Water Balloons and Dead Weight

If at all possible, I'm even more tired than I was yesterday, and yesterday I was so tired I had to find the bathroom to have a mini-breakdown before pulling myself together for the test. I guess a month full of good-byes, lasts, cancer tests, and moving stress is starting to get to me. I finally got a solid night of sleep last night, but it removed only the top layer of fatigue. A nap will fix me right up!

Anyway, in preparation for tommorow's Water Fun extravaganza, the Cat and Zebra classes joined forces to make as many water balloons as possible. Lots of fun, and it didn't take much focus on my part. I just had the kids line up, they each made a water balloon and then played on the playground for a little while. Beautiful.

Retakes

So, I got an email from the hospital today. My heart leaped in my throat, thank the gods it wasn't a phone call, otherwise I would have shit myself. Turns out I need to go back to the hospital so they can test me again. Something about not having enough samples to use. This only makes me moderately worried, but fully annoyed, since I have only 2 weeks left and now I have to wait another week for my cancer results? Come on now...

Now serving 539...

I went to the doctor to obtain some medicine for my thyroid last week and as most of my experiences with the doctors in Taiwan, it has now become an ordeal. I needed to come back this week for furthur testing so I told my school I'd probably be a little late again, since the only endocronologist who speaks any English only works from 3-9 on a Wednesday (conveniently for me, that's the only day of the week I have to be at work by 3:10). Now, last week I was only 3 minutes late, which meant I had to walk into class with no prep, but I did it and it worked out fine. Sadly, this week didn't go as smoothly.

I showed up and was handed a number. The clinics in hospitals work a little like a deli. You take a number and wait to be served. The number over the door changes and then someone comes out and shouts your name. There are usually two to three other patients in the room at the same time and the nurses, usually about three, are printing out prescriptions and whatnot. It's slightly controlled chaos. So as I grab a chair outside of room 13, my shoulders slump when I realize the number over the door says the 7...oh wait, now it's 8, and my card says 109. "This is going to take longer than last time," I think. Meanwhile, the translator is nowhere in sight and I'm getting a little worried. Turns out the number means pretty much nothing as around number 11 I was escorted into the room to have my blood pressure taken. Phew.

Last time they told me my blood pressure was high, but I had to say I wasn't surprised since there were 15 people in the room the size of a small office. There was a noisy printer in the room, people talking, one nurse was taking my blood pressure, the other was taking my pulse, my translator was hovering over my shoulder, the doctor was typing, and three other patients were staring at the freaky-looking weiguoren in the doctor's office. Yesterday, with only 5 other people in the room, it was back to normal.

Anyway, long story made only slightly shorter, after the ultrasound, the bloodwork, and the confusing explanation of what was wrong with me, I missed my first class completely. Oops. On the other hand, I'll find out whether or not I have thyroid cancer next week. It's a standard test, I've had it before, but certainly not news one wants to wait a week to hear.

Hello Kitty Theft

The Hello Kitty magnet colllecting has come to an end as the 7-11 no longer offers them. This hasn't halted the madness however, it only seems to have heightened it.

Two of my co-workers discovered the depths of it when they found that their highly reccommended housecleaner walked off with two nearly completed sets one afternoon.

This woman lost her job and her reputation, not to mention the face she lost as well as all for the sake of some Hello Kitty *magnets*! It wasn't even a Hello Kitty car...man I fear for the owners of those now...

Spam

I just discovered the spam in my blog. I must say that I feel rather violated! I mean that's like crawling inside someone's diary and scribbling an ad for some new car or something. Shudder. Sick.

Rock Gelst?

On my way to work, I'm stopped at the intersection of Wen-Hsin and Ningshia every morning. There's a family KTV that has recently undergone renovation and now they boast a new slogan: Release the Your Rock Gelst!

I want to! I want to release the my rock gelst! I hope that's not illegal to do in public...

Why do I never have a camera?

Taiwan isn't a pretty place in a traditional sense. The streets are dirty, the buildings are rusty, and the air is smoggy, but the people are lovely. One of the things I've learned to do here is to find beauty on a small scale. Focus in and see the beautiful thing and ignore the rest. It has led to some really great moments. Here are a few of my favorites.

Two buddhist monks in an underground mall watching the kids breakdancing.

A woman carrying a baby and discisplining a 5 year-old without saying a word. They were just silently staring at each other.

The local shrine where constant wooden barrel beating lulls me into a nearly trance-like state (and that's only in the two minutes it takes to walk from my scooter into work!)

A female buddhist monk driving a scooter with a pink helmet on her shaved head.

A middle-aged man holding his elderly father's hand on the way to the bathroom.

"Teacher, I lub you!"

Watching someone who "isn't really a fan of karaoke" suddenly come alive and sing as badly and loudly as they possibly can in the privacy of the KTV room.

"Gan Bei!" ("dry glass"--toasting is a way of life at a banquet, can't drink without it!)

Lion dancers tossing chocolate coins into the crowd to give them good luck.

There's been some good times.

Assumptions

In any culture you can operate from a set of assumptions that might not ever be questioned. For example, when you see a 'handsome' woman leaving the restroom and the toilet seat is up, you think transvestite. In Taiwan, however, it just means she stood on the western toilet to squat. It took me a minute to process that when I saw it.

Pocket Monkey

Before she left, Lea was making me a present for my birthday. She finally finished and now I'm the proud owner of a sweet handbag made from a Taiwanese Engrish t-shirt: Pocket Monkey No. 1 Happy Friend!

Thanks Lea!

Just a Little Pinch

Disease alert! As I seem to spend more time sick than well in Taiwan, it didn't surprise me when my throat hurt. It would only hurt in the evenings when I wanted to sleep, and then was easily taken care of by an asprin, but by the third or fourth night I wondered. It seemed to stop when my ear suddenly plugged up, filled with fluid and was rather uncomfortable. Made the usual rounds, went to the doctor, was given fistfuls of meds to take for three days, and then presto change-o the next morning after finishing the ear infection meds, the throat pain returned.

Turns out I had tonsilitis again. Sadly, this time it had taken my voice with it, so I called off work and walked my way over to a clinic around the corner from my apartment. After being sick for a year, I feel that I have developed a pretty firm idea about what I like and do not like in a doctor. Things like sensitivity, compassion, caring, or even acknowledging one's presence are things I like. So when this doctor was completely silent, not making eye contact but fiddling around on his computer until he looked at me exasperatedly and gestured "What?" I figured I wouldn't be in for a special treat.

But who knew there'd be shots? Shots in the ass. Not fun. Over the office PA stereo system, Moon River was gently soothing me as the nurse led me back to a darkened area where a man was asleep, hooked up to an IV drip. She led me into a smaller room and started patting her butt (it sounds like the start of cheesy porn. There was this nurse...) which I didn't quite understand at first because all I knew was I was getting a shot. "Pigu," she said softly as it struck me. "You're gonna give me a shot in my pigu?!"

Anyway, as the nurse gave me the shot I looked around the room. I saw a lovely and enormous (it was about half the distance from the floor to the ceiling) velvet painting of a semi-nude blond western woman clutching a sheet to her crotch and her head thrown back in ecstacy. Velvet paintings in doctor's offices are really classy touches anyway, but this one...pure magic.

So as she motioned for me to rub my bum, the nurse slipped out the door, turning off the lights and closing the door behind her. I wasn't sure why she'd left me there, but clearly I had some ass-rubbin to do, and she didn't want to waste electricity on such pursuits. So I settled in to massaging my sore cheek and contemplating the artwork. Finally, about 8 minutes later when I felt pretty sure I had done some superior ass-rubbing and had begun to think how long I needed to be here, she reappeared looking like I was the biggest fool ever for having stayed in the room with the lights off. The fact that she had said not a word (side from pigu)to me in Chinese or English the entire time, and that she closed the door *behind* her (not something you do if you want someone to follow you) hadn't given me any indication I should leave. I mean, we walked through the hallway with the man lying on the cot with the lights off. Maybe it was energy saving technique. How was I to know?

Anyway, lesson learned: 30-40 secs of ass-rubbing time post-shot is probably all you need. Anymore just makes you look like a bit of a freak.