Tidbits

"IS COFFEE" reads the Christmas-colored sign behind me, marking the coffee shop where I just enjoyed a strong cup of Caffe Americano. What "is coffee"? My post-lunch pick-me-up, or happiness, or just the pursuit thereof? I've discovered my favorite new hangout: a triangle-shaped park lined on two sides by tall palm trees and nestled in the shadow of five-story apartment buildings. My park bench, forest green metal and plastic made to look like wood, could be in any park in the world if it weren't for the red Chinese characters that mark it the property of Taipei. Preschool kids are shrieking gleefully from the playground on the right while the fountain in front of me gurgles hurriedly, in marked contrast to the college student across the way who's sitting slumped forward with one hand on his forehead and the other on his ipod.

Since it's one block off the main road, I wouldn't have known this park existed if I hadn't gone to church the other day at one corner of its triangle. Friendship Presbyterian Church's name is 100% Taiwanese English, a sweeter version of the t-shirts that assert "I'm cool" or label one as a "Gorgeous Girl." Amanda and I, having sought out its English service, stared doubtfully at its doors as hundreds of Taiwanese poured out at ten to eleven on Sunday morning. Unsure of how to proceed, we were relieved to see an older white woman (Amanda excitedly whispered "Waiguoren!" -foreigner- in a perfect imitation of the reaction we provoke in some parts of Taipei) whom we promptly followed into the building and up the curved staircase into the sanctuary, where we were given an English bulletin by a young woman too embarrassed to speak English to us. We sang hymns and did a lot of reading aloud together (a "Confession of Sin and our Dependence on God," "Our Father," the Apostles' Creed, and the Scripture reading for the day- the Parable of the Prodigal Son), and, almost to my surprise, I found myself liking the richness of the tradition, all of us joining to sing or speak words that have been spoken or sung for centuries if not millennia. I loved the fiery sermon about how there are two ways to get lost- by being bad like the Prodigal Son or by being good like his older brother- and how God loves both kinds of lost people with such a reckless love that he died (and rose again) so that we could be found. After church we joined in the coffee =o) hour and talked in a mix of Chinese and English with a few Americans, Taiwanese church members, and several Singaporean engineering majors. Some of them took us out to lunch at a Korean restaurant where Amanda and I enjoyed getting to know them a little. We liked FPC a lot and are definitely planning on going back.


This morning I narrowly avoided getting run over by several bikes, and I asked for a cow with my coffee. Just another day in Taipei. I was awoken at 8:22 by the jackhammers removing the outer layer of the wall outside my window, but besides the noise I've had a relaxing week-long stay with my awesome "host mom." I've enjoyed going with her to the observation deck of Taipei 101 (which is the world's tallest building with 101 stories) by way of the world's fastest passenger elevator and to the National Palace Museum, which houses ancient Chinese treasures (my favorites were the colorful clay bowls from the Song dynasty). My "host mom" is also a wonderful cook and every morning I'm greeted by a big breakfast. A few days it's been a Martha Stewart recipe: oatmeal topped with cinnamon, toasted almonds, flaxseed, raisins, and dried cherries and blueberries, as well as a plate of papaya, banana, and bell fruit. That's all washed down with Florida orange juice and homemade tea steeped in rosebuds, dates, and dried loganberries. That's just one breakfast among many, and it would take too long to describe the feasts that are dinners! Needless to say, I'm being spoiled before I start living on my own.


A few lessons I've learned so far:

-That boisterously noisy parade (complete with what sounds like the Chinese version of bagpipes) coming down the street is actually a traditional funeral, and if you run after the tantalizing ice-cream truck melody you hear in the evenings, you'll find that it's only the garbage truck announcing its nightly rounds.

-There is a 7/11 (or at least a sign directing you to the nearest one) on every street corner. These are the nicest convenience stores you've ever been in (with stacks of Red Sox playing cards at the registers- they heard I was coming) and most include ATMs, cheap cappuccino, little bakeries, fish balls floating in hot water, and/or a counter at the window to eat said fish balls.

-Something as mundane as walking down the sidewalk can be a bit of an adventure. In my soon-to-be neighborhood around Zheng Da (my soon-to-be school) the sidewalks hardly fit two people across and I constantly have to duck under the dozens of bus stop signs for the dozens of different bus lines that criss-cross the city. However, in the neighborhood where I'm currently living, in a more central part of the city, there are two sidewalks on each side of the main roads: pedestrians walk on one made of tile or marble that is sheltered from the sun by the buildings above, while scooters and bikes own the uneven cement sidewalk right next to it that's out in the open. Hundreds of scooters are parked along the major roads on the scooter sidewalks, but I tend to like to walk there to soak in the sun (the weather here has been gorgeous, low to mid 70s), so I keep having terrifying run-ins. There are as many scooters as cars on the road, which leads to my next lesson...

-Crossing the road is not as easy as the chicken made it sound. The Taiwanese have gone to great lengths to avoid crossing the road, by building skywalks and pedestrian tunnels over and under the busiest intersections. If you do need to actually cross a street, don't be tricked into thinking that the little green man walking briskly with the bomb-like countdown '60' '59' '58' flashing above his head means that you as a pedestrian have the right of way. What he means is that you have the right to rush into the road while looking franticly over your shoulder at the bikes, scooters, cars, and trucks that are making rapid right turns right into you.

-"Buhaoyisi!" (How embarrassing!) is like sprinkling sparkles over a bad situation, in the wise words of Amanda. Say you bump into a guy on the MRT (metro), or need to squeeze past a woman in a crowded market, or are told in a jewelry shop that you can't try on earrings once you already have, or missed a friend's call because your cellphone battery died- in all of these cases and many more, simply utter the magic phrase "Buhaoyisi!" to soften frowns and prevent people from saying "Mei you limao!" (No manners!).

-Always ask your friend's security guard how big a ping is. The answer you're looking for is that the Chinese unit of measurement is 36 square feet, but he just might ask you why you need to know, and if you tell him you're looking for a nearby apartment to rent, he just might go to the paper recycling bin and dig out a crumpled flyer from which he might tear a phone number and the name Mr. Wu. If you call that number, you may end up looking at (and subsequently renting) a spacious, brand-new apartment on the ninth floor of a building that also has a security guard. This apartment may feature a bedroom that has a huge window on one wall with a lovely view of a mountain as well as its own bathroom. Then again, if you ask your friend's security guard how big a ping is, he may just tell you 36 square feet.


I think the culture shock may be beginning, if it's a sudden craving for all things American. Even though McDonalds and Starbucks weren't a part of my daily life in the States, I'm tempted to frequent these "American Embassies" just to be on American (cultural) soil. It's like Pico Iyer says in his book "Global Soul":

The process of interacting with a place is a little like the rite of a cocktail party, at which, upon being introduced to a stranger, we cast about to find a name, a place, a person we might have in common.

However, then I go to the Lantern Festival (which I'll describe next time) and I'm awed by this bright new culture. Who knows what the next 6 months will bring?