Welcome to the Jungle

At least that’s what it feels like. For the geographically challenged, Taiwan/Formosa/The Republic of China on Taiwan/Rogue Province #1 is a subtropical island. It’s sort of like Florida in that it’s humid, hot, constantly bombarded by typhoons, and yet still has 20 million people. Entirely expected, but still my first impression on leaving the airport.

Ah, the air travel. It was supposed to be bad enough with a 3-leg journey, ORD à DTW à NRT à TPE. Getting to Detroit was a quick hour and fifteen, then Japan was the 13 hour ordeal. It went pretty typically of those transpacific flights among us plebeians jammed into “economy” class. The entertainment consisted of an episode of Psych, The Karate Kid (remake with Jackie Chan), The Joneses, and Date Night. The worst part of the flight was the typical 7-8 hour mark when it’s starting to get really long, and you just can’t bring yourself watch another movie in succession. I skipped out on Diary of a Wimpy Kid when I thought my eyes were going to bleed and eardrums explode. Sidenote: thanks again for the earphones John. My utter inability to sleep on planes was no help. To make a boring story a little shorter, the long flight concluded, I landed in Tokyo, and then boarded my flight that was delayed by half an hour, or so the placard said. It wasn’t quit the experience that my first flight to Beijing was, but we waited on the tarmac for about 2.5 hours since there was a problem syncing the navigational equipment from plane to ground.

Landed in Taiwan at midnight local time, reeking thoroughly of Unwashed American. I changed my shirt in a futile effort to make a good impression on my pickup crew at the airport. Immigration, customs, were a breeze. Found my waiting escort, got the car, and were off by 12:30. My helpers graciously offered to take me to Carrefour where I could buy bedding. This turned out to be clutch since when I arrived at the dorm at 3:45 AM (2.5 hour drive, plus shopping) I discovered that I am sleeping in a box. Seriously; it has a bottom, and raised walls on each side, including the end for your feet. This is actually explicable by the fact that I am living in a quad dorm room, so the beds are lofted and partitioned equally. Thankfully I can just fit inside without resulting to contortionism.

Awesomely, my quad is only occupied by two people. My roommate Yahoo was actually awake and playing video games (DotA) when I arrived. The next morning I awoke at 10:00 ready to tackle… wait, what was I here for again? What room number was I going to? How do I get internet, or food for that matter? And am I supposed to go to classes soon?

These questions were the focus of my Wednesday. I wandered around, returned to my room, examined the school map online, and then found the International College. I went back that afternoon, and started registering as a student, and going through preliminary steps to procure an Alien Resident Card (ARC). Still no classes though, forgot to ask before leaving the office. Can’t say I was crying too hard about that. I was able to get to an ATM around the corner and withdraw some Nationalist Traitor Dollars (NTD). Legal tender in hand I left the building and was immediately confronted by a distant mirage. Could it be? That most universal of images, more synonymous with America than Old Glory, nearly as much of a world citizen as the United Nations, with a caloric density rivaled only by lard. Yes, it was; those Golden Arches, a giant smile beckoning me to a place I truly belong.

I didn’t actually go. I still haven’t actually eaten at McDonald’s even though I’ve been inside one twice already (more on that later). I just went to a street slightly off campus, hit up a 7-11 for some hangers and hand towels, then some chicken breasts in some weird cinnamonish powder. Meal for the day secured, I returned to my room and attempted to stay up until 10. I had still only managed 6 hours of sleep in the past 48, and a decent sleep schedule is always my primary objective. So I killed some time reading, and cruising the internet.

The next day I realized I still hadn’t seen a white person on campus. I thought I did, but then I saw him from the front and nope. Then I saw another false positive. The only 2 I had seen were at Carrefour. As of press time, still none. I went to the downtown of the little town I’m in, Wufeng, and bought some pictures for ID use. I also converted the bulk of my USD into NTD. And in the interest of full disclosure if you haven’t Googled it yet, it’s New Taiwan Dollar, not Nationalist Traitor. If only. Those errands finished I bought some Ethernet cable and a pink fan with an anime face on the front. I was in the store, looking at fans, and it was in a nondescript cardboard box. It also had no ostentatious branding on it, yet there sits my fan. This fan is only made necessary because of a dorm rule stating (and enforcing) the A/C cannot be turned on until 4:00pm. It turns off sometime at night. In another Physical Plant Fiasco, my ceiling light just broke yesterday. I don’t think my roommate knows about it yet seeing as how I haven’t seen him in more than 48 hours now. Hopefully it can get fixed sometime this week. Time to get that lamp I was previously considering.

Thursday I was able to register for classes and also met a Vietnamese guy named Huan. Or maybe Juan. Perhaps Hwan, Hwon, or crazier. I don’t rightly know. He seems pretty cool, and though he seems to have no concept of personal space, being all touchy-feely and close, I can overlook what must be second-nature to him. Huan informed me his professor was going to a Vietnamese restaurant with said professor’s undergraduates and Huan. After checking my jam-packed social calendar for conflicts I accepted. First we met the professor and talked for a little bit. The prof did his undergrad in Taiwan, then went to The University of Illinois for an MBA. Cool beans. We then segued into being foreign students, etc… when the subject of stipends came up, he asked what the grade threshold was. Eighty percent, I replied. His next statement was one of those understated ones that sort of blows you away after you hear it, process it, then do a mental double-take.

“You should tell that to your professors before you take your finals.”

Wait, what? Now it’s no literary bombshell, certainly not the first sentence of Moby Dick nor the distilled torment of Kurtz’s realization on the human condition. But the meaning behind it is unmistakable. The work, it would seem, is mostly optional. In what academic environment does the graded make suggestions to the grader? What if I say my planned job will require a 95%, should I mention that too? Now I can’t say I’ve even started a class yet and don’t know for sure what it will be like, but as my most solid piece of information it’s a little disconcerting. As with many things here, I’m taking the wait-and-see approach.

Conversation over, we took the bus into Wufeng and found our restaurant. I eschewed the Pho in favor of some fried seafood balls with house sauce and julienned veggies. I don’t know what went into it, I probably don’t want to, but it was delicious. Best tasting meal so far. Also at dinner we ordered some Vietnamese beer. According to everyone at the table, it was the best brand. It tasted like your standard mass-produced non-light beer, and didn’t do anything to change my opinions on the lack of good beer in Asia. I don’t find the American conglomerates to make beer any better, but any liquor store you go to will have plenty of excellent craft beers. Not so here. I finished my beer pretty quickly, which seemed to surprise most people. I then shared another and downed that pretty easily. Again this was found impressing, but instead of shotgunning one and starting a power hour right then and there, decided against it. Also apparently stunning was my knowledge of Vietnam. When I would ask the undergraduates, whom were also Vietnamese, what city they were from, many said “the north” to which I replied “Hanoi?” Much cooing followed. Then one said not everybody was from there. “Ho Chi Minh City?” Again, appreciation for knowing two cities in a place where some communities were literally bombed back to the Stone Age. Dispelling myths about Americans, one dinner at a time.

The next day I was to apply for my ARC in person at the office. The office, unfortunately, is in Taichung City. My school is in Taichung County. In between lie a labyrinthine network of buses, and woe be to any foreigner who dreams of actually navigating them. But was I to go alone? No! I had the company of another foreign student, a Mister David Tran. Honestly, he introduced himself as Mister Tran. He also said he didn’t have an English name, so I gave him David. As I was walking back to my dorm and mentally preparing for my bus adventure, I ran into him. His face lit up and he asked where I was going. Taichung, I said. He asked if I wouldn’t mind waiting until noon. Not a problem I said, and an hour and a half later we were off.

His English is quite frankly terrible. At first I thought his Chinese was better than mine, but slowly that theory unraveled. First he knocked on my door and we left. The English problem was quickly discovered, so we used Chinese. And for a while, two hours even, he would talk my face off, and I couldn’t understand him. I was worried, thinking to myself about how crappy my Chinese was, how I couldn’t understand nearly as much as I thought. After two hours we had ridden two buses to their termini and were about to board a third. This was where the directions got hazy however, and in a stroke of luck at our bus stop was another foreigner who spoke English and knew exactly where the National Immigration Agency was. Better lucky than good. After I submitted my papers, I asked Mister David Tran what he wanted to do in Taichung. Previously in passing he had just said ‘things,’ in English. Now he said ‘find work,’ in Chinese. So we started to pound the pavement.

I was doubtful. But I certainly admired his willingness to go straight for what he wanted, not settling for anything less than face-to-face contact. In a sense that’s required since not every mom and pop storefront has website, but his spirit was admirable. So at lunch we found a paper and with the help of the staff he circled some classifieds. Then we started walking. We literally found a sufficiently busy street, walked down it, and stopped at every restaurant and gas station, asking for employment. He seemed to converse easily with the locals, but then I started paying attention. There were many blank looks. At a couple restaurants, the owner would flatly tell them they didn’t understand him. Then we went to McDonald’s. He was turned away the first time and told to come back when they were less busy. Then he asked me a question. I couldn’t make it out. Instead of smiling and nodding I told him as much. In heavily accented English, he asked “You want to eat?” Wow. For those at home speaking Chinese, it sounded like ni xian jin, 你現金嗎？ Ostensibly he was saying ni xiang chi ma, 你想吃嗎？ It sounded nothing like that. He also pronounced yuan like juan and qu as du. There were many others that I simply didn’t understand. The situation suddenly crystallized though and I felt much, much better. I also looked upon Mister David Tran (who sort of reminds me of a certain someone from Chinese class who was totally jacked and wanted to get a six-pack as in two weeks) as a little worse, and sort of dumbfounded at his inflated sense of self. At one gas station interview he had to ask me the meaning of such trivial words as ‘birthday’ and ‘height’. I wasn’t tracking strikeouts to hits, but the ratio wasn’t good. I wouldn’t hire someone who was functionally illiterate and heavily accented for a service position either.

Towards the end of our odyssey I was growing tired and more than a little bitter. Twice he had said we would take the bus and return, once we never made it to the bus, once we got on and rode for a while when he requested he get out. I wasn’t missing out on any plans; hell this whole adventure constituted my plans for the day, but anytime promises are repeatedly broken, it’s irritating. If you don’t want to go yet, just say you want to stay until you get one solid lead and not some lame “don’t call us we’ll call you” response which was what he was getting. Anyhow, eventually one place sat him down for an actual interview. The owner wasn’t there but some supervisor was. The supervisor herself was interesting if only for her clothes or lack thereof. Her shirt was more or less normal, but her shorts, or whatever piece of clothing was below her shirt, were a feat of engineering rivaled only by the Hoover Dam.

I simply couldn’t stop staring. Not because she was exceptionally attractive, though she wasn’t bad looking and it definitely didn’t hurt, but rather I just didn’t get this garment. Now, everyone is prone to exaggeration once in a while. While regaling friends with stories everyone, your author included, is prone to overstating for effect. I try to limit that on this blog. To make up for the boring content that is my tale of classes, registrations, and transport, I try at the very least to bring the truth. A 13 hour flight is truly a 13 hour flight. When I say I didn’t sleep at all on the plane, that I can’t sleep on planes, it’s true I just can’t. (Disclaimer: If I am in an exit row and have room to lean my head forward onto the tray table I can sleep that way. I cannot sleep using just the seat.) Now please believe me when I say the shorts this girl was wearing were between 4 and 5 inches long. My basis for this is my phone which the developer states is 4.5”. When held next to these shorts I’m sure they would be approximately equal. These shorts were simply a marvel of the textile arts, true evidence for intelligent design if ever there was any. Okay maybe not that far.

After three hours of walking around and a few job nibbles, we boarded another bus which this time took us straight back to campus. It was a combination of us walking really far throughout the day, and getting a bus that was express or the like. We got back exhausted, having had dinner at KFC in Taichung.

And that’s pretty much where things stand. Today I woke up at 6:30 AM again as has been usual, but this time I was able to go back to sleep so maybe I’m starting to get over the jetlag. I’m thinking of buying a bike soon and start exploring more, but I’ll have to weigh my odds of getting run over by a bus running a red light as tends to happen here. Also, I’m still on the guest internet since I don’t have my student ID and can’t login to my school account. So no pictures I can upload yet! Maybe soon!