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.

我在台北走走

Today I went on about a four hour walk around Taipei. I didn't aspire to new destinations, but instead went on a greatest hits tour to some of the places I like the most, including: 建國假日花市, 大安公園, 中正紀念堂. 中正紀念堂 often has great art exhibits, which is why I like going there, but it seemed that it is currently between exhibits. As I was walking, I had some thoughts going on in my head about this and that. To that end...

A week before I left for Taiwan I was able to go on a hiking trip with my two best friends, Kris and Daniel. A few years back we had a good run of four years in a row where we went on these hikes, but then life happens and it's been four years since our last hike, and we were once again embarking on a new adventure in the wilderness area around Glacier Peak. We did the Spider Gap loop and it was the most amazing hike I have ever done (I'd post pictures, but Kris was the only one with a camera, I should get those from him).

One moment in particular was sticking in my mind. On the second night of our trip, Daniel and I did a scramble to the top of a what looked like a pass of sorts where Daniel was sure we'd have a great view. Back up, before we even began the scramble I should clarify that before we started I had some wool socks and flip flops on and was hesitant to even begin climbing up the hill as I would have to at the very least take off my wool socks (I'm embarrassed to admit this, but it's how things went down). Daniel called me on my bullshit, I took off the wool socks, and up the hill we went. We made it through phase one, and were rewarded with a really great view. I was happy with this, but Daniel saw that we could actually keep going up to what looked like the top of the hill. Once again I was hesitant as there was only the merest outline of a trail that looked infrequently used and probably wasn't a real trail. On top of that, it was steep and we both only had flip flops, and the going back down is always the harder part, and holy shit, I am full of excuses. Daniel insisted, and our scramble became more of a goat scramble. It was really just a matter of minutes and were at the top of the hill.

Neither of us had a camera, so there is no picture to document this moment. The sun was setting behind jagged peaks, glacier peak was to the north (I think) and we had a 360 degree view of the Washington Cascades in all their majestic glory. I wish I could describe it better than that, as it was one of the greatest views I have ever experienced. I could really only stare in awe at the scene around me and then I waited for all of the amazing feelings to kick in...and waited...

This is what brings me to what I was actually thinking about while walking around today. As I stared out into the vast expanse of mountains all around me, I felt like I should feel more. Fuck that, I wanted to feel more: Why wasn't I feeling more? What's wrong with me? Doesn't my body sense how amazing this is? Why can't it catch up with what my eyes are seeing? Give me some immediate gratification here; stupid body.

Instead of enjoying the view for what it was, and that I was there with a great friend, I was instead feeling perturbed that my body wasn't kicking in some mad endorphins so that I could get high off nature. I was turning myself in circles trying to absorb the whole view and wanted to really feel something powerful...

I do that a lot. I have a great experience and instead of allowing myself to let it be what it is, I get wrapped up in my head about how I think I should be feeling about something instead of letting things happen naturally. The same thing happened the first time I came to Taiwan to teach abroad. I got here and wanted my mind to be totally blown on an hourly basis. I wanted to write home about all of the amazing things I was feeling and how my life had completely been changed. Instead, I used a blog (this blog) to write sterilized documentations of a handful of events and experiences. I was having a great time living in a new city and country, teaching, learning a new language, and checking out a small part of Taiwan. Shouldn't that be enough? I enjoyed myself the most when I stopped putting pressure on myself about what the experience should be, and just let it be what it was. An experience is the some of it's parts. It wasn't until I was heading home that I could see in greater detail how I grew and changed as a person and just how important the experience was for me.

A year later puts me back in Taiwan, and I have the above life lesson to guide my way. I'm so happy to be back, and I'm letting that be enough.

...it was getting darker so Daniel and I realized that we'd better start our trek back down the hill. I took one last look around and kept my subtle disappointment at not feeling more than what I was feeling to myself; at first that is. We began heading back down and a couple mintues later the floodgates opened and the rush kicked in; delayed gratification seems to be my modus operandi. I immediately thought: Yes! This is what I wanted to feel. What took so damn long? I certainly can't keep this to myself.

Thus, Daniel became the recipient of what had mostly been an inner monologue for the first couple days of our hike, and I proceeded to blab about all my feelings down an approximately 800 foot decline in elevation back to Image Lake.

Moral of the story: Always listen to Daniel. Or something like that. Here are some pictures.

 

Until next time.

新開始

I wrote this in a notepad at about 5am on the bus ride from 桃園國際機場 to 台北車站. I am throwing it on here without any changes.

8/19
Just got on the bus to head to Main Station. There was so much build up both internally and externally to being here that it was hard to know what I would actually feel to be back. I feel great! I usually don't do well with build up. I feel it usually leads to unrealistic expectations and I've always preferred to just experience things as I go.

In regards to experiences, I feel so lucky to have a second opportunity to teach in Taiwan. The first time around was not without its hiccups and missed opportunities. I was so sure the first time around that I would be in Taiwan a second year that I frequently allowed myself to put things off or venture into uncharted (for me) territories on my own.

I'm going to be here for 5 months on my own, so it is up to me to take chances on new experiences and be more willing to make mistakes with my Chinese and be happy with my efforts.

The first time in Taiwan I felt unsure of what I wanted the experience to be, I just knew I wanted to have it. Having a year to reflect on my experience before coming back has given me a sense of appreciation, motivation, and excitement that may not have been there otherwise.

To Andrea I can only give my sincerest thanks for supporting me in the decision to come back. Our time apart is not going to be easy, but I am so grateful to have a wife that encourages me to follow my dreams, and I just love you so much!!

And with that, the blog is resurrected. I still haven't figured out exactly how I want to use it, or what I want it to be, but I imagine I will figure it out as a go along. Disclaimer: I will sometimes use bad language. To quote one of my favorite authors: so it goes.

Cheers.

On trying to learn Chinese...part 2...

What a difference a few months can make. I was just looking at my original post about learning Chinese and I feel like my relationship with the language has completely changed. To that end, I would like to extend credit to the two people who have made the biggest difference. The first would be my Chinese tutor Patrick (his English name, of course, come to think of it, I don't actually know his Chinese name, dammit), and the other would be my wonderfully ambitious wife. The first wouldn't exist as a part of our lives without the prodding enthusiasm of the other, so to that, I say "謝謝, Andrea!"

Back in November, Andrea had barely made it back from her trip to Chengdu, and pretty much the first point of order was how we needed to find a tutor and really begin working on learning Chinese. By this point, I had already been in Taiwan for three months, and my DIY learning ambitions had yielded little in the way of results.  So after a "Tutor Wanted" post on the very useful Tealit website and a couple emails later, we were off to a nearby coffee shop to begin the first real step towards learning Chinese.

The last time I began learning a new language was middle school, and it's funny to think how my goals with learning a language have changed between now and then. When a mere 13 years old, figuring out how to swear in another language brings all sorts of excitement; indeed the joy of learning how to be proficiently profane in a non-English vernacular carried well into my European adventure oh so long ago. These days, however, I'm more concerned with learning key phrases for classroom management and how to ask where the nearest Thai restaurant is.

Though I am happy with the progress I am making, I feel like every new door I open into an understanding of the language drops me off into a hallway with ten more doors that I have yet to explore. It feels like an enormous task, and I am lucky to have Andrea preventing me from slipping into my often procrastinating habits. I have also discovered that I really love writing Chinese characters. I am pretty sure that character writing is going to be the motivating factor in pushing myself to learn Chinese. There have already been several days where I've found myself content to spend a morning writing the same characters over and over again, trying to make sure I get the stroke order correct (yes, each character has a recommended stroke order to maximize writing efficiency), and making it look as close to the book example as possible. I am not an artist in any sense of the word, so practicing character writing is a good exercise in feeling like I can draw something that actually looks interesting. Here is the end result of one of my practice sessions:

 

Any sort of real comfort listening to and speaking Chinese is still a ways off, but with our current multi-tiered approach to learning, I feel really good about the direction our language acquisition is heading.

Train rides and cycling paths...

I think I will come to terms with the fact Andrea is destined to be the blogger of the household. Seeing the time and effort she puts into each of her stories is a sight to behold, and one that I'm just not capable of duplicating. I hypothesize that I probably treat my blog like I did pretty much every paper I've ever written during my years in school. I wait until a night or two before the deadline and then write my first and final draft and call it a day. Herein of course lies the problem. It's a blog, there is no deadline, and can then be put off indefinitely. Perhaps this is the irony of the title of my blog. The goal is to escape old habits, maybe document the progress, yet perhaps my procrastination is destined to be the last to go. I've had some thoughts rolling around in my head though, so I would never call the blog dead, just a little lame and probably needing to be shot. Before I do that though...

Danny Ohlsen recently became our first visitor to Taiwan. It was great to see a familiar face, and have the chance to be a tour guide around this city that we are starting to know so well. I also had two weeks of vacation for Chinese New Year, so his visit was also a chance to finally escape Taipei and take in a whole new Taiwan experience away from the crowded, bustling city.

Due to Andrea's school obligations (taking Mandarin full-time for those not in the know) it was just going to be the two of us for a few days, and so we decided to take a three hour train ride down the east coast to the coastal town of Hualian. I have loved taking trains ever since my European adventure over 10 years ago (I actually can't believe it's been that long), and so I was definitely excited to take a train ride that would showcase some of Taiwan's more natural beauty.

The train ride definitely didn't disappoint:

The biggest reason to go to Hualian is its proximity to Taroko Gorge, which is one of Taiwan's most spectacular natural destinations. We checked it out, and it was incredible, but it ended up playing second fiddle to what ended up being my favorite part of our three day jaunt to the south. Before I get to that though, I must back track for just a moment.

In Portland, a bicycle had been my primary mode of transportation. When I got to Taipei, I assumed it wouldn't be too long before I picked one up and started using it as my main means of transport to and from work. Then I saw that I would be competing with thousands of scooters, erratic taxi drivers, and plenty of people that view changes in traffic lights more as suggestions than obligations. There are certainly ways to circumvent Taipei's busy streets, and if I was really motivated I could have begun a daily bike commute. However, then I'd also be competing with humid 90+ degree weather and torrential downpours in the summer, and chilly saturation in the winter. The bottom line is that Taipei's MRT system proved to be a suitable alternative, and thoughts of bike ownership and commuting eventually faded.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago, and I hadn't so much as sat on a bike for almost six months. I think the last time I went that long without riding a bike was when I was a teenager with a newly acquired '85 Ford LTD. So Danny and I are trying to figure what to do for our second full day in Hualian, and we eventually settled on renting bikes and seeing where the day and our bikes would take us. I picked out the biggest bike they had, which was still way to small, jacked the seat up, and we were on our merry way.

It wasn't too long before we found a bike path that followed a little stream through the city:

  

The goal was to make it the short ways from this path a different one we had seen that followed the ocean for awhile. That all happened pretty quickly:

Ah, having some good times:

We had the wind at our backs and were cruising so we decided to keep following the coast to see where it would take us. At one point in time we thought we were heading towards the highway that would take us further along the coast, but that proved to be a dead end, as the path had not reached its ultimate stage of completion. After turning around we decided to follow a different bike route that took us inland for a bit. A few turn here and there and we found ourselves looking at a map that showed the extent of our biking options. Liyu Lake...sounds nice. With an idea of our general direction plotted, we kept going...and going...and going. Every once in a while pausing for a photo here and there:

 

When I first arrived in Taipei, I was constantly thinking about how much certain aspects of the city reminded me of the big cities in Central America. I think it was a mix of the humidity, sooty buildings, constant activity, and power lines any and everywhere. The longer I was here the less I ended up feeling that way, but being out in more rural Taiwan, all those feelings came flooding back. The people looked more indigenous and weather worn. Old couples tended to their rows of vegetables, and kids rode around on their old bikes with rusty wheels and chains. At certain points if someone had told me I was back in Central America, I would have had little reason to think otherwise. 

I think the biggest similarity though was the dogs. Old, ragged dogs; the females obviously having nursed countless puppies, with nipples that practically dragged along the ground. I had seen them in every town in Central America, and Danny and I passed plenty lying lazily along the bike path that took us ever further away from our Hualian starting point. After about three hours we finally decided it was time to take a break and have some water and snacks:

 

After a twenty minute break we decided to press on, thinking that the stream passing under the bridge must surely have a lake source nearby. We continued on for another thirty minutes or so and then took another water break and did a time check. It was already past four! Our proximity to the equator means pretty short days, and we were already looking at a pretty good ride home in the dark; something neither of us was very excited about. Our hopes of actually making it to the lake had finally dimmed, and so we decided to call it a day, our destination unreached. It was not a great moment, and our faces showed the agony of a dream deferred festering like a sore:

 

After riding a few minutes away from the direction of the lake we passed a sign that said "2 km." While heading towards the lake the km markers had grown into the low 20s. Could it be that the lake was really only 2 km away? We decided to turn back around and make the final push towards the lake. It proved to be a wise decision. Another ten minutes and we found the lake spreading out before us. We made it! Hopefully it won't be another six months before I hop back on a bike.