On Sheets, Umbrellas, and Little Green Men

There being a few topics which warrant at least a passing mention in these writings without, perhaps, warranting the dedication of an entire chapter to each topic individually, it occurred to the author that an amalgamation of the aforementioned topics into one such public missive would be a seemly solution to the quandary in which the author found himself, and might, as it were, meet with general approbation among those whose unflagging devotion to the perusal of these posts engenders naught but the most indefatigable efforts in the pursuit of quality of craftsmanship, form, and substance on the part of the author. (I apologize for "the author's" inability to find a place to put a period in his sentences. He don't know how to shut up. I think what he meant by that suffocating sentence was that he was going to throw in a bunch of random topics into one blog. Kind of make a blog salad. I gotta keep writing in italics like this for a bit cause he is gasping on the floor. Still out of breath from that first go at putting together a sentence. Oh, here he is.)

The first topic is that of sheets. Or a sheet. I moved that noun from plural to singular because of the awkward habit Taiwanese bed linen makers have selling packaged sets that consist of one sheet and two pillow cases. In theory, this is not all that bad for all one has to do is buy two sets. One would simply have an excess of pillow cases; a simple inconvenience. That is the problem with theory, though; someone always throws in an unforeseen variable that yanks the whole thing off track. The difficulty is that the only sheets you find in these packages are fitted sheets. Not being "in the know" when it comes to Taiwanese sleeping habits, I am not really sure how all this works out. Maybe all they need are fitted sheets. Maybe they like to get large fitted sheets to sleep under so that the sheets enfold them like a mummy. Maybe it is a class thing, where only those who are of a certain social stratus or have achieved certain major accomplishments are able to go to certain "Higher Achiever Only" stores where they can buy unfitted sheets to their hearts content. Maybe they don't use sheets at all so that they sell them only to foreigners, not knowing that foreigners generally use two sheets, at least one of which is unfitted. Maybe Taiwanese people don't sleep at all. Whatever the case maybe, finding the darn things has proven more difficult than one would think. I have heard rumors to the effect that unfitted sheets do exist for sell in Taipei, so I persevere in my quest. Some might say that I am hindered by my inability to ask for unfitted sheets in stores. This is absurd.

Having spoken of sheets, one's mind naturally turns to the subject of umbrellas. These protective instruments are vital to life in Taiwan. Those who live in the Southern parts of America are accustomed to the regular showers that pop up on summer afternoons. This proves inconvenient to most people as they must wait an extra five minutes before leaving their car to make the long trek across the parking lot to the store. In Taiwan most people walk or bike wherever they go, however, and are unprotected for longer periods of time. Right now we are in the middle of the typhoon season. This means that we don't just get regular showers. Oh no. On a regular basis the fountains of the great deep break up and the windows of heaven are opened releasing great sheets of water upon the earth (I am not sure whether or not these sheets are fitted or unfitted, but it may have something to do with my linen conundrum.). We see, then, that umbrellas are practical things to have around. To stop at protection from rain, though, is to sell the umbrella short. Women here carry them wherever they go, rain or shine. It seems that the highest quality of beauty in a Chinese woman is considered to be the lightness of skin tone. Much money, I am told, is spent on sundry creams and other agents that guarantee to cast a pallor upon a girl, bringing instant beauty and many admirers. Thus, umbrellas are brandished about to ward off the evil darkening rays of the sun. To some degree I understand this use of the umbrella as well. In most cultures people go to certain extremes to make themselves look better. The use of the umbrella I haven't yet come to understand is its use on overcast days and evenings. Since I arrived, most days have been dark and sunless. Clouds seem to be popular here. This lack of rain or sun does not keep the Taiwanese person from lofting the old umbrella. There it is, firmly gripped, flying bravely, warding off nothing. If I had to guess, I would say that the people have gotten so used to holding umbrellas they don't even realize they have it up most of the time. I light of the their ubiquitous nature, I am campaigning for the institution of umbrellas as Taiwan's national tree.

This brings us, quite obviously, to the subject of little green men. They are found at every crosswalk. In most of the places I have visited in the world, pedestrians are told they can cross a street by a little light that generally displays the picture of a man walking. He is always a static stick figure with one leg out in front of the other. He never does any of the work of crossing the road himself; he just informs others that they can cross if they so desire. Not so here in Taiwan. The moment the light changes and the stationary man in red disappears, this little green fellow pops up and starts to chug along. His legs rattle back and forth, his arms swing in time, and his head bobs up and down. No pedestrian need cross the street alone. He is there to gently encourage and guide. This encouragement is most noticeable when time allotted for crossing is running short. When he first appears, the little green man plods along with an amiable stride. As time goes on, however, he picks up the pace. With a few seconds to go, you will find he has worked himself up into a veritable gallop. At this point the pedestrian is encouraged to at least break into a trot. It wouldn't do to let the one who has walked beside you run clear away. Just at the end, the little green man blinks a few times and then disappears. You mustn't fear, though little children, for he sure to reappear soon to lead the next needy group on their way. Everyone loves the little green man.

I end this blog with a note for those who will know what I am talking about (probably just my family). As I type these words I am listening to a mix of classical music online. The song now playing is Anton Rubinstein's Melody in F. It is better known as Welcome Sweet Springtime.

The Joke

I am all for a good joke. This may come as a shock to those who know me only through the grave and earnest nature of this blog. Those who know me well, however, have seen through the clouds of my somber deportment and glimpsed a few jocund rays emanating from my soul. I am by no means averse to playing pleasant practical jokes on those I love. I also pride myself on possessing a gracious nature towards those who attempt to ensnare me in their little diversions. These schemes encourage creativity, stimulate the mind, and more often than not result in a good hearty chuckle.

As a general rule, these jokes are played on a small scale among friends. There are, of course, the Candid Cameras of the world, but ask anyone who has devoted his or her life to the scholarly study of practical jokes, and this odd person will tell you that, percentage wise, small jokes far outweigh their larger brothers. It was quite fascinating for me, then, to be a part of one the largest and longest running practical jokes known to mankind.

Last night I went to the Shi-lin night market. Night markets in Taiwan are markets that are open at night. At these markets you can find any item that you want. You also can find any item that you don't want. The problem with items that you don't want is that there is always some strange person out there who does want it. Thus, you go to the market to get a certain item you want, and you find strange people there for the items you don't want. You are there for the item you want and someone else is there for every other item. What I am working up to is that there is about a 1-1 person/item ratio at these night markets. Shi-lin is the largest of these night markets, containing about 84,451,784 items. According to my handy formula previously mentioned, this mean that there were about 84,451,784 people there as well. Evidently, this makes it a prime location for perpetuating practical jokes on a large scale.

According to my research into the matter, this particular joke actually started in 1853 when a British merchant in Taiwan (then called Formosa) received a letter informing him that he had been jilted by his true love back home. So great was his despondency that he resolved never again to consume the fruit of the earth or the flesh of beasts. Being a portly gentleman given much to eating, this self-imposed fast was a great sacrifice meant to prove the depth of his ardor. Well, in his case the pangs of the flesh proved stronger than those of the soul, and after just 13 days he found himself so famished he began to eat whatever was close at hand. What was close at hand is too disgusting to be mentioned in this blog. Suffice it to say, it was rotten and nasty. Much to his surprise, however, it did not kill him. After this episode, he decided that rather than punishing himself for the error of his lover, he would forswear all ties to the West, remain in Taiwan, and wreak vengeance on all foreigners who came the island. To exact this revenge, he set up a little food stand in a local market and advertised "The Best Traditional Formosan Cuisine". What he actually sold was the garbage that he had first eaten when he broke his fast. The locals, of course, wouldn't touch the stuff. Visitors to the island, on the other hand, were eager to try true local food and were easily convinced that any restaurant serving good food was simply catering to their Western palates. Thus, they flocked to this man's stand and scarfed down the most absurd "foods". Some of these people were honest and threw it back up almost as soon as they threw it down. Others, generally men trying to impress, proclaimed it to be "quite good!" Needless to say, the locals found it great fun to see what all the foreigners would eat. Soon "Traditional Food" stands began to pop up everywhere. Eventually, many of these stands congregated together at the Shi-lin night market. To this very day foreigners still come, fully convinced that they are partaking in real Taiwanese food. So great is the subtlety and effectiveness of the joke, than they have even suckered the Bizarre Foods tv show to come, thinking they were actually sampling food. The locals simply serve it up, snicker, and head home to their chicken and veggies.

I partook in this great practical joke last night, graciously giving a few laughs to those in the know. Allow me to mention some of the highlights of our fare. It started out with a dish that is appetizingly named "Stinky Tofu". There are two things that must be said about stinky tofu. First, it is stinky. Part of the cleverness of the joke is that they are up front with foreigners as to the content of the "foods." Never is this so true as when it comes to the stinky part of stinky tofu. There is no subtly to the odor, and even the weakest of olfactory systems can pick up the scent from one hundred yards away or more. This distinct characteristic comes from the fact that it is fermented and rotten. The second thing that must be said about stinky tofu is that it is tofu. That about sums it up.

A second dish that we consumed to the delight of all around was oyster pancakes. The thrill in this work of art isn't so much a terrible flavor or nasty odor, but rather in the plain old fact that it is a weird combination. Nobody eats oyster pancakes. Nobody, that is, except for those under the vengeance of a jilted British merchant. There are many other elements to this grand joke. I could list more, but it might limit your imagination. Take a moment and think through the nastiest substances or the strangest food combinations and you will suddenly find yourself in the Shi-lin night market.

To be honest, I hesitate to post this blog as I feel bad about exposing so great a joke. There are thousands who have suffered moments of pure agony in the pursuit of experiencing true Taiwanese culture. I hate to tell them now it all just a joke. To make up for my whistle-blowing, I will ask that none of my blog readers share this information with their friends. And if you ever find yourself in the Shi-lin area, go ahead and take a bite. There is no harm in letting other people have their laughs.

Some Sightseeing

On returning from visiting a school, I noticed a sign giving direction to the Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Hall. Those of you versed in Chinese history will remember that Chiang Kai-shek was the man who, among other things, led the Republic of China's government to Taiwan after the communist takeover of the mainland. Having heard that the memorial was a nice place to visit, I followed the directions and before long had it in sight.

The memorial hall is in a park surrounded by a white-walled and blue-roofed cloister of typical Chinese design. As a matter of fact, Chinese architecture and design dominates the entire memorial. The park consists of small gnarled and twisted trees that shade narrow paths and ring ponds teeming with monstrous goldfish. The hall itself is a giant white and blue pagoda-like building. The park also contains the National Concert Hall and the National Theater, both of which are red and white and of Chinese architecture. The point is that the designers decided to go all out with the whole Chinese motif, and I must say they got pretty close to pulling it off. As a man who has been in a Chinese buffet or two, I am pretty familiar with the oriental look, and I think the Chiang Kai-shek Memorial people can be proud of themselves. It isn't quite as real as the Hong Kong Express Buffet in Batesburg, SC, but then, few things are.

I moseyed on into the memorial hall, expecting at any moment to be turned away by someone demanding I buy a ticket to enter. This didn't happen at the door. I figured that they must let visitors into the lobby for free and then charge them to go into the various museums and exhibits. Wanting to see how far I could get for free, however, I slunk into the first exhibit. No one accosted me. The workers just smiled. The exhibit was rather smallish, so I realized that they bated visitors with this one to get them to pay for the better ones. Well, I didn't particularly desire to pay, so I charged into the next exhibit like I had business there and was not to be stopped or delayed. No one express the slightest desire to perform either activity, so I slowed down, and found myself in a rather perturbed state. It seemed that everything in the hall was free. All my slinking and charging was for naught. I was fine with the free part of it all, but I was highly disturbed that I had wasted a good slink and a charge. I determined to leave the premises immediately.

Before I could get to the door, my attention was arrested by the sight of three soldiers marching through the hall. They were in dress uniforms with shiny silver helmets. Their march was slow and deliberate. One knee would be brought up at a forty-five degree angle, with the foot pulled back so that the bottom of their boot ran parallel to the leg still planted on the ground. The hand that was not holding a bayoneted rifle was balled up and thrust straight out in front of their bodies. They would hold this pose for three seconds before snapping the foot down to the ground and bringing the hand back to their side. At this point the process was repeated for the other leg. They proceeded at a rather laborious pace. I quickly realized that this was an honor guard heading for some part of the hall I had not yet visited. There was nothing for me to do but follow them. I followed them right to the elevator. A museum worker ran up and pushed the button for them and they stood at attention, waiting for the elevator to arrive. Soon the doors opened, a few children ran off, and the guards marched on board.

Now I had never seen an honor guard take an elevator, so I thought for a moment that something might be amiss. Possibly there was trouble with whatever they were to guard and they must hurry to it. Maybe the gangster was trying to steal this precious item. It behooved me to follow and offer any assistance it was in my power to bestow. I dashed up the stairs, but was distracted by an exhibit of Chinese impressionist paintings on the third floor. After about ten minutes I remembered my mission and made my way to the fourth floor. Fortunately, I was not too late. The guards were slowly making their way to a large statue of Chiang Kai-shek. If the gangster had been there, I cannot say. Possibly they arrived soon enough to scare him off. They made their way to boxes, almost like large end tables, sitting on the floor on either side of the statue. After positioning themselves behind the boxes, they proceed suddenly pick up one foot and slam it down on top of their particular box. They then removed the foot and put it back on the floor. My guess is that they were testing to see if the box would hold them. Evidently the boxes past the test, for in a moment they stepped up onto the box. What followed was about fifteen minutes worth of saluting a gun twirling. The twirling was not rapid, but slow with many pauses and foot stomps between movements. I tend to think it was a sort of game or dance invented by little girls.

Well, I watched as long as I could and then made my way back home. I was a little bit disappointed I didn't catch a glimpse of the gangster. But at least I didn't have to pay for it.

The English Language

Having arriven in beautiful land of Taiwan, I am now prepare myself for the teaching of the English language. It is true that English language posses celebrated occupancy in this fair land. In walking through a city, you see much of English words. I have goal of assisting people in the speaking of this language. Many people not necessary for assistance as they posses proficiency at first.

Yes, English is quite popular around here. One is indeed impressed with the people's desire to use what English they do know. They combine this zeal with prodigious levels of creativity leading to an ingenious use of English. It is actually quite deflating for me, a native English speaker who desires to have a fair grasp of English vocabulary and sentence structure, to see with what ease people effortlessly produce the keenest turn of phrase. I shall endeavor to pass along some of these gems.

A few days ago, I thought it would be nice to get outside of the city. Rumor had it that there was a place near the Taipei zoo where one could hop in a gondola and ride to the top of a mountain. Allow me here to pause to clear up some misunderstandings that some of you just experienced. When I said gondola, some of you immediately thought of a little boat in Venice piloted by a singing man with a pole (I never heard any of them sing, by the way). Thus, you were overwhelmingly surprised at the strength of men here in Taiwan who are able to pole their boats up mountains while singing arias. Put your mind at ease. This is not the type of gondola to which I am referring. It is basically a cable car. In any case, I thought it would be nice to reach the top of the mountain one way or the other.

Of course, such things cost money, so first I had to stop at a local atm. One is impressed with the care the banks have for those using their atms. Upon selecting the English language mode at some atms, the customer is greeting with this admonition: "Attention! The gangster may use the English user interface to cheat you!" I have not yet determined who this gangster is, but evidently his activities are notorious enough to have warranted atm warning status. Part of me admires the man. We have some dastardly villains back in the States, but never have have I heard of one making it to the level of an atm warning. This man has obviously taken crime to a new level, and one simply must admire a person who is the best at his craft. You had better believe, though, that I am looking over my shoulder as I walk down the streets. This gangster is evidently no one to be trifled with.

Well, I got my money and made my way to the gondola. It was a nice ride to the top. I have seen little of this island, but I think I can safely say that Taiwan has beautiful parts. The climate here is officially referred to as "marine tropical". I don't know exactly what this means, but it produces some pretty scenery. The foliage on the mountains is dense. Picture your favorite war movie set on some Pacific island where the hero has to fight his way through some forrest with heavy undergrowth and strange bird calls and animals noises as he tries to reach the village in time to save either his life or the world. Remove the part where he slogs through some swamp and is attacked by an anaconda-like monster which he kills with his knife. Add a massive city just over the hero's shoulder. You are now somewhere in the ballpark of the scenery I looked down on. When I reached the top, I went hiking through various trails that were dotted here and there by little tea shops. Of course, to the uninitiated eye, all of these tea shops look the same. Therefore they must in some way distinguish themselves. Being astute businessmen, the owners of these tea shops display to passersbuy the strength of their particular emporium. One such businessman put forth his strengths in a short, punchy, effective manner by putting on his sign, "Well tea. Well food. Well view." To this I say, "Good said." After seeing this sign, I returned home in well spirits.

Before I end this blog, I would like to pass on some good words I picked up from a trash can I bought yesterday. On the top of this particular plastic wastebasket is found the profoundly practical warning, "Do not put fire." I have now seen the light and shall give up my perverse habit of putting fire. This warning, though, was not all the trash can had to offer. Printed on the side are these sagacious words, "PITCH WASTE HERE: Resources are limited. However, there's no limit to ideas of human beings." Good said. Good said.

Interview and Mi Casa

There have been some shining moments in my life. There was the game winning home run against Flowery Branch. The evening I beat Dad in about 47 consecutive games of ping-pong is also notable (it wasn't all that difficult, but it sure was gratifying to see how frustrated he got). I need hardly even mention the time in freshman chapel at CIU when I won the "spew" contest by holding a cupful of water with an alka-seltzer tablet in my mouth longer than anyone else. These are all treasured memories that are added to Thigpen lore. Indeed, someday my grandchildren and great-grandchildren will recount the feats with pride. My first interview with a school here is an occasion that my children will not hear about. I doubt I'll even go into the details with my wife. As a matter of fact, I don't think I even tell you, the dear followers of this blog, about it.

Here is what happened. The place I was interviewing at was a private bilingual school. They were, I think, looking for experienced teachers. I came in to do a demo lesson with a group of kids. They really didn't give me much info to help me prepare. Therefore, I was expecting to teach kids who didn't know that much English. I had a little lesson ready teaching directional phrases. It involved asking for directions and understanding terms such as "on the left", "across the street", "on the corner", etc. The problem was, however, these were international kids. As in some of them were from the States and English was their first language. They knew what "on the left" meant. The little map I had for them posed little difficulty. They were very polite, and the following snippet of conversation never took place. It sure felt like it did, though.

Me: Do you know where the store is?

8 year old kid: Heck, yeah. What, you think I don't know how to get to the store, you arrogant lout?

I never recovered from this conversation that never happened. I think I shall get some interviews at places that aren't private bilingual schools.

In other news, I have moved into my new studio apartment. For those of you who may wish to drop by, it is on Tai Shun lane 40 right near the Shi Da night market. Here is a little home video I took. It was taken with the camera on my laptop, so it was a little difficult to get quality shots, though you do get a fairly decent view of my nostril right at the end.

I haven't gotten around to the decor yet. I am thinking, though, of going with an oriental motif. Just trying to be a little creative, you know.

Over the last couple of days I have also taken a cable car ride up a mountain and gone to a water park. More about that later. I will also keep you up to date with my job hunting. I will be running around trying to get into schools tomorrow. Keep me in your prayers.

A Few First Thoughts on Taipei

As a veteran of over 2,400 minutes in Taipei, I feel that well suited to give an honest account of the metropolis. The city itself is situated in something of a basin ringed about by mountains. These mountains can't quite make up their minds as to what they would like to be. They have the height of the Appalachian foothills, but lack the Appalachian's gentle rolling nature. They have more of a rugged contour like a certain Alp I remember, but they do not come close to achieving Alpine heights. Thus these mountains seem all in a muddle. Of course, it has been quite overcast since I first arrived, and I haven't gotten a great look at them. It may well be that clouds are blocking my view of soaring precipices which can look any Alp square in the eye. It may also be that clouds have chopped these mountains up causing the viewer to be deceived concerning their gentle nature. What I am saying, then, is that when it comes to the mountains, it may be me and not them that is muddled.

What I am not muddled about, though, is the city itself. Yes, I know a thing or two about the place. For example, I know that there are people here. A lot of them. If you can believe it, there are almost as many people as there are scooters. Taiwan is one of the most densely populated countries in the world, and Taipei is its largest city. It is fairly crowded here. Most everyone lives in apartments. I, myself, happened to pick up one of these items this morning. I used the term "pick up" here, because I very well might be able pick the whole thing up. It is quite small. But then when you have so many people around, you can't spacious living quarters. It is cozy, though, and I think I will be comfortable in it. I will post some pictures of it whenever I can get some.

The favorite activity in the city seems to be sweating. This pastime is almost universally engaged in all throughout the day. Everyone you meet has a glistening brow. I am pleased to announce that I have been able to pick up this part of the culture with ease. I have evidenced the ability to sweat quite proficiently in my brief time here. This may or may not have something to do with high levels of humidity.

I am also fairly proficient in getting myself around. I can, for example, go outside the front door, turn left, and arrive that the fruit market. At this locale, if I so chose, I could purchase oranges, mangoes, bananas, and sundry fruits. Across the way, there is a dumpling stand where I could purchase big balls of dough with meat or vegetables inside them. I can also work my way down the street a little further and reach the park. This is a large area where, I imagine, I will spend a fair amount of time during my stay here. I think it might be a good place to walk. You can see, then, that I have already acquired a mastery of the various points of interest in Taipei.

After reading this vivid and accurate description, you probably feel that you have already been here and will not need to visit the city in the future. Don't give into such feelings. You should still come and see the place for yourself. Just work on being a good sweater before you come.

Interview in the morning. I will let you know how that goes.

I'm here

A great man once said, "One's travels are the pigments with which one's portrait is painted." I also once said, "To best preserve one's portrait, one must travel to more temperate climes." Well, I missed on that last part. Taiwan is hot.

Yes, I am in Taiwan. In Taipei City to be exact. This blog will chronicle my life here (or, more likely, what I would like my life here to be) for those who might be interested (Mom and me).

Let me begin by saying that despite the vast leaps in technological advancement that our civilization claims to have made, I have empirical proof that we have digressed since the days of Jules Verne. In his day Phileas Fogg could circumnavigate the globe in eighty days. Careful planing and determined effort notwithstanding, it took me all of ninety-four days to make it from Gainesville, Georgia to Taipei City, Taiwan. Maybe it is because my name is not Phileas. Maybe it is because my name is not Fogg. Whatever it is, Phil could somehow make it farther in less time on his elephants and wind-powered sledges than I could in the most up-to-date commercial airliners. All in all, I think this episode to be a humbling lesson to the human race. This human raced another one who is now nearly one-hundred and fifty years old, and he smoked me.

The trip itself was as pleasant as it possibly could be. On my right sat a man named Roger. I found out that he was born in Peoria at 8:53 am on October 3, 1969. That he lived there for thirteen years before moving to Chicago at which time he lost his dog, which was named Gopher. That he is disappointed in the career path he has taken, but he feels that he was pushed into it by a domineering father. That he has been divorced two times, but now has an interest that he really feels is the one he has been waiting for. That he has been dealing with a rash under his left arm for a few weeks now that has him worried. Then the plane took off from LA. I think there was someone sitting on my left; it was an elderly lady if I am not mistaken. Somehow during the journey I was able to break away from Roger long enough to incite three riots, vote 11 people off the plane (all from first class), and devise and establish a new form of representational government to govern the plane. Over all, it went pretty well.

I am now staying with a couple who graduated from CIU. They have been kind enough to put me up until I can find a place of my own. They are also helping me get situated here. It is really a blessing to have them here.

I have an interview lined up with a school on Friday. I will be teaching a short lesson there. I think it will be dealing with the true causes of the American Civil War. Keep that in your prayers.

Will keep y'all posted. Y'all do the same for me.