生日快樂/33

I originally wrote this on my birthday. It has been changed. Immediately after finishing it I thought it was the best thing I ever wrote. The following morning told me otherwise. It had some good sentiments so I've decided to keep most of it, but decided to make some changes to make it a little more coherent. Perhaps that ruins the spirit (get it?) of "the sauce" inspired ramblings, but I couldn't bring myself to leave it as it was.

Today marks year number 33. I'm 33 years old and I have no idea what that means whatsoever. My dad was 33 when he married my mom and the result of that was Gina, me, and Raymond. My birthday also coincided with Teacher Appreciation Day in Taipei (or Taiwan, I'm not sure if it's countrywide), so I was also treated to a banquet. While this was by no means a celebration of my birthday, I still received a great happy birthday chorus from my fellow 蓬萊 staff, friends, students, and family, and it was amazing. It's hard not to feel happy that people care.

People care. It's a wonderful thing.

I am fascinated by everything about my life. Also, it's my birthday, and I've been drinking, and that makes everything even more fascinating. Every time I sit and write a blog I end up thinking and thinking and thinking. I don't know how to really express myself, or how to express this experience, or even what it was the last time around. Sometimes I wander around new streets and just stare up and try to imagine the history around them. There's a department store called Carrefour near my school and directly across the street are some of the most run down homes I've ever seen. I look at those and imagine just how much the property that those apartments sit on must be worth (I'm pretty sure it's a lot). I've walked by them so many times, and I can't help but wonder how much longer they'll be there. It's one of those interesting dichotomies where you can see the new and the old in direct confrontation, and it seems the new eventually wins out in the end.

I don't where I fit in that. Do I want to follow the societal and technological trends or be a perpetual confrontation/luddite?  Am I making choices that move me forward, or am stuck moving in perpetual circles? Have I isolated myself by living abroad again? I don't know. What I know is that today I turn 33; and all the societal/internal noise feels insignificant because I can close my eyes and return to these places (or just look at pictures on the computer):

 

What to do when there's so many wonderful things around me, and yet this beauty is drowned out by news headlines that are perpetually frustrating. It is while reading things like this that I feel my greatest conflict. I'm abroad; I should stop caring. Obamacare, guns, Ted Cruz, Iran, Israel, drones, terrorists, massacres, civilian casualties, Islamic extremists, the religious right, apparently now there's an atheist "church," progressive, conservative. Sensationalist stories about people, places, events and the labels we place on ideologies create an incredible din, it seriously never ends. I feel an increasing desire to distance myself from all of it because every day; every day, it's this: Who's fighting who? Is America going to bomb another country? More people were shot. The U.S. political system appears broken.

Then I see young kids getting into metal, and a teacher creating great opportunities to play and record music for his students, and I feel inspired to keep caring.

Most of all today, I think about the people that matter most to me. I wish I could embrace you all, and tell you all how much I love you. This reminds me of a story about drinking and wanting to tell everybody about my feelings. Years ago, probably around the year 2000, I spent a lot of my time with some Klamath Falls folk (you all know who you are) that had migrated to Portland. I had a habit of drinking too much and wanting to share my feelings. I also had a habit of drinking so much that I would nod off here and there. Anyways, one evening after some merriment Cory was taking Andrew and I back home in his truck. I was blabbing about this and that and then proceeded to finish with: "I just love everybody so much." And then promptly fell asleep. Good times. 

These are my thoughts entering year number 33. I have felt a lot of love from amazing people; I am very lucky.

To lift their voice/龍山寺

One of my goals since I've arrived in Taipei is to go on a walk everyday. Today's goal was to walk from my apartment to 龍山寺 without checking any maps or planning any sort of route beforehand. This is roughly the route I took, which include a stop at 青山宮, a temple that Danny Ohlsen, Andrea, and I visited during his visit, and I ended up encountering again somewhat by accident.

從我家去龍山寺 (be sure to click on including the map)

龍山寺 is one of the oldest temples in Taiwan, having originally been built in 1738. It is also one of the most touristy, and with good reason; it is amazing.

There are usually a lot of people there, but today I was surprised with something entirely unexpected. It was more crowded than usual, and a large number of people had songbooks in their hands and were singing in unison with a lone hand drum, and maybe a cymbal keeping the beat. A song would finish, and then a voice would pierce the break in the chorus and identify the new song and melody that was to begin. After the one solo line, the collective whole would begin again with an awe inspiring cohesiveness. It was so unexpected and sounded so uplifting that for a moment I felt tears well up in my eyes. I did a loop around the temple soaking it all in. As I did this I noticed something. I would walk by various people and at times observed just how off key some of them sounded. However, I'd take a couple more steps, and they would blend into the harmonious whole.

It serves as a reminder that it's so easy to point out individual faults, whether self-reflective, or pointing the finger elsewhere. Yet a community working together can quickly compensate for individual imperfection and create something meaningful.

I know this is an obvious allegory to create from this experience, but it feels relevant because I have left my community. I've put myself back into an environment where I am definitely the "other." It's easy to get used to feeling anonymous in Portland as one of many tall, gangly, bearded dudes walking and biking around. However, throw those three adjectives on a foreigner in Taipei and the pool of eligible applicants shrinks exponentially. The result? Sometimes people stare. It can feel a little awkward, especially since I understand enough Chinese that after walking by people and then hearing them say something about the 外國 or the 白人, I know that they're talking about me. That's usually as far as I get though as far as understanding.

So then what is it about? Is it because I'm a tall, white guy? Have a beard? Both? Because I'm just so good looking? (joking) Because you feel annoyed that I'm here? Because you're wondering why I'm just sitting next to the river watching the sunset by myself?

This is not a complaint at all. I had some of the same thoughts during my first transition to living in Taipei, and I don't feel surprised that they've made a second appearance. The first time they went away and I imagine they will once again. To bring up my point from earlier, is that having left Portland, I no longer blend in. At this point, I am just a solo voice with all its imperfections, and thus feel as though I stick out like the proverbial sore thumb.

I did a poor job at creating a community the first time I was here, and so most events since I've arrived have been a solo exercise. I guess this brings me to my big point. I want to try harder to find good people, and build something meaningful with those around me. It also make me realize how quickly my year in Portland came and went, and how I dropped the ball on being more present before making another exit. So to friends and family I want to say that I love you all so much. Thank you for being you, and for being a part of my life. I miss you!

首兩個星期/找房子

Coming to Taiwan to work in a public school as a licensed teacher definitely has its perks: plane ticket reimbursement, paid vacation, being able to come on a resident visa (and thus not having to do visa runs, which I've heard about from other people and sound stressful). Then again, I come to Taiwan on a resident visa, which means I have 15 days to apply for my ARC card (basically an ID card that lets you come and go from Taiwan and verifies your legit status as a foreign resident; size of a driver's license), and to apply for my ARC card I have to have an apartment with a lease from a landlord. And so the apartment search began...

But before I fully get into that, I need to say that the first five days I was in Taiwan were amazing. Not because I did anything that exciting, but because I was back in Taiwan.

During my lunch break today I walked down to 大稻埕碼頭, a scenic park-like area down by the Danshui River, and while I was there began trying to figure out why I like Taiwan so much. The first year I was in Taiwan, 大稻埕碼頭 was under a lot of construction and wasn't really all that great. The bike path was closed and there were some relatively unattractive sheets of green fencing blocking off the parts of the park that they were working on.

Bringing things back into the present; the work there was done and what I saw this time was an entirely different experience. Everything looked new: new tennis courts, basketball courts, shaded benches with a nice view of the river, a nicely paved bike path, the mountains/hills around Taipei in the near distance, etc. I rested my arms on the railing and looked at the river and thought: "this is nice." Then I started making some inevitable Portland comparisons.

Portland has some nice walkways along the river; Portland is surrounded by nice looking hills/mountains; Portland has better food; better beer; cleaner air; come on now, why did you have to leave, what really makes Taipei or Taiwan that much better? Why are you here?

The answer actually came to me pretty quickly: quiet. 

Taipei proper is smaller than Portland by about a quarter, with more than four times as many people. At any given stoplight during rush hour there is an insane build up of cars and scooters; you always have to be on the lookout to make sure some random taxi driver or scooter isn't going to run you over. There are people everywhere. It can be loud. But I'm not talking about external quiet.

The voyage into adulthood has not been without its hiccups. Really, I've always felt a little behind the curve. Late to finish college, aimless at times, restless, bouncing around; what does my place in the world look like? Teaching; yeah that sounds good. I'll be a teacher; or will I; substitute teach; that's ok for now; no, this actually sucks; remember when I really wanted to teach abroad? Oh, that thing I've wanted to do ever since 2003? Yeah, that thing. Now it's 2011, and it happened, you got to teach abroad, this is fucking rad. But maybe the timing wasn't right, and now you're back in Portland. My mind is screaming at me. What are you fucking doing? What the fuck is Inside Track? Is this the direction your life is heading?

So, remember when I said that this about my apartment search and my first two weeks in Taiwan. That's coming. However, a linear thinker I am not.

I mentioned those first five days in Taiwan. They were glorious. I put on headphones, soaked in my surroundings, took pictures, and walked with a subtle, yet perpetual, smile on my face.

And then I realized that I needed to find an apartment. Not applying for your ARC on time results in $75-350 fine, and while I was enjoying my time at the Taipei Fun House, because they are awesome and anyone that comes to visit or that ever goes to Taiwan should stay with them, I did need a place of my own.

So I looked, and looked, and looked...

At first I thought that living in a larger apartment with other people could be good. I would be able to live cheaply, have a big living space, kitchen, and maybe meet some cool people. Checking out one apartment in particular cured me of that idea. I walked in and saw my potential roommates and immediately thought: "living with people would actually suck." It wasn't them, it was me.

I started feeling a little stressed out.

I began looking for my own place. Predominately using the http://www.591.com.tw/ website to browse apartments. And so I browsed, a lot. I probably scanned close to 5000 apartments, clicked on at least 500 of those to learn more, and felt even remotely excited about exactly 1 of those. Yes, I was being picky. My last apartment was big and cheap. That should have been great. Unfortunately, it also had big spiders, big cockroaches, a big uncomfortable couch bench, big rats running around above us, mold, and felt isolated from a lot of the city. This time, I really wanted to picky. I wanted to be fucking stoked about where I was living, but still do that on a budget. I was really beginning to feel like a stuck up and privileged asshole; the antithesis of my ideal self living abroad; or my ideal self in general; who even knows. 

This last weekend (8/31-9/1) brought both serious doubts about my return to Taiwan and a fortunate turn of events.

As the stress of the apartment search, and my expectations around it began to build, the first five days of elation sank into a distant memory. My questioning of one thing resulted in a questioning of all things. Here I am, away from friends, family, my wife, trying to build what? What the fuck are you doing? Why are you here? What is the point of this? What are you working towards? Yeah, not so quiet.

And then things worked out. My former co-worker Dan (apparently the golden child of foreign teachers living in Taiwan, no joke) connected me to his former landlord (who loved him and said to me "Dan 比你說中文好"), who had a place that I didn't want because it had no cooking capability. However, because I was Dan's friend, she decided to connect me to her friend, who happened to have a place less than a ten minute walk away from my school. Of course, she also loves Dan. 

But she liked me too, and now I have my little apartment box, and I love it. Ten minutes to walk to work. Five minutes to walk to 迪化街, or down to the river. Pretty much in the middle of everything. I definitely feel pretty lucky with how things turned out.

I got my rental contract, applied for my ARC, got my bank account, got some money in the bank, and then...quiet. The noise that began to build had been superficial. It was part of a transition to returning to a new country and trying to get settled. I had begun to feel frustrated about the apartment search, and panic about not getting situated within the required time frame, but I realized that I had never questioned my place here, just become impatient with the process. Now that the transition processes are complete, most of the calm and contentment has returned, and now classes start next week.

Pictures:

 Doctor says i need a backiotomy.