Expectations

Mimi sat on the porch swing, motionless. Words swirled through her mind like fallen leaves caught in an eddy, twisting and spinning, eventually rushing downstream.

China plates: white shards scattered on the kitchen floor, dried food on the pieces, on the floor, on the walls.

Dreams: education, career, children.

Promises: “it’ll never happen again”.

Bones: her arm, and a year later her collarbone.

Spirit: for a time, hers.

All of these were things that Chad, her husband of five years, had broken.

No more. She’d just learned that she was pregnant. It was time for her to break free.

This post is inspired by velvetverbosity.com 100 word challenge. This week’s word: “Broken”.

 

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Secrets

“What do you think they’re doing?” Julie asked.

“Keep your voice down!” Sean responded, frowning. “Do you wanna get caught?”

He wished Julie wasn’t with him but when he saw Coach Brown and Ms. Starr leaving he didn’t have time to ditch her. Not if he wanted to know where they were going.

Ms. Starr kept looking over her shoulder as she followed Coach out of the gym. That told him all he needed to know. They had something going on, he was sure of it. Squatting outside of the janitor’s closet he wondered how he could prove it.

This post is inspired by velvetverbosity.com 100 word challenge. This week’s word: “Voice”.

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Taiwan’s Coal Mine Museum

Saturday may or may not have dawned cold, damp and gray; I didn’t wake up until well past dawn. Regardless, it was cold, damp and gray when I left the hotel at 10 a.m., eager for the day’s adventures.

My host and hostess were Frieda and Ray, two of my Taiwanese co-workers. Frieda and I’d discussed plans to get together throughout the week, but I’d not had much opportunity to consider the specifics. Saturday, we were on our way before I knew where we were going: Taiwan’s Coal Mine Museum. We were outside of Taipei before I fully appreciated the scope of the adventure. Frieda doesn’t have a vehicle so Ray was recruited to be our designated driver. At some point I believe he asked her why she’d picked a destination so far away from the city.

While Thursday’s trip to the Night Market was an opportunity to join in everyday living, Saturday’s excursion to the Coal Mine was an opportunity to experience a local adventure. This was not the traditional “Let’s take the American tourists to see _____.” In fact, if you follow the link to the Coal Mine Museum’s website you’ll get a taste of what I tasted – a day of local tourism with very little English for the stray foreigner.

Jingtong Train Station

The Jingtong Train Station

Our first stop was the village of Jingtong, where the miners lived. We strolled around checking out the train station and other bits of nostalgia.

Here are Ray and Frieda standing in front of a fence bearing wishes and prayers. The wishes/prayers are written on the bamboo wind chimes and hung there for prosperity. We enjoyed lunch at a small café owned and operated by the father of another Taiwanese co-worker.

Next we made our way to Pingxi, the mining town. On our way there we caught sight of a local man igniting a sky lantern, lifting his wishes into the sky.

After a few wrong turns (consistently noted by Ray saying “oops!”) we finally made it to the mine itself (and the museum). Almost every wrong turns resulted in a u-turn in a space hardly wide enough for the vehicle to sit long-ways, but in one case Ray successfully drove in reverse back up a narrow alley…almost a quarter of a mile.

Once at the mine, I found myself in need of the “facilities” (yes, only Eastern-style floor-mounted horizontal urinals), this is important information only because it confirmed my suspicions and further contributed to my willingness to risk dehydration vs. the inconvenience of potty breaks. With that behind me (pun intended) we were ready to learn about mining in Taiwan.

Our tour began with a video that lasted about 10~15 minutes. Frieda occasionally translated interesting tidbits, otherwise all that I learned came from the images (subtitles were in Chinese). It seems the mine was in operation from the 50’s through 1997, closing due to price pressure from foreign sources. The museum was opened by philanthropists interested in maintaining local awareness of this part of Taiwan’s history.

After the video we climbed aboard a small coal train. The cars were modified with wooden slats to create benches for passengers. We were given instructions (Frieda translated) to not stand up or climb out or otherwise behave foolishly.

All of my foolishness was inspired by the freezing rain. At this point I’m wearing Ray’s ski vest and a disposable raincoat purchased by Frieda. Otherwise I’d have been huddled in a corner of the coal car, pathetically shivering and whining about the cold. It was about 48F. And wet. Did I mention it was cold and wet?

We then travelled a short distance to a site where the coal was dumped out of the cars onto a conveyor belt and transported to a washing station. Fascinating, right?

Here’s a photo that I took from the hillside. If you look closely at the spec centered above the village …

it’s the man’s wish rising up into the dismal sky!

After we were thoroughly exposed to the elements, we went back to the mine and entered a replica of a real shaft (we were not allowed into the real mine because it was considered too dangerous). We were regaled with interesting tales told in rapid-fire mandarin by a guide who never stopped for air (or allowed time for translation).

I studied all of the interesting photos, which included one of great interest to all. It seems that in the shaft conditions were quite warm, resulting in men and women alike working in their underwear.

Frieda finally admitted this was her 3rd time through the tour and I finally admitted I was freezing. Ray had long since wandered off to explore some of the mining equipment on display, so we bailed on the remainder of the tour and headed back down the mountain. We only made one stop before depositing me at the hotel – at the local 7-11 (there’s one on every block!) to pick up a cup of hot coffee and a bottle of red wine. The coffee addressed my immediate need for warmth and the red wine was in preparation for my next adventure: Saturday evening at Molder’s. But that story will have to wait!

If only I wasn’t working so hard I could spend more time telling you about the good times I’m squeezing in between the drudgery.

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Innocence

“This can’t be happening. None of this is real. This is a dream. I’m going to wake up now.” And I wait, but nothing changes.

The rear seat of the police car is uncomfortable; the stench, overpowering. The cuffs pinch my wrists, confirming the reality of my situation. I choke on the bile rising in my throat, wondering if I can hold it down or if I’ll find myself an unwilling contributor to the foulness closing in on me.

Like a video running at triple speed I replay this morning’s events. Nothing makes sense. There must be some mistake.

This post is inspired by velvetverbosity.com 100 word challenge. This week’s word: “Cuffs”.

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Hotel snacks

On the first day I arrived at the City Lake Hotel there was a plate on a table with a fresh apple and a banana. I enjoyed both. Every day since I’ve had some form of snack waiting for me when I return to my room, although I think I’ve seen the last of the fresh fruit. The snacks range from the ordinary (such as Ritz “Crackers & Cheese Dip”) to the extraordinary.

Snacks with baitI’m glad I noticed the inclusion of bait in this bag of “chips” before I inadvertently noshed on one.

BaitOh, and … I did eat them. Fortunately I’d noticed the difference in the package before I pulled one out of the pack. The regular bag looks similar but doesn’t include the fish.
snacks

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Riding the MRT

On my last trip to Taipei I completed a rite of passage: successfully navigating Taipei’s mass transit system (the MRT). Thursday I took it up a notch: traveling from Shihlin to Neihu requires not one but two exchanges. Also, this time I was not alone; my traveling companions were with me. My mission required the successful navigation of the system with witnesses. Ahem. I mean “company”.

MRT station

In line for the MRT in Taipei.

MRT route

The MRT route.

We caught the train at the Jiantan station (on the Red Line), near the Shihlin Night Market. We successfully acquired 3 tokens (one apiece) that would get us to the Huzhou station (on the Brown Line), near our hotel. We made our first exchange at the Taipei Main station, transferring to the Blue Line without incident. When we went to make the exchange at Zhongxiao Fuxing station (from Blue to Brown) I had in my head “change trains at SOGO” and so I inadvertently led the team astray.

NOTE TO SELF: if you find yourself having to drop your token into a turnstile before your designated point of departure, turn around!

SOGO is a huge department store located at the intersection of Zhongxiao Rd and Fuxing Rd (i.e. at that station) and often the locals refer to that station as the SOGO station. With  “SOGO! SOGO! SOGO!”  running through my mind I followed the signs that said “SOGO” which took us out of the MRT system. We climbed a flight of stairs and entered a hallway that led into the SOGO department store. I quickly u-turned and headed back down the stairs without comment, hoping my engineering companions wouldn’t notice the error of my ways. Fortunately they didn’t give me too hard of a time. Besides, this situation provided a learning opportunity for them to experience purchasing tokens.

The MRT fare is relatively cheap: 45NTD for the whole trip, 30NTD to get us from SOGO to Huzhou (30NTD = ~$1). For about $1 apiece we caught a glimpse of the SOGO department store. If I’d correctly anticipated Saturday’s adventures, I’d have taken the time to go all the way inside and purchase a jacket…but I’ll tell you about that experience in the next update.

So with the exception of that one small side-trip to almost shop at SOGO, we made it safely and expediently back to the hotel, and lived to tell the tale. Except it really wasn’t expedient – I think it took more than twice as long as a cab ride would’ve taken, but where’s the adventure in a cab ride? Unless it includes short cuts….

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The Taipei Night Market

The long hours of work are taking their toll on my ability to keep up with my own adventures. This last week has, for the most part, been spent (from waking to sleeping) in the line of duty. Last night I was doing e-mail until after midnight. But today is Saturday so I’ve had a chance to shift gears and have a little R&R. I’ve just gotten back from a fabulous adventure to the Taiwan Coal Mine Museum and I’ll be leaving shortly to take the MRT (Mass Rapid Transit) to a friend’s for dinner with his family. Sandwiched between these two adventures I will attempt to backtrack to Thursday so I can share the adventures of the Night Market.

First, let me clarify this was not just a trip to any night market, but the most famous one – Shilin (or Shihlin). Previously, whenever I would mention to locals that I’d been to the night market they would raise a brow and ask, “Shilin?” When I’d confess that I hadn’t been to Shilin they’d say, “Well Shilin is the most famous one.” So now I can say, “Why, yes! I’ve been to Shilin!”

The opportunity presented itself at the end of a long but (I believe) successful review of our proposal, delivered to MFE’s (My Former Employer) engineering team, as we bid for their next generation of products. I was carefully reviewing my notes (and I will assure you, the role of note-taker requires tremendous concentration and diligence and my ADHD-self found it exhausting), preparing to publish my summary of all open action items to a broad distribution.

My friend Molder (the key presenter of the proposal) interrupted my efforts with, “Do you want to go to the Night Market with me?” It turned out that he and his wife were planning to go there to eat and relax for a bit on their way to pick up their children and go home. I asked if both of my travel-companions could join us and it was agreed we would all go together.

I mention the context because I so appreciate the opportunity to share in what I consider a run-of-the-mill evening for locals. The inclusion, sort of a “Hey, we’re going…wanna come with?” opportunity, didn’t come across as an obligation or intrusion at all, which made it all the more delightful.

So off we went! Molder drove his new RAV4 and we quickly made our way to the Shihlin District.

Shihlin Night Market

Shihlin Night Market

Once there, we went directly to the vendor of Stinky Tofu. If you’ve never heard of Stinky Tofu, I can tell you that it is a local treat commonly sold anywhere there are street markets in the city. Most tourists are offered the dish but few accept the challenge. I can also tell you that Stinky Tofu stinks – at least it stinks during the process of preparing the dish. And I don’t mean a little stink, I mean the “WHAT IS THAT SMELL???” sort of stink that overtakes you when you’re walking through the market. It’s actually not that bad of a smell once it’s prepared and sitting on a plate in front of you.

Night Market

The making of oysters omelets & stinky tofu. Molder in the back, pondering our options.

One thing I learned that night is that there are (at least) two types of Stinky Tofu: fried (Chou Doufu) and “super spicy” (Mala Chou Doufu). We tried both.

Stinky Tofu

Fried tofu and super-spicy stinky tofu.

We also had seafood soup and a dish made of oysters and eggs (I can’t seem to get a handle on the name of that one, but it’s basically an oyster omelet).

Dining at the Shihlin Night Market

Enjoying our meal: Stinky tofu, seafood soup and oyster omelets.

After gorging on those delicacies we were treated to “Frog Eggs” (which is a tea drink) and double cookies (I don’t even know how to describe these except it’s like a crushed, not-sweet cookie wrapped in a crepe).

Frog Eggs

The fixin's for "Frog Eggs" tea.

Cookies

The making of a "double cookie".

We were introduced to “big big” chicken but we were way too stuffed to try that treat. Also, the line for the flattened, tenderized fried chicken breast was remarkably long.

Cookies & Frog Eggs

Enjoying our cookies and "Frog Eggs" tea, standing in front of the line for "big big chicken".

By the time we finished dining it was time for Molder and his wife to leave to pick up their children. They gave us a ride to the nearest MRT station where we began the next phase of Thursday night’s adventure.

The telling of this episode was interrupted by the living of another episode. I’ll pick the story-telling back up tomorrow.

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A Road Less Traveled: the Neihu shortcut

I’m sure you figured if I wasn’t barfing on this trip you wouldn’t hear about barfing. My last post proved that notion invalid.

After another long day of meetings (and time spent catching up on e-mail during the endless discussions that I couldn’t follow because they were conducted entirely in mandarin) I thought for sure I’d be writing about my experiences with trans-Pacific movie-watching on a Taiwanese airline. Instead, that thrilling exploration will have to wait because I feel compelled to share the story of this evening’s hair-raising taxi ride.

I didn’t leave the office until 8pm. The cost negotiations (between Engineering and Procurement) were still going strong, but I was clearly at the end of my endurance so I was graciously excused. I’ve graduated to the level of “one who catches her own cab” so I made my way to the street and waited for an available taxi. At that hour, they were few and far between and mostly occupied. Finally I lucked into a driver who whipped around in a mid-block u-turn, pulling up to the curb and confirming his willingness to take me the few miles to my hotel.My mandarin hasn’t improved so much as my ability to show the business card for the hotel has proven quite adequate for this basic exchange. That and my ability to read and cough up the appropriate fare at the end of the ride.

Off we went, merrily cruising the city streets of the Neihu district. I’m familiar enough with the commute that I was taken aback when the driver pulled off the beaten path into an alley that was crowded with cars (parked on both sides of the street as well as oncoming) and scooters and pedestrians. The smaller alleys that branched off to the sides were filled with street vendors and shoppers. It was a mini-night market. It’s not my first time to see this sort of industry in action but it was definitely my first time to traverse such a scene in a taxi. Since this was a short-cut my driver was not wasting much time with the sight-seeing aspect of the jaunt. He moved right through the maze of bodies at an alarming clip…narrowly missing cars, scooters and pedestrians.

 

A road less traveled: the Neihu shortcut.

This image will hopefully give you some idea of the route. I marked the shortcut in blue (starting at point “A”). Normally the drivers will either take a right on JinHu Rd (from the top of the image, near the Neihu MRT station) or they will follow the MRT around the Dahu Park & Lake. The City Lake Hotel (where I’m staying) is at the junction of JinHu Rd and ChengGong Rd.

 

All of this is just meant to provide context. It was dark. It was harrowing. And just when I thought we were clear (because we’d gotten past the crowded part of the alley) the lane narrowed and traffic thinned and the driver picked up speed. I don’t think I can do justice to the thrill and exhilaration of jouncing along like I was on some sort of foreign joy ride. Well…I guess it was some sort of foreign joy ride. It might be worth noting that the driver appeared to be at least 60 years old. I’ll give him credit for being a master of his trade.

I also felt a thrill when he pulled onto JinHu Rd and I knew immediately where I was. There’s something to be said for spending enough time in a foreign city that it becomes that familiar. At least this little corner of the city has become familiar. Here’s a broader perspective.

If tomorrow turns into a repeat of today, minus the taxi ride, then I promise I’ll share my reflections on my movie-watching adventures. I don’t want to leave you hanging.

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Tales (or Tails) of Traveling Fran

On my first trip to Taiwan in 1999 I spent most of my time scoping out and making mad dashes to the nearest available restrooms. I saw more porcelain thrones than any other site we elected to see. As part of the business trip we visited three of our top suppliers’ development facilities, spending one day with each touring their labs and offices as well as spending hours in stuffy conference rooms sharing endless slides about expectations for collaborative efforts. We also spent a full day (at the end of the visit) touring the city. I barfed each of the companies we visited, as well as christening the facilities at the Chiang Kai-shek Memorial, the National Palace Museum and the Sun Yat-sen Memorial Hall. I barfed at the local hospital…not because I was admitted there, but because it was convenient.

Many years passed before I made my second trip, but I had laid a strong foundation for my propensity to barf during my world travels. On that first trip I was throwing up before I ate my first foreign meal. On at least one other trip I was sick during the trans-Pacific flight. Most of the other “bad experiences” found me indisposed within a few days of my arrival. By “indisposed” I mean incapacitated from nausea and vomiting. Needless to say, I try whatever means are at my disposal to remain “disposed”. And when something works, I stick with it.

For example, I’ve come to appreciate the magical powers of Pringles and peanuts, although I can acknowledge it’s probably their salt content – nothing magical about that. As a means to an end (that being not barfing) I swear by them and carry plenty with me on each overseas trip. Additionally, I drink as much as 3-4 liters of water during the 24 hour trip from Austin to Taipei. And yes, it’s no coincidence that I ask for an aisle seat. I am convinced that the lack of salt in the Chinese cuisine, compounded by the desiccating effects of airplane air, contributes to dehydration.

As I’ve gained experience, both positive and negative, I’ve tailored my travel quirks accordingly. One such quirk is the wearing of the Golf Shirt. I suppose it’s an average golf shirt, as golf shirts go. It’s black with thin horizontal stripes. The fabric and pattern travel well, consistently resisting stains and wrinkles, looking no worse for the wear and tear brought on by the 11,000 mile journey.

It’s a men’s shirt. I don’t kid myself into believing it flatters me in the least, probably quite the opposite. But, it is loose-fitting, exquisitely comfortable, it breathes and it seems to have some sort of temperature control. It’s wonderful and I’m reluctant to travel without it.

But of course there’s a catch. As much as I love the Golf Shirt I’ve yet to make it through this journey without at least once tricking one of the airport toilets into believing I vanished from the stall, triggering the automatic flush and alarming myself immeasurably in the process. This inspires an internal conversation about the wisdom of wearing a shirt that renders me invisible to the magic eye in airport stalls. So far, the outcome of the argument is always the same. An unexpected flush is a small price to pay for a traveling Golf Shirt that has so much else going for it.

I’m delighted to report that my barfing days seem to be behind me, but I appreciate the irony that I’m still plagued by restroom follies.

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Desire

Taylor’s hand stroked the fender with a gentle, loving caress. The car, with sleek lines and curves like a woman’s body, sat low and lean in the showroom. An almost sexual longing stirred within him.

This Porsche Carrera GT, so beautiful, luxurious and powerful, wanted him also; he knew this to be true. He cupped the smooth body, tilting his head, considering the sticker adhered to the window. She was fast and tight, with six-speed manual transmission, redlining at 8400 rpm and a top speed of just over 300 mph.

He turned away, sighing, his desires unfulfilled. Maybe someday.

This post was inspired by velvetverbosity.com 100 word challenge: “sleek”

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