It’s My Way or the Taipei

Most compliments I get here aren’t worth telling you about. You bust out anything more complex than ni hao and there’s instant cooing. Walk down the street and I know I’ll turn a few heads, no big deal. Sometimes though, I still get my socks blown off. And the place where I talk the most English to the most girls is English Corner. For some reason the students there are predominantly female. I don’t know the ratio of the university, but even when I’m not there, I’m walking in or out, it’s always girls. Guys tend to be outnumbered around 3:1 or maybe even 5:1 some days. In my presence some get extremely shy and will literally not say a word all session. Others are just emboldened, so a group conversation usually ends up me engaging about 3 people. I try to periodically ask the others questions at some point, but this never really does much. So last Wednesday I was doing my time, asking my questions. “What’s your favorite food? Do you watch the NBA?” etc… The conversation was hitting somewhat of a lull as my last answer petered out into nowhere and I tried to think of a simpler way to explain it in English. Out of the blue, one of the girls whom were actively engaged in conversation says “I like your fur.”

I was not wearing any fur.

I looked at her, searching for a meaning. Faced with such a strange statement I decided to go with the blunt businesslike approach and informed her that whatever she mean she said it wrong.

She leaned over the table and pointed at my arm, quite close. Her face was wracked with hesitation – Do I dare touch the golden-haired giant?

She didn’t, but the pointing was enough and at first I grinned then couldn’t suppress the laugh. The hesitation melted away, replaced by a sense of dread. She had no clue what she just said. A quick chat with her neighbor made everything clear, and she quickly buried her face in her arms. I blushed too, but when she summoned courage again to face the table she was redder than Rudolph’s nose. She giggled, the rest of the table laughed, and for the next whole minute no one really strung together a coherent series of words.

Finally, I broke it: “You mean my arm hair.”

“Yes! Yes I like it very much.”

And so ends that encounter with weird stuff I’ve been complimented on. During the same teaching session I was also asked what girls do in America when they like a boy. At first I thought she was asking about guys pursuing girls but nope. So I borrowed a translator and looked up ‘flirt.’ When everyone saw it the response seemed to pretty much be ‘Girls don’t do that in Taiwan. We’re too shy.’

Could have fooled me.

Last English corner tidbit: I have found a new frontrunner for best name. Although I have heard a random person on the internet claim to meet someone who chose the English name ‘Toaster’ my best so far, from last week, is Smilina. I had met Smiles before, and people whose name meant smile in Chinese, but Smilina, of the storied etymology ‘Smile + -ina,’ is the best I have personally met.

I’ve noted how chaotically the classes seem to go here. Projects meetings don’t happen, information about classes goes out minutes before you need to know, and other minor fiascoes. One odd thing is the requirements made of students; one of my professors wanted to invite us to lunch Saturday, and had this planned for three weeks. I can handle a little weekend time relating to a class, especially when there’s no grading pressure. The lunch was supposed to be this Saturday, and in class at 5pm on Friday, he dropped some news on us. For starters, his car only held four passengers, and there were supposed to be seven students plus him. He then solicited the entire class for bikes. A guy next to me raised his hand, and the professor instantly assigned me to borrow his bike and follow along. Where exactly we still didn’t know. Then I found out it was to his house which was ten minutes away. By car. Saturday came and went and I definitely didn’t go. For one the guy never gave me his bike (though I never asked). And then there was my lack of desire to comply with arbitrary impositions made with little regard for anyone else involved. And for closure, that group project I’d been mentioning did finally happen Wednesday. After the replacement professor lectured for the first two hours, we presented. Our group leader was first and he was formidable. Then the heart of the order totally let us down. They took the microphone, mumbled into it and read off straight from slides or printed material. Then one guy showed a video for his presentation. When he put it on I thought it looked pretty well done. It was actually pretty high quality stuff. Too high quality, as it turned out. My suspicions gathered quickly when graphics beyond Windows Movie Maker appeared. Then I realized everything in the first minute was spelled correctly. At last I saw the word ‘fiefdom’ and all doubts were shattered. Coming back to the group, he admitted to the theft straight-up and without shame.

All of this is moot.

I am now in Taipei, along with all of my stuff. I am in a hostel room that is almost 60 square feet. I have left the Great Asia State University permanently. I didn’t let on about this earlier since I was still going through paperwork and talking to my new employer, Hess. Hess is a large English-teaching chain in Taiwan, and yours truly will be a cram school teacher dealing with rugrats in one month’s time. Training starts Nov 15^th, there’s a medical checkup Nov 12^th, and I got here earlier because I didn’t see much of a point in hanging around. Why did I leave? First, I wasn’t learning enough Chinese. Every class was in English, and I was always the one people wanted to speak English with. The dorm + class situation left me without much communication with locals. Most importantly though, I just couldn’t stand class. Every minute was pulling teeth. Short of Chinese class, I don’t think I could stand any class right now. Much as I love history, I think there would be a similar negative reaction to a history master’s in America. Signing up for a 2-year MBA program was simply a huge mistake. So here I sit in Taipei, planning nothing but to while away some days with photography and exploring.

Most of my ending time at Asia U was spent with Mongolians, specifically Jackie, Golden, and Yahoo. And here they are!

This was taken Sunday night, and Monday morning I departed. At 7:10AM I just walked out of the building. The student on desk duty just looked at me and Yahoo (he helped me carry some stuff) and while clearly confused, said nothing. Being white lets you get away with a lot over here. I am understandably forgiven for any cultural faux pas I commit, and no one ever approaches me to ask something important. I’m inundated with poorly-pronounced ‘Hello’ on an hourly basis, but again, nothing substantive. So away I went from the dorm and didn’t look back. I said goodbye to Yahoo and gave him a handshake. Hopefully I’ll meet up with some of them over winter break. I walked down the road, foregoing the bus-of-uncertain-schedule, and also not wanting to be spotted by a professor or anyone I know.

So I trundled off away from campus. I was only going maybe half a mile, but it took forever. I was weighed down by every single item I brought from America, plus a lamp and blanket I purchased here. Backpack on both shoulders, messenger bag sashed across from left to right, pulling a massive suitcase with a bulging duffel bag on top, which every so often would tilt and flip over to be dragged on the ground. I was probably averaging a grand 2 mph. My goal was just to walk to a main thoroughfare where I could find a cab. Eventually I did, but not before I had to go right by an elementary school that was just starting its day. The students were all in their uniforms and thronged the sidewalk. When they approached a crosswalk a huge line formed. I wasn’t inclined to wait however and went from the smooth road that served as sidewalk to the adjacent gutter. It was very shallow, only a 1” difference, but also had holes every meter or so. I accelerated a little to better hop these pitfalls. With each one my angled suitcase emitted a satisfying click-clack but seemed to handle them otherwise well. Where the crosswalk started a true sidewalk began from the opposite direction, and after an unceremonious hoist of my stuff I was on to smoother sailing. During this whole time, precisely zero of the students in line looked at me. In fact on this whole minitrip, I received fewer stares than I did during a walk to class. I don’t know if it’s legendary student discipline or what, but it was a pleasant surprise. Finally I hit the T-intersection I had been gunning for and waited.

Forty-five minutes later, I had my cab. They were still quite sparse out there. I rode on to the HSR (High Speed Rail) station where I found the McDonald’s and plunked down. I took some pictures  of the station, then went on a macro spree with the foliage nearby.

 My flickr stream has all the ones that aren’t abysmal.

After that I watched some TV, read more Dune, and had another go at a Chinese newspaper. It’s still tough reading, but it’s also fun to see characters appear in real life that I have just been studying. Finally 2pm rolled around and I was able to board my sleek Japanese-engineered carriage of the future. Naturally in total foreigner fashion I got on the train at the exact wrong end, and had to stumble past 15 rows of seats with all my luggage, bumping into others on the way. After just an hour even including the 3 extra stops, we arrived at Taipei main station. And that’s when this odyssey really began.

I disembarked and looked both ways. East exits and West exits out of the platform. Fair enough, I read online from my hostel’s website to take the east one. So far, so good. Good in the sense I almost-but-didn’t-quite let my overburdened suitcase fall down the escalator and into a crowd while alighting. At the top of that escalator I was able to locate a map. Unfortunately, when I looked for the hostel online the night before, I found that for starters, Google Maps could not agree on where it was. To add to the pain, the official hostel website had the address only in English – not terribly helpful when asking directions – and to make matters worse, there are actually two of the very same hostel within the same city block. I know not why. So there I stood, pondering this map. It didn’t actually show where I was but rather different places I could exit to, so I knew neither where I was nor where to be going which is always  a recipe for success. My choices were the Y district, R district, or M district. After consulting my comparative maps and prophetic tea leaves, I went with Y. But then I was faced with another problem: the Y area had exits both north and south of a huge street, the kind you can only cross on an underpass. Ultimately I trusted my innate sense of direction and went the way I felt was north. It worked, at least that time. I wish my east-west worked that well. (Kidding, I know they’re linked.) I also wish the hostel had been mapped halfway decently.

I took one more escalator down and a final one up to get to the north side of Civic Boulevard. Finding the light of day at last, I stopped to take off the hoodie I was wearing for cargo-space purposes. Still carrying/dragging/force-pulling the nearly 100lbs of junk I slowly made my way in the totally wrong direction. I hit a large street, continued north, then decided I should go back the other way. Although correct, this proved to be a very, very bad move. I proceeded to get lost in crazy alleys and unmarked paved areas which could have been long driveways. I was tired, but not defeated, when suddenly I saw, Family Mart! The hostel said they were right next to a Family Mart! My heart leapt and pace quickened. Arrival! I got to the front of the store and started looking around intently. That’s when I descended into my own personal madness; I seemed to round every corner twice, but never see the same people. I thought I had mapped out lanes when a new one would spring up like a chasm sundered from hell. Where was I going? I had just made it back to the first Family Mart to buy a map. I was studying it intently. Without name or address in Chinese, asking around bore little fruit. Suddenly white Jesus approached.

“Need some help?” It was one of those non-American accents.

Approximation of walking path to hostel. Red is train station, blue is where the underpass spat me out, green is the hostel.

I acknowledged my utter inability to find this godforsaken place and he pointed me to the closest one, as he too seemed to realize there were several of this particular establishment. He had me head to the nearest big corner, turn right, then turn again at the next corner which would have a different Family Mart, and I should see it. Marvelous! I wanted to hug him but somehow felt it might not be acceptable. I was home free! I sort-of ran to the corner and turned right. I was on fire, and -*screeuncchhhh*.

Hmmm. That sounded suspiciously similar to plastic on brick, and there was sudden resistance to my suitcase moving forward I turned around and saw my duffel bag, being wider than the suitcase is, had clipped a slightly protruding wall where this new property started. I examined it to make sure there was no structural damage and decided this was as good as time as any to rearrange my messenger bag shoulder and suitcase hand. I had been facing the wall which gave way to a store window while doing this, but was rather preoccupied with looking down at the luggage situation. I turned toward the street and saw a woman give me a dirty look. Whatever, lady. I turned back to the sidewalk planning on finishing the last leg of my journey but the entire right side of my vision was bombarded by the store. A lingerie store, replete with pink panties, black bras, and whatever else they sell. And as far as this woman had seen, I was running, stopped abruptly as soon as the lingerie came within view, and turned to stare for a good half minute.

Hearts and minds, hearts and minds.

After feeling ashamed of something I didn’t even do, I found the hostel which can accurately be described in one word: janky. If you don’t know what that means, I suggest www.urbandictionary.com/janky definition #3. When you turn the light on in my room, it actually flickers several times like they do in movie interrogation scenes, and the wiring is entirely exposed. The climate control consists of one fan placed on my desk, which feels like it will break any second, and actually came with 3 unopened-yet-yellowing bars of Ivory soap. There’s no screen and I’ve kept the windows closed but I still have an unwelcome mosquito I’ve been trying to swat with my passport.

And that’s literally where I sit right now. A room not even 8’x8’, with clothes drying on my headboard, desk, luggage, doorknob, anywhere with a protrusion. Tomorrow I plan on exploring a little, then after that I might try to meet up with friends of friends that are also in Taipei. Other than moving into the training hotel on the 14^th there is very little set in stone.

It’s freedom, I can taste it, and I love it.

So long!