Test taking skills v.s. Life skills; What do we really need to succeed?

It was only a few months into to teaching that I realized, excessive studying is not actually beneficial to my students. In my highest level English class, a small group of 12-13 year olds, we were learning about careers when I asked each student, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Expecting to hear the usual answers of any teen, singers and movie stars, all I heard back in response was “Teacher, I don’t know.” Nearly all my students replied the same, except one who answered incredulously, “Teacher we don’t have time to think about these things!” How sad, I thought at the time, that these students don’t even have the free time to daydream about becoming the next Miley Cyrus, let alone a doctor or scientist.

Over my course of time here in Taiwan, I’ve come to see that indeed these students don’t have time for daydreaming. In school from 7:30 in the morning until 10 at night, these kids are cramming 14 hours a day to survive in a world where only passing the test matters. Meanwhile year after year, in the U.S. we hear the same statistics; U.S. students are falling farther and farther behind their Asian counterparts in science and math. And with all the evidence showing that Americans are performing poorly in international education tests, the fears that we’ll see our American jobs start to slip away overseas in 20 years become more and more realistic.

So while we continue to feel these statistics bear down on us and begin reevaluating our education system, I beg to argue, is a good test score all you need to become a success in the working world?

Here in Taiwan, by age 12 nearly all kids have attended ‘buxiban’ or cram school for at least a few years. Cram school is just that, a school where children come to study more for the seemingly endless exams they have to take to get into junior high school, high school and college. It is here that most Taiwanese kids spend their evenings, from when public school ends at 4 p.m. until 9 or 10 p.m. at night, only to return home and attend to homework until midnight. Cram schools exist for a range of subjects here in Taiwan including science, math, history, Japanese and English with most students taking a variety of subjects in a given week. Practice tests are taken repeatedly at these schools with grades lower than an 80 to 90, resulting in an automatic redo. It is a culture of test taking and it is no wonder that Taiwanese students repeatedly score among the highest in the world.

Yet when I reflect on the skills needed to find success in my adult life, I hardly believe that skills in memorization or in test taking came in handy as much as the other skills honed outside of test taking. In fact, I’ve found that social skills are among the most important in landing a job. Straight out of college, a good friend of mine applied to a highly coveted position in the technology department of a large bank. Although he had good enough grades to get his foot in the door, it was his first remark that made him stand out from all the other applicants, “So how about them Yankees?” He was hired immediately and remains there to this day. What ultimately set him apart from his better educated peers and persuaded his interviewers to hire him came not from his hours spent studying, but from the confidence he grew while playing football in high school and his casual demeanor perfected through so many opportunities to socialize.

Problem solving, creativity, patience, determination, a competitive drive and social skills were essential for me in not only securing my first real job in New York, but also in keeping it. These skills were learned on the sports field, in the art room and during many of my extracurricular activities that students in Taiwan forgo altogether in order to spend more time studying.

And since all their waking hours are spent studying, most students here will not have time to even think of applying for a part time job until they reach college. By college graduation, it is likely they will have only ever held one or two jobs. Had I not experienced painful monotony of refolding sweaters while working in retail, the verbal abuse involved in telemarketing, or the pressure of working as an assistant for a pregnant paralegal, I imagine I’d have lasted about 2 days on my first job in NY. So as my kids fret away over a poor grade of 89, I fear these young students of Taiwan will graduate college without ever experiencing the misery of bagging groceries and having never had the chance to dream for something bigger and better out of life.

Perhaps most importantly, not only do they not have time for an after school sport, or a part time job, but they lack the spare time to let their imaginations run wild, for dreams to form and creativity to bloom. Though we can learn much from an Asian students’ work ethic, diligence, and discipline, I think there is something sad about a culture where children’s dreams and curiosity are set aside. While the critics fret about losing jobs overseas in the near future, I think we can rest easy knowing the U.S. holds a unique culture of creativity, bravado and idealism where big ideas, new technologies and innovations can come to life.

When it comes to preparing our children for the future, perhaps there’s more to consider than simply measuring test scores. A well- rounded child is like a perfect cookie recipe, too much of any one ingredient will ruin the batch. So before we start to increase the hours in the classroom, perhaps we can think about the importance of letting kids be kids and not take for granted the lessons taught outside of school. And to truly improve our education system, we can learn from Asia, not by copying the amount of time in the classroom, but by emulating the care and energy invested in each child’s education by the parents, the teachers and children themselves.

A mom takes her child from public school to buxiban as the sun is starting to go down

High school students end class at 4 and make their way home for a snack before attending buxiban classes at night

Reading Between the Lines in a World Where One Can't Read

It’s funny how blatant illiteracy makes life twice as hard as necessary. Yes life is hard for even those of us who can read, but most of you out there don’t walk into a restaurant and have to order the only thing you recognize on the written menu, 牛肉(cow meat) and then have to eat some surprise curried beef innards because you couldn’t read the 10 other characters in the description. I’m lucky though, because I’m a pretty carefree individual. Eating beef innards is the least of my worries and can actually be pretty good sometimes. And for the most part in Taiwan, English is everywhere, pictures everywhere else and when in doubt a very kind, bright Taiwanese person will be there to offer help when asked.

I’ve only had a few occasions of my illiteracy bringing any kind of real embarrassment. One time at my gym, it was about 10 at night and as I finished up my work out I casually breezed by a huge sign in Chinese at the entrance of the locker room without giving it a second thought. I took a nice long shower and relaxed in the fact that I, for once, had the locker room to myself. And since I don’t own a full length mirror at my house, I took advantage of the huge mirrors and empty locker room to openly check out my own butt and see if it was actually getting smaller or if my pants are just getting bigger somehow. Mid self butt check out a very, very surprised looking carpenter rounds the corner only to see me, in my underwear, checking out my own ace. Honestly, I think he was more embarrassed than me. He’s probably never seen a white girl’s booty, or really any booty (this is Asia people). Only then did I realize that reading would have been helpful. He immediately left and didn’t come back, probably reporting me to the manager.

Pathetically, that was the 2nd time I’d embarrassed myself at my gym, the other time being when I called them by accident thinking it was my travel agent and asked them when I could come pick up my ticket to Thailand. Instead of rightfully telling me I was an idiot, they transferred me around to a number of people at the company and set up a time for me to come in and come get my ticket. I think we both had some kind of communication issues going on. Needless to say when I realized what I had done (you know after my actual travel agent called me and told me to come get my tickets) I had to call them back and apologize and explain, that no I didn’t need to come to the gym to pick up my ticket to Thailand after all. All of this wouldn’t have happened if I could just understand the first thing they said when I called, “Hello, this is True Fitness.” Oh well.

Another recent illiteracy problem came shortly after my birthday when a great influx of mail came my way. Basically I don’t give out my address because I don’t really know it. There are numbers that go in places that seem wrong and all the doors surrounding my door on the street are also number 11, so I don’t get how it works. But I gave out my address to a few friends and family and surprisingly had packages delivered to me on my birthday. It would have been great if it was just that simple, I open my mailbox and there is a big box of birthday joy for me, but no, this is Taiwan.

Instead I have two slips all in Chinese with my name on them. My roommate luckily translates it for me and tells me one says to go to a post office a 10 minute bus ride away and the other he’s not sure what it is (and he is Taiwanese so you already know that’s bad when he can’t understand it). The next day, I go to the post office and wait in line at the counter for my turn. I get to the counter and the poor girl starts speaking a mile a minute and pointing for me to go out the door. Apparently I’m at the wrong pick up place. So I walk around the corner to where I think she is pointing into an open truck bay and give the slip to another postal worker who tells me to go to a deserted parking lot. I, of course, follow blindly to where he points. There another worker points to an elevator in a building across the way and keeps saying “sun lo”, which I actually understand as floor three. So then I enter this vacated warehouse of a building and take the elevator to floor three where an old, disheveled and braless woman takes my slip and points at my name several times. I show her my passport and ARC card, but she still seems uncertain of my identity for some reason. Probably because this is where most people come to sell their kidneys to the black market and not to try to pick up packages. But she disappears for a bit and comes back after a few minutes with a box covered in my sister’s hand writing. I am relieved.

Perhaps too relieved because then I pull out the second slip and try to ask her what it is and where do I go to get it. After what seems like an endless amount of speech that I don’t understand, I give up and just say in Chinese “yes, yes correct, good ok, yes. I know I know.” I fool her good. She writes down an address and gives it to me. I assume this is where I need to go to get my other gift, and by golly, it’s my birthday and I want my presents.

Knowing I'm on a few minutes away from ripping open another gift, I hop in a cab and head to the other post office. I am happy to see it is a post office branch when we arrive and not some greasy fish market where an uncertified back alley surgeon is waiting to take my liver. The next 20 minutes is the same as before, walking from office, to parking lot, to truck bay, to inner office, to room of confused and staring post office workers. There finally a very nice gentleman takes me aside and reads my slip. He makes a few phone calls and comes back to me, in perfect English stating “your package will arrive tomorrow.” Oh… thanks. But I work at that time, I tell him and then he personally schedules it to arrive on a Sunday when I’m free, even though they are closed on Sundays. Then he takes my cell phone number and says they’ll call me when they’re close to my house. Then a few hours later he calls me just to remind me that in the future I can just call him instead of coming all the way into his office to ask about a package. I was mortified. If only I could read!

Sadly for the most part, I’ve become quite tolerant of my illiterate status. I get on buses not knowing where their going although their map is clearly outlined in front of me. I say to myself as soon as the sun is at my back, I’ll be headed east and should get off immediately. Then once on the street hassle some poor doorman as to where the heck I am. Amazingly this usually works out for me ok. My foreign friends and I all travel like this, like some kind of retarded herd of humans, wandering aimlessly, yet we always end up at our destination somehow. Well most of us. My friend Michael has a penchant for taking trains that go everywhere but his intended destination including ones that are express 2 hour long rides to the other end of the island.

In many ways my lack of understanding is beneficial to me on a daily basis. I have no idea what my bad kids are saying in class. They could be telling me they hate me and think I smell like rotten dairy products, but I’d never know so I treat them much nicer because of it. And when I watch TV I have no problem toning out commercials or ignoring those annoying typhoon warnings that run across the screen. And since I can’t read the advertising on the subways, I make up my own commentary to go with the imagery provided for breast enlarging electric bras and fat burning pills, “With each zap to your boob, you are slowly increasing your chances of death by stroke while simultaneously making your curves curvier!” “Feel the burn! Not from exercising, but from the pain unleashed by thousands of fat eating tadpoles naturally hungry for your belly fat!” Life, I find, is much more entertaining this way.

So illiteracy may have its downfalls, but for the most part one can survive without mishap fairly easily. Maybe it’s my incredible skills of deduction, or my ability to successfully guesstimate with surprising accuracy that makes living life illiterate bearable. Or perhaps it’s just the fact that when one must survive off of the kindness of others, Taiwan will never be in short supply of a friendly face.

Home is where your pig is

I haven’t been studying Chinese very long, but I’m slowly falling in love with it, while slowly losing my mind trying to learn it. It has to be one of the most challenging (if not the most challenging) languages on the planet. Props to all of those out there who after years of studying can now read a newspaper. I may never accomplish this feat. And although I am more often than not frustrated at determining the difference between sounds and tones that my ears cannot distinguish and my mouth cannot mimic, or trying desperately to understand how the exact same sound and exact same tone can mean multiple words solely based on context, I am somehow learning! I can even hold riveting conversations with cab drivers about why Taiwanese boys don’t like American women (you know, we’re too big, we’re too tall, etc.).

But as if speaking and hearing were not hard enough, it’s the reading and writing that I find is taking up most of my time. As my roommate put it, “and you wonder why Chinese people all have bad eyes, just look at what we have to read!” He’s correct, there’s no way to really read all the thousands of unique characters without (at least in the beginning) straining your neck and eyes bent over, trying to differentiate all the strokes, dots and lines that make up the Chinese lexicon, all of which need to be memorized in order to determine meaning.

So here I am, bent over my desk like a cripple, reading and scrawling away at something that looks like a 4 year old wrote it, probably worse than a 4 year old, but feeling rather accomplished. And I’ve actually been finding memorizing characters more and more enjoyable as I come to learn why each character looks as complicated as they do. I think there’s something beautiful about a language that expresses ‘be careful’ by saying “small heart” because if you had a small heart, you’d be very careful with it, wouldn’t you? And I love that the character for good, is the image of a woman with a baby. Home is a roof with a pig under it and friend is two hands clasped together. To see is a hand over an eye, to want of course involves the depiction of a woman, to have is a hand holding meat and the character for mother boils down to just a pair of nipples. And my favorite, although it doesn’t look, but sounds the same, is the word for difficult which is ‘nan,’ the same sound that is used for man. How perfectly clear.

At some point, I’m sure the characters will stop being silly depictions and sounds will become unique and distinct to me. But that probably won’t be until I’m much older, married to my difficult man, living under a roof with a pig and tending to my motherly duties with my nipples bared, yelling, “Small heart! Small heart!”

Mother

Do you see those sideways nips?

Home

The top line means roof, the character below means pig, and this is how you get 'home'

When life makes it hard to blog

I know, I know its been 5 weeks since I've written. I should have warned anyone who actually wanted to read this on regular basis (yes all four of you) I can't commit to my blog. I love writing, I do, but I'm easily distracted by things like alcohol, and working 6 days a week. So I apologize. I promise I'll try harder, bla bla bla (or as they say here, bra bra bra hehe). I also have gotten to a point where I'm beginning to feel embarrassed every time I order some steaming delicious dumplings and whip out my camera as soon as they land on the table. I suppose I want to stop being the tourist I am and be a real resident of society, but who am I kidding? Between the freckles and blatant illiteracy I think they'll always call my bluff. But speaking of dumplings, Mike and I ate some ridiculously good Japanese curry dumplings (I have no photo, so you have to take my word for it). I promised him when I got home I'd try to recreate them in our kitchen. That'll be a whole 'nother blog in itself. Ok the long awaited new entry is below. More to come soon too!

A student's life in Asia

The life of a child here in Taiwan is led by rules, discipline and honor. The pressure I see bestowed upon these children daily is seriously incredible. My best students rise daily at 5am to begin their day of studying, school, extra school (buxiban) and homework, not returning home until 10pm at night. The hours they spend at home are busy with homework and studying for a single exam that will dictate the direction of the rest of their life upon its completion. This is no SAT, this is the high school entrance exam all Taiwanese kids must take. The results of this test will determine what high school they can attend which will determine which college, which will determine their future jobs. The results of this exam will also be the pride or chagrin of their parents. Mind you, these are the parents that they hardly see, who are off working hours upon hours to pay for their child's extensive education.

It is the end of the summer and summer vacation is coming to a close. Yet, most students have no stories of trips to the beach or picnics in the park, but only a summer spent in extra buxiban courses, at educational camps and doing more intense studying for their upcoming exam.

Since when did Asia decide that the responsibility free portion of life be taken away from their young population? I'm not sure, but this intense focus on education permeates society, and is now a way of life for nearly everyone except those too poor to afford it.

I've always cherished my childhood memories, my summers spent care-free, running around in the sunshine and outside in the sandbox all day. I'd return home wonderfully tanned and covered in filth to a big home cooked meal and make plans for what tomorrow's adventure would be. Sure, I had hardships too. After all I used to have to clean the bathroom and weed my garden in order to get my weekly allowance, which was eagerly spent with a bike trip to the town grocery store. Candy was a quarter and I could fill my bag to the brim with Fun Dip, the childhood equivalent to cocaine. But mostly I spent my days adventuring throughout nature, studying any new bug I came across and playing in the stream with my dog. My family would go to the lake, or out on the boat and some summers I even spent learning to ride horses and taking pottery lessons. I cannot begin to imagine the lessons I learned while playing in the neighbors cornfield, losing myself in nature and feeling overwhelmed by the beauty of the big blue sky above me. Perhaps with every breath of fresh air I was reminded of my small and inconsequential existence in this massive world, of the bigger things, the more important things in life. Or perhaps, more likely, I didn't learn a damn thing out there in that corn field except not to run around the day after the manure was spread. But at least I was allowed to experience that feeling of freedom, the lack of responsibility and time to explore on my own without dictation.

These kids will never have that, they will never have endless days to explore all that is around them, through touching, smelling and playing, not studying. They'll never get to let their curiosity run wild and guide them to learn about what they choose. Arts, sports and music are pushed to the wayside here, for there's not enough time in the day to study for 15hrs and do a sport as well.

One of my favorite students, Linda, is a perfect example of how different our two worlds are. She slowly shuffles her way into class every Tuesday night, 20 minutes late, looking disheveled and exhausted. She tries not to fall asleep as class ends at 9. She studies hard and has good sense of humor, so she does well in class considering her lack of energy. This weekend she graduated her 16th level of English studies. While other students posed for photos with their diplomas, she helped me clean up and when asked how she'd celebrate her graduation, she said she'd be studying all weekend, and every weekend, until her high school entrance exam was taken. This exam doesn't take into account that she's a budding female Tiger Woods or that she's woken up at the crack of dawn for the last year to fit all of her studies, including extra English class and practice into each day. This exam will only acknowledge what she has memorized at that moment, on that day. She said that her mother has never really approved of her love for golf and that scholarships for that kind of thing aren't really available, so its a waste in most respects. But its the one thing she loves, so she'll keep making it fit into her schedule as along as she can. Once she finds out what high school she tests into, she may find that playing golf is no longer feasible for her. She won't return to English class this new semester and as sad as I am to see her go, I hope that she can make some use of the extra four hours a week she gains, by sleeping or playing golf, but I know she'll most likely spend it studying.

And to think, when I was her age, the most pressing matter of the day was what to wear on my first day of high school, and where the hell my locker was.

Even at a younger age like 2 or 3, when I was probably still in diapers and crying for my mommy, Taiwanese kids are already feeling pressure to perform. Of the 20 2-3 year olds I teach daily, nearly all of them can take off and put on their own shoes, feed themselves (this entails pulling out their own bowl and spoon, cleaning them off after and putting them away), go to the bathroom themselves (I mean it, no help wiping even) and are responsible for themselves in more ways than most 6 year olds in the U.S. are. Currently they all know their colors, numbers, alphabet and emotions, all this in a second language. They come in each morning stating "I am angry" or "Today is Sunny and hot". All of which blows me away everyday. To think a child not even up to my waist can do all of these things is incredible to me. But to the parents, it's just what they expect of their pride and joy and many expect even more. One student's father has told me if she can memorize and recite the alphabet clearly (of her 2nd language, at AGE 2) she can go to Disneyland. She knows everything but forgets the letter X sometimes. Another parent complains to me hat his 2 year old doesn't fully understand the meaning behind the full sentences she's learned like, "This is a zebra." As if I could teach a 2 year old what it means to 'be' let alone what it means to be a zebra. Its absolutely insane, but alas, this is Taiwan.

You'd think the children of Asia would be on the verge of mental collapse, that the pressures placed on them by society and their families would be too great for their small shoulders to carry, but they know no different and all their friends do exactly the same. Most children even display an innate sense of maturity, that motivates them to learn a new language no matter how much extra homework and studying it involves. Instead of crying or whining over the long hours of studying, they find joy in a good grade or a classroom friendship. They find time to pass notes and discuss crushes and I've even seen them laugh until tears rolled down their cheeks. Amazingly, they're not unhappy children. In fact, I think they're very happy and are able appreciate the little things more than any spoiled American child ever could.

Will the youth of Taiwan look back 10 years from now and question where their childhood went? Will they wish they spent their Saturday mornings watching cartoons and eating sugary cereal? I think not. They'll remember their friends from school, their crushes and inside jokes; and maybe even their English teachers and they'll do it all in perfect English.

It must be because of all the 'effin cute Asian babies

In case I haven't told you, I now live in a warm, bubbly world where cartoon characters rule the streets. Taiwan's infatuation with cuteness can best be explained as a Disney Princess that met Pokemon, fell in love, had babies and then started an advertising firm. Everywhere you go you will be surrounded by cartoon logos and Asian caricatures. From crossing the street where the crosswalk symbol is a little man in a rice paddy hat waddling two and fro, flashing green, to ordering dinner by pointing at the precious baby cow cartoon on the menu, you will find life is increasingly adorable (much like Sarah Palin). Nearly 80% of all reputable companies' logos are composed of a baby animal or make believe creature with giant enticing eyes. Ohh ok, I'm making that up. But I dare you walk down a street in Taipei and not see an adorable construction man cartoon telling you to wear a hard hat. It's impossible.

From Happy Chan to Domo, Doraemon to the walking talking head of sushi that represents Sushi Express, life is nothing but cuteness on a stick here in Taiwan (or so they want you to believe). Yet the cartoons don't stop with the logos, nope. They are plastered across the bodies of grown women, women covered head to toe in Mickey Mouse and Winnie the Pooh. Not an ounce of shame in their eyes as they make their way to the office in the morning, prancing around like a 5 year old on Christmas day in their new Hello Kitty pajamas. And its not just women! Grown men walk around in clothes and hats covered in crazy monkey cartoons, wearing shirts with teddy bears that are holding hands and kissing (and you wonder why my gaydar is officially broken).

Unbelievably, it gets even worse. Even the government here has taken a liking to all that looks fat, funny and happy. Informative and critical emergency protocol is often presented in hysterical cartoon form. MRT escalator warnings are shown by what looks like the waist down of Mickey Mouse (if he were to accidentally get his foot caught in the machine that is). And as for elevators, well just imagine, as the elevator doors open you watch your friend walk into not an elevator, but an open shaft of doom. This fun scenario is cheerfully represented in most elevators by a cute cartoon man, screaming his face off and freaking out as his friend plummets to his certain death. Nearby a cute puppy naps in the corner. I'm not joking.

The amazing thing is, from a business perspective, this kind of thing had to be approved by not just one high up executive, but passed through layers of account managers and designers before each detail was refined and settled upon. These hilarious cartoon warning signs probably took months to develop and approve, each time, some brilliant government employed designer saying to himself "Yes, this is perfect. The cartoon freaking out reminds you of the gravity of the situation, while the puppy reminds you life is worth living." Meanwhile the MRT public service announcement designer thought, "Indeed, this weird animé subway rider has just the right look to motivate individuals to check the balance on their prepaid metro card."

It's these geniuses that also go around approving TV commercials compiled of complete nonsense. I know, I know, you're saying to yourself, "you don't even speak their language of course it doesn't make sense to you." But believe me when I tell you, no spoken words could make sense of an iced tea ad where a nerdy life guard teaching old women water aerobics is smashed in the head with two giant lemons, falls in love with a human sized penguin and then falls down an iced tea waterfall with his new penguin friend. But alas, all of it is so darn cute. Perhaps they're onto something. Wouldn't you want to dance with a life size penguin? I know we all would if we were being honest with ourselves here.

I would like to state some kind of amazing fact about the happiness created by these cartoons here in Taiwan, like 'suicide rates are among the lowest in the world due to happy baby animals enticing me to deep fry their delicious carcasses', but a quick google search proved that theory wrong pretty quickly. Instead, I'll just leave you with some of my favorite day to day images from the cutest advertising execs in the world:

Local Steakhouse, "Come eat me, I'm all dressed up for dinner!"

Mister Donut: "Come eat me, I'm a baby lamb/cruller"

Japanese Steakhouse "Come eat here, you have the choice of adorable baby pig or adorable baby bull on a platter, both cute, delicious and viciously slaughtered for your convenience"

Local sandwich shop "Come eat me, I'm a piece of bread with a bow in my non-existent hair"

Hello Kitty Cake: "It's not enough that you wear my image plastered all over your body, come eat my face too!"

Sushi Express: "I'm a walking talking piece of sushi, I have raw fish for a hat. Eat me"

MRT informational animé. I mean really, just picture animé at Grand Central informing riders how to check their metro card balance and try not to laugh

Moving truck company: "Why hire someone that looks like a reliable, strong individual, when you can have a funny panda clumsily move your valuables while attempting to walk upright instead, teehee"

Construction site warning: "bricks may fall from the sky at any moment. Wear a hard hat or end up retarded and legless like this guy"

Elevator warning. (Sorry this pic is so bad! I'm too embarrassed to openly take a good picture in front of other elevator passengers and admit I'm not actually laughing about a funny joke I heard earlier) Actual translation from above: "Holy FFFFF, dude you just fell down the shaft! That's what she said."

And this one has nothing to do with cartoons, but just cracks me up. I love old people (when they're not walking in front of me) because they're just so out of it and so funny. Just look at these two in an MRT ad promoting respecting ones elders by giving up your seat on the subway. They're so happy about something as they stare off into the distance, dazed, confused, having no idea that subways even exist now. Grandpa is thinking about prunes for dinner and Grammy is just waiting for the bitter sweet end to it all. Next time you see these two, you'll do the right thing, I'm sure.

And that's when someone said, 'Why the hell not?'

After playing a long hard game of tennis, you ache for something that can quench your thirst and only one thing comes to mind, ice cold, delicious, Lactic Acid Drink. Nothing says sweet relief, like acid in your mouth.


Lactic Acid Not your cup of tea? Are you in dire need of making your piss stink immediately? Try some sweet and healthy Asparagus Juice in a carton. When you're on the go and need some funky smelling piss asap, this drink is for you! If you're still thirsty there's avocado smoothies, fish eye ball lemonade (not really but it looks like it) and good ol' poisonous tap water.


For those of you with a big appetite, freshly made Belgian waffles topped with a scoop of day old tuna fish will leave you satisfied. After all, 72 % of people who like waffles also enjoy tuna fish. This courageous combo was created to meet everyone's needs. It's available at high end coffee shops where we found most consumers expressed a need for a Belgian waffle tuna explosion in their mouth.


Pork ear cookies look gross, and taste like nothing! Why waste precious calories on food that tastes good, when you can eat things that resemble something gross and taste like salty sweet cardboard?

And for those of you sick of everyone beating around the bush, let's just get to it then. Yes, this meat on a stick came from an animal as filthy and vile as this thing pictured here. Yes, we all know, deep down, you want that thing in your stomach. Sure, maybe it could be an endangered animal, perhaps the last of a prehistoric breed of boar, but look at it, don't you want to eat it? I mean we cut it up real nice and then put it on a stick, you know its good.

Very potent, not so potable

Ugh, I'm so bad! It's been a month, so I'm sorry!!! It's not that I haven't been eating, because I have. Actually quite a lot. Actually the personal trainer at my new gym even told me I'm a mere 3 percent away from being in the obese category. He also told me that the muscle in each of my arms only makes up 1.6% of all the muscle in my body. This may explain why I can't do a single pull up. His name was literally Sparky so I don't really care what he or his electro pulse machine has to say about me and my lack of muscles and abundance of fat :)

So most of the reason I've been so busy is because of work, but I was also sick. My stomach finally gave way to the bacteria of the new world and I spent 3 days struggling to keep anything in my stomach. Initially I was confused. I mean, I'd been eating random meat products from street vendors for 2 months now, so why was my stomach defeated from a bowl of rice with vegetables? It didn't fit. And after three days of pain and discomfort I saw the key to my illness: my roommate. Kind, but clueless, he had been feeding me tap water for weeks. Tap water in the U.S. can be laden with lead and other eventually harmful trace elements, however it won't make your intestines curl into a tightly wound spring ready to burst at any moment. In Taiwan however, the water cannot be consumed without being boiled first due to harmful bacteria the government says is drinkable but really isn't (it's on their website, the big liars!) All Taiwanese boil their water, and thus usually end up drinking warm water even though its 95 degrees outside. But the roommate, god bless him and his unfathomable logic, thought since I was a foreigner, I was impervious to the Taiwanese water bacteria and told me to drink freely from the Brita filter he filled daily with unboiled tap water. I assumed he boiled it. But we all know, assuming makes and ass out of u and me. Amazingly enough my stomach lasted two weeks on Taiwanese tap water. After that it gave way and punished me for my stupidity. And after three days of watching me dying slowly, my roommate refilled the brita filter in front of me, with tap water and I asked him, "Have you been drinking that too?" He replied "No, of course not, I never drink water unless its boiled." Too weak to strangle him, I was relieved; I finally had my answer. Upon refilling my body with amoeba free water, I quickly returned to my normal state and took solace in the fact that I can still eat anything, its just the water I need to watch out for.

Ironically a week later I took my kindergarten kids on a super fun field trip to the Taipei Water Treatment Facility, half education/half water park! During our tour of the park we watched an educational film all in Chinese that toasted the achievements in water filtration in Taiwan and even showed children drinking straight from the faucet at home. I was appalled. It was worse than the blatant lies that the U.S. government feeds us. They even have a museum here called "The Museum of Drinking Water," what a farce! Such a place should surely not exist yet, as there is no water suitable for drinking still. Yet for such a ruse they have going on here, everyone on this island still seems to know that you must at all times, boil your water. Our field trip ended with my 15 toddlers, sweating in the midday sun, eyes agape, watching the other children play in the sprinklers and wading pools, not allowed to go near it, not even stick a finger in it, because my school deemed it all too unsafe. My thoughts exactly...



http://www.twd.gov.tw/watertravel/wpark/english/museum/museum.htm

The museum of drinking water. The website is so cute with its happy water drop mascot, yet note, not once do they mention dysentery.

Where for art thou, oh sushi love of my life?

I’ve been meaning to write about Sushi Express for about a month now. Anywhere that gives you instant access to as much sushi as you can eat at the rate of a dollar per plate is incredible right? It really is a magical place where you sit in front of a conveyor belt loaded with a rainbow of raw deliciousness, where plates of sushi come marching your way, two by two, hoorah hoorah; A veritable endless parade of fish, rice and seaweed.

However, now a month has gone by and in that month my immediate infatuation with Sushi Express has dwindled into just a fond memory of what could have been. After such a perfect first date, I should have known not to have such high expectations for our second encounter. After all, it was a rushed, impromptu meeting, just a quick bite before heading to work, not like our first leisurely dinner date where the green tea was sipped and my stack of 6 plates took an hour to form. Date two was just business, and four plates of mediocre sushi (and one plate of questionable sushi) later, my infatuation with Sushi Express was over. Maybe it was because it was 3:00 in the afternoon, too late to have fresh sushi from lunch and too early for the dinner rush. Maybe it was my placement at the end of the sushi circle where I was left to dig through the plates examined and rejected by all the other sushi-goers. Or perhaps, like all second dates, the rose colored glasses had been lifted and I realized, much as I had realized when grabbing the one perfect looking plate of sashimi that actually was the plastic sashimi display, anything too good to be true, usually is. You really should see the plastic food displays in this country though, they are seriously exquisite! It really wasn’t until I was trying my hardest to pry the clear plastic cover off the sashimi and was holding it sideways, that I realized, “Wow, this sashimi defies gravity, oh wait, it’s so shiny, oh I see, its not real, damnit.” I then had to coyly slide the fake plate back onto the conveyor belt, squishing it between the questionable looking sashimi, hoping no one saw the stupid foreign girl who tried to eat the plastic display.

In any event, I’ve decided not to see Sushi Express again. As my mom always said there are more fish in the sea, fresh, raw, delicious fish that won’t leave me wondering if I should find a toilet soon. Hopefully I’ll have more successful sushi tales soon, a true sushi love story. Here I come prince Nobu.

Jess and Stephanie's sea slug sushi selection (say that 5 times fast!)

the damage

An expat's view of Taiwan's cultural quirks

Taiwan's Dos

• Riding a bike while carrying an opened umbrella, while its not raining, to block the sun and also the view of where your going or who you’re riding into – acceptable
• Wearing a mini skirt all the way up to your non-existent butt – acceptable
• Locking a two year old out of the classroom and watching him cry all alone in the hallway for not being able to put on his shoes fast enough (by himself mind you, and he’s 2!) – highly acceptable
• Serving kidney beans atop of lentils, atop of mangos covered in some sugary syrup atop a pile of ice shavings – acceptable and popular
• Children remaining in school from 9am until 9pm at night if not longer before going home and doing homework until midnight- acceptable
• Drinking alcohol freely in public areas – acceptable (just not on the subway)
• Driving children around on scooters without helmets, seat belts and or anything strapping them in in any way – acceptable
• Driving like a crazed maniac on your scooter down the sidewalk at 60 miles an hour almost running over a class of toddlers – acceptable
• Garbage trucks playing misleading ice cream truck music, only to be a garbage truck – acceptable
• Taking your pet bunny, unleashed, to the beach or the neighborhood restaurant to hop freely amidst the other diners – acceptable
• Dressing as a power ranger to go surfing - acceptable
• Being 95 degrees out when its only June or raining for 48hrs non-stop - acceptable, apparently really normal
  

Don'ts

• Daring to drink water on the subway – not acceptable
• Showing shoulder or back skin, let alone cleavage! – not acceptable
• Serving beans in a savory fashion – not acceptable
• Maintaining awareness of those around so as not to maim or potentially kill them while, walking, biking or scootering – not acceptable
• Having garbage cans for public use in public areas – not acceptable (yet somehow the streets are so clean!)
  
• Using toilet paper and then flushing it down the toilet – not acceptable
• Swimming in water over 2 ft high – not acceptable
• Making pizza without topping it with corn – not acceptable
• Putting a leash on your dog before leaving the house or while crossing major traffic intersections – just not necessary

Lastly,

• Being exceedingly nice and accommodating to the stupid American slaughtering your language, getting annoyed at your culture she chose to live in and expecting you to help her lost, confused, giant butt regardless – accepted and dealt with more politely than any New Yorker could ever muster

Eggs, 7-Elevens and Other random thoughts

Eggs

Ok so who doesn’t love a nice boiled egg with a lil salt and pepper? Here in Taipei, eggs are given a litle bit more thought and a lot more preparation and often times come out tasting 100x better than you could have ever imagined. Yesterday, I ate an egg that was steamed with pork meat, so it turned a nice light brown and had a wonderful blend of egg and meat flavors all in one bite, like if pigs could only lay eggs, this is what it would taste like. I’ve also been enjoying the century eggs here which I never thought I would. Century eggs are boiled eggs that soak in a dark black brine of tea and other herbs and absorb this kind of musty exoctic flavor. Served with some noodles or tofu, a century egg can add just the perfect boost of flavor to many dishes. However, experimenting with eggs in Taiwan does not stop there. Often at temples and markets you’ll find even more kinds of eggs, from pidgeon and quail eggs to big ol’ duck eggs, all of which are served a number of ways and most of which I like. However, there are a few exceptions here. Number one, there are no normal breakfast sandwiches here that I’ve seen thus far (except mcdonalds) instead weird things are shoved into what looks like a normal ham, egg and cheese, but actually is an egg, indistinguishable meat, weird and excessive mayo, on an overly sweet bun sandwich. Also, this thing below that I took a bite of and blew my mind:

Yea, that’s an egg people. I don’t know how it became this way, but I believe it was done on purpose. And believing this, I opened her right up and took that big bite out of it, just to find out that the yolk inside had somehow become blacker than the outside and turned to an awful oozing goo. I don’t really know how to describe this egg’s taste per se, but I'll just say it was no fried egg over easy. I am told, these eggs marinate in something while buried underground for weeks. I have 8 more of these in my fridge thanks to a very sweet and generous Taiwanese friend. Any ideas on a fun way to dispose of them? Anyone want one mailed to them? If anything the week it’ll spend in the mail will only make it better. Lastly, I don’t believe that Taiwan has the worst ideas on how to eat eggs. I hear that the Philippines rivals any egg creation Taiwan could make. One dish there consists of fertilized duck eggs that are incubated to the point where the embryo becomes a partially formed little baby duck complete with skeleton and beak.

Yummy century eggs on a stick

Open-Chan! the 7-Eleven Mascot

7-Elevens
There are over 4,000 7-Eleven’s here in Taiwan. And it is my belief that 3,995 of them are in Taipei alone. You literally cannot look down a street, cross a road or leave a building without seeing a 7-Eleven within a block. In many ways, as a foreigner it is comforting to see something familiar all the time. If I just need a quick snack or a bottle of water, 7-Eleven is always there for me 7 days a week, 11 somethings a something. However, 7-Eleven here isn’t your typical gas station convenience store. It is the destination you go to, to refill your SIM card, get copies of a lease for you and your landlord, pay your bills for heat, electricity and cable, etc., buy the government mandated blue garbage bags you must use to toss your rubbish (don’t buy the pink ones! It’s a dirty trick) and 7-Elevens also offer 24hr access to hard liquor and beer (apparently this is the downfall of many a alcoholic ex-pat). With such ease and convenience I see no reason for any other store to exist ever. That is until I buy things that look like red bull, but taste like watery tang, and eat things that in retrospect are highly questionable to be buying and eating from a 7-Eleven, i.e. sushi and egg sandwiches. In the end though, they give me stickers with every purchase to put in a little sticker book that once I fill up I get a free hot dog or something, and I like that. So tang or no tang, I’m a loyal customer.

Other Random Thoughts
Smells
The smells here in Taipei are incredible. Not always in a good way but not entirely bad either. First off, there are scents here I have never smelled before and have no idea what they belong to. I often don’t even know if I like or dislike the smell, it’s so different. Then there are the obviously bad smells of exhaust fumes, stinky tofu, mothball old people, public bathrooms (which are better than most in NY) and the raw meat hanging on street vendor carts. Then there’s the good smells of the cooked meat at street vendor carts, the clean scent of the immaculate subway, food food and more food. Oh and no one here has body odor, at least not the locals as far as I can tell.
My kindy class
So I am lucky enough to be teaching 14 little tykes every morning. They are only 2 or 3 years old and they have never been taught English before, so I am their introduction to the Western world. The amazing thing about these little guys, is how well behaved they are for being only two years old. They literally ask “Teacher may I …” for everything. They’ll sit at their mini little table with their hands behind their backs while they stare at the bowl of food before them like starved puppies, yet they won’t take a bite without my permission. They just gaze up at me with such awe and adorableness, that I can’t even be mad that they just peed their pants during story time. Also, they do the funniest things, like drink entire thermoses of water and then completely barf in slow motion across the group of children participating in sharing time on the floor, yet no one cries. They’re so good. Next month I get to teach them an exercise routine to any song I want. I’m thinking it’d be great to see the kids act out the motions to something really gangsta like Biggie or Lil’ wheezy or perhaps some Lady Gaga, poker face. Again, any ideas for songs/exercise moves are appreciated. I’ll take pics and post for everyone!
Taiwanese people in general
Although I’ve always said after living in Sydney for 6 months that Australians are literally the nicest people alive, I think that the Taiwanese are the quiet underdogs from the north that could easily rival the Aussies in overall niceness. I don’t think there are many places in this world, where a group of people are so openly kind, welcoming and friendly. Each and every day someone makes my day a little nicer. It may help that I put myself in situations on a daily basis that cry out for help (wandering aimlessly lost down a street, looking hopelessly confused on a bus, attempting to speak bad broken Chinese to Taiwanese vendors), but without a doubt each day, someone will take me on as the sad lost little puppy that I am and go out of their way to help me out. Two days ago a nice man saw me struggling to ask directions in Chinese to an old man who had no clue what I was saying. Knowing English, he came up to me and pointed me in the right direction. He then waited, watched me walk the wrong way, and then jogged down the street to me and literally walked me to my destination. Even though it was 8:30am and I’m sure he was on his way to work, he made the extra effort to help me for no reason. I don’t think people in NY would ever, ever walk me anywhere unless they were trying to get my number or look at my butt. And then yesterday, while riding the bus, the bus driver called me forward. I immediately assumed I did something wrong, but he actually just wanted to say “Welcome to Taiwan” since he could tell I was not from here (probably because I’m about a foot taller and 3x wider than everyone here). He then told me that he loves the US. It was effing adorable. And lastly, a Taiwanese friend of my sister’s picked me up on Sunday and took me around all day. He drove an HOUR and a HALF to come pick up me, a stranger he's never met before, and took me out to lunch with his family. He taught me how to order some local Taiwanese fare and then he took me a temple, explaining all the different gods that are worshiped there. As if that was not enough, he snuck out of the temple at some point to buy me bags of food to take home with me. Looking at his wife, and then looking at me, I know that he didn't do this because he thought I needed more food, he just was being an excessively nice normal Taiwanese person.

Will and his ridiculously cute family

Will the tallest Taiwanese person ever

Up next, Pigs blood cake and endless sushi!

A funk like no other

Just a thirty minute train ride outside of the city will take you to a quaint and magical place, the Coney Island of Taipei if you will, Danshui. This board walk (minus the boards) along the riverbed north of Taipei is a carnival lovin fat kid’s heaven, choc full of deep fried everything and Asian carnies. Not to mention a million fair style games to play where you can literally pick out a baby turtle from a tank full of hundreds and take him home as a prize. Although the deep fried squid, fish balls and other random pieces of meat were amazing and the plate of 8 dumplings for 30NT ($1) were delish, one dish truly stole the show here and that was the one dish you can’t avoid in Taiwan, Stinky Tofu.

If you’ve never heard of stinky tofu, then you probably have no idea just how pungent and odorous this innocent bean curd can be. Stinky is not quite a strong enough adjective in my opinion to describe this dish. Walking around Taipei you will often get strong wafts of the sewer and rotten cheese at night. You may wonder to yourself, why does Taipei stink so much more around dinner time? Well this is because the cheesy rotten sewer leakage you are smelling is actually stinky tofu and people are selling it everywhere due to its overwhelming popularity for some ungodly reason. Having known this and smelled this horrific scent for over a week now, I had to take this opportunity in Danshui to finally see what all this fuss was about. I have heard that the locals say this dish, stinks like feet, but tastes like a dream, so I was curious and when an even mightier eating champion, Stephanie, bought a big stick of the pungent curd, I had to have a bite. After struggling to get close enough to it due to its funk, I finally took a huge bite and let the flavor sink in on my tongue before forcing myself to swallow what smelled and tasted like the worst thing I’ve ever put in my mouth. Upon swallowing, the first words out of my mouth were “oh my god,this tastes like someone’s taint” (for you PG 13ers out there that means basically it tasted like butthole). It was then followed by, “omg I need to eat something else immediately, I can feel the smell lingering in my mouth” or as Stephanie so aptly put it “I think my mouth smells like poop” (she said this after she ate the WHOLE thing!!). Mind you, I have absolutely no idea what someone’s butt tastes like, but if I did, I’m sure it would taste somewhere along the lines of what this tofu tasted like. I suppose another way to describe how it tastes if you haven’t gotten a clear picture yet, is it tastes like the crud you pull out from under your toenails after running a marathon in dirty socks. Taiwanese people love their stinky tofu though. To each their own I suppose. I may, just may, give it a second try somewhere down the line. I think all food deserves at least 2 tries before being given up on completely, even if it does taste like rotten cheese someone pooped on.

My arch nemesis, stinky tofu (looks good though doesn’t it?)

Yummy dumplings! and to the left, is Stephanie the stinky tofu eating champion

Cool potato chips on a stick, cuz, why not right?

The beautiful Danshui