The Grapes of Eshcol and the Ocean

Last Wednesday was Moon Festival here in Taiwan. I received many gifts from my students, including a gift of three bunches of grapes. Now you may ask, "Who would give three bunches of grapes to their teacher on Moon Festival?" First, let me condemn you for questioning the liberality of my students. Second, let me say that this student is one of the brightest and most pleasant students I have ever had. Third, let me say that this was one my favorite gifts of all time. These weren't just grapes; they were GRAPES. Each one was about the size of a child's head. Each of the three bunches weighed approximately forty five pounds. This was not, as some of you might suspect, due to chemical treatment or exposure to radiation. This is a special breed of grape. Size was not the most amazing aspect of these grapes, either. The flavor and texture was unlike anything I have ever experienced in all my years of grape consumption. The flavor evidenced a close relationship with the muscadine side of the family, only without much of the tartness. They were fleshly picked from some remote mountain in Japan and flown almost directly to my classroom. So good were these grapes that upon first sight and taste, I immediately decided that they must headline a blog.

A word about Moon Festival. This holiday comes on the fifteenth day of the eighth lunar month. Obviously, this fell on the twenty-second of September this year. There are certain things you must know about this holiday. First, it is traditionally celebrated by eating moon cakes. I will let your imagination inform you as to what a moon cake is. Second, on the night of Moon Festival, you can look up and see the three beings that live on the moon. The first being on the moon is a woman who, in something of a tragic accident, floated to the moon after drinking too much of a special elixir. The second being is a man who sent to the moon as a punishment for being too lazy. He was instructed that he had to chop down a self-regenerating tree before he could return to earth. The lazy bum is still up there hacking away. The third being is a rabbit who gave his very flesh as food to save three hungry old men. As a reward for his sacrifice he was sent to live on the moon. I had to teach these stories to my children at school. The difficult part of it was explaining how the moon was at once a place of punishment and reward. I had to tell my kids, with a stern look and disapproving air, that if they didn't diligently do their homework, they might find themselves sent to the moon for their laziness. Then, I had to tell them, with a tone of hopeful expectancy, that if they sacrificed themselves for others, they might get rewarded by being sent to the moon! The juxtaposition of these two stories engenders certain pedagogical difficulties. The third thing you should know about Moon Festival is that school are out. This is important because a certain teacher did not have to go in to work.

A quick word of advice for those who may someday find themselves living and working in a large city on a tropical island: don't forget that you are living on a tropical island. For most of my time here, I have been stuck in a big city and have been living a rather boring life. My normal schedule has been to get up in the morning, head off to work, come home at night, eat supper, go for a walk, come home and read a book. Nothing tropical or islandish about any of that. This Saturday, however, I was reminded of where I live. Some friends of mine at school invited me to go snorkeling with them. Having never engaged in any such activity, I jumped at the opportunity. We hit the eastern coast in the morning. The eastern coast boasts some beautiful scenery, with the mountains dropping straight into the ocean. We snorkeled for a while, and I thoroughly enjoyed myself, even after ingesting half of the Pacific Ocean. However, conditions weren't optimal for snorkeling. The ocean was rather rough and murky, due to a typhoon passing north of Taiwan. One of my friends suggested that surfing might be a better idea under these conditions. Having never surfed before, I heartily agreed with the assessment. Thus, we headed out to a local surfing hotspot, rented a couple of boards, and hit the ocean. Actually, it would probably be more appropriate to change the last part of that sentence from active to passive--I was hit by the ocean. I got pummeled. I would hop on my board and start paddling my way out into the ocean only to be picked up by a wave and slammed back on the beach. When I would finally make my way out a bit, I would get myself situated to catch a wave and then muff the whole surfing process horribly and get tossed rudely from the board. Yes, I went twelve rounds with the Pacific. I must humbly admit, though, that the last three rounds saw me standing up, riding my way onto the beach. I may have been standing shakily, but I was standing none the less. After surfing, we went to a cafe on the beach, had a cup of tea and looked out at the gorgeous coastline. It was a lot of fun, and I am grateful to my friends for taking me out for the day.

I could use your prayers this coming week. I have parent demos this week at school. This means that all the parents come on a special day and attend a class with their children. It also means a lot of work for the teachers, especially for an inexperienced one like myself. A bad class may spell the end of amazing grapes for me. Even besides that, though, I would like to do well. I will let you know how it goes.

Natural Disasters

Typhoon Fanapi twirled its way across Taiwan today. In past lives, I lived close enough to the Atlantic coast to catch some of the fierce hurricanes that hurled themselves off the ocean, but this was my first experience with their Western Pacific brothers. I must say I was sorely disappointed. The rest of this blog will show just how justified this disappointment is.

A friend informed me early last week that a typhoon might soon hit the island. I stated that in light of such an imminent occurrence, it would be wise to hustle down to the hospital to be vaccinated against so formidable a foe. My friend quickly checked my march to the doctor by giving me to understand that a typhoon was not a disease but a storm. This brightened my countenance considerably, and I began to make all the necessary preparations for the onslaught. These preparations mainly consisted of loudly and regularly proclaiming that I would not be evacuating inland. It was here that my disappointments began, for no one seem to pay my proclamations any attention whatsoever. As a matter of fact, they laughed and mentioned the fact that Taiwan was a small island that would be hit in its entirety by the typhoon, making the move inland futile. It became obvious that further preparations were necessary, so I went out and bought a life preserver and an inflatable raft. Thus armed, I anxiously cast my eye out over the vast expanse of the ocean that cradles this little island, looking for the first signs of Poseidon's fury.

Upon learning that the typhoon would arrive over the weekend, I was thrilled at the opportunity to go to church in the midst of the raging storm. One is exposed to a completely different demographic at church during blizzards, tornadoes, and hurricanes. We can probably throw volcanoes into that mix as well. The natural disaster crowd is similar to the holiday crowd, only a good bit more obnoxious. The holiday crowd meekly slide in and out of their pews, hoping that the regular attendees won't notice their presence any more than they have noticed their past absences. The natural disaster crowd, on the other hand, loudly proclaim their presence. They seem to think that going to church under stressful weather conditions makes up for any amount of Sundays missed under normal conditions. It really works out perfect for them. On these Sundays they can't be out on the lake anyway, so they might as well go to church and get credit for all the Sundays that they do spend on the lake. It also seems to give them a level of spirituality and commitment far beyond those who regularly attend but are reluctant to venture out when the chances of serious injury or death are significantly higher. Thus, the foul weather Christians enter the edifice and commence immediately and gleefully to objurgate roundly their fair weather brethren. It really is a sight to behold. Yet even this pleasure was denied me, as church was cancelled due to the oncoming storm.

Nothing, however, could cancel the storm itself, and that is all I really needed. The typhoon struck around 3:00 Sunday morning, but I decided it more advantageous to wait until daylight to venture out. I slept through the night, then, and when the sun finally rose, I got up with it and prepared myself. I first saw to the inflation of the raft and donned my life preserver. With a deep breath, I then dragged the raft out to the street. Here I must pause and say a word about my little apartment. It is on the first floor and is completely walled in, leaving no way to look out onto the street. Thus, I cannot truly gage the conditions outside from my apartment. However, there was a typhoon out there, and I knew exactly what I was going to do once I left my apartment, walked down the corridor to the front door of the apartment complex, and exited out on to Tai shun street. I would launch my raft out onto the free-flowing river that had once been the street and begin my search for that lone constant of any true storm; that staple of and enduring monument to all inclement weather; that beacon of hope and perseverance; that shining light in the darkest of moments--the Weather Channel reporter. There actually were no hurricanes, tornadoes, or blizzards before 1982, which was the year the Weather Channel was launched. There really wasn't any such thing as weather at all. Few people seem to be aware of this fact, but upon the slightest reflection it becomes obvious that this must be the case. Anyway, I planned to guide my raft up to the light pole to which the reporter was clinging and then offer myself to be interviewed. This interview, of course, would be replayed every 45 seconds, and I would gain enduring fame and glory. I even had my speech worked out.

Yeah, I'm just out here lookin' to be o' some help to some poor soul out here who is trapped and don't got nowhere to turn. I seen this thing commin'. Felt it in my bones. My liver always starts actin' up too just before one lands. I alway knows exactly when they're gonna hit. My friends always tell me to get the heck off the island, but in all my years I ain't never run from one of these dern things. I just always come out here tryin' to be a Good Samyrian to those in need. I figured the gangster probably didn't leave town, so somebody better hang around to try and head 'im off...

This was my moment.

You can imagine, then, the utter dismay and confusion when I opened the door and launched my raft out onto a little child. I shouted at her to climb into the raft and out of the river, only to notice that she was standing on firm, though damp pavement. No free-flowing river. What was worse, there was very little rain. I panicked and dashed up and down the street looking for the reporter. There was none. I only found people walking in and out of beauty salons, convenience stores, and vegetable markets. There I stood, my moment of glory cruelly snatched from my hands. I gave the raft to the little child and slunk back inside.

I seems that the storm had hit hardest during the night, but even then it wasn't all that bad. The mountains that surround Taipei protected the city from much of the typhoon's fury. It's just not fair.

This came on the heels of my experience with an earthquake at school not long ago. I knew that earthquakes were common here, so I had been waiting with great anticipation for my first good one. In the middle of class the building began to sway, and I sprang into action. I hustled the kids out into the hall, verbally fighting back the craven instincts I knew to be engulfing these little children's hearts. I screamed of courage, heroism, and clearheaded action, only to notice that in the other classrooms teachers calmly spoke of the past perfect tense. It seems that earthquakes only merit a passing remark here.

I'm moving.

Things I Have Learned

I didn't write a blog last weekend. No doubt you were wondering if there was a good reason for this glaring omission. You may rest at ease. There was. I was at a church retreat (I would like to say here that I have always disliked the term "church retreat." Are we really that defeatist?) No, no--I did not go to the "True Love" singles retreat ("Singles retreat" is an acceptable term). Some of you are wondering why I wasn't at this particular retreat. I am asking this same question. A better question, though, is why anyone else went when they knew I wouldn't be there. Rumor has it that this annual event is one of the better singles retreats to be found anywhere. Supposedly, on the opening day the sheep are separated from the goats, and neither group gets the first sniff of their counterparts until a dinner on the last day. In the intervening time, each group is told how to talk to that freakish sort of person respectively called either a male or female. This most likely leads in the end to five minutes worth of recitations over dinner followed by thirty minutes of either awkward silence or repetitions of the same memorized conversations over and over again. I have always gravitated towards the awkward silence myself, being partial to silence in the presence of strange beings.

I myself was at a retreat for foreign members of the church I attend. The church decided that they were tired of being offended routinely by foreigners who are oblivious to Taiwanese customs, so they kindly put on a retreat to show us how to understand Taiwanese culture and live therein. One important thing I learned at the retreat is that Asians are not a minority here. That explains why I have seen so many of them since arriving in Taiwan.

This might be a good place to share another aspect of Asian culture that I learned not long after arriving here. Asian people are without exception twice as old as they look. You often hear of sweet, old Japanese ladies living to be 115 years old. I have always been slightly skeptical of such stories. Now I know that they are utter nonsense. That sweet old lady was actually 230 years old. At some point in her life people just gave up counting and started going by how old she looked compared to people of other cultures. Some people have suffered great consternation over the prodigious life spans of some people recorded in Genesis. It is not a problem for me at all. They were Asian. Methuselah probably looked about 23 when he went left the earth.

This cultural difference has cause me some some difficulty, though. I have at times treated my elders like children.

Me: Well hello there, cute child! How are you this fine morning? Did you just get out of school?

"Cute child": Yes, I did just get out of school.

Me: I'll bet you sang the ABC song today. You probably know it so well by now!

"Cute child": I sure as heck hope I do. I have been teaching it for the last 20 years.

Me: Of course you have! I knew that! Can you teach it to me sometime?

I now assume that every person I meet, no matter how young they look, has made his or her way around the sun at least 45 times. This has led to some attempts at profound conversations with newborns, but at least they aren't offended.

I will end this blog with a book recommendation for anyone who may be interested. I think I feel guilty for presenting page after page of poor reading material, and therefore am obliged to suggest something better. This book is nothing like my blog. It is called Liturgical Theology by Simon Chan. It is the best contemporary Christian book I have read for some time. It maybe a little bit of work for some of you, but it is worth it, even if you wind up disagreeing with it. If you wind up getting it, don't give up in the first few chapters, which are probably more difficult. Make your way to the end. I like it because it is a good step towards many of the things I have been thinking about and working on over the past few years. I send this out in my blog, so that I don't have to recommend it to too many people individually. It also saves all of you from having to lie by saying, "Why that sounds great, T.J. I think I will run out and get it now!", whenever I see you next.

Weekly Update

I started teaching my junior high class this week. We gather together (to ask the Lord's blessing) for little over two hours on Saturday mornings. This is the highlight of the week for these sixteen kids. In Taiwan, the junior high years are spent in a monk-like devotion to study. Every child (or more likely, every child's parent) longs to get into a top high school. This is accomplished by doing very well in junior high, as the students are placed in different high schools according to their test scores. Thus, they spend all their time studying and preparing for tests. For this reason, they exude boundless gratitude for the opportunity to get up early on Saturday mornings to spend two hours sitting in another classroom. They were so overwhelmed that they were unable to express their gratitude. As a matter of fact, they were unable to express anything. Yes, I received two hours of silent gratitude. It was rewarding. Allow me to give you a peek inside the junior high classroom.

Me: Alright guys, I am really looking forward to getting to know you over the course of the year. I am really excited about this class! Let's start with you giving me your names. What's your name?

Student 1: (silent moving of the mouth)

Me: What is that again?

Student 1: (more of the same)

Me: Um, can you spell that?

Student 1: (more of the same)

Me: Very nice! I am so glad to have you in the class! And what is your name?

Student 2: (through similar facial expressions and movements exhibits a close relationship with Student 1.)

Me: (after realizing that it is somehow culturally inappropriate to ask junior high students their names) Well, guys, I am so excited about our lesson today that we are just going to jump right in!

(blanks stares)

Or maybe I will jump right in. This is going to be great guys! Today we are going to Alaska! How many of you know where Alaska is?

(blank stares)

(Pointing to a student who hadn't made the slightest movement or sound) That's right! It's a part of America that is adjacent to Canada and just across the Bering Straight from Russia! It's inhabited by the Aleutian Indians, who are eskimos of the first rank! All Alaskans subsist on walrus meat, use whale blubber for just about everything, and wear seal skins (nothing like using false stereotypes to generate interest)! They live in igloos and get around by dogsled. There is an adventure to be found around every snow bank!

(blank stares accompanied by a sniff from the back of the room)

But today we are going to read about one of the greatest adventures ever! It involves scaling sheer walls of ice on towering mountains, a death defying plunge of 45 meters from said ice wall, and a frantic rescue operation! This tale is soaked in peril and wrung out by heroism! It is guaranteed to have you on the edge of your seat (I now sound as if I am giving a movie review)! Who's up for doing some reading?

(blank stares)

Before we start, let me set up the story and give you a taste of what we're in for by throwing myself from this fourth floor window to the pavement below!

(blank stares)

I will now ask that you leave the classroom. You have seen enough.

In other news, the Monkeys' season is over. We lost today 6-5 and were eliminated from the post-season tournament. I must say that we didn't go down without a fight. We staged a brilliant 9th inning comeback to take the Giants into extra innings. However, we were taken out by a bases loaded single in the 11th. I went 1-4 with a solid single to extend my hitting streak to a season high 3 games. I can also make the claim of getting a hit in every game I played this season. I would like to remind my brothers, that this is not the first time I have been able to make this claim. This will be the last time baseball is mentioned in this blog for a while.

I will now end with some fantastic words gleaned from yet another notebook I recently acquired. It is just a small notebook with a cover that flips up, but it looms large in terms of carrying great weight in the "Good said" world. Boldly printed in the center of the cover are the words "Good Idea." Nothing special so far, but things rapidly improve from here. Just under "Good Idea" stands the phrase "in yours head freeidea." In the top left hand corner we find this gem: "Must therefore maintain an optimistic heart also has the intelligent brains." Even this phrase does not exhaust the glories of this notebook, however, as it goes on in the bottom right hand corner to say, "Has many ideas in yours life is needs to move the brain to think." I am going to leave it at that. Nothing more needs to be said.