Sharpness of vision

I feel like I keep photographing not what I should.

 

Lost in translation

Chapter 3: What do I like about Taiwan

While the first oh-my-God-I'm-in-Taiwan excitement slowly passes, and I am starting to be more focused on my teaching experience, I still find a lot of things extremly stirring or at least very, very pleasant. My brain is still a little bit scattered, so I figured - why not make a list of my "likes" and put them in order? (Of course, not all of them, that would take ages and be even longer then my favourite list of all times.)

• I like the fact, that I can leave my bike on the sidewalk, enter the buffet, eat, watch three cartoons and - guess what? My bike is still going to be there, when I'm back. Whether it was Kraków, London or Paris, I could see the bits and pieces of what used to be a bike at every corner. Somehow in here nobody is tempted to borrow your mean of transport and never return it back. At first, I could hear my bike whispering: "Don't leave me like that, alone and helpless!". Now the voice magically stoped. (Or maybe the medicine starts working.)

(Some of the random "yay, got I camera" and "yay, got a bike" shoots; I'll do better next time, I swear).

•  I like Taiwanese tea. Or, excuse me - teas. I only tried a couple of them: the ones brewed traditionally in restaurants, the ones drank from "tea take-aways". Ones with flowers, herbs, spices or milk; served cold with ice or hot. (But not too hot; tea, as tea connoisseurs probably know, is never brewed with boiling water, but with "water just below the boiling point - about 85 - 95 degrees Celsius". Knowing that, a Westerner shouldn't be shocked by the presence of another tap in a water dispenser: the one to brew a tea.) I tried "bubble tea" and Taiwanese classic: High Mountain Oloong Tea. Its rich, a little bit smoky taste is simply divine. I'm not an expert on tea, but there are two things I'm absolutely sure when it comes to Taiwanese tea: a) it's delicious b) it's everywhere. Tea is not just a beverage, it is also a natural medicine, beauty product and, I guess, a style of living - quite the opposite to the one introduced by Starbucks*. I suppose my knowledge about tea will become much more thorough, when I visit a tea plantation next month. Looking forward to it.

* Don't get me wrong: I love the comforting idea of Starbucks; whatever part of the world I'm in, I can count on their decent espresso, chai or my favorite diet sin - Christmas Gingerbread Latte. But the always-in-a-hurry attitude, that Starbucks gave us, is ridiculous. If you have time to queue for your coffee, then sorry, bro - you can't be THAT busy.

• I like Taiwanese streets. Why? Well, they gave you a unique insight in people's lives. (When I was little, I had a book with a picture of a block of flats' vertical section, so one could see: a family having dinner, guy digging his nose, a couple making sweet love (there was no such thing as political correctness at that time); somebody cried, somebody else played with a dog. I blame that book for making me a nosy and tactless traveller, who is more interested in the kind of soup someone has for dinner, then in memorials and museums. But well, there is really little I can do about it, so I simply go with the flow.) In old parts of Puzih, you would find streets, that are perfect for making this kind of enquiry: narrow, with very little light. Since the houses (or small buissnesses, which are usually situated on the ground floor) have glass door with no curtains, you can just walk around, not being seen, and observe the theatre of life: kids coming back from cram school; tired old man, lying on the couch, watching baseball; bored to death lady, filing her nails and looking out the window. I wish I could make a great photoshoot, catching all those facial expressions, that we usually have, when we think nobody observes us. But I know I won't, because an amateur photo would ruin that unspoken pact that - I like to think - me and those, who I observe, have. Wandering Taiwanese streets is, I'm afraid, not this kind of experience that emerges immediate "wows", but still the one I like best. (Of course I realize, that a big city streets might look a little bit different, but I like this kind of small town girl perspective)

 Did you notice, that I still don't mention the food? That is only because I am still trying to figure out a way to do it. Should I go by a sort of product (tofu separatly, then seafood, fruits and rice?) or maybe method of preparation (fried - deep/ pan/stir/sautés, boiled - in broth/water, grilled, and then raw foods)? This is too much. I have to make another list.

Chapter 2: School

Siang He Elementary School is going to be my second home for the next two months, so I am trying to explore it to the fullest. This is also the reason, I find the process of exploration more attractive, then blogging about it. I promise to improve myself, though.

Being a teacher's daughter, I always had this strange kind of affection towards school buildings. At the first sight Siang He makes a good impression, and honestly, keeps it up till the very end. It's large but not overwhelming; modern, but cosy; comfortable for kids, parents and teachers as well. In the middle of the concrete courtyard - an island of greenery. Between computer labs and library - a separate room for shells. (!) I might be wrong, but seeing all the kids running around, playing soccer or ping pong during their breaks (instead of playing video games, which seems to be more and more popular in Poland), I can tell they feel good in here. Which, you have to admit, is somewhat unique. Children are almost impossible to deceive and like it or not, they tell the truth. So, they feel good in here, just like I do. (And not only because of the coffee machine we have in our office, although I have the most passionate feelings towards it. More on the coffee - tea theme - coming up!)

Coming back to to the school life - just a little bit on the differences between Polish and Taiwanese educational systems. Children here start school at six: this makes me think of the "start-at-six-or-at-seven" discussion we had last year in Poland. I don't have my own 6 year old to worry about, but as a teacher, I can't help feeling, that the difference between six and seven year old student is a giant one. Seeing their tiny faces, smiles with not-so-many-teeth, and instant need to be hugged, or at least hold by hand by their BFF's, I'm afraid we are too ambitious, too pushy, too omniscient as educators. Can't we just leave them to be kids for a while? We can teach them what is two plus two, or how deep is the Mariana Trench, a little bit later. How to develop a good social relationships, emotional intelligence, good self-esteem - not so much, this really, really, really should not wait.

Anyway (I see that I have some serious issue going on, that doesn't allow me to concentrate on simply one subject, but forces me to compare everything; that is what you get for studying comparative literature), in Siang He this problem is not that big of a deal. Kindergarten is next to school, and the flow between one and the other seems easier. But as an eager international education reasearcher (!), I have to interview my collegues about the details. I wonder, if this six year old going to school idea is it a new invention here, just like in Poland...

The thing I absolutely admire about Siang He is how they teach little folks to take care about the common property. Every single morning, when I get to work, in the corridors I bump into our students, running around with sweeps or mops, laughing and chasing each other, and simultaneously, cleaning the floors. Who said that cleaning can't be a great fun? (I know, from observation, that usually household stuff makes the greatest toys). Who reserved this job for grumpy old women, who are being laughed at, and not being helped? Taiwanese students learn from the very beginning, that every work is equally important. Couldn't agree more.

That is not the end of this "On school" chapter, as it gets more and more exciting - this week I'll start my own lessons. Time for confrontation and standing up eye to eye with an Asian tiger! ;)

(There is just nothing better than this clip, its motivating lyrics plus the 90ties looks...)

For all those, who eagerly wait for photos - good news: I am really close to getting a camera, so stay tuned. Zài jiàn 再见 

Lonely Planet - a mind reader

Between eating stinky tofu, riding a bike to the night market, and laughing over my poor Chinese with the sixth graders (this time they tried to teach me how to say "sorry" - duì bu qǐ - 對不起), I checked out the Lonelyplanet.com and what was the first thing I noticed on the main page?

10 ways not to be a travel writer

That is what you call a coincidence. Well, I think I am going to follow some of Vivek Wagle's footsteps, not necessarily all of them. I am really looking forward to doing it my way, just like he did:

Yet again, some feedback would be strongly recommended... So please, do leave some. 谢!

Chapter 1: People

I'm in Taiwan barely for a day, and its diversity overwhelmed me already. Yet, despite the jet lag, a super-busy week before I came here and a culture shock - I feel strangely at ease. No doubts - it's due to a hospitable Taiwanese people, who took such a wonderful care of me, it would be a dishonour to feel lonely.


Here goes the sentimental part:
I strongly believe, that people are the soul of the country. Even if that's not the most original thought (I don't think I have a single one left in my brain after studying Polish philology for 5 years...), it is worth considering. At first glance, the former Formosa's soul is astonishing, because so are the people. Everybody I've already met made it so easy for me to acclimatize... Who are they?


Cerita picked me up from the train station and carried me around Puzih on the very first night. Seeing her handling sleeping-standing-up me, her two after-school-but-still-full-of-energy boys, calling, driving - and all of this usually in high heels! - I can just repeat after the lastest US blockbuster: "I don't know how she does it". (Again, big thanks, Cerita!)


Next day, Principal Wang invited me to have a dinner with his family, the other school directors and teachers, so I could have yet another delicious meal and even more inspiring conversation (about almost every subject, from counting in French to the story of a foreigner who eat a bamboo leaf his rice was wrapped into. Mental note: Don't.)


And, to make my fisrt days in Taiwan even more exciting, one of my work colleagues from Siang-He Elementary School invited my to her wedding banquet (Note: Not to the wedding itself; the marriage ceremony is held first, followed by a feast in groom's house and then the bride has her own wedding feast... But I'll get to that later.) On the way to Tainan I interviewed Cerita about their wedding traditions - and these are just the bits and pieces of what a Westerner should know:

• In Taiwan, the date of the wedding is specially chosen for the married couple by, as I figured, a fortune-teller. Based on the bride and groom's (and also their family) date of birth, he (or she? I have to exam that fortune-telling part more carefully) picks up the luckiest day for all. It is also resonable not to come to the wedding if you have a bad luck, written in the stars, on that day. I couldn't agree more - who needs a black cat, wandering around the kitchen tables?* Good news: a "bad lucker" can join the feast at the bride's house later on. (Actually, when I think about it, it seems like an extremely wise thing to do. Think of traditional Polish wedding, where you have to bring together sophisicated wine-lovers from Warsaw and moustached uncles from Zielonogórskie, with a sausage in one hand, and a vodka glass in the other - separate feasts might not me the worst idea...)

•  If you want to bring a gift, don't bother. In Taiwan, people usually give money to the married couple, glamorously packed in a red envelope (Why? Wikipedia explains it thouroughly: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Red_envelope). In return, a wedding couple hides a little envelope with a present under one of the tables. Guess, under whose table what is this time? ...  Thanks to my courteous collegues, who decided that I'll keep the present, I now am the owner of a beautiful, jade green bracelet. Can somebody think of other ways to say "thank you" to the people who are so nice to you? Because I'm kind of running out of ideas... (Oh, and by the way, "thank you" it's "xièxie"  谢 谢 - in Chinese; that was actually one of the first words Cerita's sons teached me.) Back to the wedding: I felt like the most honoured guest at the wedding. Especially when the mother of the bride came to me, bringing another gift (a box of little handmade cookies - how did she knew I'm a Cookie Monster?) and looking at me in that warm-hearted, mommy-like way... I had a flashback of my own Mum back home. See, Mum - I'm in good hands. 

• Did you ever watch "Mulan" and wondered whether the matchmakers still exist? Well, they do, at least in Taiwan. And do you know what? (Pay attention, this will sound a little bit strange, coming from the mouth of the third-wave feminism lover) I wish we had those wise, old women in Europe. It seems that they have a great knowledge about our character and personality. They know more about us, than we do. Plus, we bring such a mess to our relationships, that a Western marriage counselor can't clean it up, and they just deal with that before not after the wedding. So guys, what do you think about bringing Polish matchmakers back to life? (Not literally, of course.) 

I should now switch to describing a b s o l u t e l y   f  a b u l o u s Taiwanese food I had in the last couple of days, but I feel like it deserves the whole other chapter (-s) in this little book of Taiwan.

Once again, for the wonderful first days, to all my friend in here (and my supporters back in Poland)


xièxie!  谢谢