Megan and I finally had a chance to get down to Kenting. It took us a while to finally make it down to this part of Taiwan - we've been here over three years - and it was worth it. Well, it was worth it once we figured the place out. It took us a while.


The first morning we wandered out the front door of our beautiful hotel, which faced the ocean, and found that, well, we couldn't really get to the ocean. We walked across a litter-strewn area, and found ourselves up against a fence, with the ocean just beyond. And thought we could not get to the beach, it didn't look all that pretty anyways. Hmmm. We walked along the fence, found more garbage, overgrown grass, broken signs, and other detritus. "This is Kenting.." we thought. Why the heck do so many people rave about it? Megan turned to me and pointed out how she had told my sister Kelley that Kenting was the "Taiwanese Riviera". That might have been a bit premature.

A friend had suggested the way to see Kenting was by scooter. I had figured we'd do that on Saturday, but by 11:30 AM on Friday, we felt we had really seen all there was to see in Kenting. Tacky souvenir shops, dull streets, and a lack of any sign of life.

We found a man sitting in a chair next to a convenience store. Somehow we communicated to him we'd like to rent one of his scooters. He went off, and eventually a woman showed up with a shoebox of keys, a notebook, and a pen. She jotted down some information, took my ARC card, and gave us a set of keys. Insurance? Drivers license? Minor details, apparently. We were all set.

Off we went down the road to put gas in it, as it was bone dry. And then we headed south along the coast. It was a grayish day, and occasional drops of rain fell. We visited many places, drove through a National Park, scootered through some back country, past water buffalo and gorgeous ocean views. Eventually we came back down to the coast, and made our way along the coastline.

We shot lots of pictures of the place, and considering that I left the above paragraphs in draft form, I really should post this whole thing. Too many folks have complained my blog is way out of date. So, without further ado, here are the pictures from Kenting!

So, I figured I'd write a post from somewhere else, so I wrote these notes on a page from Megan's sketchbook - this was last weekend:

At the observation deck of the Mitsukoshi Building, forty-six stories up, and sitting at a cafe here, choosing from selections of tea on the menu. Let's see, we have Lover's Tea, Fantasy Tea, and Super Breast Milk Tea. Hmmm. We opt for two beers.

The sun descends from behind clouds - had been hidden up til now. It's a warm, deep pink. First, only the bottom edge of the sun, and now a beautiful disk of rosy red-orange. The city flows and crawls beneath us. Taxis are yellow here, a characteristic that reminds me of NYC. Many public buses have flat-screen TV's that run a steady stream of commercials, something that doesn't remind me of NYC.

The orange disk is now bisected by a long, low cloud. The sun seems to be disappearing before it touches the horizon, or perhaps it's descending behind a further mountain range hidden by mist. It's now out of sight.

Five minutes have passed, and already the headlights twinkle in the landscape laid out below us. We eat our wasabi peanuts and drink our beer. Although the menu was entirely in Chinese, the waitress was able to suggest the wasabi peanuts, although they taste a little stale. I recall another restaurant in Yangminshan - on the menu under snacks, it said "Joyful Outcome". We ordered them, and they brought a bowl of pistachios.

The Mitsukoshi Building seems a bit anachronistic. As we walk around the observation deck up here, it's clear that this building was once the tallest in the city, but now Taipei 101 looms out one window, the tallest building in the world. So all the souvenirs and trinkets seem out of date, and kind of unwanted. But there are a lot of interesting historic photos that illuminate Taiwan's past. Until I looked, I had no idea that the United States bombed Taipei in 1945. My father was probably in The Philippines at the time. Strange to think about that. Could he have ever imagined the son he hadn't had yet would one day be in the Philippines, walking the streets and thinking of the dad he no longer had?

Tonight, a concert at Chiang Hai Shek Memorial, then out for pizza and beer. A nice way to spend a Saturday outside of Tien Mou.

It's been quiet on these pages, but now we are back on the island of Taiwan. As I type this, Typhoon Matsa roars outside. The rain is whipping around with an impressive amount of force, but we still have electricity. It's also quarter to four in the morning, and I cannot sleep. Finding my way back into the time change this time has been difficult. I'm not sure why, but it seems harder than it usually has been.

We flew in Tuesday evening, late. We spent a little more money and flew on Eva's Deluxe Economy seats. Worth every penny. I went to lean back in my seat, and it felt like it just kept going back and back. No First Class, I'm sure, but it was great for me. Both of us were able to sleep and the thirteen hour flight went fairly fast.

In the dark of the airplane cabin I reflected on what was in front of us: another year in Taipei. The rhythm of the school year that every teacher experiences. If there is one thing I find interesting about this job is the cycle of beginning, middle, and end. Each part of the school year has its own flavor, and I have always liked the energy of the beginning of the year. It really is a chance to start again. Everything is fresh. How many jobs give you that? New kids, a new chance to give your lessons another shot. Do it better. Try something new.

Sitting in my seat on the plane, I felt very much the page turning. It was a chapter, clear and delineated. Our lives are in chapters, all of us, I guess, but for Megan and I it seems moreso. We live most of the year in a three bedroom apartment on the 4th floor here in Tien Mou, a view of the mountains of Yangminshan National Park in the distance. We teach Art at Taipei American School. We are absorbed into the rhythm very quickly. The loud sound of children's voices will soon be a daily event.

Yet we have another life. We have loved ones back home. We have our families. We have those to whom we are very close. I still feel a bit on the cusp, here, not fully here yet. We did hike up the stairs this morning, 1400 steps that climb into the mountains (and we even saw monkeys, something I hadn't yet seen in my three years on the island). We went to Shi Dong Market and bought some food from our old familiar vendors, saying "Hao jio bu jian" - Long Time No See, in Chinese. But the weather was beginning to turn, and the rain fell down on our heads as we drew closer to our apartment.

And we haven't gone out since. That was over 18 hours ago. I ironed some shirts, listening to David Sedaris, unpacked a bit more, read my Sun magazine. Then I fell asleep at 3:00 PM, and slept heavily for about five hours, which is probably why I'm so awake right now.

But I still don't fully feel here. This chapter has not completely begun. Yet, soon, faces, friends, kids, will fill our time. The year will begin. And our lives will pass some more. Even as you read this blog, your life is passing. It flows like the rain down the windows here. But, with my life in these chapters, I feel like I see time move a bit more clearly, in bigger chunks, in segments. I think ahead to those times I'll be feeling "It's only Tuesday?", but like the letters that make up these words, and the words that make the paragraphs, and all the entries that I've made in this blog, the time will pass. In not too much time I'll actually be reserving our tickets to fly home at Christmas. And then another chapter will turn: the halfway mark of our school year.

The wind has picked up again here. It grows quiet, then loud again. Out my bathroom window, I hear the small bell chime I bought in San Francisco. I remember asking for that specific bell, as it had the clearest ring. It rang for a long time on my porch in Norwalk. Now that same sound rings steadily in the winds of this typhoon.

I'll go back to bed now. I'll risk turning the light on, hope to not wake Megan. And I'll read a bit, waiting for more sleep to come.

We had an interesting procedure done today - we had more pages added to our passports. Both of us had filled about all 24 pages. Some pages had huge visa stickers from Cambodia or Vietnam - takes up the whole page - others just had numerous stamps. Taiwan staples a receipt of sorts into your passport - this you need in order to leave the country. Hence our pages are littered with miniature staples, which I remove occasionally, because, well, I'm obsessive about things like that. The process was (sort of) simple. We had to fax in that morning the data page of our passport (which I did three more times because they couldn't read it). Then we had to fax in some government forms. Finally we had to show up downstairs when AIT came to visit our school. They didn't sew the pages in (I thought for sure it was going to be some Betsy Ross type of ceremony. Instead they just took the extra signature of pages and peeled off a sticker and stuck them in. Not so ceremonial, but it worked. I asked if we could keep the passport when it expired, and the guy said yes. He says it becomes an important proof of your whereabouts in case you need an alibi or something. I don't, but if I did, I could use my passport, I guess.

So now we have a fatter passport with some lettered pages in addition to the numbered pages.

AIT, by the way, stands for the American Institute of Taiwan, which is absolutely NOT a consulate. But it sure looks like a consulate, but because the USA doesn't recognize Taiwan as a country, it's not. It's a trade office. My friend Ed says he saw a bridge in Costa Rica. It said "To our friends in Costa Rica. From your friends in Taiwan." We were both trying to figure this out, then Ed soon realized that Costa Rica recognizes Taiwan as a country. So they got a bridge as a present.

I recognize Taiwan as a country. I'd like a bridge. I'd like my bridge to go from our side of the street across Beer House Road, so we don't have to wait an eternity to cross to Family Mart.

OK, I'll resume the Vietnam posts in a minute. This just in: The Lunar Prophecy in today's issue of Taipei Times states that today is a good day for... "Taking a shower". Ladies and gentlemen, I'd love to continue typing, but I have an appointment with Mr. Washcloth! I have been waiting weeks for this! Not to leave the rest of you hanging, but the remainder of the prophecy states it's "a good day for shaving one's head for becoming a priest or a nun". And it's a bad day for Weddings and Funerals.

You may return to your regularly scheduled lives, now.

We drove out of Saigon on Highway 13. This road travels all the way to Cambodia, but we were headed to Buon Ma Thuot. Besides a nice hotel called the Dam Sam,we bought a lot of very good, very strong coffee. The Vietnamese drip the coffee over a healthy dollop of sweetenened condensed milk. It's very good, and will give you a sugar/caffeine buzz that certainly keeps you alert!

I immediately went to the Benh Tranh market and bought three stainless steel coffee dripper. These are comprised of a little perforated saucer that sits atop your glass, and a cylindrical cup with a screw-down plunger that fits into the saucer. We are keeping one, but still trying to figure out who to give the other two to. I've been drinking the coffee this way almost daily. Quite a lot, considering I don't drink coffee! The smell alone is intoxicating. The odd thing in Vietnam is that they serve you tea with your coffee. Yes, that's right. You sit down in a cafe, and they bring you a pot of tea while you wait for your coffee. Very strange. Their tea is pretty good too, though!

So, one of the stranger experiences was being in a rather unremarkable city called Quang Ngai. It was late afternoon, and we went in search of a cup of coffee. We found a nice cafe down a side street. It had a large open courtyard, with some covered areas. It was very large, as a matter of fact. But we were the only two customers there at the time. They were quite excited to see us wander in. We sat down, and they immediately brought us a menu. We ordered two coffees, and, soon after, a pot of green tea was brought to the table for us to enjoy while we waited.

Suddenly, two stereo speakers high in the rafters came to life. Blaring forth were, oddly enough, Christmas carols. I looked over at the service window, and the man was nodding to me with a big smile. I smiled back. The Christmas carols were, well, loud. Really loud. I looked back at the kitchen. The man smiled again. I smiled again. Megan and I were doing our best to talk over the music (this is April - did I mention it was April?). Our coffee came, we watched it drip, wrote postcards, and listened to loud Christmas carols.

Then this other guy comes out. He walks past me to a television set mounted on another rafter. He snaps it on, and turns it to The Cartoon Network. And he turns the volume up, yes, really loud. Is it not a universal road to insanity to listen to two competing sound sources, or is it just my personal cross to bear in life? It drives me nuts. And this was driving me nuts. But the guy watching the TV seemed perfectly content. I waved to the guy in the kitchen and he waved back and smiled. I motioned for him to come over, and I tried to communicate that, ok, the Christmas carols were great. The TV, even, was fine. But not both at once. He was a little confused, and turned everything off. The guy watching the TV loooked annoyed, moved to another area, and began watching on a different TV, while the other guy turned the Christmas carols back on.

The oddness did not stop there, though. The waiter comes out again and motions to us with a camera. He wants to take our picture. OK (being foreigners, lots of people want to take your picture). So he makes a rather large production out of taking our picture. He turns the lights on. He turns them off. He stands, he squats. More people come out to offer advice. Then he asks me how many pictures. I'm thinking, as many as you want, buddy, but I say two. After he snaps them, it soon becomes apparent that he expects us to pay him for this service. He is going to sell us our own picture. I let myself get annoyed, tell him we both have cameras, why would we pay him to take our picture? And I convey to him (this is all in pantomime, mind you) when does he plan on delivering these photos I'm paying for? It was turning into a bit of a scene, when I finally told myself that the 10,000 dong he wanted for the photos was about sixty cents American. I paid him and we left. We never saw our pictures.

But you can look at some pictures. In my organizational methodology, these are my coffee pictures. Hope you enjoy them.

We've been back from Vietnam for about a week now, but I've yet to post anything. We were in the country for ten days: five for a teacher conference, and five sightseeing. We hired a driver and a guide, and traveled north of Saigon. It was an incredibly varied trip - beautiful sights, and amazing, outgoing, and friendly people. The food in Saigon was wonderful - also in Hoi An. But between those two points we were in some pretty rural areas, and the food left a bit to be desired. It's hard on one's psyche to eat lots of not particularly good food. But it's part of the experience.

It would be difficult for me to capture the whole trip in one long entry. It'd probably be longer reading than most feel like doing in front of their computers. So I think I'll try to break it up into separate entries. Either that means that several posts will be following this one, or I lost my impetus, and this will be the last post on Vietnam....

But to wet your whistle I'll include here about twenty or so photos that capture just a bit of the flavor of what we saw. Hopefully lots more will follow. Hope you like them!

There is a rush of noise. I wake up first, groggy. I don't know what is happening. Something is banging. Lots of things are banging - the mirror on the bureau, the floor lamp rocking, things in the building. The motion is the motion your pen would make, drawing curlicues on paper. Up and down and around. Suddenly we are holding each other tightly. It goes on - ten seconds? A long ten seconds. It stops. The noise and banging stops. The dogs in the neighborhood bark and fill in the silence. We talk pensively. But it starts again. The banging starts again. Do we get up and stand in the doorframe? I look overhead, nothing but a light fixture, but it seems ok. We ride the motion, the waterbed sloshing. Again it stops. Again the dogs bark. Megan is shaking.

Three days from now I would not have been here - I would have been in Jakarta. Megan would have been alone. That thought scares me more.

My plastic container of dental floss was on the bathroom floor this morning - the only clue from 3:06 AM.

By checking in the local Taipei newspaper, we can consult the Lunar Prophecy. This feature indicates the phase of the moon, and advises you on activities for that day. Wednesday's paper says:

It's a good day for:
Getting married
Making offerings
Moving house
Burials

It's a bad day for:
Installing a bed
Installing a door

I hope you acted accordingly.

It has rained every day for over two weeks. It's raining right now. It drums down on the hard plastic awning over our balcony. I'm truly expecting for houses to start sliding off of Yangminshan. I think Boracay was the last time I saw unadulterated sunshine. I'm heading to Jakarta next week, but without Megan. I'll have to put some sunshine in my carry-on for her.

We recently returned from Boracay, an island in the Philippines. It's small, no airport, but quite a lively strip that runs along a beach with fine white sand and crystal-clear blue water. If it were only easier to get to... but perhaps that's what keeps it small and nice. We left our house at 5:00 AM, and didn't check into our hotel until 8:30 that night. Yikes. I think we used every form of transportation known to man, with the exception of wild burros. Planes, taxis, boats, vans, walking, and giant tricycles, which we had to get off and help push up the hills. But the stay was gorgeous, and our money went far. A bottle of San Miguel beer was about sixty cents American. A day of snorkeling on a private boat with a lunch of coconut calamari, prawns, rice, chicken, mango, watermelon, and I forget what else was almost nothing. We visited an island with caves to explore, and snorkeled on three different reefs, and the whole thing cost us about US$14 a person.

It was the kind of place where you didn't even need shoes. I didn't wear my Tevas for two entire days. I realized I was carrying them everywhere, so I just stopped bringing them. Every restaurant has tables in the sand. There are no cars on the main drag, which also happens to be sand. It was truly an amazing place, with tall palm trees and a very laid-back atmosphere. I think the only problem is we didn't stay long enough. Our friends Mason and Cara are still on the island, even as I type this...

Pictures are what you want to see, and you can find them by clicking here.

We went out to eat the other night at this great new Thai restaurant in our neighborhood called Bird Taipei. They had a two-for-one beer deal going on midweek - buy one beer, get another one free. When we went to pay our bill, the waiter pointed out that we had only three beers - we still had another one coming to us. Without a pause he asked, would we like to take it with us? Sure, we said. So he put the bottle into a little shopping bag with handles, along with a paper napkin, and off we went.

You gotta love this country.

7-Eleven's are the lifeblood of this city. Even when everything closes down in another week for Chinese New Year, the 7-Eleven's remain open. We pass one every day on our way to school. What is odd about this, is that it is the ONLY convenience store on our mile-long walk to school. At least on our side of the street (there are places in Taipei where there are 7-Eleven's one store apart from each other). So you can imagine our surprise when it shut its doors one day last week. Maybe they're just restocking, I thought. A refurb? But, no, soon the glass was coming out of the windows, men were carting stuff out in plastic shipping crates, electrical was stripped, and refrigeration units were carted away. The floor came up, exposing the rubble underneath. Walls were jack-hammered back to concrete. Two men up on ladders unscrewed the large square 7-Eleven sign that hung perpendicular to the building, and gently lowered it to the ground. The building was nothing but stone and dust, and a bit of iron framework.

What would it become? We wondered as we walked to work each day. One day a floor was put in - stone tile. Cases began being built along one wall. A bakery, I thought, as there had been a few new ones further up the street, and stores seem to sprout in clutches. But, no, it wasn't a bakery. Display racks went it, the glazing went back in the iron framework, a counter of shiny formica appeared. Suddenly there was a new square sign resting on the sidewalk. It was a 7-Eleven again. It was an exact replica of the 7-Eleven they tore out. OK, they switched one counter, the one with the steamed buns and tea eggs with a magazine rack, but everything else was exactly the same. They tore out an entire store, and put it back again. It was the weirdest thing I've ever seen. A friend says it's happening all over town. Does someone have too much time on their hands?

I wonder if they'll have new uniforms.

Megan saw this box of Kleenex. I guess it caught her eye because it has photos of dogs superimposed to look like they are floating on clouds. I'm sure she thought it was rather odd imagery, so she picked up the box and noticed printed on the side of the box was this little poem:

DOG
My pet.
you were my best friend.
my greatest supporter.
my trusted confidant.


So, I guess when someone's dog dies, you buy them this box of tissues.

Woops. Almost two months have gone by without a post from me. Life in Taipei goes on, believe me, but does not leave many spaces for putting down some words describing the experience.

Megan and I just returned from the United States. Weird to go from here to there and back again. When we are here, it is really hard to imagine being there, and, well, the same goes for being there. I remember standing with her in the doorway of my mother's garage, rain falling in the misty darkness, and I said "Here we are - we are in Connecticut, it's cold and wet, and we will have a hard time visualizing this when we get back." Although that memory is still vivid, and the sense of being back in the States remains fresh, I can feel it start to fade around the edges. Taiwan is where I sit right now, and coming back here was like putting an old pair of shoes back on - felt like I never took them off.

But now we are faced with a decision - do we sign up for another year? We have found a comfortable life, granted not one we wish to make permanent, but it's pretty good for the time being. No commuting to work - we walk a brisk mile each way instead. A beautiful apartment in a private neighborhood. Lots of cheap local restaurants where you can eat for twenty bucks. A very prestigious school to work for, plus great kids and good pay. The good pay combined with a low cost of living allows us to save quite a bit of money, and we do.

All of these benchmarks by which we measure a good and comfortable life are placed against family. Our families are on the other side of the globe - we are distant from them, but we do our best to remain close via e-mail and telephone. But the distance precludes dropping in, or coming to visit for a long weekend. Our visits are restricted to twice a year, but are generous at that. Most of the traveling members of my family came for a week or so - we were there for three. When summer comes we are there for a good eight weeks or so.

But it's hard to convince people that this balances out in the end. In reality, we see our family more than if we were to live in a nearby state. We just see them with less frequency. And we lose the flexibility.

Some family members think we should stay. Some even envy our lives. But others want us to come home. So, what do we do? Walk away from a dream life? Or let it last one more year?

We have no answers yet.