Epilogue

NOTE: I recommend reading the following two entries in reverse order before you read this one. It'll all make more sense that way.

It wouldn't be the tropics without at least one monster rainstorm, and that came on my second night in Cherating. Remember how I said the cottages looked rickety? Well, I discovered those aluminum roofs can take quite a beating. The rain also makes quite a noise hitting them, though, so I found myself up for quite a bit of the night watching the torrential downpour from my window. Like everything else about those couple of days, it was somehow not boring even though it sounds that way as I read my own words here now. I can't explain, you'll just have to go there and see for yourself!

The rain had passed by the time the sun came up, though, so I had no problem getting up in time to catch my ride to the bus station back in Kuantan. Well, at least the rain didn't give me a problem. I got up a couple of times to look at my watch, which read shortly after 4:00, meaning I had plenty of time to sleep yet. Except that the sun was much too bright for it to be that early. On closer inspection, I discovered that my watch had stopped, since I hadn't worn it at all the previous day. Oops.

Luckily, I noticed this just in time to get my clothes on and get down to the bistro for a cup of coffee before the ride was due. I also got to chat briefly with a British tourist who had been all over Southeast Asia, and came away with all sorts of advice on more great places to visit next time. Can't wait for that to happen!

With my watch and me both back on time, I got to Kuantan in plenty of time to get the next bus to Singapore. Since I was now on the opposite coast, I got to see more countryside and such, but I didn't enjoy it quite as much as I was nervous about getting back in time to catch my plane back to Taipei. Had the trip been as quick as advertised, I would have just made it; but it wasn't even close. It ended up taking about two hours longer than it was supposed to. There were no traffic jams or breakdowns or any other good reason for the delay - as far as I could tell, they simply hadn't told the truth about how long the trip was. Oh well. There was nothing waiting for me back home until work on Monday anyhow, so one last night in Singapore didn't strike me as so bad. The only additional hangup was getting back into Singapore, since they don't stamp your passport on the Malaysian side when you take the train up to KL and I therefore didn't have documentation on when I'd entered Malaysia. The travel guide had said to expect this and to just show customs your train ticket as proof of when you'd come in. I did so and had no further problems, but it did make me wonder. If this is such a known problem that it even leads to preemtive advice from Lonely Planet, why don't they just start stamping your passport on the train? At least they do give you a stamp on the way back out of Malaysia. They're pretty neat looking stamps, too.

I got a room in a cheap but very clean (hey, it was Singapore) hostel, and indulged in a few last hours of urbane abundance. Getting to the airport in the morning was simplicity itself: it's at the end of the subway line. Actually getting on the plane proved dicier. It probably should have occurred to me that Sunday flights are likely to be more crowded than Saturday ones. I made it to Hong Kong on standby on the next flight out, but then missed the next four flights from there to Taipei. (I also had to clear customs in HK to claim my luggage and get it back on the next plane - if I ever need security clearance again, it ought to be fun explaining why I have a Hong Kong stamp on my passport when I've never actually been there. But then, since it's so close, I do hope to go there as well one of these days.) So it was a long and somewhat nerve-wracking afternoon; but I did finally get on the last flight out, at 9:45 that night - and once again got an upgrade to first class for my troubles.

And that was the end of my first big vacation over here. Worth every penny (and new Taiwan dollar and Singaporean dollar and ringgit). As we touched down in Taipei and I saw the blue neon "CKS INT'L AIRPORT" sign from the runway which had marked my very first sight in the country I currently call home, it occurred to me that that same week marked my half-anniversary in Taiwan. It's been a blur! And to think those first few hours back in February had seemed like months in their own right.

Getting off the plane, to be honest, didn't feel all that different from that very first time. I was traveling lighter and it was a less ungodly hour, but an airport at night always looks about the same if you ask me. I changed my Singapore dollars into NT just as I had done with my American ones way back when (I saved the Malaysian money as a souvenir), and had an offer for a cab ride back to Longtan before I even got out to the curb.

In the cab, I told the driver the town and the name of the apartment complex, which most cab drivers in that part of the country recognize. He didn't. I repeated it again and again, and he called a friend on his cell phone who spoke English and had the friend tell me to tell him the address I wanted in Longtan. I explained that I had. He suggested I could just give the cabbie directions once we got to Longtan. I explained that I had already agreed to do that, only my Chinese wasn't good enough to get the point across. He said he'd tell the driver that. It didn't look like the driver got the point as he continued trying to say "address" in English all the way down the highway towards Longtan.

Yep, I was definitely back in Taiwan. And I did get home without too much of a hassle.

Yet folks still lie on the beach, and some even think it's fun

Now, Cherating is truly a back of beyond beach town, and it was love at first sight. The main drag is sandy and there are rickety looking cottages (which, I would soon discover, can nonetheless withstand a heck of a thunder storm) everywhere, as well as outdoor restaurants just off the beach. And, because this is the 21st century, there was even an Internet cafe, which doubled as a library for those who wanted some light beach reading. I, however, didn't make use of that. I was here to get away from such things for a day or two.

It all reminded me of what I've heard the Florida Keys were like before they were "discovered." There are some unfortunate signs out there that Cherating is also being discovered: the travel guide mentions a luxury motel just up the road from where I stayed which features two restaurants, a disco, a pool (steps from the beach, for Pete's sake) and lots of other amenities I can't recall offhand - and says the motel "is possibly the future face of Cherating." I hope not, but...

For now, anyway, there's plenty for the more rustic traveller in all of us. I stayed at the Cherating Cottages, where I more than willingly shelled out an extra US$5 for a room with an air conditioner. The staff was friendly and accommodating and even willing to watch your luggage for you if you happened to have spent too much on the cab ride into town and had to go to the nearest ATM 12 kilometers up the road to get cash for the rent. Not that I would ever be that irresponsible, of course, but it's nice to know it could be done. And hey, if I ever were that careless, the trip to the next town might even involve a ride in the back of an ancient Mercedes taxi with right-hand drive, something some of us are willing to shell out a few bucks for anyhow. I'm just sayin'.

With all monetary issues squared away, a leisurely evening was had by all in Cherating. The cottages had a Western style bistro which only had pizzas on the menu for that night, but that was good enough for me. I got to chat here and there with a few other Western tourists, most of whom also hadn't been there before, and I finally made it down to the beach (a block away from the cottages) just at sundown for a quick walk. One more Tiger Beer at the nearest beachside bar and then I was off for an early night.

The next day - my only full day in Cherating - was the real fun, though. I was up bright and early and off to the beach, which was still mostly deserted when I got there and never got too crowded. Cherating is apparently sort of a budget getaway for those who come to Malaysia (and perhaps for the Malaysians as well); the beaches further up the east coast are reportedly nicer, but it's much more epensive to stay there and most of the beaches themselves are in the hands of private clubs.

Having not been further up the coast, all I can say is that it's a pretty good trade for those of us who stuck with Cherating. The water was warm, the view wasn't bad at all, and the whole place felt authentic in a way a private club almost certainly wouldn't. Like I said, there were other Westerners there, but there were also some locals and there was no tension between the two that I could see. Although this part of Malaysia has a big Moslem presence, it was no big deal for women to wear as little as they wanted to on the beach. In fact, it presented quite an interesting contrast to see locals in full head-to-toe regalia watching their children poke around in the tidal pools and Westerners in bikinis just a few meters away.

But of course, I wasn't there to people-watch. I was there for the water. I never quite saw the appeal of just lying on a beach for hours, even before I learned about skin cancer. No, it's always been about playing in the waves for me, and I spent hours doing that. Sitting in the shallow water just at the edge for a while, then wading out into the waves and letting them crash over me, then back again - it never got boring! I spent a lot of time thinking about things and just feeling good to be alive and where I was, and all my disappointments and regrets of the past couple of years. (Truth be told, there have only been a few of those, but they've been doozies.) And all that just seemed to wash away in the South China Sea, which not so long ago was little more to me than a memory of one page in one of those atlases I used to love so much as a kid. Once again I found myself wondering why I didn't give this life a try years ago and coming up with no good answer. I was - and am - just glad I finally did find this path. Some people never do, after all.

One day of this was enough for me, but apparently quite a few people come to Cherating and stay for quite a while. Not a bad choice at all. I highly recommend it to anyone who is in the area, and in case the Lonely Planet was right about the future of the town, I suggest you get there now!

Back to the trip

Another crazy weekend has gotten in the way of my finishing the story of my trip. Oops. I really do have a number of excuses, including a lack of running water in Longtan since the typhoon (I've had exactly one shower in the past five days), but things are finally starting to calm down - even if they're also starting to smell. So kick back and read on for the tale of my last couple of days on vacation. This'll probably be a long entry.

After my second night in Kuala Lompur, I more than happily packed my bags and grabbed the first available cab to the bus station. Like I said, I didn't dislike KL, but I also didn't enjoy it as much as I thought I would and I was definitely looking forward to the beach. The bus station was another taste of the rustic side of Malaysia: it was all outdoors, just a couple of rows of tiny shack-like buildings where they sold tickets for the various bus lines through slots in the door. Given how grungy bus stations usually are (in America and Taiwan alike, and I'm guessing most everywhere else), it wasn't a bad change.

Thanks to my recent travels, I had the currency of three countries in my pocket and it took me a while to sift out all the Singaporean dollars and pay only in ringgit. Then it was a matter of waiting on the curb in the sunshine for an hour. That, of course, was one of those memories of travel that are kind of exotic and fun to say you've been through, but they really aren't that much fun to actually live. Still, it was a bit interesting to watch the everyday life of this faraway land go by.

In any case, the bus arrived just a minute or two late (which, I would soon learn, is very impressive by Malaysian standards) and I was off on the ride across the peninsula to the east coast. It took about four hours, but it truly was never boring - when you're seeing a new country for the first time, even the countryside you see from the highway is fascinating, at least for me it is. Of course, it wasn't anything unique compared to Taiwan, except of course that it was cleaner and less developed!

My first stop was in Kuantan, which was billed in the travel guide as a good transit point for those on their way to the coast thanks to its big bus depot, and not much else. From what I could see, this was basically true. It looked like your average small city, interesting to me only because I was from halfway around the world. A week or so after I got back to Taiwan, though, I would read about Kuantan in the paper: it seems a young woman there was trying to earn a place in the Guinness Book of World Records by living in a glass room full of scorpions for several days. She would be doing this in a mall in Kuantan, so the public could see. I can't quite decide whether or not I'm sorry I missed that one!

Anyhow, after the bus arrived, I waited for a while for another bus to Cherating, the resort I'd settled on; but as of half an hour past the time that bus was supposed to leave, it hadn't even arrived. So I settled on taking a cab out to Cherating, which according to the travel guide would cost 40 ringgit (a bit over $10 US). That price turned out to be exactly right - I do wonder how Lonely Planet keeps so up to date on these things. So I got to Cherating at around 4:00 in the afternoon, with a few hours of sunlight left to possibly take advantage of, at least.

...And walked out with my soul (and my apartment) untouched

Taiwan got slammed by a typhoon this week, handing me an unplanned two day vacation as it was too dangerous for anyone, teacher or student, to be going to school. I lost a few bucks in wages as a result, but there's nothing quite like watching a typhoon from your fourth floor kitchen window!

I really was going to put up the final installment of my vacation journal today, but I'm too busy catching up on homework I couldn't correct until this afternoon and such. I'll do my best to have it up tomorrow. See y'all then.

The Young and the Vegetables

It was a lovely morning in Longtan today. A bit drizzly as I left my apartment building, but I got in without getting too wet. The big storm came just after I got into the building, as it happened, and kept up for quite a while. There isn't much that's more cozy than spending a morning in a room full of happy kids with rain coming down in sheets outside. So my whininess of last week has officially subsided. Now, on to today's story...

Maybe some of you remember the story of Peter, my kindy student whose mother ordered us not to make him eat his vegetables at lunchtime. I have feared all along that sooner or later, some of the other kids would start complaining about having to eat veggies when he didn't. Sure enough, it finally happened today.

The complainer was Peter's friend and frequent partner in crime, Young. (Some of the parents here give their kids English "names" that aren't really names at all in the English speaking world.) I'd suspected for a while that he would be the first to protest, since he sits near Peter and plays with him a lot, and I'd even solicited advice for just such an eventuality. One colleague suggested half in jest that we could just tell Young that if he eats his vegetables, he'll grow bigger and stronger than Peter. It's not the most diplomatic thing I could say and a five year old won't necessarily find it a convincing argument, but it seemed worth a try.

And so I did try. When I spooned out some greens to put in Young's lunch bowl today, he said, "No, teacher!" and gestured to Peter (who, as it happened, did take some veggies today anyhow).

I leaned in conspiratorily and said, "You know, Young, if you eat your vegetables, you'll grow bigger and stronger than Peter," and dropped the greens in his bowl as I said it. (It was all I could do not to say "If you eat your vegetables you'll be able to beat Peter up." That one might have gotten me in a bit of trouble.)

Young looked at the vegetables in his bowl, looked at me, looked at Peter, evidently thought about what I had just said, and then pointed at the serving plate of vegetables.

And he said...







..."More, please."

Yeah, I know I ought to be ashamed of myself. But hey, he's a smart kid!

By the way, Peter does sometimes eat veggies without an argument now, although he tends to spill more food on his shirt than he ever gets into his mouth. It's a start.

Together at last

As of 7:30 or so this morning, a year and a half of waiting and wondering is over!

A word of advice. If someone you know only slightly ever sends you an odd-but-sincere sounding e-mail, don't be afraid to respond! It certainly changed my life.

Meanwhile, back in DC...

Warning: Those of you who believe being honest and open about one's past troubles and unfairness amounts to whining might want to skip this post. Alternatively, you might also want to consider the possibility that sometimes people have good reasons to be upset about things. Just a thought.

I interrupt the account of my vacation because I'd like to share some news and thoughts which, I hope, will lend some perspective on why my last couple of days in Malaysia were so cathartic and overdue. I got an e-mail recently from a friend I used to work with back in DC. It seems that my ex-boss from my first job out of grad school has been promoted. He's now the second in command for the entire bureau I worked for under him.

Now, this individual is basically pure evil, but I also feel like I probably ought to be grateful to him in a perverse way, because he's the one who started the chain of events that led to my coming to Taiwan. He started it by trying to fire me, for no discernable reason that he ever actually shared with me. He had a reputation for such things - something I have often desperately wished I were aware of when I took the job in the first place, but of course I wasn't.

All told, I worked for him (if you can call it that) for a bit less than a year. For nine months, I went to work every day and did the best I could to learn how to do my job, with extremely little guidance from him or anyone else. (I'm tempted to say there was no guidance at all, but the memories of this time are fuzzy now as I've done my best to block it all out.) Although I was often vaguely aware that the boss didn't like me, I never received any kind of specific criticism that would have enabled me to change that. Besides, he didn't seem to like anyone too much, and at least I didn't call in sick when I was really just taking a long weekend, or take off three hours early on a Friday, like colleagues of mine did. They got in trouble for it, but no one's employment status was ever threatened as long as they agreed never to do it again. So it seemed to me that I ought to be okay.

I wasn't. I got an e-mail one afternoon calling me into the boss' office, where I was told in gentle but firm terms to start looking immediately for another job. Once again, no specific reasons were given. I have my theories about the boss wanting to hire a very attractive young woman who had applied for a job at a time when there were no vacancies, but I concede that I have no proof. I did my best to reason with him, but there's really no reasoning with a dishonest man who's holding all the cards. Of course what he did was completely illegal, since he hadn't shown any kind of cause and I was exempt from the rule he was trying to invoke anyhow, but the rules only matter to the extent that they're enforced. And in this case (as in so many others where the boss doesn't like the rules), they weren't enforced at all. This led to six weeks of mostly sleepless nights and the humiliation of going in to spend eight hours a day with colleagues who knew all about what had happened while I searched desperately for a new job. In order to keep my tenure as a federal employee, I more or less had to take the first new job I could find before the ax came down (illegally, but who cared about that?).

That new job turned out to be just down the hall from the old one, which was at least convenient. But while I escaped with my employment status intact, the new job was essentially as a glorified receptionist with no substantial duties of any kind. I tried to persuade my new boss to let me take on some meatier duties, but she demurred and then refused (and later had the nerve to criticize me for "never taking the initiative"!). I ended up spending a year and a half there, first trying to make something of the new job (I felt I owed the new boss that much for bailing me out of the tough spot I'd been in), then trying to use it as a springboard to a better job. This almost worked several times, but various bulls**t bureaucratic rules always got in the way. Of course this wasn't the old boss' fault, but then if it hadn't been for him, I would never have been in a position where I was forced to take the new job.

All of which is why I was only too willing to make as drastic a move as I did this past February. I really am glad something shook me out of my inhibitions about taking such a big step that I'd always wanted to take anyhow. But it continues to gnaw at me that it all started with an unscrupulous boss who got away with being unscrupulous - and who has now received a cushy promotion. Understand, if you will, that this guy is extremely unpopular with just about everyone who knows him. His behind-the-back nickname is "The Prince of Darkness," which tells you pretty much all you need to know. I must admit that I've gotten a degree of perverse enjoyment from knowing that even if he screwed me, I have gone on to much bigger and better things and he must be a very unhappy person, since he's so unpleasant to be around. Still, the man drives a Porsche, owns a house in a ritzy Northwest DC neighborhood, has a job that enables him to travel all over the world, and can never be fired under any circumstances short of committing a felony. I find it hard to believe he's all that unhappy no matter how many enemies he has.

And there's something deeply unfair about such a person being placed in a position where he can destroy even more careers. But it does make me that much happier that I've made my escape to such a better-suited place, anyhow.

Took a lightning trip to Malaysia

I like trains. A lot. One of the things I was most looking forward to about the trip was taking the trip up to Kuala Lompur from Singapore after I slayed the GRE beast. It was a long trip - longer than anticipated, because I was a couple of hours early at the train station - and the economy line I rode on was pretty Spartan. But in a new country, everything is an adventure.

The Singapore train station is the one place I saw in that fair city that is kind of run down; but it's under renovation. I'd really like to see it again in a few years and see if it's undergone a miraculous rebirth ala Union Station or Grand Central. Malaysia is, of course, quite a bit more down at the heels than its southern neighbor, and sitting there in the station for a couple of hours, I felt a bit like I had already crossed the straits.

I lost that illusion as soon as we did get on the train and cross into Malaysia. There was quite a bit of rural poverty visible from the train throughout the six hour trip to KL, but also a lot of pretty landscapes and such. Both, of course, kept my attention for obviously different reasons, so I didn't get bored too often on the long trip.

Arriving in KL after dark, I had a slightly intimidating introduction to the city: quite a few people speak English, and there are signs everywhere, but the layout is very, well, convoluted. The main source of my confusion was that I had already decided on the hotel to spend the night at, and from the Lonely Planet guide, I thought the hotel was linked directly to the train station. It turned out that it was actually an old train station that had been renovated into a hotel, and there was a subway train that led there. But I was too tired to try to figure out the local MRT map (more about that later!), and took a cab there instead.

The hotel at the old train station was great, except that the air conditioner in my room was busted. No problem on that first night, as I was tired enough to sleep just about anywhere; but I wasn't nearly so forgiving the second night. Just one mosquito can really change your perspective on a hotel room, I find. One thing I really loved about the hotel, though, was its restaurant, which still looked very much like something you would find at an old train station - lots of ornate decor, high ceiling fans, leather chairs, a fair sprinkling of Asian kitsch, and the food wasn't bad either. Not to mention everything was quite cheap, a big draw for the country in general, actually.

Now, about the MRT. I've never run into an MRT quite like Kuala Lompur's. It's actually several different train lines run by different companies (at least three, from what I gathered), which intersect occasionally at stations and sometimes have stations across the street from each other; but since they're different companies, you have to buy separate tickets and go to separate platforms even on the occasions when they do stop in the same station. So right off the bat, that made it tricky to get around. It did at least make for some adventurous wandering around downtown KL on the morning of the one full day I spent there.

I'd like to say I spent that one full day doing something - anything - uniquely Malaysian, but, well, there honestly wasn't a whole lot to choose from in that department. I had heard that the city's boosters are trying to play it up as a cheap alternative to Singapore when it comes to shopping, and that does seem to be the case. There are stores everywhere there. I did seek out a couple of outdoor markets and spent a pleasant couple of hours browsing there, but I didn't see anything I couldn't buy back in Taiwan. I did at least manage to sample some of the local cuisine, which was terrific. Kuala Lompur also has a slightly different subset of Western food outlets than either Singapore or Taipei, so I was able to procure my first A&W root beer float since who knows when. So it wasn't all bad by any means. But I must admit that I wasn't too sorry when the sun went down and I had an excuse to go back to the hotel for dinner at that great restaurant I mentioned.

There was one interesting sighting at the hotel, which does still have a small functioning train station attached to it - I got off the MRT there, having finally deciphered the system to an extent. As I was getting off the subway, I saw the Eastern & Orient Express stopped outside the station for what looked like a refueling of some sort. With forest-green cars with gold lettering and trim, the train looked straight out of the 1930s, as did quite a few of the passengers, who were eating dinner in the plush dining cars. (Yes, you could see they were plush from all the way across the railyard!) Everything about it looked gorgeous and, of course, expensive. And naturally, it didn't make me feel so enthusiastic about getting on the train or bus (I hadn't yet decided where the next stop was at this point) out of town the next day. I'd have given a lot right then to be sitting in those air-conditioned cars in my linen suit - if I had a linen suit, anyway. My usual response to such things is to think of a pithy Fitzgerald quote that fits the scene. This time, the first thing that came to mind was the fact that Scott and Zelda spent most of their adult lives up to their eyeballs in debt!

When I got back to my room, I looked up the E&O in my tour guide, and found that hunch was right. The well-dressed passengers I had just seen had shelled out well over US$1,000 for the ride from Singapore to Bangkok, with stops in KL and Butterworth - so much for the "express" in their name! Somehow a plain old dinner of roast chicken and Tiger beer in that hot but pleasant restaurant didn't seem so bad after all.

So Kuala Lompur didn't sweep me off my feet like Singapore did. In any case, I didn't dislike it by any means and I'm glad to say I've seen it. It was a nice introduction to Malaysia, and was followed in style by my first Day At The Beach in far too long. More about that tomorrow.

Singapore swings!

Most of my friends know by now that every now and then in the past six months, I've found myself in a situation so wonderful that I actually got slightly angry at myself for not taking this road in my life years ago. The latest of these occurred on my second full day in Singapore, while sipping on a martini at the outdoor bar in the legendary Raffles Hotel on a wonderfully sunny afternoon. (I thought about getting a Singapore sling instead of a martini, but it seemed too...well, I can't think of the right adjective, but I'm sure you know what I mean.) I didn't actually stay at the Raffles, of course - it's very expensive - but much of it is open to the public and I highly recommend a visit there if you're ever in the neighborhood. Just sitting there sipping and reading and watching the other tourists breeze by - yep, it all felt wonderfully cosmopolitan.

Which is a good way to describe Singapore. It might well be the most diverse city I've ever been to, but unlike some other extremely diverse cities (notably my beloved DC), I got the distinct impression that it wasn't an intentional effort. It was just the right combination of location, history, and a simply great place to live that brought so many people together from so many different walks of life. On my first night in the city, the cab driver who brought me from the airport to my hotel told me he'd met a lot of Americans and Europeans whose companies had transferred them there for a couple of years, and when the couple of years were up, the people wound up looking for other work opportunities so they could stay there. I don't blame them!

Yes, the place is just about as pristine as they say. I did see a bit of litter here and there, but nothing compared to most cities that size. It's also much easier to find one's way around; in three days I never really came close to getting lost. You may have also heard that there are signs everywhere delineating what's not allowed, and sure enough, there are. (My favorite: no durians on the subways. No word on whether or not that ban was inspired by the smell or the fact that they could potentially be used as weapons!)

I dropped by Sentosa Island and did my fair share of window shopping in Little India, and spent a riveting couple of hours touring the old underground British army base, which is now a museum dedicated to the royal army's surrender to the Japanese in 1942. The tour guide was a survivor of the occupation as a young child, and was still quite vocally bitter about it. He had a few choice words for Japanese tourists he'd met along the way who, in his words, "wanted to tell their side of the story." I can't quite condone his attitude, but it was a heck of a tour anyway.

But the biggest draw in Singapore is probably the shopping, and I did quite a bit of that. The prices were better than I had expected and the selection was quite a ways above anything I've found in Taipei thus far. I also finally got to see "Farenheit 911," which was all I expected it to be. I cried along with everyone else over the mother from Michigan who lost her son in Iraq, laughed a bit at the boos that greeted Britney Spears for her "I think we should all support the president" remarks, and was kind of frustrated at the number of my fellow audience members to whom the notorious Seven Minutes in that classroom in Florida appeared to be news. (It's been fairly common knowledge in the progressive community for well over a year.) But at least the word is getting out now.

So overall, it was a welcome injection of Western culture in a still uniquely Asian setting. Actually, perhaps "unique" is a better way to describe it than "Asian," although Singapore is certainly both. I enjoyed it so much that the dreaded GRE I necessarily scheduled for last week was a relatively minor inconvenience. Not to mention a great sendoff for the next part of the trip: it took ten years, two degrees and three tries, but I finally cracked 700 on the verbals. Those pie-in-the-sky daydreams of Stanford or Princeton now seem just a little bit less farfetched, y'know?

Flying south on a plane, drinking all that free champaigne

Well, my first lucky break of the trip came when the flight was delayed by nearly an hour. First, it was reported that the delay involved some folks who were connecting in Taipei and whose incoming flight was late, then it involved a no-show whose luggage had to be removed for security reasons. So there I sat on the tarmac, finishing off "The Merry Month of May" (which by the way is magnificent) and not feeling too frustrated. An extra hour in Taipei was one hour less cooling my heels in Hong Kong.

So why was the delay a lucky break? Well, when I arrived at the check in for my connecting flight in Hong Kong, the woman at the counter crossed out my seating assignment and wrote in a new one. And when I got on the plane, I was directed to...first class.

Now, understand, I'm a cheapskate, except when it comes to records. First class has always struck me as appealing but not worth the extra money it involves. Besides, everybody knows how I feel about upper-crust stuff - just ask any of my friends who have ever hassled me about the university where I got my master's degree and lived to regret it. (Hey, you'd be proud too if you got in on your second try and worked your way through!) So it was quite a novelty for the quiet American in his t-shirt and Hush Puppies to be invited up to the land of wider seats and pre-flight champaigne. I sipped it demurely and read my complimentary Herald Tribune, feeling like Maggie Brown on the Titanic and expecting a flight attendant to tap me on the shoulder any second and explain that it had all been a mistake. It never happened, and I am ashamed to admit that I really enjoyed it. From the chardonnay and sauteed prawns to the ability to stretch out my legs without kicking the person ahead of me in the rear end, it was quite the nice surprise all around.

Here, then, is a hearty endorsement of Cathay Pacific Airlines for all dozen or so of my readers. This is right up there with the time I ordered a mocha at Au Bon Pain and had to wait slightly longer than usual because of a problem with their espresso machine, and was promptly given my money back and a large mocha when I'd only ordered a medium when I hadn't even noticed it was late. What's a bit sad is that I remember too well from my fast food days how the people who get most such attention have no real complaint, are being rude for the sake of being rude, and get lots of extras just so they'll shut up. Be nice to your server!

I still wouldn't pay for first class. But it was a nice glimpse beyond the curtain of "it used to be a better meal, now it's a better life."

He's on his third drink before the wheels of the plane leave the ground...

Five months of 13-hour days, coping with culture shock and adjustment, learning how to teach, working Saturdays...yep, I'm ready for a vacation.

I'm off to Singapore and Malaysia for a week, starting tomorrow. I'll try to check in now and then while I'm off, but no promises. I do, however, promise to post some news of the trip once I get back if I don't do so before then. See ya!

Nuts to you, nyah!!!

How's this for a Generation X moment? I was called in this morning at the last minute to teach some of our just-out-of-kindy kids for an hour, with no prep time. The activity involved acrostic poems with the names of animals starting with each letter in the kids' names. So the first thing we had to do was brainstorm for animals starting with each letter of the alphabet.

The kids were pretty good at this (although a few of them didn't get that I only wanted animals, not just any words starting with each letter), but we got stuck on N. Sure enough, I don't think our kindergarten program includes teaching them any animals that start with N, as I realized while standing there at the board trying frantically to think of one myself. What to do?

Fortunately, an old favorite of my own very young childhood came to mind right then. Remember Sweet Pickles? I had a complete set of the books once upon a time, and loved to read them again and again back when I had just learned to read. It hadn't even occurred to me in years to wonder if they were still in print; apparently they're not, but that Amazon link seems to indicate that they are still to be had one way or another. Quite a memory to come at me out of left field while in a tight place on the job.

Of course, remembering the books was only half the battle. I still needed to remember which animal they used for N. Soon enough, it came to me: Nightingale. I misspelled it on my first try and I'm sure the kids couldn't even begin to pronounce it, but it was good enough for the moment. Good old Nasty Nightingale - the title line of this post is her signature phrase.

That misty memory also came in handy on Q(uail) and U(nicorn). I did, however, decide aginst using Xerus for X (I went with Fox instead, as is more or less official school policy for that one). I seem to recall some debates with grown-ups when I was a kid as to whether there really was such a thing as a xerus, even after I found an encyclopedia article complete with a picture of a real one. That, of course, would not be the only time I got the final word from a teacher on something I knew she was wrong about. (Hey, doesn't everybody know "RSVP" stands for "Respond Soon Very Promptly"?)

Besides, even if we are going for animal words, I still tend to go with the immortal advice of Shel Silverstein: "X is for xylophone, because X is always for xylophone!"

Edited to add: Um, yes. I am indeed aware that if I didn't want to use Xerus because some people don't think they're real, I probably shouldn't have used Unicorn either. But hey, unicorns are fun to draw and kids usually know what they are. Can you draw or explain a xerus?

Those were the days - six months ago

In a happy update to the last message, I found my receipt for last month's rent this morning. When I got to work and recounted that stroke of luck to my colleagues, one of them said he thought maybe the call from the realtors was really intended for him anyway. He didn't say whether or not he had actually paid his rent on time (but it sounded to me like he hadn't!).

While looking for the receipt this morning, I found a journal I hadn't written in in a few months, which made for a fun impromptu trip down a fairly recent Memory Lane just before I took off for work. The journal included some of my very first thoughts on Life In Taiwan, which I wrote down before I'd even arrived here.

I wrote the first entry in the departures lounge at the Baltimore airport, when the journey was barely underway - although I had already accomplished the single hardest part: dragging all six of my bags from my old apartment to the cab, then into and through the train station in DC and off the train in Baltimore (with a lot of help from some generous Amtrak personnel) and from the station platform up to the bus-stop for the shuttle to the airport. I recall a lot of carrying two bags ten feet or so, dropping them and running back for two more, and so forth until I got to the bus-stop. Whatever emotional process I was sorting through on that morning of my departure from DC after six years was pretty much drowned in physical exhaustion and attention to the unpleasant task immediately at hand. When I finally got to the check-in, I was told just what I had expected: there would be an excess baggage fee for my luggage. No problem. I'd have happily paid three times what they charged me at that moment.

All of which is my rather wordy way of saying I was too stressed and sore to be wistful or nervous about the trip. Not until I got to the gate and settled down for the three-hour wait for boarding with my blissfully light two remaining bags, anyway.

But there lies the surprise. Re-reading the entry I wrote that morning, I was surprised at how un-sentimental I sounded about it all. There are a couple of reasons for this - no matter how many wonderful memories DC held for me, my recent experiences there had been very, very unhappy for the most part, I was delighted to be going to Taiwan no matter what I was leaving behind, I had a feeling I'd be coming back sooner or later anyhow, I was nervous about learning how to do my new job - but still, it all didn't sound much like me.

What's really funny is that I still remember writing that first entry (it has, after all, not really been that long!), and even then I knew that it was one of those experiences that would turn into a wonderfully misty memory soon enough. But even given that awareness, I can recall gazing out onto the tarmac in the chilly noonday sun and feeling...not much. I knew I'd miss my friends, of course, but several of them were also leaving DC before long anyhow (one of them was taking off that very afternoon, no less) and I'd been the one staying behind on those goodbyes dozens of times before. So there was no sense of leaving the nest or anything. No, right then, the closest I had to a profound thought was wondering how much warmer it would be in Taipei.

Sure enough, I do have some pretty fond memories of those first hours. Reading about my fears and concerns this morning, I was pleased to realize that things have worked out better than I'd dared to hope at the time. But what I recall more than anything about that day is thinking I should have some sense of being in the midst of a truly earthshattering moment of my life, but failing to work up any such thing.

That, and being glad I'd finally stowed those four bags!

Such is often the case with the really big changes in life when we're already aware that they are taking place, I guess. That sense of momentousness I was looking for must be part surprise, and there was no surprise that morning.

More thoughts on this tomorrow, unless y'all think I'm already being too indulgent! (My memories of those last hours in the USA have become quite fascinating to me, as you can see...)

Random grousing

So I head downstairs around lunchtime to clock out of kindy and into language school (the books for the two are kept separately), and the receptionist tells me Century 21 called. "You need to pay your rent for July."

"No, I don't, because I paid it three weeks ago on the day it was due."

"But they call."

But they call. The language barrier strikes again, since I can't just call back and tell them I specifically remember handing the money to the woman behind the counter and showing her my envelope with the address written on it in Chinese so she could write the receipt.

And then doubt seeps in. Did I get a receipt at all? I think I did. If I did, then I know exactly where I would have put it, but did I? At the moment, I can't even run home to check as it's raining too hard to venture home. Besides, there's the principle of the thing. Why should I inconvenience myself over their mistake?

If I didn't get a receipt, let 'em just try to screw me on the rent without being able to talk directly to me (only one guy in the office speaks English). This would happen just when my finances were starting to look really good, now, wouldn't it? I know it'll probably all work out fine, but it's a hassle I really didn't need on a Monday.

At least it's a pretty good Monday. I got some really good writing done yesterday for the first time in a while, and my plans for next week's big trip are finally starting to take shape (and precedence over my GRE practice, which is finally showing some results!).