hid in the stall for a few minutes after the incident.
Still, the night went well overall and I enjoyed seeing everyone. It did feel nice to socialize a little, even though I'm now used to being a recluse.
Next year however, I plan on doing something really laid-back and low key.
Some pictures from the night:
Thursday, October 7, 2010
a new decade...
It's the eve of my 30th birthday and I don't know how to feel tonight. Part of me feels like crying, another part is rejoicing for the time I've been alive.
What does turning 30 really mean? I suppose I feel like I have to act like more of a grown-up now. Get serious about the direction my life is heading. I'm slightly terrified and a little depressed. On one hand I'm happy I'm far away from home so no one is here to rub it in my face and remind me I'm now three decades old...on the other hand, it's such a big moment in my life and I'm sad I can't spend it with my family and closest friends.
To make myself feel better, I decided to compile a list of reasons why it's good to be turning 30.
1. I have lived for three decades. Some people never get the chance.
2. Even though I'm turning 30, I still do not look 30. I'm hoping when people find out my real age they'll be shocked.
3. I'm single without any children. For some people this might be horrifying but for me I'm happy that I'm at an age where I'm starting to figure out what I want and I don't have anything to tie me down. No offense to those in relationships or with children.
4. Hopefully now that I'm turning 30, people stop looking at me like I'm a child.
5. My twenties taught me a lot and I still have much to learn. I'm looking forward to the insight the next decade will bring.
Now excuse me while I go apply some wrinkle cream...:(
What does turning 30 really mean? I suppose I feel like I have to act like more of a grown-up now. Get serious about the direction my life is heading. I'm slightly terrified and a little depressed. On one hand I'm happy I'm far away from home so no one is here to rub it in my face and remind me I'm now three decades old...on the other hand, it's such a big moment in my life and I'm sad I can't spend it with my family and closest friends.
To make myself feel better, I decided to compile a list of reasons why it's good to be turning 30.
1. I have lived for three decades. Some people never get the chance.
2. Even though I'm turning 30, I still do not look 30. I'm hoping when people find out my real age they'll be shocked.
3. I'm single without any children. For some people this might be horrifying but for me I'm happy that I'm at an age where I'm starting to figure out what I want and I don't have anything to tie me down. No offense to those in relationships or with children.
4. Hopefully now that I'm turning 30, people stop looking at me like I'm a child.
5. My twenties taught me a lot and I still have much to learn. I'm looking forward to the insight the next decade will bring.
Now excuse me while I go apply some wrinkle cream...:(
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
country roads, take me home...
I am the proud owner of a scooter once again. After a few frustrating attempts at finding something that didn't look like it would break down if I sat on it, I received an e-mail from another foreigner back in Hsinchu. He gave me a good deal on his shiny red bike so I jumped at the offer. The only problem-getting it back to Puli. Of course, I'd been wanting to do a semi-cross country scooter trip for some time so I went out to Hsinchu with the intent of driving all the way back here.
Some people thought I'd gone crazy. I got basic directions from my boss. My expat friend in Hsinchu attempted to explain how to find the provincial highway that would start me on my journey and his wife wrote a note in Chinese: please help this foreigner find highway 3. She took one look at the scooter, laughed, and insisted it would take 6 or 7 hours to reach my destination.
I said a prayer when I woke. I left my hotel in Hsinchu at 3:30 am, a smile on my face despite the protests of the doorman. "Too early," he warned. He looked extremely concerned but I assured him I'd be fine.
I could not find provincial highway 3.
I bothered a poor lady riding her scooter. She had two giant bags full of cans and looked terrified when I opened my mouth. After listening to me maul the Chinese language for a few moments she gestured for me to follow her. Happily, I complied. I thought she was leading the way to my destination but my heart sank when she pulled over alongside the police station. One security guard quickly turned into three. He had to call his friends for back-up. More attempts at speaking bad Chinese followed; I understood some of what they were saying said but to my utter shame I could not reply. The bag lady got on the phone with her friend and said something like "This foreigner wants to drive to Puli by herself. She can't speak Chinese and has no Chinese friend." They kept laughing at the fact that I wanted to drive so 'far'.
Finally, after I said "I want go" in Chinese and pointed to the highway 3 symbol about ten times, someone figured it out. One of the guards hopped on his scooter and I followed him for about 30 minutes. He then grabbed my notebook and wrote what I could only assume translated to "Help this crazy white girl get to Puli," said a bunch of stuff I didn't understand, and made a hand gesture at provincial highway 3. I thanked him, grinned, and set off. I do have to say the Taiwanese can be extremely helpful sometimes. I hope we'd be as kind back in the states.
The first two hours of the drive were the most difficult. Cold air, dark roads, solitary traveler. Despite being a little nervous, I marveled at the experience. With the rising of the sun, beautiful landscapes began to unfold before my eyes-a whole new Taiwan, a whole new world. Aside from a few crazy drivers and a weird squeaking bat-like animal, the drive went well. I stopped to take pictures when I reached enchanting highway 21. It winds through the mountains and looks totally Asian.:) Not a place to drive fast though, lots of twists and turns.
The total journey took about five hours. I arrived in Puli with an aching body and a feeling of deep satisfaction; I felt amazed with Taiwan and even more amazed with myself.
Yes, I am bragging. In the not-so distant past I feared driving alone in corn fields. I used to think about horrible things happening to me and I'd give myself anxiety attacks. Now I'm driving mopeds on lonely mountain roads in a non-English speaking country. I've come a long way and I hope this boldness continues to take me to new, enlightening places.
Some people thought I'd gone crazy. I got basic directions from my boss. My expat friend in Hsinchu attempted to explain how to find the provincial highway that would start me on my journey and his wife wrote a note in Chinese: please help this foreigner find highway 3. She took one look at the scooter, laughed, and insisted it would take 6 or 7 hours to reach my destination.
I said a prayer when I woke. I left my hotel in Hsinchu at 3:30 am, a smile on my face despite the protests of the doorman. "Too early," he warned. He looked extremely concerned but I assured him I'd be fine.
I could not find provincial highway 3.
I bothered a poor lady riding her scooter. She had two giant bags full of cans and looked terrified when I opened my mouth. After listening to me maul the Chinese language for a few moments she gestured for me to follow her. Happily, I complied. I thought she was leading the way to my destination but my heart sank when she pulled over alongside the police station. One security guard quickly turned into three. He had to call his friends for back-up. More attempts at speaking bad Chinese followed; I understood some of what they were saying said but to my utter shame I could not reply. The bag lady got on the phone with her friend and said something like "This foreigner wants to drive to Puli by herself. She can't speak Chinese and has no Chinese friend." They kept laughing at the fact that I wanted to drive so 'far'.
Finally, after I said "I want go" in Chinese and pointed to the highway 3 symbol about ten times, someone figured it out. One of the guards hopped on his scooter and I followed him for about 30 minutes. He then grabbed my notebook and wrote what I could only assume translated to "Help this crazy white girl get to Puli," said a bunch of stuff I didn't understand, and made a hand gesture at provincial highway 3. I thanked him, grinned, and set off. I do have to say the Taiwanese can be extremely helpful sometimes. I hope we'd be as kind back in the states.
The first two hours of the drive were the most difficult. Cold air, dark roads, solitary traveler. Despite being a little nervous, I marveled at the experience. With the rising of the sun, beautiful landscapes began to unfold before my eyes-a whole new Taiwan, a whole new world. Aside from a few crazy drivers and a weird squeaking bat-like animal, the drive went well. I stopped to take pictures when I reached enchanting highway 21. It winds through the mountains and looks totally Asian.:) Not a place to drive fast though, lots of twists and turns.
The total journey took about five hours. I arrived in Puli with an aching body and a feeling of deep satisfaction; I felt amazed with Taiwan and even more amazed with myself.
Yes, I am bragging. In the not-so distant past I feared driving alone in corn fields. I used to think about horrible things happening to me and I'd give myself anxiety attacks. Now I'm driving mopeds on lonely mountain roads in a non-English speaking country. I've come a long way and I hope this boldness continues to take me to new, enlightening places.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Hello Waiguoren
I felt really noticeable today. This isn't a good thing. Walking down the street on a quest for a smoothie attracted a lot of unwanted attention. Gawks, stares. Probably people shouting "Look at the foreigner!" I couldn't tell because I walked with my ipod turned up. After living in Taiwan for a year, you'd think this type of thing wouldn't phase me. Maybe it's because I've been feeling on edge the last few days. Startled easily, etc. Not sure why.
Usually Taiwanese are really polite but today seemed different. I felt intrusive. Really foreign.
Now I know most people are just curious about me and why I'm here. Sometimes I also get the impression they perceive me as a rich American girl on holiday. The rich part's funny but little do they know I'm on a quest for my life purpose. Most likely I'm wrong about them thinking anything and just being paranoid.
Being able to live in this part of Taiwan is a blessing but I'll have to find something more productive to do so I'm not sitting around dwelling on useless things so much.
Speaking of which, I just started a new blog over at WordPress-mostly for writing short stories and poems. WordPress is a little more complicated and restrictive than blogger so my writing site will take some time to perfect. Here's the link, if anyone is interested...Moon Sprung.
Another weekend, coming to a close. Less than 2 weeks left till my birthday.
Photos from my walk:
Usually Taiwanese are really polite but today seemed different. I felt intrusive. Really foreign.
Now I know most people are just curious about me and why I'm here. Sometimes I also get the impression they perceive me as a rich American girl on holiday. The rich part's funny but little do they know I'm on a quest for my life purpose. Most likely I'm wrong about them thinking anything and just being paranoid.
Being able to live in this part of Taiwan is a blessing but I'll have to find something more productive to do so I'm not sitting around dwelling on useless things so much.
Speaking of which, I just started a new blog over at WordPress-mostly for writing short stories and poems. WordPress is a little more complicated and restrictive than blogger so my writing site will take some time to perfect. Here's the link, if anyone is interested...Moon Sprung.
Another weekend, coming to a close. Less than 2 weeks left till my birthday.
Photos from my walk:
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
whatever you want to be...
Tonight I attended a Moon Festival gathering at a Thai restaurant with my bosses and it was quite interesting. I met a Frenchman married to an expat from Burma whose two sisters run the restaurant here in Puli.
Intriguing people. The Frenchman's children speak fluent French and Chinese. They speak decent English and Taiwanese too. Wow, those kids are set for life. I'd love to master just one foreign language let alone four. I wonder if they speak Burmese as well, seeing as their mother and her two sisters are Burmese.
One of the sisters sat down and told us how growing up in Burma, her father told them they had a choice of either cooking or studying. Whichever they chose they had to give their full attention to but he gave them these options without pressure. From what she conveyed he seemed pretty laid back about the whole thing. He didn't emphasize one over the other, instead he let them live with whatever choice they made.
This is interesting. In America, growing up we are told we have endless choices, endless opportunities. We can become whatever we wish to be... at a price. How many times do people stress and agonize over where they are in their lives, what they don't have, what they should have done? Even though there is freedom of choice it's accompanied by intense pressure. Pressure to succeed, to live up to what society's definition of The American Dream or true "success" is.
How many of us actually live with our choices and feel contentment?
I'm not sure exactly where I'm going with this. Maybe one day I'll know.
The moon is a little spooky tonight...perfect for Moon Festival.
Intriguing people. The Frenchman's children speak fluent French and Chinese. They speak decent English and Taiwanese too. Wow, those kids are set for life. I'd love to master just one foreign language let alone four. I wonder if they speak Burmese as well, seeing as their mother and her two sisters are Burmese.
One of the sisters sat down and told us how growing up in Burma, her father told them they had a choice of either cooking or studying. Whichever they chose they had to give their full attention to but he gave them these options without pressure. From what she conveyed he seemed pretty laid back about the whole thing. He didn't emphasize one over the other, instead he let them live with whatever choice they made.
This is interesting. In America, growing up we are told we have endless choices, endless opportunities. We can become whatever we wish to be... at a price. How many times do people stress and agonize over where they are in their lives, what they don't have, what they should have done? Even though there is freedom of choice it's accompanied by intense pressure. Pressure to succeed, to live up to what society's definition of The American Dream or true "success" is.
How many of us actually live with our choices and feel contentment?
I'm not sure exactly where I'm going with this. Maybe one day I'll know.
The moon is a little spooky tonight...perfect for Moon Festival.
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