I was laying in bed last night and I realized we never think about turkey eggs. We think about chicken eggs and duck eggs, even about quail eggs.

Turkeys lay eggs, right?

That was an exciting one. A 6.6 earthquake down the coast did a pretty good job of jiggling things up here in Taipei. I actually got under a door frame. Felt like someone was shaking the building back and forth. The dog downstairs is still barking.

New recycling rules starting December 26th! Gotta start separating out our organic trash into two separate piles: compost and, uh, pig food. That's what the poster says - pig food.

Once again, too much life is happening to get it all down on paper. Is it necessary that I skip huge chunks? Probably. So I'll skip the 2nd Hualien trip (where we went with our new friend Vicky to commission a stone tea table) and fast forward to this rather busy week which saw Megan's first two-person exhibit, held upstairs at Rialto Ristorante, a very nice restaurant up in Section 7. The opening was Wednesday night, and was attended by at least 50 people through the course of the evening. It was an exhilarating evening for Megan. Tons of compliments on her work, and she even sold three pieces - at the opening! It's rare you sell stuff at the opening. People were even bidding on the same pieces!

Friday night I had my TAS stage debut along with Molly Hobbs in a Shel Silverstein short called "No Skronking". As a matter of fact in less than three hours I'll be back on stage doing it again. Ah, butterflies, right on cue. I guess it went well last night - I heard people laughing.

No digital pictures of that fiasco - maybe I'll post some if Megan got some decent film shots... but here are pictures of the opening! Hope you like them!

I looked up in the bathroom this morning and saw a fleeting blur – a mosquito! Quickly I slid open the bathroom door and slipped out. I bolted into the dining room to get it – The Anbao 9900 Electric Badminton Racket Mosquito Terminator Unit (I'm not sure if that's the actual name. The package just says Anbao 9900 – everything else is in Chinese).

I just made the purchase last night, as last year's model had expired in the off-season. It's mosquito time again, and I knew an electric badminton racket thing was a crucial piece of equipment to own. I said in Chinese to the store clerks "Wo yao…" then I made a buzzing sound with my lips, while moving my left index finger around in the air. I then swung with my right hand and made a "zap!" sound. They had both been watching my index finger intently, and, at the "zap!" paused only for a moment before both saying SOMETHING simultaneously in Chinese. One of them quickly turned and showed me where the rackets were on the shelf.

She held out a large black and orange model, with bolts of lightning flashing across the package. Two traumatized mosquitoes were depicted flying into the electric field of the racket, with cartoon-like zaps emanating from their suffering bodies. The Anbao 9900. This was clearly a superior product, NTD$70 more expensive than the cheaper, more pastel blue and yellow model I was considering in my hand.. She pointed to the Anbao 9900 and said "Super!"

I bought it.

Down the block two children saw me in an ice cream store. They pointed to the package and said something in rapid-fire Chinese to their mom. I don't know what they said, but I think it was "Mom! That Western guy with the big nose has the Anbao 9900! Those mosquitoes are toast!" I think that's probably what they said.

I got it home and took it out of the package. I hefted it in my right hand. This baby was heavy! Even if you don' t press the button, you'll probably deliver a concussion to the soft cranium of the insect. The wires are of a much heavier gauge – perhaps 16 ga. copper wire? The last one had this thin zinc-looking mesh. There was no way I was going to touch these thick wires with my licked finger - that test was not going to take place. So Megan and I dropped star fruit seeds on it instead. But nothing happened. The Anbao 9900 would remain in its holster until we could test it under real-life conditions.

So now, in the early morning light, a toasted mosquito lays on my bathroom floor, testament to the killing power of the Anbao 9900. Bring on the skeeters. We are ready.

October 31st came and went. Do the Taiwanese celebrate Hallowe'en? Sort of. Not too many adults dress up. Well, none. So we corrected the imbalance by attending a Hallowe'en party thrown by some colleagues, where we found lots of costumed folks. Click here to enjoy the pictures!

Megan and I also spent a long weekend in Hualien, down the east coast of Taiwan. There was an International Stone Symposium there, which is held every two years. We were fortunate to attend, and lucky to have Annie Lee as our guide - Hualien is her hometown! Nice to get out of Tien Mu and visit a smaller city. We had the good fortune to meet a few sculptors as well - Jaya and David - who live in Europe and were there for the month working at the symposium. Lots of pictures of everything! Here are pictures of the Stone Symposium, and here you can find pictures from Hualien. You can also find pictures of a beautiful Daoist Temple in Hualien which we visited.

Twelve thousand miles away. On the other side of the globe. And I don't own a television set. So into school I trekked, on a day I didn't have to work, to watch Game Seven of the American League Playoffs on TV.

I'm not a big baseball fan. Nor am I in any way, shape, or form a sports fan. I'm clueless. Like I said, I don't own a TV - haven't had one in my abode for 20+ years - how could I be a sports fan? But something happens to me in October. I get excited about the World Series. Baseball becomes really cool to me. The magic becomes tangible. I get drawn in. Especially if there are teams I know involved.

The Florida Marlins? Who the hell are they? The Arizona Diamondbacks? Razorbacks? I don't know! These johnny-come-lately teams mean nothing to me. If they weren't around when I was a kid, then I don't care.

But, on the other side of the world I did care. I suddenly cared about The Yankees, despite the fact I hate The Yankees - I'm a Mets Fan. But The Yankees are my sister Kelley's favorite team, and, being 12,000 miles away from my sister, well hell, that was plenty enough reason for me. And the Yankees are New York, and New York is familiar stomping grounds, and it's all home to me. So root I did.

I went into my classroom, sat upon a table, and snapped on the game. Kids were in and out, only a handful caring about baseball or the playoffs. A few stopped to watch. Gabe, one of my kids, sat down and watched with me. He spent some of his childhood in Boston, so he was rooting for them. He was like me, not big up on sports, or perhaps just not up on the sports that were happening back in the States. But when Hideki Matsui showed up on the screen, Gabe sat up and said how he had seen Hideki play for the Giants in Tokyo. That's what you find teaching overseas.

The game went on and on. I ignored the grades I had to enter into the computer, ignored the IASAS games our school was hosting, and watched as inning after inning unfolded. I kept noting the time. We are twelve hours difference from NY, so as I watched, I kept commenting on the time. 11:00, 11:30. Soon it was midnight, but the game went on.

And then I was shouting. Shouting for The Yankees. Shouting for New York. Shouting for baseball, and home, and the fans in the park. And I was shouting for my sister, whom I knew was probably cheering in front of a television somewhere, believing again in her Yankees.

I should have bought it. The price was NT$250, about seven bucks. It was a cookbook entitled "Cuisine to Make You Plump and Fascinating".

This always catches me off guard. When kids with a British/Aussie/Kiwi upbringing talk about math, they refer to it as maths. As in "I've always found maths enjoyable." Isn't that peculiar?

I'm practicing shorter posts.

Hello All!
Remember me? Gee, it was only, uh, May that I last wrote. I think we were in the middle of a SARS crisis and evacuating the country to go isolate ourselves in Asbury Park, NJ. People in Asbury Park had no idea of our hidden motives: hiding from friends and family until ten days had gone by. Was New Jersey the ideal place to exacerbate, I mean experience, culture shock? Probably not. We went to a mall - I hate malls - but we went to a mall in New Jersey. I was afraid. People looked, well, different. Granted, Americans are slightly more fond of fatty foods than the rest of the world, but it was unusual seeing so many large humans sampling high calorie foods. It was also strange seeing people defensively entrenched in certain cultural styles. I saw a forty-five year old man looking like he was ready to punch anyone who dared to scuff his snow-white puffy basketball sneakers. He looked more concerned about his white sneakers than he did about his young child, who was trailing alone behind he and his wife as they walked across the rather busy parking lot.

But I didn't start this post to write about New Jersey. Or about our several weeks in Connecticut. Or our trip to Pennsylvania, Maine, Florida, Los Angeles, Seattle, or the other locations we visited in the past four months.

I was going to write about going to the beach.

We went to the beach today. In Taiwan. It was the first time we went to the beach. We had, once or twice, seen the ocean from Taiwan, but we hadn't technically packed our suits and gone to the beach. So we got out our green backpack, loaded it with swimsuits, a towel, cameras, and no sunscreen, and headed off to the front gates of TAS to meet up with Love Shack Holodak, The Core-meister, Mason and Cara, and Robin & Chris - new to TAS from Oh Canada!. The eight of us rode four scooters high up into the mountains of Yangminshan National Park. Megan appreciated the back rest on my scooter as we maintained an upward angle for quite a stretch. We crested at a pass nicknamed "The Saddle" where we stopped for a look about. A group hiked up to see a gaping hole in the earth vent large clouds of steam. A friendly local volunteered to take group photos of us with our many cameras. Later I shot a picture for him of his cute son atop my red Vespa.

We began our descent down the other side of the mountain, Cory navigating with the ease of a cartographer, while Nancy illuminated turns in the road with arms celebrating high in the air. It was an amazing experience to be so high up, twisting and turning on mountain roads relatively free of traffic. Peaks rose high around us, misted in the bottoms of clouds, as we leaned and zoomed down the far side of the mountain pass.

I wish I could remember the name of the town we leveled into, but I cannot. We gassed up at a Formosa station, my low fuel light blinking for attention. Our party wandered across the street to a small grocer where we loaded up on garlic peanuts, seaweed-flavored Pringles (maybe we skipped those - foolish of us), crescent-shaped crackers, Oreo cookies, and Pocari Sweat. We munched in front of the gas station, but decided to eat the rest of our comestibles at the (not so) sunny beach.

Cory again led the way, my bright red Vespa bringing up the rear. He paused at a narrow lane, telling us that he was sure this would be a shortcut to the beach. Not entirely sure, but pretty sure. Off we ventured, past barking dogs and smiling locals, chickens pecking in chicken coops (I thought of my nephew Casey's chickens..). The skinny road ended in a parking lot. Through an opening between plots I saw a sandy path leading to crashing waves. We had arrived.

Changing into our suits, we wandered out onto the beach. Glimmering white sand, fine as sugar, sparkled on a beach somewhere else in the world. Our beach was a carpet of rust brown sand and wide swaths of jetsam composed of plastic bottles and litter. We stepped carefully.

We were blessed, though, with waves. Thunderous, punching, pounding waves. Waves you braced yourself against, and they knocked you silly anyways. Waves that failed to acknowledge any minor opposing strength you exhibited. They just pushed you down into their frothy rolling path. Girls held fast to their bikini tops. My butt rose above as my bathing suit descended a few times. I finally cinched it tight, only to result in a parachute-like effect as the nylon filled with air each time a wave came in. You just looked silly no matter what.

A few other TAS'ers were there, and we chatted about the surf, ate our food, and generally enjoyed ourselves. The afternoon was underway, but we soon decided to start the ride home, as a few of us had evening engagements. Me, I'm sitting here in my underwear typing this. Megan is out getting doh-pi and sushi. We'll nibble at home tonight. You, you get to enjoy some pictures. Click here for the pictures of our day at the beach. Or, you could click here for pictures of last week's hike to see the large ruminants in Buffalo Meadows. Heck, I'm even going to throw in pictures of Florida, only because the light there was so incredible. So indulge yourself in vicarious pleasure of two souls parked on the other side of the world. Love to you all.

Well, we are about to blow this popsicle stand. We leave Taipei tomorrow, albeit reticently. Of course today is the first sunny day in several days, the mountains looking glorious as I awoke this morning. Oh well. The SARS issue continues to grow, measured by how often my mother calls me to "check in". Still, I don't think I'd be too nervous about staying, except, well, of course, there's not a hospital I'd want to set foot in. So we'll go away for a bit and see what life is like when we come back.

I bought a way cool Giant bicycle yesterday. I finally realized I needed a new bike. Well, needed is a funny word. My old bicycle I'm pretty sure is approaching twenty-five years old. I'm almost positive I was dating Donna Williams in college when I bought it. I'm 42 now. So I hope to spend a lot of time this summer zipping around on my way cool bike. It weighs probably half of what my other bike weighs. I can't wait to ride it.

Well, this is a short entry. We still have to get up to school and clean up some stuff. And I'd love to zip up into the mountains one more time on my scooter with Megan, just to look around and enjoy the rare view.

Here are some freaky SARS pictures. There was this general neighborhood cleaning going on, probably due to the fact that an employee at Takashimaya's food court is now a probable SARS case. I was across the street from Takashimaya outside of Starbucks a few days ago and they interviewed me on Formosa TV. One of my students saw it and confirmed! I am now a star in Taiwan. No queue for autographs yet, though. Anyways, here are the pictures of the SARS cleaning undertaken by the military. What a sight to see walking down the street. So maybe it's not too soon to go home...

A woman wearing an N-95 mask just brought a fruit basket to our door!

In reading my last post, I can see that I mentioned life goes on as sort of normal. That was on May 3rd. It is now May 11th, and we are in our third full day of quarantine. It's probably a lot to recount here, but to be brief, the entire faculty of TAS was attending a meeting regarding the SARS situation on Monday. Tuesday a teacher called in sick. Wednesday they took her to the hospital as a "probable" SARS case. That afternoon they asked the students to leave the building, called the faculty into the auditorium, and handed us masks as we entered. We were being quarantined.

The good news is the teacher has been fever-free for three days, and has had two negative SARS tests.

We aren't terribly worried that we are in danger. We feel fine. But we are on a fourteen-day home quarantine. They begin counting that from Monday, though, so we'll be restricted to our apartment until the 18th of May. We are not allowed to leave the building. No going grocery-shopping. No walking down the street. No buzzing up into the mountains on my scooter.

I sure am glad we like our apartment.

The fruit basket that came to our door is a gift from the Board of Directors at TAS, an acknowlegdment of the work we have done in the school and with the students. The gift is incredibly thoughtful. Fresh fruit is like a dream.

My day is filled with surfing the 'net, e-mailing people, fixing problems on my hard drive, and looking for snacks in the kitchen. Megan has successfully completed FOUR photo scrapbooks, and has ironed every article of clothing tossed onto the "needs to be ironed" chair in our storage room. We hadn't seen the cushion on that chair in seven months...

We call friends. We look out the window. We think about doing school work, but the impetus is low right now. But life is interesting on the inside. Makes you appreciate stuff on the outside. And, oddly, we still like it here in Taipei. It's a cool place to live. There are very nice people here. And the mountains look so beautiful coming out of the mist in the morning. All this despite the scare of SARS.

So, we'll continue. There is a small hope that, if the teacher is released, then we would also be released. But that remains to be seen, and may not necessarily be the case. People are pretty jumpy in the community.

I'll try to write again when I have the time. ;-)

A Saturday morning, and we are contemplating what to do next in the face of SARS. Life goes on as sort of normal around here. A few visual clues tell you things are odd. The clinics are more crowded along Chung Shan Bei Lou as people avoid the hospitals for their normal aches and pains. A few of the children coming out of the bushibans - the cram schools - wearing charcoal masks. Security guards at banks and office buildings wearing masks as well, taking forehead temperatures of patrons and workers as they enter the building.

But the usual parts of life flood in around those peculiarities: people still in the markets, kids still coming to class, progress reports going out, work to grade, committees meeting. It is both normal and changing. The question is we don't know how fast it will change, or in what way. We are even accepting the notion that we could be quarantined for ten days when we return to the States, although at this point the US is not quarantining travelers, not even from Hong Kong or China.

So life goes on. With so little time left before the end of the school year, it is odd to not know whether or not we'll even finish it out. At any moment the government could decide to close all schools. AIT (our pseudo-consulate) could start sending non-essential personnel home. And then life would change rather quickly.

For now, we remain. The days bring new information on a regular basis, so we expect anything. An interesting way to live.

Sitting back at home in Taipei after ten days in Thailand. I could write pages, of course, but it's just after midnight and I don't think I want to burn the oil tonight. I will tell you we spent six gorgeous days and nights on a small island in the Gulf of Thailand called Ko Samui (ko means island). The resort we stayed in was set aside a boulder-strewn mountain, amidst banana trees and coconut trees, and more gorgeous flowers than you could name. We (Amy, Elise, Megan and me) had a beautiful villa that seamlessly wedded the in to the outdoors. Boulders in our bedrooms, vines hanging in our outdoor shower, the kitchen on a porch - it was heaven. As a matter of fact, upon waking our first morning, we were greeted by a soft rain that fell most of the day, dripping off palm fronds and splashing in huge earthenware pots set around the yard. We sat reading books and painting, eating mangos and drinking ginger coolers, on the open-air porch with a red-tiled roof over our head and a ceiling fan spinning lazily. It was one of my favorite days there; I can still hear the rain.

They say pictures are worth a thousand words. But pictures don't fill in the memories of sun, of walks on the beach, strolls into town, and of the laughter and closeness of friends. Still, in a vain attempt to help you visualize, you can click here for a few pictures of paradise.

It is interesting to live in a country where the traditions and the culture differ so drastically from your own. The Chinese base their traditional holidays on a lunar schedule (Americans base ours on scoring a three-day weekend, but that's a different story). Whenever the full moon is, that is when the holiday is celebrated.

Saturday we witnessed one of the most magical and amazing visual spectacles I've ever seen in my life. A big group of friends gathered and made a two hour journey to Ping-xi to attend the Lantern Festival. It is difficult for me to exactly portray the beauty of what we saw as our bus twisted up the mountainside to this remote town. The sky was filled with tiny glimmering dots of orange, scattered like glitter across the night sky, the only other illlumination the full moon showing in and out between the clouds. The dots were floating and rising, some fast, some slowly, some having reached their apogee and simply hanging in the air.

What we were looking at were sky lanterns. They were not tiny at all. They were actually about four or five feet high, and four feet or so in diameter. Vendors at this very crowded and jubilant festival were selling these giant paper lanterns, folded up around a large wire ring. Along with the lantern you were given "money" soaked in kerosene, the same paper money used for offering up to the gods at temples, homes, and businesses. This money is actually beautiful paper, some with shiny gold on it. Soaking it in kerosene allowed it to be used as fuel for the lantern, which, in turn, became a giant hot air balloon.

Amidst the crowd you did your best to find an open area where you could unfold your lantern and lay it flat on the ground. The lantern has four sides. The tradition is that you write your wishes on the lantern, on each of the sides. We scribbled in English, not beautiful Chinese characters. But wish we did, again and again, filling the four lanterns we had.

We made our way through the crowd and found a side street. The street climbed the side of a mountain, and brought us high up above the crowds. We could look down without the crush. And crowds there were. It was a sea of humanity along the one street, the connected tents of the vendors snaking illuminated down the way, the crowds bending alongside them, a tight fit.

At the junction of a road we set upon our task - taking the kerosene-soaked money and attaching it to a clip inside the lantern. Some people crumple it so there is more air space between the sheets, allowing for a hotter burn and a faster rise. Others leave them stuck closer together, so the lantern rises slowly and burns more steadily.

We lit the money and held the ring against the ground with our feet, the paper sides apart so they wouldn't burn. The crinkle of paper, the eerie illumination, the soft puffiness of the lantern; the moment was arriving. We shouted to each other, attempting to do a united lift-off. We sort of did. Stepping back, up they lifted, the gold flames illuminating our faces as the lanterns passed. And they kept on going, joining the hundreds of other lanterns, rising, rising. It was as if we were making stars and filling the sky with them. It was really quite incredible.

Here are some shots from our trip. Some are almost abstract, as I was shooting at night, often without a tripod. It was hard to capture the full beauty. But take a look for yourself - click here!

It is in the middle of our Chinese New Year Break, and, even as I type this the firecrackers are going off. When they are in the distance they sound sometimes like rain falling. When they are nearby they can sound like a giant bowl of Rice Crispies. I like firecrackers. We did buy one string of them and lit them off on Friday night. The guy said "no paper", and he was right - as they popped and snapped there was no paper left to clean up! They sounded great.

Megan and I had gone down to Di Hua Street with our friend Jennifer. They had firecrackers, and much much more. We had a great time skinnying our way through the incredibly dense crowds, seeing and tasting all kinds of dried foods, candy, sweet wine, and just about anything you can or can't imagine. It was a lot of fun. I didn't think there could be so many people in one place. Being a westerner, it was amazingly easy to spot each other in the crowd when we got separated. This is one of the many benefits of being here, along with people taking one look at you and KNOWING you don't speak the language.

I also bought a scooter! A very red, very euro-looking Italian Vespa. Actually, it was manufactured on the island, but not so many people have Vespas here. What I like about it (did I say it was RED?) is that Vespas just seem to have more body on them. The general scooter style seems to be sort of star-trekky with a pointed nose, and a lot of the engine showing. Most of them are black, or generally dark colors. The Vespa has so much more paint on it, as the whole body is pretty much enclosed. When I park it in a long row of scooters, it stands way out.

I am now in the process of re-learning Taipei by roads. Traffic is a bit crazy, but you adapt fast. Scooters get to move to the front of the line. There is a box painted on the road at the red lights just for scooters, so you weave through the lines of cars and get in front of everybody else. The light turns green and the buzz of scooter motors begins. It's quite fun, although it has been a little chilly (ok, 15C/58F, not THAT cold...) to ride. A windbreaker is a necessity, as are gloves. We bought our helmets in the States, where they are much better made. The helmets here are like the helmets you get on Helmet Day at the ballpark - the ones with the sticker that says "Not For Regulation Play". The Taiwanese helmets are really just a plastic shell with nylon stretched across the inside - my bicycle helmet provides more protection. So, needless to say, we are happy with the USA helmets.

OK, I'm doing this instead of grading stuff at school, so I better get going. If you click here you can see some pictures from Di Hua Street, and if you click here you can see a couple of pictures of my nifty new Vespa!

It feels like years, but I guess it has been a month since I've made an entry. So many experiences come and go, and, seemingly, so little time to write about them. Home to the States, and back again, school picking up right where it left off. A lack of Chinese language classes do make our evening seem more of our own, but I miss the Chinese practice.

I'll mention a little bit about church. Seems like one of those experiences that struck me when we returned to the island. When we were home we attended church at Our Lady of the Assumption, where we got married. Then, on Christmas Day, we went to Mass at St. Aloysius, where I grew up. Both churches are very nice, large in scale, and striking in appearance. Now, St. A's had a makeover a few years back. A brand-new interior, marble facing, elaborate arcades, a shining central glass wall, new lighting, gold sacristy, and, for this Christmas, at least six Christmas trees on the altar, replete with pointsettias, roping, and all the accoutrements of the holiday season in full splendor. It was hard to deny the magnificence.

So we return to the island of Taiwan. Megan and I attend Mass at this small Catholic church called Mother of God Church. Suddenly, to step back inside their humble doors, I see why I liked it so much the first time. First of all, it seems like a true community. The pews hold maybe a hundred people. Eight rows. The walls are whitewashed. No stained glass, but rather clear glass that looks out either onto the small courtyard filled with children's toys, or the sinewy trunks and long leaves of the banyan trees. There is a Philipino woman whose stern personal mission in life is to find you a seat. No one cares if you are late. Someone will pass you a wooden stool to sit on and you make yourself at home in the back of the church. Kids fool around. They'll make noise. Sometimes they make too much noise, even. One time a particularly obstreperous child found himself in the sights of the Philipino woman. She headed over to him, and, instead of a chiding, was recruited to bring up the gifts. Brilliant. There is a choir director with the visage of a boy, whose face could not possibly reflect more joy than when he leads the hymns. And the choir sings. The whole church sings. Loudly. Happily. The priest sits in a regular chair, like an old office chair they found in a back room. There is an electrical outlet just near his head. The Perpetual Flame is a lightbulb, and it's plugged into it.

There is a stout man, the husband, possibly, of the Philipino lady. He sits always in the third pew from the front. He comes and goes during the service, stepping outside for something - I have no clue what. He is with every Sunday his iced tea and a straw in a plastic bag from 7-Eleven. Not that he drinks it during Mass, mind you, he just has it with him. There is an altar girl who giggles with her partner, her ponytail bouncing. She has the most beautiful face, soft and round, an innocence in her eyes. She radiates her smile all around the altar. I feel like Holden Caufield, wanting to freeze her in time, to have her never change.

At the first Mass we attended when we got back, still in the Christmas season, three kids were corralled from different pews, outfitted with terribly ill-fitting paper crowns, and assigned to bring up the gifts. A noble feat, with one king struggling with limited vision due to a crown two sizes too big. It could have been a scene from a movie. Christmas decorations covered the walls, but not decorations that spoke of wealth or flashy style. They spoke of love. A large creche in one corner (with bamboo walls!), underneath a rather chintzy-looking fake-stained glass plastic star, illuminated by a low watt bulb, a wound lump of hastily-applied electrical tape on its cord. Tropical flowers in front of the statues. Fake pine roping along the side walls. Two large banners with Christmas-y messages spelled out in gold lettering, inventively squeezed onto them. All surrounding a very happy, very joyful congregation, who dutifully stacks their missals in the back of the church after Mass, who park haphazardly in the courtyard, blocking in the early-birds.

I'm not a religious person. You had to drag me to Mass back in the States. But I love going to Mass here. It is so honest, so down-to-earth, so real. The sermons are never political. They are human. They are about values, and the importance of kindness. The singing, the people, the humble surroundings, all make it for me. All without glitz, just a church full of people.