Automotive Woes

Those of you who know me, might remember a certain "blue/purple" car that I had. You may also remember my continuing saga of the brake lights. They just stayed on and then ran the battery down. This always conveniently happened after repair shops had closed for the night. It never happened when a mechanic looked at it, and thus no mechanic ever witnessed the problem, nor believed such a problem existed. After explaining to three different repair shops what the problem was (each charging $100 USD just to look), each, in turn, proclaimed the car free of issues and set me on my (not so merry) way.

This makes no sense to me. I liken a mechanic to a doctor. If a patient comes in and tells you he was having chest pains, but he isn't now, you don't slap him on the back and say "Sir, you're just fine. Oh, and that'll be $500 for the visit." You run some tests, you figure stuff out, you BELIEVE that there actually is a problem! This is a situation I've since labelled "mechanic disbelief syndrome." MDS has happened so often, that I feel I'd be better to show up with a molten wreck of a vehicle to ensure that the mechanic is aware that there is indeed something wrong with the car.

Now, I've given up the car and moved on to my super cool Taiwanese Yamaha Fuzzy Model 125 Scooter. Sadly, it's been plagued with problems, (ok, I exaggerate. "Plagued" is a little much, maybe more like "slightly bothered" but I only do it because I'm pissed off) and this new one is yet another in the line. Suddenly, it stopped running. I was in the middle of a tunnel and off she turned. I tried to start her back up, but to no avail. After dragging her up hill to the nearest side street, I phoned the office for help. It took some time to find each other and in the mean time, I tried to start up the scooter and it worked! We made it to a scooter shop soon after, where the mechanic declared that he could find no problem, so it must be alright. Yes, because scooters are made to stall in the middle of insane Taiwanese traffic. Of course. So, failing to convince the man there is a problem, I drive home. The next day, it stalls again. And again. Finally on my way to work, it simply gives up. Luckily, I'm across the street from a scooter repair shop and I push it over to explain in broken Chinese that it won't go. Returning to the scooter shop, my interpreter (thank you TINA!) informs me that it's run out of oil, and in doing so (despite my having changed it less than the usual 1,000 kilometers,) it's damaged the engine. So now, my scooter is loud, and in order to keep it running I have to change the oil every 10 days! Yikes! It's this or pay 7,000 NT to overhaul the engine. Sick! I wonder if this would have been the case had the mechanic repaired it last night, when I first had the problem. Hmm....

In any case, I will no longer be a victim of MDS. If necessary, I will camp out with my vehicle until the mechanic finds the problem.

Post-Holiday Malaise

I was a little bummed after the holiday. It was fun and all, but I realized that for the first time in my life, I didn't have a vacation to accompany the holiday. It was just a regular weekend that happened to involve turkey. When Tuesday rolled around and I still hadn't received a phone call from my parents (we talked briefly on Christmas day, but I had made an appointment to get my hair cut--oops), I knew I couldn't keep up the holiday cheer. I decided it was time for a mental health day. I called in sick and used the time to have a leisurely lunch with my vacationing roommate and his girlfriend, get some extra nap time, and check out a movie.

It was exactly what I needed and when my parents called me this morning I was back in the swing! I'm off now to my language exchange to learn some more Chinese and then teach a few classes. Today's hump day and then we're on to another weekend.

Belly Dancing III: The Final Assault

Sadly, belly dancing has come to a close. I found out after our lesson on Monday that there were only going to be five lessons because the instructor has performances this month and the studio will be closed for Chinese New Year. Maybe a new class will open on Tuesday nights in February, but seeing as I teach until 9pm, it isn't certain I'll be able to attend.

In what seems to be horrible irony, I've finally gotten good at it. I practiced my ass off (actually I practiced my ass up as it seems to be higher and more muscular than ever before) and mastered last week's move. He actually said that he was impressed and that I must have practiced alot as I was doing it perfectly. He even said that given how quickly I'd learned it, that if I kept at it, I'd be dancing soon. This happy news was then crushed 20 minutes later when I asked the desk clerk when we had to pay for the next month of lessons. The instructor never even told us that we'd only have 5 lessons or that that class was the final one!

I'm bummed that in five weeks of class, I've only learned three moves, no routines, and we didn't even get to shimmy! I was convinced that because he was only teaching one move per week and kept talking about how the first four lessons would be learning to control our bodies, that there would be more lessons in which we would learn to use that control for other movements. Oops, not really. He spent that last five minutes of class teaching us a weird combination that has us spinning around and then sitting on the floor all while dancing. It looks cool, but maybe we could have started practicing before class was almost over. It now seems that the class was a blow-off for the instructor, who often showed up late to class and seemed to decide the minute he walked into the classroom what he would be teaching us. He's a good dancer, but I'm not so sure he's a great teacher. In any case, I've heard tell of another bellydancing class across town at Salsa Cubana. I might have to check it out.

On the plus side, I'm more flexible than I was when I started and my roommate assures me that I look good doing whatever the hell it is I'm doing. I guess that's good enough for now!

Ding Dong the Turkey's Dead

Warning! For those of you opposed to meat-eating or are made queasy at the thought of turkey slaughter please avoid this post!

This Christmas marked my first ritual slaughter of a delicious bird. I've always eaten the bird, but I've never watched the process that happens before it arrives frozen to the grocer's. I headed down to the train station to procure the bird. We'd found the hardware/poultry alley aruond Thanksgiving time, so I knew where to go. I picked out the bird, it was weighed and we came to a price. After he cut his throat, he dumped him in a metal box. I imagine that's where he drained it of blood. Then, after it stopped thrashing in it's death throes, he picked it up and threw it into a rotating basket in another metal box filed with hot water. After this, he threw into a third box where it was spun in circles for a good little bit and every now and again a foot or two would pop out on it way around. Then the butcher spent some time plucking the remaining bits of feathers before ripping a couple holes in it to pull out the mess of organs. I tried to communicate that I'd like the head cut off, but he just smiled in a way that said "Silly foreigner, that's the best part!" Anyway, we exhanged funds and I drove off with the turkey carcass in a plastic bag gently perched between my feet. Turns out fresh is AWESOME! It was the best bird I've ever had, and I'm proud to say that it was my first attempt at a turkey! Yum. I'm not sure if I'd like to kil another bird, but it was definitely an adventure!

Merry Christmas!

I think my co-worker Mike put it best (with a New Zealander's lilt): "At home you usually spend time with the family, but that's not gonna fuckin' happen here, right? So I find it's best to just say 'fuck it' and go bowling." When he's not cracking dirty jokes, and in between gloriously constructed sentences jam-packed with the perennial favorite swear words shit and fuck, Mike usually imparts a nugget of wisdom, and this time he was right on. Taking his words to heart, I hit the KTV for pre-emptive Xmas good times, and tonight on Christmas Eve, after I left work I headed to Butthead Coffee and Tea for some drinks and planned to later see a movie with some friends. Sadly, my friends were too tired to make it to the 12:30 showing of Kung Fu Hustle, a film that I feel would perfectly accompany my "fuck it and go bowling" Christmas. So with the aborted movie plans, I find myself here, wishing you all a Merry Christmas and mulling over my plans for the coming holiday: Killing a turkey, making some mashed potatoes, and treating myself to a bottle of nice wine, a white elephant gift exchange and the adventure to end all "fuck it" X-mas adventures...my first haircut in Taiwan.

Tommorow is the big day. This, given the sheer number of trendy psuedo mullets that folks sport around here, is going to be quite an adventure. Luckily, I'm armed with (as any woman whose come away with a horrible haircut in the past, I've learned that the war metaphor is an appropriate one) a woman who speaks English (who I've explained the process to), a photo of what cut I'd like, and an expensive hairdresser who also speaks English. This I hope will result in a decent cut, but if it doesn't I'm not too worried as I have several options:

• 1) I've always wondered what I'd look like with no hair at all, so if all else fails I could buzz my head.
• 2) This one is the more likely solution: I would just work it.

Plenty of folks have bad hair here, or haircuts so trendy only runways models in Milan sport them, so I'm comforted by the fact that anything they do to my hair will probably be ok. If I have to redesign my wardrobe around slashed clothing and cowboy hats to make it match my 2005 Donatella Spring Collection hair, then so be it. In any event, my hair will grow out by the time anyone from home sees it, so if disaster strikes, I'll be the only one aware of it. :)

So let us learn a holiday lesson from Mike the wise: if you can't have what you want this Christmas say "fuck it" and do something completely random you'd never do on an ordinary Christmas. And if that isn't in your plans, remember me while you're digging into that second helping of pumpkin pie, cross your fingers and hope that that Taiwanese hairdresser's hand (who may never have felt hair like mine, let alone cut it,) is touched by some sort of divine force and manages to give me a good cut!

Merry Christmas everybody!

A Very KTV Christmas

Last night was a blast! Jennifer, Christine, and I decided that we needed some KTV times and Christmas was the perfect time to do it. We gathered a ragtag crew of Australians and Americans and made our way to Air Pub for some beers and karaoke. In between songs, we decided we needed more control over the selections so we soon found ourselves at the Holiday KTV in a private room. We spent the next five hours singing to our hearts content. It passes faster than you'd think! On my way home as the sun came up, I thought to myself (speaking was very hard after the many hours of screa...I mean singing) it was a very KTV Christmas indeed!

In response to those wondering about Taiwanese X-mas: Most people don't celebrate it, but that's not to say it passes unremarked upon. There are decorations in various areas, generally large shopping areas, apartment complexes, and all 7-11's. There are santa hats a plenty, and today I passed a Taiwanese man driving a truck wearing a full-on Santa uniform complete with beard (and cigarette hanging out of his mouth). Christmas carols can be heard randomly and usually in bizarre places, like the jade market. It's crammed with Chinese antiques and incense smoke, but in the background you can hear the musical stylings of Bing Crosby. For me, Taiwan is all about the juxtaposition!

Belly Dancing Part II

I returned to belly dancing after being forced to miss last week because of training. Turns out I didn't miss much as the teacher only taught one move. Usually, this class is a little hard to take because I'm constantly made aware of how inflexible I am. I mean, maybe normal people can sit on their ankles and then rise back up without using their hands, but I can't. I'm working on it though. I started taking a yoga class just so I can be limber enough to do the moves he asks us to do, I've been stretching everyday (even in class), and I practice regularly as soon as I'm not sore anymore.

Anyway, so a fellow student showed me the move we learned last week and I got it pretty quickly. It was just an arm thing, but they must have had a really hard time learning it since he spent a whole hour teaching only that. So the teacher rolls into class 15 minutes late, which made me sad, because I had to high-tail it out of there at 3:40 to make it to work on time, so I missed the last few minutes of class. We start by showing him the move and he looks at me and says "Perfect!" Ha! I mastered the move in 15 minutes. That was the first time I actually got a positive response out of this guy. Then he teaches us our first hip movement. This one I got pretty well and it received another "perfect." Then we spent the next hour doing the same move. Ok, so my hips got a little tired around 40 minutes in and he kept telling me to listen to the music and let myself go. Yeah, I was a little cranky and tired, but it's really hard to let yourself get lost in the music when you know a guy is going to come along in 2 minutes and tell you what you're doing wrong. Anyway, I guess I'll just practice a little more and try to get over my apparent self-consciousness. Spending an hour balancing on your toes and gyrating your hips while twisting your arms around can really make you sore, so maybe practice will have to wait a few days...

Interpretive Dance

You know Christmas has rolled around when you go to see an interpretive dance about female sexuality. WHAT?!

Um, ok. I should have known it would suck when I read that watching an interpretive dance about female sexuality was in any way linked to Christmas, ok, maybe I should have just stopped at interpretive dance. But, it was Saturday night, I didn't have any plans lined up and my feet were still recovering from the pain of three hours in cute shoes. I figured sitting on cushions in a small venue to watch some dancing would be a nice change of pace.

Now, I don't want to imply that male directors can't do a cool job with a play about femininity, but this one certainly had no clue. I wasn't quite sure where the "musty sexuality" came into (that's what the flyer called it--not me!) It was mostly some crap about how women are afraid of bugs, are catty to each other (one actor came into the audience and called me a 'fucking bitch'), are over-emotional, or just plain crazy. I thought maybe it would change as it was supposedly about "the many faces of women" but really I just saw all the ugly ones. I will admit that the scene with all the women crying was moving, but I was too pissed off to enjoy the rest.

When everyone began to gush at the end about how wonderful it was, that's when I knew that it was hopeless. We discussed for a while over some wine, which was enjoyable, but I was too exhausted to begin a diatribe about why the play sucked. But I did meet some interesting folks and got a line on super cheap computers! Merry X-mas to me!

Daring to...Bore Me to Death

Last weekend was the area's culimination of the National Annual Youth Writing and Speech Competition. For the last month, I've been coaching students with speeches, judging branch, and area competitions, and finally I hosted the area prelims. This year's topic was "Daring to Dream." Ick. Ok, well, most writing and speech competitions are pretty lame, and this one was no exception. It wasn't so bad, in fact, I was impressed with how well the students performed, but after reading ten copies of "Daring to Make New Friends" I found I had lost the taste for it.

So Saturday, after a month of rehearsing, Victor and I hosted the competition. We had to dress up, which, I'll admit, the idea of nice clothes and a microphone had me a little excited, but after three hours of standing in adorable, yet painful shoes (which all adorable shoes are) I was ready to go home. To keep myself from focusing on the searing pain of cute leather cutting into my delicate foot flesh, I listened intently to all the children's speeches. All 32 of them! After a while, I began to zone out and the pain and boredom created an oddly zen-like moment. This was dangerous as I needed to be aware of when the students finished so I could introduce the next one. Luckily, I found other ways to keep myself occupied. I kept a little tally of how many times I heard the same speech. Here are the results:

• Daring to Make New Friends: 8. How many times did I hear the phrase "It's not as easy as it sounds"?: 3.
• Daring to be the Best You Can Be: 3. This one was a refreshing change from the others as I was only repeated three times.
• Daring to Try Again: 5. This wasn't so bad as it usually contained at least one humiliating moment and those are always entertaining. But the analogy of the kid learning to ride a bike has to go! How many times Thomas Edison was mentioned: 3.
• Daring to Face Your Fears: 3. Not bad! My 2nd favorite speech was in this category. One girl (who sadly didn't make the next round) talked about "kicking dinosaurs butts" while doing air kung fu!
• Daring to Forgive: 3 (I think--at some point during my zenning out I lost track). This one contained the best/worst speech of all! It contained lines such as "during the night my feelings turned into a burning hatred!" delivered with a smile. :) Right around the time the girl who gave this particular speech mentions the Count of Monte Cristo, you begin to wonder how many people she has buried in her basement...

I won't detail the rest, but they were all some variation on the themes I've mentioned. It was pretty painful, but not as painful as watching the girl who has tried three times, and three times has failed to make it to Taipei for the semi-finals. Crying kids are not fun to watch! All in all, I will say it was an interesting experience and I got paid.

Birthdays

We made a pact. Back in September upon spying the various delights of the bakeries, we decided that we would buy each other a birthday cake on our birthdays. So today was the first of those, Brian's birthday. Sadly, Susan is in New Zealand for her sister's wedding and had to miss it and it's midweek and he teaches early, so we met at Napoli pizza for cheesecake, the cake of his choice. Oddly, Napoli is a Pizza-Hut-type chain, but we heard that they had the best in Taiwan, so off we went. And sure enough, it was actually dense and cream cheesy like a proper cheesecake! Good stuff! When Susan's back, we'll have the real party with the drinkin' and carousin', but it was a good start!

Fongyuan City Festival

Yes, I've been delinquent. It's been a weird week. I've been oddly hermity and I don't really like the new icafe I have to go to. It's quite loud and the chairs aren't as comfy. I guess you'll have that when you've got a stereo playing Chinese pop music and 60 computer gamers playing various games at top volume.

Anyway, I was lucky enough to have been invited to a festival in Fongyuan this weekend. It's a special festival that only takes place every 20 years. It's to celebrate the building of a temple and it's deity. She's a woman who watches over the seas and protects the Taiwanese. To celebrate, various neighborhoods have a huge 12 course meal, and bring out wine they've made themselves, then the families visit temples, pray, and light lanterns. We got to try some of William's aunt's almond wine, which was actually like 80 proof almond liquor that damn near blows your socks off, although it's surprisingly smooth and sippable. I enjoyed it so much, they gave me a bottle when I left (my response to which was to bow a million times thanking them profusely--the guy stuck out his hand for a shake and said "You're welcome" Ha.)

The meal was amazing! I had some of the best pork I've ever had in my life! Sweet, but not too sweet and not overly spiced so I could actually taste the meat. It was actually a cut I recognized and after you got past the two inch thick layer of fat, the meat was incredibly tender and tasty! My favorite part though was the lantern-lighting. There were three-foot tall red lanterns that you could buy. They gave you a piece of paper that was "signed" by the special temple and then you wrote your wish on the lantern. After that, they lit a oil-soaked block inside and it flew into the sky. You could see them forever! There were so many flying red lanterns and in the distance you could see small flames in the sky. It was really amazing!

We've been invited back for Chinese New Year, but I'm not sure where I'll be so I couldn't commit. It sounds like fun, though!

Chinese Cassie?

I met some Mormons on bikes today. I was on my way to Chung Yo department store for a language exhange and I was wearing my scooter mask. I pulled up to a light next to the Mormons when one asked me "Ni qu nali?" ('Where are you going?' in Chinese) I looked at him and pointed to the department store. It took a few more sceonds before he asked "Are you American?" I pulled down my mask and said yes. He said that I kind of looked Chinese with the mask on. I laughed and said he wasn't the first person to say that.

Because, oddly enough this wasn't the first time someone has asked if I was Chinese. This is the first time anyone has mistaken me for a local, though. On Saturday, not even a full seven days ago, a Taiwanese woman at a party asked if one of my parents was Chinese! When I was in Taipei for training, a drunk businessman, Georgie, thought that I was Chinese too, but when it's coming from someone on their second bottle of Whiskey that night you tend to ignore it. But two more comments from randoms has me wondering if I'm adjusting to Taiwan more than I thought. Being biracial, I'm used to questions like "What are you?" but no one has ever guessed Asian before. Maybe I've picked up some Taiwanese habits/postures that I'm unaware of...

Pu Pu Coffee

Belly dancing...I'm taking a class at the local Salsa/Ju-Jitsu Studio! (Always the crazy juxtaposition) It's a brand new class and only 7 women are taking it. They're mostly older Taiwanese women. I can only assume that their children are all grown up and their a little bored. It's tons of fun and it's taught by a middle eastern man in his late twenties. It's about an hour and we've already learned some crazy stuff. We spent the first class learning only four steps. Needless to say after endless repetition, every muscle in my body was sore. I'm still having a problem learning to go from standing up to sitting on my feet and back again without using my hands, but I want to have it down before the end of the class!

I made some new friends today. When we first got to Taichung we all took a walk and passed a place called Pu Pu Coffee and Tea. We joked about how it would be great to get a t-shirt, and when I passed it again a couple of days ago, I couldn't resist asking if they had any. The man behind the counter spoke pretty good English and after some explaining ("Why do you want waste your money on Pu Pu Coffee t-shirt?") he said that he would have one for me the next day. I went back and it turns out he only had an old one, but it fits and it says Pu Pu Tea on it! Then he told me that he would give it to me for free! So I had a milk tea and sat down to talk to Angus and his friend Dorothy who also works there. We chatted for about an hour and we have tentative plans to go dancing sometime! They are really cool! Before I left, he came out of the kitchen with a bag of fruit. "This is for you!", Angus said. "He make a gift," Dorothy told me. I smiled and accepted the fruit. I love Youdza (it's the Moon Festival fruit that makes your lips numb, kind of like sweet grapefruit)!

It's weird to get random free stuff! It's not uncommon, but it's still pretty weird! Today I went to the 7-11 to get buy cigarettes. When I asked if they had lighters, the man behind the counter reached under it and pulled out a nice electric one and said "This is for you!" Thanks! This has been quite a day!