Introducing Me!

               “Stories of My Life in Anecdotes” is an attempt to download my brain to an English language medium before I forget how to write at a university level, or my brain’s cellular structure just simply collapses.  Tales of what happens when a bleach-blond Canadian girl ‘goes native’ among the local Taiwanese working-class will be forthcoming in the present, past and, perhaps the future tense.  Please read and comment.  
              Thanks for stopping by!

祝大家聖誕節快樂: Wishing you all a very merry “stir-fried” Christmas

 ”You know you’ve been in Taiwan too long when … It becomes a tradition that at least a part of Christmas dinner is stir-fried.”  Or in our case — all of it!         

               Tis’ the season to get sloshed and be jolly in the Community of Joy and Harmony, or at least it was this past Sunday.  We all got down at the local “politco’s” banquet hall, which is fittingly called the Beer King (啤酒大王), for a “hot and noisy” (熱鬧) Chinese-style banquet with a Western Christmas twist.         

Our Christmas bash was held in a private party room at the BeerKing -- yes, that's the name -- complete with a Santa, crazy gift game, and adult's after party booze-up; as well as all the Taiwan trimmings karaoke singing, ganbei toasts with local politicians and many Chinese dishes.

Our Santa's in his red civvies to eat, drink and be merry.

Respecting the smoking laws -- Trista, Ross and company go outside for a smoke and a drink.

Christmas hotpot and scotch -- a good way to keep warm on a cold "Taiwan" winter night.

Pictured here with her two sons is my neighbor -- the niece of "Bossman's" mother's "old hometown friend" (老鄉). It would seem that everyone in Taiwan is related -- explains a few things.

An equal opportunity Santa and his foreign blond helper -- in, as usual, an all-too-short mini-skirt -- comes to town to give everyone who was naughty and nice Christmas gifts..

Christmas party game: Before the party prepare enough gifts for each guest. Choose a few "real" gifts like small bottles of wine or cologne and perfume. Also choose "goof" gifts like condoms or underwear. Finally choose "non-gifts" like empty boxes or bottled water, and wrap each gift. The wrapped gifts do not have names. At the party each guest chooses a gift, and then Santa can choose one guest to start the game. This guest can open the gift that they have in their hand, or demand another guest switch with them; then the first guest must open the gift. The second guest can now choose to switch their gift or open it. The game continues until there is only one person left -- usually Santa.

Our Santa gets a bra for Christmas.

Forget the cookies! Santa goes for a quick snort. Where do you think he got that red nose from anyway?

  

After hours in the Beer King things start to heat up …    

 

For more photos of party see Facebook link:  http://www.facebook.com/inbox/?tid=1295235614988#/photo.php?pid=30401449&id=1210720893&fbid=1168073161255

The Beer King (啤酒大王)

Interested in booking a function at The Beer King?  Find more information at this link:      

http://www.web66.com.tw/web/Blog?MID=47614

Health Spa (健身度假勝地): Recovering from a Taiwan-speed life

               With the kindergarten Christmas concert season set to open across Taiwan, one cannot help but wonder how the foreign teacher population is holding up.             

               Has Kenny committed that selection of Shakespearean sonnets to memory yet?  Is little Willy well prepared to stupefy the crowds by differentiating calculus equations live on stage?  Will the school’s piano protegé Judy wow the audience with her performance of Bach Overture No. 3 or just pee her pants and pick her nose once on stage?                 

               With so much riding on the success of these time-honored theatrical productions — in particular the principal’s face and the fulfilment of parents’ unrealistic expectations — nobody could blame an imported and culturally un-hardened teacher from cracking under the strain; after all many of the homegrown variety have failed to keep it together at this time of year.  Still, there is hope.  Believe it or not, a health vacation to Thailand can alleviate the symptoms of any kindergarten teacher’s cutting-and-pasting-stage-props-until-dawn post-traumatic stress.                            

               Picture this:      

The sound of water gently tumbling over rocks accompanied by the rustle of palm tree leaves being caressed by a delicate breeze; the smell of lemon grass and fresh coconuts; and the sight of bright rays of sunshine shimmering on colorful exotic plants.    

 Such is the comforting environment of Atsumi Healing Centre in Phuket – all delivered to you in real-time without the aid of a relaxation CD.    

             While there earlier this month, I went on a full four-day fast for the first time in my life outside a hospital and without medical reason; and discovered that the pain really did provide gain.  Furthermore, it wasn’t as tough as it sounds. 

              With a supportive and helpful staff and the fact that everyone was in it together, going “food-less” for days on end was actually quite doable even for someone whose social world generally rotates around eating.  Our schedule was also busy with morning yoga, walks, trips to the beach, massages, a daily Thai sauna and nightly seminars or activities; so one tended not to focus on filling their belly.  

               In total, I passed through five 24-hour periods without eating; and followed up with two days of strictly raw food consumption.  As a result, I am two kilos lighter, sleeping better with improved digestion and reduced joint pain.  In my opinion, fasting is a fantastic method of detoxing the body and soothing the spirit.   

               So if you’re stressed and you know it, consider this healthy alternative to blowing it out on an all-night bender at Roxy Vibe (not to disparage Vibe in any way). 

Entering the tranquil grounds of Atsumi

Our group on a morning mountain walk

Local seaside scenery -- Atsumi is located in a quiet southern area of Phuket

Across the bay, one can see an expensive hotel resort.

Sailing is a popular recreational activity. Guests to Atsumi can arrange outings with the office staff.

Relaxing on the grounds of Atsumi Centre is very peaceful and serene.

The Thai Sauna did wonders for my sinusitis.

My little villa on the grounds. The veranda was a great place to spend the early morning hours reading and contemplating.

My soothing morning perch

More Information

For more information on Atsumi and detoxing the body go to: 

http://www.atsumihealing.com/index.php

國防部 (MND): Who was that girl?

Those were the days:  when the Taipei City nightclub of an infamous Bamboo Union gangster was still pounding out a hard beat until dawn; when you could find an assortment of young handsome military officers and Ministry of National Defense (MND) officials crowded around the bar of this establishment on any given night; and when a certain young Canadian girl with a penchant for men in uniform could “play until happy” (玩地開心) at the drop of an officer’s hat — or the rest of his attire for that matter.

And so it was on a steamy August night that our Canadian heroine, in an all-too-short leather mini-skirt and the wings of some drunk pilot clipped on her shoulders, literally stumbled into an incredibly sexy airforce captain with a terrible secret.  Now don’t be mistaken.  The matter of the terrible secret had nothing to do with national security.  Actually, on the topic of national security, this fly-boy was exceptionally forthcoming.

“我是中國人!  不是台灣人!”  “The Captain” was emphatically declaring as our heroine dropped into his lap.  He was unfazed by her tumble and only briefly glanced down to check out her long sprawling legs without abandoning the rhythm of his commentary.  Our heroine, also unaffected by her sudden prostrate position, quickly tuned into the ongoing exchange.  Then looking up from the captain’s lap, she not so coyly blurted, “What you really mean is you’re blue, don’t you?”

“Of course, I am.  I’m a military officer.  We’re all KMT!”  He thundered.  “And I’ll tell you another thing.  If that bastard Chen Sui-bien thinks we’ll defend his claim for Taiwanese independence, he better think again.  I’ll land my squadron on Hainan Island before I fight any of my brothers across the Straits.”

The other young officers engaged in this heated rant hadn’t taken much notice of the bleach-blond foreign girl who was slowly making herself comfortable in their buddy’s lap.  They were much too busy affirming each others’ opinions; and carried on their discourse in Mandarin  leaving their dashing fellow officer to banter with his new friend in English.

“So, you have an interest in Taiwan politics?” He asked tilting his head down towards her.  “Not really,” she casually replied.  What really interested her was this 30-something captain’s soft billows of black hair and flawless skin that framed two powerful marble-like ebony eyes.  “But I am a student of the subject,” she continued enjoying the view from her reclined position.  ”You’re a student?” He queried wrapping one of his muscular arms around her shoulders before abruptly jerking her into a seated position.  “No, I work at a local English-language paper.”  She responded.  “Which one?”  He inquired.  “Too embarrassed to say!” She laughed jumping to her feet and pulling him onto the dance floor.

Indeed, our heroine was a student of Taiwan politics.  Actually at that particular moment in time, she was studying a very green and very handsome elected representative of the subject; but that was another matter altogether.  Tonight, she was much too taken with this dark airforce pilot to give the ”Congressman” a second thought.

The two danced, drank and flirted the night away in the shadows of the subterranean club unaware of the world outside.  By the time, the pair managed to climb the stairs to the street, the grey light of dawn had already started to illuminate the waking city.

On the cool sidewalk pavement, the couple stopped for a moment as their eyes adjusted to the  morning light. “Where do you live?”  ”The Captain” asked as he waved for a cab.  ”In YongHe,” the foreign girl answered.  “Good!  It’s on my way.  I’ll take you home,” he insisted grabbing her hand and dragging her along to the car.

Once in the car, the sense of intimacy heightened — as it usually does in such cases – and the foreign blond never did arrive at her building.  Instead  she accompanied “The Captain” back to his abode, where they crashed through the front door playfully jostling and laughing.

Settling down on the sofa, “The Captain” commanded the foreign blond to grab two beers from the kitchen.  She obeyed and strode into the next room only to make an odd discovery.  There stuck to the refrigerator door were several works of grade-school crayon art.  She returned to the living room and looked at “The Captain” in bewilderment.  “Are you divorced?”  She gently inquired.  “Oh, the drawings,” he matter-of-factly responded.  “They’re my son’s.”  “So you are divorced,” the foreign blond stated again.  “No, I’m not,” he replied.  The girl was now terribly confused.  Was it the night of partying?  Was it the lack of sleep?  Was she simply missing some point?  She couldn’t image a reason for a married man to bring a girl back to his own home as opposed to a love hotel; unless perhaps his wife and children were out-of-town.

The foreign blond sat down beside him on the sofa and demanded, “Well, where are they?”  “Dead,” he answered in a stoic tone of voice.  “Died in a commercial airline crash.”  “The Captain’s” detachment and the unanticipated change of mood gave the girl a sudden chill.  She was waiting for him to provide more information; but he simply sat there staring at his beer can.  Finally, the young officer placed the can on the coffee table and looked at the girl seated next to him.  “I don’t like to talk about this thing.  Every day I tell myself that they will be home soon — like this I can cope.”  The girl softly put her hand on his thigh; and then started to look around the room.  It was at this point that she noticed the previously invisible collection of toys still strewn haphazardly on the floor and collecting dust; the framed snapshots of a young happy family; and the multitude of woman’s shoes and little sneakers piled up beside the front door.

There wasn’t much left to say.  The pair curled up together listening to the dull hum of the air conditioner and the noise of people coming to life beyond the confines of the apartment walls; then drifted into sleep.

“今天你好像外國人!”

               “Today you really look like a foreigner!”  Came a loud bellowing coyote howl from one of “Bossman’s” gambling-ghost (賭鬼) buddies as I walked into the restaurant sporting my blonde hair extensions while decked out in a denim mini-skirt and shiny gold pumps.  Apparently, looking like a foreign woman requires somewhat of a porno-star flavor — at least as far as this group of intellectuals is concerned. 

               The purpose of the flashy attire was one of those women-things where you try to get the guy in your quickly sinking relationship to stand up, take notice of you, and then obey your every command — a crash and burn bust in this case.  However, although my ploy failed to have the desired effect on “Bossman,” it certainly did impact his inner-circle of rounders – a rounder being a frequenter of drinking establishments who makes a living playing cards. 

               The interesting thing about this cast of characters is that they are no different than the barflies I knew back in Canada.  It doesn’t matter if you are riding the old greyhound from Toronto to Vancouver or flying across the Pacific to an Asian destination — rounders are rounders.  The only difference out here in ChungHe City is that they happen to be Taiwanese.  Put that in your “cultural-difference” pipe and smoke it.

面子 (Face): A paradoxical world of social behavior

               Have you ever found yourself in this situation?

A colleague or adult student who you have known for several months invites you to join a social event — usually something related to business or work where dragging along a foreigner is a sure-fire way to draw attention to oneself.  At this event, the said colleague or student, who you know only by their English first name and some bastardized roman pinyin spelling of their family name, starts to introduce you to people saying that you two are like sisters (if you are female) or you are like an older brother (if you are male). 

At this point, you notice an uneasy ”cognitive dissonance” type feeling rising from the pit of your stomach, and wonder:  How to respond to such an introduction?  You certainly cannot loudly declare that you hardly know this person; but acknowledging such an introduction as genuine seems preposterous.  Therefore, you just nod your head and smile awkwardly.

If you have been there and seen that, you are definitely familiar with this classic scenario:  “Foreign teacher meets the cult of face.”

               Now, there are those who will accept such social discourse at face value; these people are usually Americans who are either on some Christian missionary bent or on a personal mission to spread American democratic values to the world; and proceed to infantalize the local population saying:  “Oh aren’t these native Taiwanese so cute.  They think everyone is their friend.  They are just like adorable little children.  Don’t you think?”  My answer — absolutely not. 

               The concept of face is as complex as the culture from which it arises; and, like everything else in the modern world, has become quite faddish and hollowed out.  Just take a look at these definitions of face courtesy of Wikipedia:

… Face is the respectability and/or deference which a person can claim for himself from others, by virtue of the relative position he occupies in his social network and the degree to which he is judged to have functioned adequately in that position as well as acceptably in his general conduct. (Ho 1975:883)
… Face is a sense of worth that comes from knowing one’s status and reflects concern with the congruency between one’s performance or appearance and one’s real worth. (Huang 1987:71) … (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Face_(sociological_concept))

               The above sounds like a noble and clear set of social norms, but in today’s society where the need for instant gratification is all-pervasive, these sort of strict social guidelines have inevitably become corrupted to meet the needs of the selfish individual.  Hence, the concept of face has created a confusing social world where people say things that they don’t mean to misrepresent themselves for all kinds of both elaborate and mundane purposes.

               Revisiting our earlier example, we can see that this said colleague or student is attempting to enhance their standing in a particular social network with an untruth.  This individual is presenting a foreign teacher as a close and intimate friend to create a certain image of themselves.  Perhaps, this individual wants to appear more “international.” — who knows.  The point is that, in this case, the foreign teacher is not their bosom buddy, so this person is essentially getting fake face. 

               What if the other members of this social network discover the lie?  Well, it is unlikely that there would be any repercussions as most members of the group are probably also misrepresenting themselves on some level to improve their standing in the eyes of their peers.  In this way, an entire layer of distortion has now been accepted as reality. 

               With so many half-truths and untruths saturating social interactions, it is difficult to distinguish fact from fiction.  Take one of modern Taiwan’s greatest illusions – the filial son.  In most cases, the filial son is a middle-aged, unmarried or divorced, living-at-home man who is not in the least bit dutiful to his parents.  This guy is often too lazy to look for work; or is waiting for the folks to croak so he can get the house; or wants mommy to cook and clean for him; or finds the family home a comfortable place to crash between girlfriends.  At any rate, this guy is usually a burden to his parents, not a help.  Still, you will hear community members, family and friends all declaring this son’s virtues:  

• “What a wonderful son to stay at home with the parents every night.”  (translation:  He comes home from the bar every night and crashes in his bedroom then sleeps to noon the next day.)
• “He is giving up his chance for marital bliss to care for his parents.  How filial!”  (translation:  He is so much of a loser that he can’t even afford to “buy” a wife from mainland China.)
• “It is so tiring for him to take care of his mother and look for work.”  (translation:  He would rather stay up all night surfing the Internet and sleep all day than go out to look for a job.)

               The list of pretty lies is endless, and it is difficult to see “congruency between … performance or appearance and … real worth” here. 

               All of these statements come from the same place and have the same result.  Those around this loser-son are giving him face by bending the truth to pretty much the breaking point, and as a result are creating a false reality where this loser can live comfortably.  In this “Oz,” the loser doesn’t have to face the fact that he is a disgrace.

               Image you are actually a woman who is interested in this loser — been there done that — how do you sort through the bullshit?  Further, this loser probably believes his own propaganda, so you will be forced to endure months of a life in “Oz” before realizing that you have made a terrible mistake.  It’s not a pretty picture.

               So next time you get that “Dorthy-in-Oz” feeling, listen to it. 

An Apt Definition of Paradoxical from Wikipedia

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paradoxical　

” …  paradoxes involve false statements or half-truths and the resulting biased assumptions.

For example, consider a situation in which a father and his son are driving down the road. The car collides with a tree and the father is killed. The boy is rushed to the nearest hospital where he is prepared for emergency surgery. On entering the surgery suite, the surgeon says, “I can’t operate on this boy. He’s my son.”

The apparent paradox is caused by a hasty generalization; if the surgeon is the boy’s father, the statement cannot be true. The paradox is resolved if it is revealed that the surgeon is a woman, the boy’s mother.”