Taiwanese Teenager

My cousin's son, Ben, is in senior high. He starts school at 7:30 am. His school day consists of 8 class sessions, a one-hour lunch break and two ten minute breaks and ends at 5 pm. After school, he hangs out with his friends, usually playing a game of basketball. He then heads home sometime between 6 and 6:30 and eats supper with his parents. After dinner, he does his homework, if he has any, reads graphic novels, regular novels or plays computer games until about midnight when he goes to bed.

Some of his cousins and friends go to tutorial classes in the evening, which they call cram school or buxiban to work on any kind of academic lesson, such as music, art, math, and science. It's a traditional belief that parents should send their children to all kinds of cram schools in order to compete against other talented children. Therefore, most children in Taiwan have a schedule packed with all sorts of cram school lessons. Cram schools in Taiwan also focus on motivating students to study harder. They prepare many hand-made posters and print motivational messages on study notes.

Ben says that he constantly has quizzes at school, at least once a day, but sometimes 3 or 4 times a day. He says his favourite subject is P.E., but likes all the other subjects too. Ben also gets up at 6:30 am on Sunday to go to school to work on a science project with two other classmates. But he does this quite willingly, because he likes it. His older brother, Peter, who is away at university all week, prefers to sleep on Sunday, and that's okay with his parents too.

Since the age of 8 or 9, my cousin's kids were walking to school by themselves, and buying their own breakfast along the way. Most kids at this age also go to bed around 10. My father's Taiwanese friend found that North American children go to bed quite early.

My cousin and his wife, are very easy-going people who give their children wide berth in decision-making and following their own individual paths. Their children are also very well-behaved and polite, and will go down to the lobby to bring their relatives up to the apartment or accompany us to the elevator to bid my father and me good-bye.

Yinghe Ceramic Museum

Today my cousin, Michael and his wife, May took us to a town nearby called Yinghe (pron. Ing-a) where we learned about the development and importance of ceramics in Taiwan.


The museum was nicely laid out, with well-formed English text, and I had another peek at my father's past. One exhibit reminded Ba of his old home in northern China. It was a replica of a kitchen with a brick oven and huge wok; he remembered his mother and helper cooking up meals in such a kitchen for the farmworkers and family.





Another ceramic object he remembered was a grade one project where the children each made a small heater pot that would then be filled with a piece of hot coal, and wrapped in a cloth sleeve which the child would hug on his walk to school.






We also visited The Garden of Generalissimos at Cihu which is populated with lots and lots of statues of the former president. Another president while in power, had ordered these statues removed/dismantled from various parks and public sites throughout Taiwan, and the county of Cihu asked to have all of them.




Then, we wandered over to where Chiang Kai-shek's body is embalmed and resting in a casket, apparently waiting for the day when he can be interred back in his homeland.
There were two motionless soldiers on guard at the entrance to his mausoleum, and we, along with hundreds of Chinese tourists, watched the soldiers do their end-of-duty exercises and march away.



Then my cousin took us to a vegetarian restaurant, where one of the staff is an old white guy who spoke Chinese fluently. May told us that he was born and grew up in Taiwan. They didn't think he spoke any English and my dad and I were too shy to ask him. But we couldn't stop staring at him. Even though I'm a Chinese person who speaks English fluently and can hardly speak Chinese, it is still the strangest thing for my dad and me to see a white guy who speaks Chinese fluently and doesn't speak much English.

Another little bit of irony is that at this restaurant and at so many others, our dinnerware was not ceramic, but paper or plastic. Ceramic today has more advanced applications in science and technology, such as aerospace materials, automotive, electronics, medical (bone and dental implants), military, computers (super-conductors) and semi-conductors. Ceramics - you've come a long way, baby.

The sights I've seen

I snapped this photo from the car; it's not a great shot, but I managed to get the family of four on one scooter.



On our way back from Yehliu (pron. yay-lee-o) - the traffic was a 3-hour slog - we just crawled along bumper to bumper, side by side by side, with scooters enviously squeezing through. They drive very differently here, with cars cutting in front of each other all the time, but there's no road rage; everyone yields without so much as a beeep.




These ladies were near the exit of the Yehliu geological park, selling their food products, which were tiny, dried salted fish. For some reason, they didn't want their picture taken and deliberately turned away when I aimed the camera at them.





The cliffs at Yehliu, a beautiful resort town. We had perfect weather for our hike, and as we huffed higher and higher, the crowds disappeared.







The Queen of Yehliu. These distinctive rock formations have been sculpted by the ocean over thousands of years. Oneday, this Queen will be beheaded.


The flower clock at Yangminshan park, where cherry trees are just starting to blossom. Everyone came out with their cameras.


Me and Ba blocking the view of steaming geysers near Yangminshan park.





This landmark skyscraper, named Taipei 101 (101 floors), was the world's tallest building until 2010 when a building in Dubai nabbed the title. It has a super-fast elevator that took us up to the top in only 40 seconds, where we couldn't see much because we were in the clouds, but there was an interesting exhibition of photos of old Taipei.

I'd pay someone to wash the dishes

This morning, I woke up and lay in my bed wondering why my cousin, who lives in a very posh, very new, highrise condo, doesn't have a dishwasher. Last night, we had a potluck dinner with my aunt, uncles and cousins, with everyone bringing a couple of dishes that they made or bought, and we squeezed around a table and enjoyed the Taiwanese meal. My cousins' kids who ate by themselves, finished all the food at their table and then came around to the "adults" table with their chopsticks and bowls to hunt for some more food. Still, we didn't come close to finishing it all, and after the meal, they cleared the table and wrapped up the leftovers (Chinese never throw away leftovers) and, there was a mountain of dishes to wash. That's when I was stunned to learn that they didn't have a dishwasher. So, while the rest of us ate fruit and chatted, my cousin was in the kitchen for an hour, washing up the dishes. When I asked my dad about it, he shrugged, and said his family grew up washing dishes, and it's not a chore, but an everyday task, like cooking or brushing your teeth.




Another Taiwanese custom is to bring your own towels. I remember as a kid, we used to do that, until my parents adopted the Canadian custom of expecting guest towels. So, my dad and I didn't bring our own towels, and when I asked for one at my cousin's place, they handed me a dishtowel. It wasn't a punishment - that's really the size of their bath towels, and it's not just my dad's family. We're now staying in a friend's friend's house, and in their bathroom, they also have mini towelettes. My guess is that with their high humidity, they use the small towels so that they dry faster. Anyway, I bought a set of towels as a gift for my cousin, and oddly, they're not cheap. I went into a department store in Taipei, and they start at $25 Cdn for a small (slightly larger than dishtowel) towel. Had I known, I would have passed on the Lindt chocolates, and gone to Zellers, and stocked up on towels to bring as gifts.

Ba and I went into a supermarket, and checked out the prices of food on the shelves, and discovered that they weren't that much cheaper than Costco or Superstore food prices. But when we eat in small diners, buy cooked food on the street or from the 7-Eleven or from the farmer's stand, we can pay around half of what we pay in Canada. My bowdze (veggie steamed bun) this morning was 30 cents. The total for our breakfast of dojung (soy milk), a rice roll, two steamed buns, a coffee and a yogurt drink, cost about $3.50. I still don't get it; some things are so much cheaper and some things are at par, and real estate is through the roof: $5,000/sq.m Cdn.

A quick history lesson

Taiwan, a pretty island off the southwestern coast of China, was captured and controlled by the Empire of Japan from 1895 until 1945 (WW2) when Japan had to give Taiwan back to the Republic of China. By this time, in mainland China, Imperialism had been overthrown ( get OUT emperors and dynasties! ), and they were trying out this new idea by a guy name Dr Sun Yat Sen, which he called a Republic of China. But the people of China, fed up with eons of bone-crushing serfdom and not seeing much of a change between this Republic and Imperialism, went for the idea of Communism, where everyone across the board would be truly equal-equal. So, a civil war began, with the Communist movement beating out the pro-Republic army of Kuomintang led by General Chiang Kai-shek. Chiang Kai-shek and his army retreated to the island of Taiwan, where he and his son kept themselves busy building up Taiwan and keeping the dream alive. It wasn't easy for a lot of people, especially the local and indigenous Taiwanese who weren't too happy to have a whole army (about 2 million people) with their dubious ideal and strange language descend upon them. In fact, some of the Taiwanese actually preferred the time when the Japanese ran things, and so there was a period of resentment and unrest and Martial Law (lots of people were executed for saying anything against the Kuomintang). After Chiang Kai-shek died, his son, Chiang Ching-kuo, made things better with reforms to the political system, such as introducing an opposition party and lifting Martial Law. So, in the end, democracy and rapid economic growth has transformed this island into an industrialized, developed country populated with proud and happy Taiwanese people.

Have you heard of Chiang Kai-shek?

This morning, my dad and I went to visit the Chiang Kai-shek Memorial. How would I describe it? Monumental. Massive. Impressive. Built by the Kuomintang, it reflects how much they revered the man. I picked up a little brochure about the leader of the Kuomintang army and it contained such words as generalissimo, phenomenal, momentous, important pillar, great bravery, single-handedly, awesome, kindness and persistence. Although general Chiang Kai-shek and his army were defeated by the Communist movement, he never gave up his dream of making all of China a republic. More importantly to Taiwan, he was a visionary who began developing Taiwan into a prosperous, modern, and democratic state.



Then we went back to the hotel to check out and wait for a friend of my father's, who drove us to the district of Xinchuang (pron Zinzwan) where we will be staying for a couple of days because our hotel is booked up for the week-end. Mr. Chiang took us out for lunch (Hong Kong style) and then over to the riverside communities of Bali and Danshui. We traveled by ferry across the Danshui river and ambled along the boardwalks, past arcades, souvenir shops and food stalls. I saw barbecued squid, lots of deep-fried battered meat on a stick, and black "iron eggs". I also saw a small barbecued bird, which my dad and his friend described as a small pigeon. It's still winter here (although for us Canadians, it feels more like spring) and so it wasn't as busy as it could be during the summer months. Still, there were lots of other people around, enjoying the sights and smells. It was dark by the time we got back to the car.

Sweet and sour pork is not Taiwanese food

Yesterday at breakfast, we sat with two young ladies from Kaohsiung ( pron. Kowshoon) a city at the southern end of Taiwan, who animatedly discussed the regional food flavors of their city and how distinct (and better!) it was from Taipei`s food. They invited us to go visit their hometown to find out. My dad just smiled and said that there wasn`t enough time.



I don`t think I`d be able to appreciate the regional food flavor of Kaohsiung. I can`t even tell you how Taiwanese food differs from other Chinese food. My palate is so undeveloped in this area. But there is definitely a difference, about as large as between Italian food and French food. While living in Quebec, Canada, my mother never found Taiwanese food. In the small town of Matagami (pop 1000) in northern Quebec, where we lived for 5 years, there was one Chinese restaurant that served fried rice soaked in soy sauce, pineapple chicken balls and salty egg rolls. That wasn`t really Chinese food. With no Chinese food shops or ingredients available, my mother would occasionally get packages from her mother in Taiwan. Then, when we eventually moved to Montreal, my parents finally found Chinese food ingredients and restaurants in the little Chinatown. But the Chinese restaurants where we ate-quite regularly- were inevitably Cantonese or Hong Kong style, like Dim Sum. Now I see that living in Montreal, Canada, my mother, unless she cooked it herself, rarely got access to her favorite and familiar comfort foods.



Last night, my dad and I wandered around the night market near his old university. It was packed with young people (university students?) who were getting their little meals from the food stalls or checking out the jewelry and clothes, or both. It`s a great atmosphere - no drunks or drug dealers, just lots of young people sharing food and hanging out.

I've been here for a week

When Ba gets on the subway system, someone inevitably gets up to offer him their seat. My dad always laughs and makes them sit back down again. He told me that school children in Taiwan are taught to offer their seats to elderly people on the train. There are also designated seats by the door, like the ones on the Vancouver skytrain, and they're almost always available for my dad.

As you can see, the passenger sitting beside my dad looks like she's got some infectious disease. There are many people who wear these surgical masks, and I'm not sure if it's because they're carrying a virus or if they are trying to avoid catching a virus, or if the air quality is bad, but after a week here, I've gotten used to seeing them.

Other things I've gotten used to:

1. Scooters, scooters everywhere.

2. Chinese faces all around me, so much so, that when I see a "white" person, they really stand out.

3. stir fried meat and vegetables at the breakfast table.

4. greasy food stands on the sidewalk selling anything from noodles to soups to cooked buns, to chicken feet.

5. lunch or supper for $3-$4.

6. firm beds.

7. not knowing any of the streets or how to get anywhere.

Wanted: English editor

I don't know why the Taiwanese don't get native English speakers to check the English translations.

tumble-wet

Yesterday, Ba and I returned from Taichung to Taipei and we checked into a hotel near his old university. I'll admit the hotel is a nice change from staying in my relatives' homes. Even though it's clear that they don't mind, I don't like feeling like we're imposing or making extra work for them. Ba and I each have our own room which comes with Internet access, free breakfast, a large tv with cable (english stations), and comfortable beds. There's also a laundry room with a box of laundry soap, two washing machines, and a dryer which unfortunately doesn't really work. After tumbling for almost an hour, our clothes were still as wet as when they came out of the washing machine. We hung up the clothes in our room, and this morning, they were still wet. My dad said that in the summer here, on a sunny day, he'll hang his laundry up, and at the end of the day, they would still be damp. It is that himid here.

After a plate of beef fried rice at one of the many campus eateries, we got into a taxi to head to the hospital to visit my grandfather. Actually, it took my dad a couple of tries before we found a cabdriver who grasped where we wanted to go. Although my dad left mainland China when he was about 12, he still has a strong Shandong (northern)accent, and it takes Taiwanese people a few seconds before they understand what he's saying. He also isn't familiar with the local names of things, so for example, he called the subway system here "the underground train" when it's actually called the "fast train". It's funny to watch the locals help my dad: first there's a look of bafflement on their face, and then after my dad repeats himself a couple more times, their faces light up with understanding and they are eager to help. On a corner, with all the motor scooter noise around, my dad had to write down Taiwan General Hospital for the cab driver. In the end we got there.

Writing Chinese was never my dad's strong suit. With his lack of elementary schooling and move to Canada where he started to learn English, he now has trouble remembering how to write words in Chinese. Last night, in the hospital, while "conversing" with my grandfather, my dad struggled to write the Chinese, and I could see my grandfather trying to decipher my dad's words: In Taichung, we went to the Siens Mooseum.

At 100, my grandfather still has all his mental faculties. He remembered I had a son and asked who was looking after him while I was here. We showed him a photo of Luca in his chef's costume, and my grandfather chuckled and said he was very cute. We also showed him the picture frame, but he was perhaps too tired to watch it all or, my dad also thought that perhaps my grandfather didn't really enjoy looking at the old photos of his past. Hopefully, when he is feeling stronger, he will be able to look at the frame and see and enjoy the later photos of his chldren, grandchildren and great grandchildren.

Hang on!

This sign was in the train, and I looked for the safety chain that I would have to hang on to if the doors were defective. After my dad read the Chinese, I understood that they really meant to say: Affix caution tape when doors are not operating.

What I learned about Ba and Gu Ma

Gu Ma (my aunt) told us that she had wanted to go to university, but my grandfather had insisted that she complete her vocational high school program and then find a job so that she could help put her younger brothers through university. Ba never knew this.

In the tumult of war and communist revolution, Ba only managed to complete two years of elementary schooling by the time he entered junior high school. Being unprepared and uneducated, he inevitably ended up in a remedial school, with fees. His mother managed to borrow the funds from someone who would then later come by regularly looking for repayment and making things awkward for my grandmother. My father knuckled down with the school work and after one year, managed to grasp the subject of math so well that he aced the final exam. His strength in math would carry him through senior high, university and ultimately secure a scholarship for a Masters degree program at the University of New Brunswick. A recent university graduate, he was already teaching at a high school in Taipei when he'd heard about scholarship programs abroad, and he quietly sent away for the forms. Later, when the letter arrived from UNB offering him a full scholarship, the first person he told was his girlfriend, who then suggested they get married. The next couple of months was a blur of preparations which included passing a physical examination, applying for a passport, quitting his teaching job, fund-raising, receiving a gift of an airline ticket from his uncle, and marrying my mother. In the week he was due to fly out of Taipei for Canada, a typhoon was approaching Taiwan, and he chose not to risk a trip to Taichung to say good-bye to his family. In 1963, with a small suitcase of clothes, he boarded the plane and he would not return for a visit to Taiwan until 1976.

a convenience store

7-Eleven is where Luca drags me to buy his blue-brown slurpees or where Gio might grab a diet coke. They have 7-Elevens here. The signage is the same red, white and green stripes and inside you'll find the same style of shelving and aisles stocked with beverages and snacks, and the clerks even wear the standard issue burgundy uniform. But here, 7-Eleven has a certain cache. They serve really good coffee with a spuma worthy of an Italian espresso bar, and they sell snacks that include top quality tea eggs, fluffy light sponge cakes, lunch box meals, and even Taiwanese beef noodle soup (not the instant kind). You'll also find socks and underwear ( my dad bought himself a white undershirt) and the locals pay their utility bills here. You can find 7-Elevens throughout the city and people love living near 7-Eleven - it adds value to their neighbourhood.

A visit to Taichung

When they fled the Communist revolution in the early 1950's, my father's family settled in Taichung (pron. tie-zone), about 150 km southwest of Taipei city, in a compound built by the Kuomintang to house the soldiers and their families. My aunt and uncle who still live in Taichung have neither ever driven a car and get around with their trusty bicycles. Their home is on a narrow street in the outer edge of the city, and almost all of their neighbours are seniors like themselves. They also don't own a computer, cellphone, and nor a microwave. They are very careful about what they eat, pop handfuls of vitamins everyday, and seem to be benefitting from their simple lifestyle. My uncle is eighty-two and my aunt is seventy-eight, and they are both fit as a fiddle and sharp as a whip.

My aunt and uncle were ardent members of tour groups and have travelled throughout Europe, Russia, China, Southeast Asia and North America. These days, they spend most of their time in their home in Taichung, occasionally taking the train to Taipei to visit my grandfather, their children and grandchildren.

Watching Ba interact with his sister is interesting. I've never seen them together before, and of his three siblings, he is closest to her. Ba told me that when he was in first year university, with his feet poking through the holes in his shoes, it was his sister who sent him money for a new pair. And my aunt, the eldest in the family, at seventy-eight and with bad knees, will still try to give up her seat on the train or try to wrestle her bags from my dad.

On our first morning there, Ba and I set off for downtown Taichung by transit. Our bus driver was holding a stewed chicken foot in his right hand when we dropped in our 50 cent bus fare. As he drove along, he spat out the small bones into his left hand. At one point, we passed a hog lumbering on the road. Sounds rural? Taichung is actually an urban, modern locale that exploded with growth and development all within the last 40 years. Ba doesn't recognize any of it. He remembers when he was a child, it was a small town with one or two mainstreets, and mostly dirt roads and farm fields. Today, it is a noisy, jostling city of a million inhabitants with eateries, 7-Elevens, McDonald's, Starbucks, highrise buildings, museums, an IMAX theater, a botanical garden, malls and designer clothing department stores. We learned later that the hog was probably someone's pet, unusual, but lately fashionable.



We met my father's university classmate, Ginger, and his wife, Hweili, who used to live in the States, but came back to live in Taichung about 20 years ago. They took us to a fast food noodle restaurant, where we began our meal by preparing our own little condiment bowls. We had beef noodle soup, fried dumplings, steamed dumplings and boiled dumplings, fried white radish cakes, chicken and green onion wraps, pickled vegetables, hot and sour soup, and millet porridge. We did have a lot of food on our table and although the Taiwanese do love to eat, they really don't normally eat that much at one sitting. Otherwise there'd be an obesity problem in this country. (Ba and I, on the other hand, need to look into some weight loss programs when we get back to Canada. ) Taiwanese people do like to eat, and although hot, cheap food is always just a step away, there aren't many overweight people here. Who knows if it's a high metabolism gene or something in the diet, but the Taiwanese don't have much to worry about with weight problems. I have also seen many Taiwanese seniors here and they are almost always wiry little sprites. Like Ginger and Hweili, they can be in their sixties, seventies or eighties, and still be in remarkably robust health.



Ba reminisced with Ginger about the 4 bunkbed university dorm rooms, the rice-heavy meatless meals and the blood-sucking bugs. Ba isn't complaining, because back then, university was free. Today, it costs my cousin about $2000 a year to put his sons through one of the hundred and fifty universities here. The $2000 fees also cover the residence and meals. Some universities are better than others, but even the best ones are equally affordable.

My grandfather's birthday

Life has a fashion of never turning out the way you might have imagined or played it out and tucked away in your sub-conscious. It keeps us on our toes or life is never boring or whatever other cliche is out there to explain away a sudden turn of events. I finally met my grandfather tonight... in a hospital. Of course, he's frail and old, but still, noone thought that on his big day, his 100th birthday celebration, something might come up and he would need medical help. A fever and sharp pains due to a urinary infection had him in the emergency ward just before the party was to begin. In fact, we got the news while on our way to the restaurant. My cousin made a little detour and went to the hospital where my uncles and aunt traipsed into the emergency ward to find my grandfather stretched out on a gurney. I watched as he greeted each one with a smile and wave, and when my father introduced me, he smiled and reached out and clasped my hand. Then, it was to the restaurant to join the others and get on with the banquet, minus the guest of honor and one of my uncles who stayed with him. During dinner, I showed the photo frame to my cousins, and after playing the photos, tucked it back into the box.

And then, right after dinner, all 25 family members climbed into mini vans and taxis and went to the hospital, where we first filled the waiting room and then later, crowded into his hospital room. I kept waiting for them to ask us to leave, but the doctor and nurses weaved in and around us, as they tended to my grandfather. They managed to bring down his fever with medication and he seemed in the end, quite comfortable. My grandfather, who is totally deaf and his primary guardian - my youngest uncle - who is also totally deaf, must communicate with each other and with everyone else by pen and paper. So, if you try to imagine this scenario: a 100 year old patient who missed his own birthday party, a doctor and a couple of nurses trying to do their work, forms to fill out, lots of questions to the patient and caregiver who are both deaf, misplaced reading glasses, a large group of concerned family members, all writing questions with only one circulating pen and one little notepad in a small room getting warmer by the minute, you might be as surprised as I was, that with all that, it went smoothly, calmly and with much kindliness and friendliness. My uncle who had stayed at the hospital with my grandfather, was given his dinner in boxes, which my aunt and uncles had filled during the banquet.

After the doctor left, one by one, each of the children, the grandchildren, their spouses and the great grandchildren approached the bed, into his range of vision, to wish him happy birthday. And each time, he smiled with pleasure, said their names and/or grasped their hands. The teen-aged great grandchildren all cheerfully greeted him. My cousins and their spouses joked and teased him. Only my aunt, the second oldest in the room, seemed to be the most outwardly worried, but her sons reassured her in their customary good-natured ways.

All evening, I fought off exhaustion from lack of sleep and jet lag, but finally on the way home in the car, I succumbed to sleep while musing about some of the things I saw and learned about my amazing Taiwanese relatives tonight.

This little piggy went to the night market...

Well, after 2 hours of deep sleep, I am now wide awake at 3:30 am, either due to jet lag or the huge amounts of tea I drank this afternoon. Today, my cousins and I took a gondola up to Maokong, a tea-growing mountainside community just outside Taipei. The little cablecars wind up and down over the lush forests which contain a zoo, temples and tea plantations. We stopped in at the sumptuous Zhinan Temple whose well-maintained golden celestial interiors will convince anyone that this would be the place to honor the deities and make your offerings.

The air was heady with burning incense as tourists and taoists kept out of each other's way. Luckily, my cousins were on hand to explain the taoist rituals of prayers that I saw happening. Then there was some light haggling with a vendor along the path leading to the temple before we made our way to one of the many teahouses in the area.

We ate noodles, chicken, sweet potato leaves and a whole braised fish, and then whiled the rest of the afternoon with tea. Like wine, there is a whole process to Chinese tea, that begins with its cultivation, the blendings, up to how it is served and savoured. Sipped from tiny cups, it is in the end, a social drink much appreciated on a gray and wet afternoon. I enjoyed the two green teas we drank, one of which was grown in the Maokong valley, and needless to say, it was very different from the Tetley tea that normally fills my mug at home.


Then, from this peaceful mountainside teahouse, we made our way back into the city of Taipei, to the Shilin night market, which offered a very different assault on my senses. Bright lights, warm, greasy surfaces, pungent smells, and tightly packed tables are what to expect here. I have come to appreciate that the Taiwanese love to eat and that I just can't keep up. Our large group split up, but I stuck with my two native cousins. I barely had the appetite to sample what they ordered: congee with liver and squid, fried fish scallopini, and oyster omelet with sauce. But then, they introduced me to an ice dessert which has the texture of snow scraped from your car window, sweetened and topped with pieces of fruit. It was unbelievably delicious and refreshing, and we ordered one after another after another. Our group reconvened and we wandered through the shopping part of the night market and found that Nikes and Birkenstocks cost as much here as in Canada.




It was almost midnight when I got back to my cousin's house, my dad still up and patiently waiting to hear all about my day.

hair-raising but the traffic goes really smoothly

I got blisters on my little toes, but I had a good night sleep on the gymnastics floor mat last night - who would have guessed!

Yesterday, I watched with alarm at the cars and buses streaming within an inch of each each other, and scooters narrowly scooting through, whenever they could. I've also seen kids being transported on scooters WITHOUT helmets and a small child jaywalking alone across a busy road. Despite all the vehicular action, there is hardly a beep nor angry drivers gesturing obscenities at each other. It's all normal to them.

There is an orderliness and efficiency here that I find comforting (don't laugh Carol). At rush hour, people will line up on the subway platform to get on the train. And people are super helpful. Numerous times yesterday, my Taiwanese cousin would go up to anyone to ask for help, advice or info - people here have no problem with asking each other for any bit of help. And on our way home last night, my dad, unsure about when our stop was coming up, had the whole bus helping him, and when we got off, another passenger then helped us with finding our address. The desk clerk at the complex then accompanied us to my cousin's apartment, offering us umbrellas for the short trek through the courtyard. And everytime, it's done with polite expressions of "Oh, I'm so embarrassed", "so sorry to ask", " thank you very much", "you are so kind".

Wow.

Day 1

Whew! What a day! It's about 9 pm here, and I'm going to try to put in my first post before I crash onto my cousin's son's bed which is as soft as a gymnastics floor mat. My cousin and his wife picked us up at Taipei airport and took us immediately to a breakfast place where we ate fried dumplings, sou bin yu tiau and dojung ( fried dough in crispy flatbread with savory warm soy milk) mixed in with the diesel fumes of passing scooters and motorcycles.


From the moment we landed, it's been a series of other-world experiences. My cousin and his wife live in a posh new apartment development with glossy marble slab flooring and an expansive lobby with a baby grand piano and 3 desk clerks. But they are the salt of the earth and lovely people. Right after a quick pitstop at their home, we met with my other cousins. While my dad went off to visit with his brother-in-law and later, his father, I went with my cousins to see the Taipei Floral Expo. It is really a small metropolis of botanical displays and enviro-technology. The first couple of hours, I walked around oohing and aahing along with 24,000 other visitors, but after 4 hours, I started to fade and couldn't care anymore about pretty blossoms. We also watched The Wrath of Nature - Taipei's Inconvenient Truth, a 3D animation story about the flash flooding and rock slide problem that Taiwan occasionally suffers during heavy rainfalls. The little film pulled no punches as we watched a brutal mudslide take out a whole village, including several screaming grandparents and a girl and her boyfriend on their motorcycle.

For lunch, although I was still stuffed from the big greasy breakfast, I bought a meal from one of the food stalls in the Expo and tried "stinky tofu", which i didn't really like at all. My dad later told me that it needs to be eaten with a lot of chili sauce, but I don't think I'll try it again. On our way home, we picked up a couple of steamed buns (bao ze) for about 45 cents each and that was my supper. Food is so cheap and yummy here that people literally eat out all the time, for breakfast, lunch and supper.

My relatives don't eat pancakes for breakfast

So, two days from now, at midnight, I'm getting on the plane with my dad, for Taiwan. Last week, a flu bug came through our house and flattened Luca and Gio for a few days, but now Luca has a bad case of laryngitis. He can only whisper, and I automatically whisper back, so things are pretty quiet around here.

My digital frame is ready. It been loaded with about 300 photos, ranging from black and whites from the 1930's of my youthful grandfather right up to today's great grandchildren sticking out their Slurpee-stained blue tongues. This project took a bit longer than I expected and I can always tweak some more things, but frankly, I've got a sore back from sitting at the computer all day yesterday. I'm quite satisfied with how the frame turned out. It is actually quite mesmorizing to watch, because each picture tells a story and a series of 300 photos tells another story, like how my grandfather, and everyone- including our children, change and grow over time. I hope he likes it.

I bought some Lindt chocolates and Italian lavender soap to take over (oops, nothing Canadian) even though my father insisted that I not bring anything. Even the future shop salesperson told me that he takes those chocolates to Taiwan whenever he goes back. He told me a little bit of what to expect, and I got quite excited about the trip all over again. My dad who is worried that I won't be able to handle the foreign Taiwanese breakfasts, laughed when I told him that I was planning to eat everything he did. I appreciate a lot more different kinds of foods now, than when I was a kid poking at my plate. If I have to eat congee for breakfast for two weeks, I will, and I will enjoy it!

"NI HOW MA!!!!"

Every day, except when I'm too busy or lazy, I go for a brisk walk through the park near my house - my daily constitutional, as my neighbour calls it - whether it's raining or not. Okay, I'll confess that I actually prefer it when it's raining a bit, because then, there are fewer people around and I can tune out and think about stuff in my tuned-out kind of way. When there are others in the park, I have to be aware, like a hostess, at the ready to greet some of these strangers. This is what I mean: as I see someone approach, I study the way she is walking (tuned out, alert, happy, friendly, anti-social?) and as she gets closer, I watch her face, and wait and wait, then she looks at me, and then it's "hello", "hello" and that's it, we pass each other. Actually, I don't mind saying "hello" because it's a harmless, polite thing to do in a park in Vancouver. It's the wondering whether the approaching stranger is going to say hello or not that is a bit distracting. Because not everyone says hello. Maybe the ones that don't say hello are like me and never lead with the "hello", but wait for others to say hello first, as a classic introvert would. But I do always say hello back. If they don't say anything, I just smile. And they usually smile back.

Honestly, I usually don't think this much about it, and it really doesn't interfere with my daily constitutional, but today, it was on the front page of my brain, after I came across two people on my walk.

It was a sunny day. I was tuned out when I came up to a lady standing beside her dog. She caught me a bit off guard with her loud "GOOD MORNING!" but I quickly responded with "good morning" and looked at her, however, she was already looking away and power-walking her dog ahead. Then I saw the elderly Sikh guy who marches through the park every day and who always greets me with a "hello!" and flashes his palm at me. When the lady with the dog saw him, she shouted, "HELLO THERE! BEYOOOTIFUL DAY, EH?... SEE YOU TOMORROW!" The Sikh gave her a quick hello and wave and changed paths, which made me wonder, did he change paths to avoid her?

What makes us greet each other in the park? Is the civil acknowledgement between strangers simply by virtue of being in the same place, sharing the park's amenities and the warm sun? Or, is this a cultural thing? I have to say that on my walks, the Chinese usually don't say hello, although they do smile, sometimes. And so I partly wonder if most Chinese people are introverts or if this is a Canadian (N. American) custom. And then I realize that even if it isn't my ready nature to greet people in the park, I do like it, including the lady who shouted it out at me. I would definitely miss it if my walks didn't have that bit of tension and surprise. After saying hello to a few strangers, I do feel odd passing someone and not exchanging hellos or even a smile. Well, when I go to Taiwan, I'll be sure to check out what happens over there - maybe I'll even lead with a few Ni how? and see what happens.

Battle hymn of a Supermom. Why Chinese-Canadian mothers are superior.

One Sunday afternoon, I found Luca alone in the familyroom, playing Wii.
"Hey Luca," I watch Mario hop across the screen, "what world are you in?"
"World 3. I'm trying to get through the junior Bowser castle.."
"What? You're only there?"
"Yeah, it's so hard to get past Bowser. I can't-"
"No, Luca. Can't is not in our vocabulary. You're just not trying hard enough."
"I am!" Luca insists.
"Okay, show me."
After Luca plays and dies halfway through the course, I look at him.
"You call that playing? That was garbage! Don't you know the controls yet? The left hand controls the directions and jumps and the right hand controls the fireballs. You should be able to handle the controls with your eyes closed."
"But, Mom," whines Luca, "I can't do it." He tosses the remote onto the couch, "Besides, I'm getting hungry. I think I need a snack."
"I think I need a snack," I mimic in a whiny voice. I pick up the remote and hand it back to him. "Look, if you stop playing like a piece of garbage, you MIGHT just get through it and when you do, you can then have something to eat," I snarl at him. "Now, focus!" He gives me a dark look before turning back to the screen.

Six hours later, after arguing and crying and my relentless coaching, Luca suddenly makes it through Super Mario Bros level 3-6. We have tears in our eyes as we beam at each other.
"See Luca?" I smile at him and hug him, "I knew you could do it. You just need to work hard, believe in yourself, and then you can overcome any challenge. I hope you learned this very important lesson."
"Thanks Mom, you're the best," Luca giggles and then asks, "can I have something to eat? I'm starving."
"Of course champ, here you go,"
"Uh," he looks at the cheeseburger and fries, "is there anything else to eat?"
"What? It's your favourite."
"I'm just getting a little tired of it," he shrugs.
"You've only had it everyday for three weeks," I tell him. "Look, eat up. You need your energy. Tomorrow, I want to see you get through World 4."

Luca does get through World 4, quite easily, but after that, for some reason, he stops playing Wii, and no matter what I say, bribe or threaten, he refuses to pick up the remote. And he also refuses even to look at a cheeseburger and fries. These days, he will only read books and eat green vegetables. I know I may have been a little tough, but despite what everyone says, I still believe I did the right thing...

"How come you don't know his name?"

The other day, Luca asked me, "what's your grandfather's name?"
I said, "I call him Ye ye." (pron. yay yay for grandpa)
"No, I mean, what's his name?"
"Uh, I don't know," I admitted.
"You don't know your grandfather's name?" Luca was incredulous.

So I called my dad and asked.

"Tsao Ming Yren," said my dad.
"How do you spell that?" I asked.
"I don't know," my dad coughed, " M-i-n-g Y-u-a-n-g?"
"Are you sure? That would be Ming Yuan," I suggested, "Y-u-e-n?"
"Yeah," said my dad, "sounds good enough."

This is the challenge of transpelling Chinese names into English names, using the Pin Yin system which has its shortcomings, including not everyone knowing it. For example, my dad's name is Shan How and most English speakers call him Shan (rhyme with pan), dropping the How part. But really, his name is Shun how with the first half rhyming with pun. But it's not spelled Shun How because in the Pin Yin system that would be pronounced Shoon How. All her life, my sister would introduce herself as fen, and then, when she spelled it out (F-e-n-g), people would go, "Oh, Fang." "No," she'd gently correct them, "I pronounce it fen, rhymes with pen." But actually, the Chinese pronounce it fủn (rhymes with the second syllable in ocean).

Confusing, eh?

So, to simplify matters for English speakers, a lot of Chinese people, like myself, have, in addition to their Chinese names, Anglo names. My grandfather picked out my Chinese name, pronounced wủn - (rhymes with fủn). A nurse at the Ottawa General Hospital (where I was born) suggested Wendy to my parents as the Anglo version and it's been my name ever since - easy to pronounce and spell in Canada. (my parents though always called me wủndy and my sister xiao fủn (pronounced shao fủn).

But my grandfather doesn't have an Anglo name and usually, he signs his name in Chinese, and so that's partly why I didn't know it and why my dad didn't know how to spell it so that an 8 year-old English-speaking Canadian boy could understand it or even pronounce it.

But then, if you think about it, that's probably how all names and words in our language evolve, from being influenced by the pattern of regional languages and accents, imperfect translation systems and "good enough" attitudes. My husband Gio has accepted the canadianized version of his name, although when we go back to Italy, it's Jo-vunny and his Italian relatives want to know, what's a gee-o?

Gong Xi Fa Tsai to my dad in Montreal who celebrated with a rotisserie chicken and pizza potluck with his Chinese neighbours.

Gong Xi Fa Tsai to my grandfather, aunts, uncles and cousins in Taiwan - I'll see you all soon!

Gong Xi Fa Tsai to Gio and Luca even though we don't really celebrate Chinese New Year - but maybe we'll go eat at The Mui Garden tonight?

And Gong Xi Fa Tsai to you!

A list of questions

I've been thinking a lot about what I'll say or ask my grandfather when I meet him. My grandfather is now deaf, so people communicate with him in writing (Chinese). Needless to say, I'm going to need my father or a cousin to write my questions and maybe translate his answers for me. Questions have been randomly popping into my head - some of them maybe a little too ballsy and they may get filtered by my father - we'll see.

· During the cultural revolution, when you were with the Kuomintang fighting the revolution, what do you remember most feeling?
· When you took your family to Taiwan, how upset were you to leave the mainland and your home?
· My father says that he never felt at home in Taiwan. Do you feel Taiwan is your home? Or will you always consider yourself a mainlander?
· How do you feel about the communist regime in China?
· Over the course of your lifetime, what are some of the biggest changes you've noticed in China and Taiwan?
· What was grandmother like as a person? How did you meet? Was she always plump?

· Do you think China is a better place now than before? Do you think Taiwan is a better place now than before?
· What is your feeling about the future of Taiwan and China?
· What did you want to do when you were young? Did your parents pressure you to get the best marks in school?
· What were some of the biggest challenges you faced in your lifetime?
· Do you still follow Taiwanese baseball? How do you feel about baseball players who get involved in game fixing?
· What do you think about the fact that some of your great-grandchildren are inter-racial?
· What important advice would you give to your great grandchildren?
· What is your favourite food?
· What was the strangest thing you ever ate?
· What can you tell me about my father when he was a young boy that I would be surprised to know?
· I'm told that you picked out my (Chinese) name - what does it mean exactly and how did you choose it?
· How important is it to you to have the name Tsao carried on?
· What's the secret to your long life?