Teaching the Taiwanese

Yesterday was my first teaching day. I was too exhausted Sunday night to even look at the books I had brought home to prepare the pre-written lesson plans. Who knew that walking around town for 8 hours would tucker you out so much? So I woke up at about 7 am and started to worry. I started preparing, taking a quick break to pick up some breakfast and drop off my laundry. I had a happy moment when I realized that I was able to communicate enough to indicate that I wanted my laundry washed and dryed, and that I should come back to pick it up at 1 PM. (I had two weeks worth of clothes washed/dryed for $2.50 US--not bad) Anyway, I spent the entire morning prepping four hours worth of teaching. That's too much. I screwed up anyway and forgot entire sections of the lesson plan. I guess that's what happens when you cram 2 weeks worth of material into one day of training. Arg.

One of my favorite things about Taiwan is, oddly enough, the garbage truck. It plays music that sounds really similar to an ice cream truck. Everyone seems to be weirded out by it, but I think it's actually hilarious. Especially when I imagine what it must be like for a Taiwanese kids to move to the States and see children running, with money waving in the air, after what sounds to them like a garbage truck. :)

Ok, I have a *really* embarrassing yet hilarious story to tell. Avoid reading this if: you are planning on eating in the next 20 mins, are eating right now, have eaten recently, or are generally disgusted by poop stories.

At the end of yesterday's outing I realized (as we were about a 45 minute walk from our apt) that I needed to poop. I let Susan know and she and I headed back, leaving the others at one of the nurseries we had seen earlier in the day. As we were walking I thought maybe I was having cramps too, but when I felt the gurgle, I knew I was in for a wild ride. The traveller's diarrhea had come at last, and it had come with a vengeance. As we walked faster, I wondered what I would do if I didn't make it. The poop was emminent. We looked around for a place to go. We decided the cafe on the corner was the best bet. We reached the corner just as the light changed so we began to wait. Susan started pointing things out to help me forget what was about to happen, but I couldn't wait anymore. We darted out into the traffic, which, luckily, was pretty light, and I grabbed her hand and started to chant "I won't shit my pants, I won't shit my pants!" We ran into the restaurant and tried to explain that I needed a toilet, and finally they pointed to the back of the place. I walked/waddled back as fast as humanly possible, only to discover I would be using a squattie. Given my last squattie experience, I was a little worried about this particular splashback, so I looked for TP, pulled my pant legs tight and unleashed the storm of heaven. The smell was ungodly! I turned around to flush and there I saw it. Of course this would happen to me! I burst out laughing as I realized that in my haste, I had aimed poorly and had completely missed the squattie. Well, missed the bowl part anyway. So now, I had a predicament. Run away, never to visit that particular establishment again, or deal with my mess. So, I took a deep breath and started cleaning. I was worried when I ran out of toilet paper, but luckily this restaurant, which was quite upscale, supplied paper towels (a relatively rare thing) which I raided mercilessly until the squattie looked passable. It still smelled horrible as most of the mess was now in the garbage can (no one flushes toilet paper here, you throw it into a can next to the pot), but it was usable. I stumbled out of the ladies and scooted out as fast as my little legs would carry me and ran to find Susan. "You will never believe what just happened..."