The other evening Megan and I were walking out of a restaurant. She locked her arm in mine, pulled close, and began singing "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas..." She paused, and said "No, it's not."

Taipei is not the most Christmas-y feeling place. As a matter of fact I'm packing a whole pile of sweaters I brought with me here to send back home. I have yet to put a single one on. It hasn't gotten colder than 17C/63F.

But that's changing. We are going home with our sweaters this afternoon. We will be plunged into a New England Christmas, with its nippy air, Christmas frenzy, and family gatherings. It will be quite nice. It's so odd here. I was buying some gifts the other day from a shopkeeper. I explained in my bad Chinese that one gift was for my mom, one was for my wife's mom. Christmas, I said. She got so excited! She ran into the back room and got for me a little special gift, and said "Merry Christmas!"

So, a Merry Christmas to you all reading this. I know it's the first post in almost twenty days - life has been busy. I'll try to post my Taipei movie on this site - it came out pretty good - a little something I made to show the folks at home a slice of the experience here.

All for now. School, home to finish packing, some banking, then we begin our 28 hours of travel. Hoo boy.

For our Thanksgiving vacation about twenty of us headed about three hours south of here to a huge national park called Taroko Gorge. It is probably the most visited sight in Taiwan, a 37,000 acre park that stretches from the Pacific Ocean inland, encompassing the most beautiful scenery I've yet to experience in my four months here. We boarded a train early Thursday morning and headed out of Taipei, arriving in Hualien about 10:30 AM. A bus from the hotel met us at the station and brought our whole crew into the Gorge. The ride was about 45 minutes, and went from betel nut stands and rock quarrys as we left Hualien to twisting roads and impossibly steep mountains as we entered the Gorge. We spent most of the time craning our necks attempting to see the tops of sheer rock faces, or staring into deep crevasses between mountains.

The hotel was a real surprise - very nice accomodations, on the roof a pool, tennis courts and "gate ball", a kind of cross between miniature golf and croquet. A pub on the third floor, another place for drinks in the lobby, and two restaurants downstairs. There was also a sauna, steam room and hot and cold baths. The rooms were quite nice: small sofa, coffee table, desk, and even nice artwork on the walls - a first! The bathrooms had a large, glassed-in shower/tub area with a big glass window (and curtain) back into your room. Huge mirrors, beautiful stone counters, and a telephone in the toilet for those important calls; the whole bathroom was pretty enormous.

A giant electronic safe in the closet, a fridge, and other amenities - the digs were quite nice. We did again get to experience Chinese mattresses - firm is an understatement. You bang down on them with your fist and you hear the stiff ringing of springs - if you like your mattress hard as a rock, you'll be in heaven here. Most Chinese believe a hard mattress is the best thing for your spine. My spine begs to differ.

I'm intrigued by the lights in the room. When you first walk in, you place your key card into a slot by the door. This is a sort of master switch for all the electronics in the room. By the bed there is a control panel. From here you can operate the desk light, the ceiling lights, even the light over the picture. A/C, etc., is all controlled from this one panel. It's like Captain Kirk's chair on the Starship Enterprise.

The afternoon we arrived we had a free shuttle take us about 3 km to the trailhead of a hot springs. Down the side of a mountain, through a tunnel or two, and across a tiny suspension bridge, we went down another stairway clinging to a rock face as it descended to the springs - two pools, one hot, one hotter, alongside a rushing river. It was quite an experience, perfect to soak in after a day of train and bus rides.

Friday morning we ran around and did various things. Megan was thrilled to have her choice of indoor and outdoor pools, although the outdoor was a bit too chilly water-wise. Around 11:30 AM about ten of us met at "the construction site" to begin a hike. Since the earthquake of 9/21 last year, they have had to do a great deal of repair on tunnels and roadways in the gorge. They let hikers and traffic through only once every hour. Once we passed through, we hiked up a roadway and plunged into the first of a series of six tunnels. Long, dark, and wet, we carried flashlights supplied by the hotel.

The next several hours we experienced incredible water falls, mountains dropping down to river gorges, gigantic boulders strewn along the rivers like so many tumbled dominoes, all punctuated by trips through the pitch-black tunnels. There are links to pictures below that show more than I can possibly describe.

So many times throughout our stay I felt this incredible sense of being cleansed by the clean air, the lack of traffic, the absence of the city hustle and bustle. It was great to be out in nature, away from the stress and pressure of work. I truly felt revived.

One of the most incredible experiences was our late night hike back to the hot springs. We left after dinner, flashlights in hand, and hiked the three kilometers up a very dark, very quiet road to the trailhead for the hot springs. Down the steps we went, flashlight beams guiding our way, calls back and forth to watch your head or watch your step. As we crossed the suspension bridge we could see lights from the other bathers down below, illuminating the water a pale blue whenever a flashlight beam passed over. Surprisingly, it was quite busy, a fair amount of people coming and going. Still, the experience of soaking in the steaming water, looking overhead to see the play of flashlights coming down the side of the mountain as other trekkers made their way down, listening to the rush of water, and the murmur and laughter of voices is something I won't soon forget.

Heading back the clouds had truly parted, and overhead, sparkling amidst the inky black, were stars and more stars. There were times we simply stopped walking, craning our necks, and stared silently upward. This was a gift, a sensory indulgence, as there are no stars visible in Taipei, or maybe two or three on a good night. Now we looked at a blanket of them, even seeing three or four shooting stars as we walked back, tired, our bodies happy with the soak in the soothing waters, conversation between friends making the walk home a comforting pleasure.

My trip up the mountain near the hotel one day while Megan swam was pretty memorable. I visited this Buddhist temple high up over the river. You can see the pictures of it below. They were having some kind of five-day service, and, as I removed my shoes and walked in, I was enveloped in the sound of this ethereal chanting. I stood there for at least fifteen or twenty minutes listening. It was one of those experiences that makes you truly know you are in a very foreign culture. It was absolutely beautiful. I tried to record some of it on my still camera's video function, which only captures 30 seconds of video at a time, but it really doesn't do it justice. Still, you can click here to see and hear a tiny bit of the chanting going on. Wow.

Anyways, there are pictures as promised. I shot a lot, so I broke it up into three pages, about twenty pictures per page. You can click here for the first page; the second page is located here, and the third page is here all in gorgeous color. If you click on the "start slide show" icon, you can view them larger. Again, it's so hard to capture what we saw over our three days there, but I hope this gives you an idea of what it's like. We really had a great time.

OK, this is late, and the events in my life are beginning to pile up. I find that more things are happening than I have time to write about. But one of the really nice things that happened was the party at Lynn and Liz's house Saturday night, November 23. It was a Thanksgiving party! With turkey! Even though I'm a vegetarian, I was still excited they had turkey! And rolls, and salad, and someone even made that casserole with string beans and Durkee fried onions on top - can you get any more American? And amidst all of this, the wine (Beaujolais Nouveau!), the dinner, the desserts, was the discovery, felt by both Megan and me, that we have friends - not just friends of circumstance, but people we really enjoy being with, people we can laugh with, put down our guard and be ourselves. You realize at once how much it means to you, how important friends are when you are so far away from the other friends you have.

I've been waiting to get these pictures posted, so here they are!

Just talked to my friend Ed. They are having a snow day back in Connecticut. Megan and I quickly logged onto some local news website back in Connecticut and started checking out the traffic cams. I cannot explain how immensely odd it is to be sitting in Taipei half a world away and looking at the traffic cam pointed at Route 7 in Norwalk, CT, watching wet snowflakes fall and cars go by with their headlights on. I'm looking at a guy in a red minivan driving southbound on 95. Does he have the slightest clue there is someone on an island off the coast of Mainland China looking at his car? How strange is that?

It's late November and we are still battling mosquitoes. Actually, I don't remember dealing with mosquitoes when we first got here. They seemed to have arrived in November. Regardless, they are ten times as quick as the ones in the States. Oddly, they'll hang out on a wall or ceiling often, not just buzz around the room. You spot one and line up a perfect slap shot and - whoosh - you miss. They bite fast, too. And often. Megan and I have new windows in our apartment, and the screens glide beautifully left to right in the window frame - so beautifully that a passing gust will ocassionally move them open. So, there you are, sleeping at night, when a high-pitched buzz or a sharp bite will awaken you. Then you realize the window is wide open, and you haven't a clue as to how many of the little buggers are actually in the room. You hide under the covers and hope for the best.

We have now purchased a gadget that I never imagined owning. It's essentially an electrified badminton racket. It has two "C" batteries in the handle, and you press a button and swing at a mosquito. I doubted the efficacy of the thing. How the hell could two "C" batteries do anything? I stuck the batteries in. I hesitantly touched the electric screen. I touched it again. I pressed it hard with my finger. Nothing. Hmmm. I had the batteries in backwards. I fixed them. I hesitantly touched it. I touched it again. I told Megan to touch it. I licked my finger and touched it. There was a crack and a flash - holy cow!! I don't lick my finger and touch it anymore.

Our first night with our electric badminton racket. Dinner by candlelight. I think I see a mosquito out of the corner of my eye - I jump up! (Our rule is, if you think you see a mosquito, you saw a mosquito). We turn on all the lights. I get the electric badminton racket. We look. We look some more. We begin talking out loud - "Well, guess there aren't any mosquitoes in here - guess we'll just go back to eating our dinner!" We look even harder. There he is! Flying across the room! I'm jumping up and down, swinging the electric badminton racket. Missed! Or maybe I wasn't pressing the little button. Wait! He's moved into the hall! We close all the doors in the hall, and squint up at the white walls. We spot him again! He's sitting on the wall, just five inches from the ceiling. I swing the electric badminton racket, not an inch over him. He doesn't move. I swing it again - he doesn't budge at all. I'm swinging it back and forth over him - ssswishhh, ssswishhh, ssswishhh. Megan says "Trap him with it!" "What?" "Just trap him against the wall!" Oh. I slowly lower the racket onto him. Crrraaaaack!! He is gone. GONE. Absolutely no trace of him. He's not on the wall. He's not even on the racket. Not a puff of smoke. Nothing. We both look at each other, amazed. Then I look down on the ground and see him pathetically buzzing around in circles on the floor. It reminds me of the guy in Austin Powers at Dr. Evil's table after Dr. Evil drops him into the fiery basement - "Somebody help me! I'm badly hurt!" So I lower the electric badminton racket onto the half-cooked mosquito again. Zap him a second time. He's still not dead. So I squish him with a kleenex.

I can't wait for more mosquitoes.

I remember last year I had this boy named Mohammed who transferred into my class in February or so. He was escorted to my class by a person who did not speak his language (it wasn't even Hindi - it was something even more remote). Mohammed spoke two words: He would give me a happy "Good Morning" when I saw him, and he would nod and say "thank you", often at slightly incorrect times, like after he just helped you move a stack of artwork. He'd be patiently waiting at my classroom door early in the AM at Norwalk High, and I'd arrive, unlock the door, and sweep my arm in a gesture inviting him to go first. He unfailingly returned the gesture to me, I'd nod, and he'd follow me in. His thank you's and good mornings were the basis of our relationship. He knew no other words.

I was not long here before I realized that, in fact, I was now Mohammed. I could nod a cheery ni hao, and slip out a sibilant xie xie (sieh-sieh) in recognition of a kindness. But that's all I could say. I suddenly felt what it was to be him, lost in swirls of language isolating you from the sea of people around you, unable to form even the simplest of connections.

Life is pretty interesting when you are immersed in a culture with a language as foreign as Chinese. And immersion is a not-quite accurate statement, when I spend so much of my work day at Taipei American School, where the language of instruction is English, and most everyone you meet speaks the language. But you step out the door, and life changes. Along Chung Shan North Road, the main drag, there are shops that have English-speaking help. Go down a side street and you step deeper into the culture. You look at a store and try and figure out what they sell - the sign doesn't help, so you look in the windows. Is this a tea house, or a restaurant? Are they still serving dinner, or just drinks? I think of how many signs I see each day, a placard at the entrance to a park, a sign in a store window, even a red sticker on our new stove - you look at the columns of characters and realize it is impenetrable - completely and utterly impenetrable. How could you ever crack their code? You open your mailbox - is it junk mail, or is it the water bill? You buy a printer for your computer - all the buttons are in Chinese. You face it every day.

You figure certain things out. I've figured out the character for meat. Being a vegetarian, this comes in handy - when they list it as an ingredient, but they don't always. Unfortunately it's the same character they use for fish "meat', which I do, in fact, eat. When I get on the bus, I know to interpret the first character over the driver's head - it tells me if I pay when I board, or I pay when I get off (I still haven't figured out the deciding factor behind these two options - odd and even days? the time? the whim of the driver?). I've studied the characters that mean vegetarian restaurant, and I have once or twice picked them out on a sign over my head. I often eat at restaurants displaying swastikas. These aren't hash houses run by skinheads; they're Buddhist restaurants. No pictures of Hitler hanging up, but one or two of the Dalai Lama. The swastika is their symbol, and the connection to Nazi Germany is a distant one in this Asian culture. You even see little squares of tofu in the market with swastikas on them. Very odd.

I will occasionally stare at signs in Chinese, like I know what I'm looking at. I begin on the right (I've figured that much out) and study the characters. I look closely. I try and find relationships or patterns. It's kind of like people who don't know anything about cars. You pop the hood and stare at the mass of rubbery tubing with your hands on your hips, and wait for some kind of illuminating knowledge to descend upon you. But I know far more about cars than I do about this written language.

Megan and I take a Chinese class - two now, actually. And it's just starting to gel, just barely. I listen now to conversations around me, hearing an occasional personal pronoun, or a question structure that I recognize. When I go to the bank or post office, and I take a number, I ltry to decipher the computerized voice that calls out the two or three digit number to tell you what window to approach. I read back the amounts off the cash registers at 7-11, and the cashier will respond with approval. But that's about it.

Our language class on Monday nights is weirdly entertaining. It is held at a junior high school a few subway stops from here - far from the expat feel of Tien Mou. We are a panoply of colors, cultures, and languages in that room: Canadian, Japanese, a couple from Chad, a few women from the Dominican Republic, a sherpa from Nepal, just three of us Americans. I used to sub for English as a Second Language in the States, and my class was much like this, different faces from different parts of the world. Now, instead of standing in front of the class teaching, I am in a seat, pursing my lips, making buzzing sounds through my teeth, puffing out soft syllables, all in an attempt to match the sounds of this incredibly difficult language.

Still, it occasionally works. And it's an amazing feeling when it does. It's a goal of mine to be able to convey at least some basic information by the time I leave here. Imagine. Being able to speak Chinese. That'd be nice.

Just back from a ride to Helen's. Helen's Jazz Cafe is noteworthy among cyclists here - a waffle stand that blasts old-time jazz classics, and serves great waffles and coffee. Actually, old shoe leather would taste great, once you arrive there. Helen's, and the numerous other stands that have joined her, sits atop a mountain in Yangminshan National Park. It's about a ten or twelve mile ride from school, mostly up. We zig-zag through the city past the baseball stadium, and wend our way through tiny neighborhoods with streets barely wide enough for one car, let alone two. Our group of lycra-clad cyclists attracts a fair amount of attention as we ride. We go past The National Palace Museum, and begin a slight ascent past these peculiar "fishing holes", commercial establishments where you sit around rather dingy-looking pools with a fishing pole catching fish, or maybe even shrimp.

We move off the busy boulevard finally, and a sense of peace and green descends upon you. Suddenly you are surrounded by trees - no more traffic, no more ugly buildings. You feel that southeast Asian feel, palm trees mixed in with the other greenery, sharp cliffs of rock jutting out from the dense vegetation. We climb and climb, passing hikers and walkers. The Chinese love exercise, and they have walking clubs that head out in the early mornings. There was quite a large number out on this Sunday, sun breaking through the clouds even as we rose high up into the mountains.

The road switchbacks, the curves sharp, dusty mirrors reflecting any oncoming cars. But your speed is slow, so you don't worry so much going up. We take occasional breaks, stretching, catching our heavy breaths and bringing them back to a normal flow. Chinese wave, say good morning, smile. Everyone seems in a good mood.

One last long ascent brings us to an up and down meandering, where we actually pick up speed here and there. Finally we arrive at a nomadic town of sorts - a meeting of roads, lined with red tents, food trucks, and tables and chairs along the roadside. Bicycles lean everywhere, motorcycles and a few cars parked as well. People eat, mingle, enjoy the view, which today is a bit cloudy. And everywhere is infused with the sound of jazz: horns blowing from the 20's and 30's, coming out of tinny speakers, washing over the tired and happy crowd. It's really kind of magical, this little happening, far away from the energy and bustle of the city far below. A retreat from the heavy air and the constant buzz of scooters. Open space does wonders...

We eventually climb back on our bikes, now wearing jackets against the cool mountain air, and zip up for the ride down. It is an exhilarating descent, wind flapping your jacket, the speed making your senses keen as your eyes move rapidly from the road under your wheels to the road up ahead. You grab a glimpse of the dusty mirrors, look for oncoming cars, relax the brakes and pick up speed again. Your wheels whir, your legs still and tense, leaning your tight body into the curves. The road is wide and clear in places, allowing you to take on a bit more speed.

And you are down before you know it, your friends gathered at the foot of the bridge, drinking water, talking. People arrive in ones and twos. Back onto the busy streets, back into the bustle that makes Taipei. We maneuver the busy streets, and, too soon, turn off in our own separate directions. I go home, exhilarated, arms and legs and body vibrating with the experience.

A couple of pictures here, or you can click here for a 2.9MB movie, which lasts about thirty seconds.

Hello all! This is the first "official" entry for all of you. I have set up this blogger so you can follow what exciting things are happening in Taipei here. Older entries are at the bottom of the page, most recent ones right here. I've had this up for a week or so, but just haven't advertised it yet. So, hope you enjoy.

Saturday morning, and I'm in my usual position in front of my iMac. Had the amazing experience yesterday of DRIVING! Hadn't driven in over three months, and never in Asia. Our friend Amy was house-sitting, and had to get her friend's car back to his house. Unfortunately, she didn't know how to drive a stick, and he lived way up in the mountains of Yangminshan. So I drove her back to our neighborhood, and we decided to leave the car here. Was fun driving, despite scooters surrounding me like gnats.

Finally have gotten the pictures of Japan up on the web. Yes, the word pictures is hypertext. Go click on it. To all my Mashiko friends, this is an incomplete, but pretty good set of pics. Hope you enjoy them. Sure hope this works - it's the first time I've attempted to create a link through this blogger.

Lots to do this weekend - lesson plans to create, and orders to make. Better get started!


Duffy

Well, it has been eight days since my last post. I have gone to Japan and back. Quite a beautiful country, although it was difficult to compare it to life in Taipei, since we pretty much live in the city here. Mashiko, the town I went to in Japan, is actually north of Tokyo. I didn't even really SEE Tokyo. I suppose it was out there somewhere. Most of the folks I met there said Tokyo was actually pretty ugly. I wonder if it's uglier than Taipei?

Anyways, where we were in Mashiko was fairly rural. Our town was surrounded by farm fields and low hills. The nights were pretty nippy, but we slept on futons in tatami rooms under pretty heavy blankets. The futons were a good deal thinner than the ones you get in the States - we actually laid down two for each of us in our room. This was a pretty old building we were in, with sliding paper and wood doors between all the rooms, and an irori in the main room we used for cooking and heat. Basically a firepit we burned charcoal in. Beautiful high ceilings with gorgeous timbers, and an occasional flourescent light tackily tacked to a beam or post. I kept turning them off...

The bathrooms were down the hall. You change slippers when you go into the bathroom to a pair of dedicated bathroom slippers. The Japanese are a bit more hygenic than the Americans (can you believe it?). So, you switch slippers back and forth. I found it amusing one night going into the john to notice the bathroom slippers missing; someone obviously padded off in them.

There was only one western toilet, and two squat toilets (I went to Japan, and I'm telling you about the toilets...) But, unlike the States, the bathrooms in Japan are never near the kitchen (my last three apartments had the toilet directly off the kitchen). I'm glad someone is thinking. I didn't really see any of the super high-tech Japanese toilets written up in The NY Times, etc., but a guy there said he had one in his apartment. He says it washes and blow-dries his butt ("Honey! Are you done?" WHRRRRRRRRR "Honey?!")

But, anyways, I suppose I should tell you about the workshop! Lots of folks from all over Japan, one from Hong Kong, a woman from Myanmar, all gathered at this inn and studio to do a clay/metal fusion workshop. We also explored wheel-throwing, and building a wood raku kiln. It was pretty amazing. The workshop was led by Euan Craig and Osni Branco (kinda rhymes with Duffy Franco). Euan makes pots out of his home nearby (or he at least fires them there), and Osni runs a foundry in Brasil. It was a very informative, high-energy workshop, loaded with facts, ideas, glazing concepts, and well-lubricated with beer beginning after dark. Work all day, party into the wee hours each night, and discover who snores the loudest by morning. It was certainly a great deal of fun.

At some point I will learn how to post pictures on this thing. For now you will just have to visualize.

Somehow it got to be 11:15 PM, so I should crash for the night. Another day of Parent/Teacher conferences tomorrow. The weekend will be nice. And busy. Oh well.

Well, this is a new attempt to be more current about what goes on day-to-day as we establish a life in a foreign country. This blog (or web-log) is a journal format, so you can log on and read current postings about what we are doing, and even link to pictures of what we have done. I'm hoping that this will be more active than our static website, which I really really mean to update often. Alas, life does seem to get in the way.

So, I'm up at quarter past one in the morning doing this, all because we stopped at our favorite coffee shop after eating at our favorite sushi place in honor of our four-month anniversary. I drank who knows what coffee concoction, and sleep is nowhere to be found. Tomorrow (today?) I leave for Japan to attend a workshop on raku, kiln building, and clay/metal fusion. I'm very excited about this chance to go to Japan. I'm a bit sad that Megan isn't coming with me. I think half the fun of life is having someone to share it with, and she's a great person to share things with. She just makes them more fun.

Boy, it's hard to imagine ever being tired at the moment. Most mornings, though, when that alarm goes off at five AM, I sure do feel tired. I drag myself out of one bed, walk into our office in the back bedroom on my way to the shower and eye the guest bed. Sure enough, I lay down on that one for a few more minutes before I get up again and get the water running. Good thing we don't have a third bed.

As long as I'm not particularly tired, I'll tell you about my bathroom. Megan has the more conventional one, and I use the one in the back of the apartment. It has sliding glass doors to it, and floor to ceiling tiles. The entire bathroom IS the shower, which is not uncommon here in Taipei. There is a showerhead on a hose attached to the sink, and the floor is slightly graded towards one end, where the drain is located. The showerhead holder is at waist-level, so you can't really use the shower with both hands free - you have to use one hand to hold the showerhead. Therefore I always perform what I knew as a child to be called an army-style shower, where you get wet only intermittently. What entertains me immeasurably is that all of this takes place while you stand in the bathroom. Imagine taking your shower standing in front of your sink, and you'll have a pretty good idea of what it's like. One-stop shopping.

Mental note to NOT drink a mocha expresso before bed.

Our apartment is on the fourth floor just behind Chung Chen Road, otherwise known as Beer House Road. Except most all of the beer houses closed a long time ago. There are a few left, and they are kind of fun. The rest of Beer House Road actually looks a bit like Fifth Avenue in terms of fancy shops. Fila, Hugo Boss, some Burberry-type English store, etc. All punctuated every block or so by convenience stores.

We live in a private neighborhood. You pass one of two guard houses to get in here. There are a lot of apartments back here, and a few offices. The guards know us all, but we really share just a "ni hao, ni hao" as we come and go. Language is tough. Mr Tsue (?) is the only exception. He is outgoing, friendly, and knows just a handful of words in English. I'll come home and he'll say "You wife - shopping!" or "You work - very hard!". He's great, and always has something nice to say.

Our apartment is three bedrooms and two full baths - well, as full as you want to consider the second one. It's a lot of space, but not the biggest apartment among our friends. Still, it's plenty for us. When you first walk into the apartment you are in what used to be a balcony, but has since been glassed in. There is actually a faucet out there to water your plants. You come through two huge sliding glass doors (NOT frosted thankfully - frosted glass is ubuquitous in Taipei apartments) into our living room. Turn around and you see the mountains of Yangminshan National Park rising off in the distance. Our kitchen is one of the only open kitchens I've seen, meaning that there is no door or wall separating it from the living room, which is nice. The sleeping areas are off the living room, one of which is our master bedroom, again with mountain views, and one which acts as our office (where I sit now) with our networked Apple computers and our cable modem. Nice that we can tap away at the same time, keeping in touch with family and friends back home. There is a third bedroom off the kitchen which we refer to as our storage room. Thank goodness, because there are no closets in this apartment. A couple of free-standing wardrobes, but that's it. Out back off the kitchen is the back balcony, with our washer and dryer on it. Don't ask why, but everyone in Taipei has their washer and dryer outside. Our water filter is also outside on the balcony, because it didn't fit the kitchen faucet, so we go outside to get our drinking water.

Caffeine still flowing - don't feel compelled to continue reading.

We live about a mile from school, and we usually walk both ways. Alone in the morning, and usually together coming home. I always walk Chung Shan North Road to school - past a bunch of closed shops (it's only 7:00 AM) and an occasional food vendor open for breakfast. A park, a couple of construction sites, a few dogs hanging out, etc. The walk home is often down what we call The Back Road, only because we don't know the name of it. The Back Road is much more "Asian" in flavor - narrow, lots of scooters and cars, and tons of street-side businesses, tables out front, selling mounds of folded fresh noodles, vegetables, fruits (never both fruit AND veggies), and a few illegal vendors selling ready to eat food like delicious scallion pancakes, fresh orange juice, fried vegetables with five-spice, or, one of my current favorites, stinky tofu. Yes, it's Cho Dofu, which translates as stinky tofu. Smells kind of like wet sneakers that have been left in a closet, then heated. Stinky tofu is fried, then they add pickled cabbage, and one or two other sauces. It's great.

We often stop at the ShiDong Market, an indoor market with flower vendors (gorgeous cut orchids for about two bucks), meat vendors, fishmongers, greengrocers, dried you-name-it vendors, and more. It's pretty interesting to actually have vendors that know you. They give us a free this or that when we shop - it's nice.

Well, I could continue, but now it's 2:00 AM, and my alarm is going to go off in about three hours. Feel free to come back to this site. I'll be posting links to pictures real soon, probably when I get back from Japan. That's all for now!