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.