My Old Dentist

For some reason, I am thinking about my old dentist tonight. I don't know why.

Of the dentists I've had, he was the crankiest. In his sixties and Jewish, Dr. R always seemed irritated. He would get on my case for not flossing. Whatever he said felt condescending.

I visited him many times, and I rarely heard him crack a joke or even smile. I had never gotten upset by a dentist, but there were a few times when his patronizing attitude almost brought me to say something.

It was late 2004, and I would be leaving for Taipei soon. It was also time for my final checkup with Dr. R. I thought of printing out a cleverly designed "certificate" using fancy graphics and parchment paper: "World's Crankiest Dentist" it would say.

I never did create the award for him. I got my checkup and said goodbye to him.

When I returned to the States a year later, I found out that Dr. R was suffering from cancer and died soon after I left.

I'm glad I never printed that award for him. In my mind, he's still alive, and I send him thoughts of compassion, so that he's not so cranky.

Deep Thoughts at Yongkang Italian Restaurante

Tonight, I met a bunch of friends from school for pasta near Yongkang St. (永康街). One of my classmates is returning to Paris in a few weeks, so we wanted to get together to say goodbye.

One of the things I love about living in Taipei is that not only do I get to learn a lot about Taiwanese and Chinese culture from my Taiwanese friends, but I'm also able to make friends from all over the world. Tonight, we are nine--Austria, Chile, Japan, Germany, Indonesia, Taiwan, and the States are all represented.

The restaurant is small, on an alley off of Yongkang St., which is bustling with hungry Taiwanese, excited to taste the many good "small snacks" here. The famous shaved ice shop is open, and even in this freezing weather (well, freezing for Taiwan), it is packed. I guess they never took Zhong Yi (中醫; Chinese Medicine) 101.

We all chat and order, and slowly, our dishes come out. Very slowly. Our Austrian friend begins the evening's eating event, but he eats alone while we wait for our dishes. Slowly, a couple of plates come out. A fettucine alfredo, and then five minutes later a pesto linguine. I get mine, and almost all of us, except two, are eating. Another dish comes out, but it still leaves one of the Japanese girls pasta-less. As most Japanese girls would be doing at this point, she is smiling politely, doing her best to hide her discomfort.

The group begins to crack jokes. You can have dessert with us. Maybe we can run to 7-11 to get you a snack.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a white guy walk to the back of the restaurant and then behind the counter. Bingo. He's the laoban, the owner. He happens to walk to the front of the restaurant where we are sitting.

"Excuse me," I say to him. "We're almost finished our meals, but our friend still hasn't received her pasta. Do you mind checking to see if they haven't forgotten her order?" I ask politely.

He immediately shows concern and agrees to check on it. In less than a minute, her meal arrives and the owner arrives at our table to tell us, in his Italian accent, that her dish is on the house.

This incident gives me a chance to elucidate and expound my thoughts about the differences between Chinese and Western culture with my Chilean dining partner to my right. I tell him that Taiwanese people will never complain at a restaurant. This is something I've asked my Taiwanese friends before.

"You mean even if you hate the food, you'll never complain?" I ask them.

"Right. We don't want to cause a loss of face," they reply.

If you, a foreigner, are with them and find a problem with the food or service at a restaurant, they will do their utmost to persuade you to let it go and not complain. To accept the problem.

My Chilean friend, who has lived in Taiwan for over a year knows what I am talking about. He tells me about the time a waiter brought him the wrong dish and he didn't want to eat it, that he actually wanted the dish he ordered. The waiter told him that this was not possible and just as he was about to protest, his friends came down on him hard to just accept the dish and not make a big fuss of it. He ended up eating the random dish that was served to him.

This type of theme is always coming up in Taiwan for us Westerners. Where we are taught from a young age that it is important to be direct, even aggressive in asserting ourselves ("the squeaky wheel gets the grease"), here in the East, children are taught to be aware of a larger picture, to be humble, to sacrifice for the greater good, and even ignore their own needs ("the nail that sticks out gets hammered").

For someone who has grown up in the West, especially in the States, the Confucian way is refreshing and enlightening, and there are many ways that I have been changed forever by it. I've learned that we in the West can learn a lot from the East, and that the East also needs to learn a lot from the West.

Culture can give us a key to open doors, and sometimes can be a prison in which we are held captive. Hopefully we can be present in each moment, and like a good martial artist, respond appropriately, using all the tools we've been given. And sometimes we can let them all go and let our Buddha-nature, our Essential self, emerge.

Awesome Hotpot Eaters

My friends Ryan (a Taiwanese girl) and Catherine invited me for hotpot earlier this week. We all practice aikido together, but haven't spent much time together off of the mat. They are both English majors, so in case I can't express myself in Chinese (this happens sometimes), I can revert to English.

I met Ryan and Catherine at the Sun Yat Sen Memorial Hall MRT and we walked to a hotpot place (麻辣火鍋). For those of you who haven't eaten hotpot, you sit at a table with a pot of boiling broth, and cook your own meal. First, though, you need to go up to the lighted case of ingredients and select whatever you want in your soup. There's a lot of seafood, vegetables, mushrooms, and cubes of congealed duck blood. You can also order meat--we ordered lamb and beef.

After we got our food and sat down, we started to slowly cook it up in our shared hotpot. Then, what happened next amazed me.

After I could eat no more, Ryan and Catherine just kept eating. I swear, they ate twice as much as I ate. And then Catherine ordered another large plate of beef. "You're going to have to eat that by yourself," Ryan and I cautioned her.

No problem, she responded.

At this point, you might be wondering, "Isn't he embarrassed to be seen in public with two extremely fat Taiwanese women?" Actually, both are typical Taiwanese women. They're skinny.

Ryan ate a large cup of Haagen Daz ice cream while I drank some plum tea, and we both watched Catherine continue eating her hotpot. Halfway through her beef, Catherine said that she was done. She wanted to save some room for ice cream.

Every day in Taiwan is a learning experience. In the States, skinny women eat salads for lunch. Many overweight women eat salads for lunch, but I suspect in private they are probably downing a pint or two of Haagen Daz after work.

I think I will ask them for lessons, and perhaps slowly, slowly, I will become an awesome eater like my friends Ryan and Catherine.

Mystical Ancient Characters

I've come down with a little cold, which is my body's way of talking me. It's saying, "Ay, slow down, relax!" As a practitioner of Chinese Medicine, I've treated many people with herbs and needles when they are in the throes of a cold. I know that if you are taking care of yourself and balanced, you don't get colds.

But, we are human, and sometimes we get hit with a bug. Too much "busy", not enough "lazy".

So, today is finally my time for lazy. I suppose that all of this Chinese, learning more characters every day, speaking, being bombarded by more characters at every turn, looking up characters I see on street signs while riding the bus--it has finally exhausted me. Despite (or maybe because) my passion for it all, time to take a break.

Last night, I rented a movie, a good thing to do when you're sick. It's an American film, called "Bee Season" starring Richard Gere and Juliette Binoche. I normally don't like American films. Richard Gere is a great actor, but wasn't exactly believable as a neurotic U.C. Berkeley Jewish professor. But, such is Hollywood. You always have to make life sexier than it normally is.

Despite its Hollywood sheen, I still liked the movie. It's about a sixth grader, Eliza, who has a talent. She's great at spelling, and has a magical relationship to letters. It also happens that her Dad is a professor of religion at UC Berkeley and specializes in Kabbalah, or Jewish mysticism.

For those of you not familiar with Jewish mysticism, letters are important. The Jewish mystics believe that the letters of the Hebrew alphabet contain mystical powers and that through meditating on them, one can get closer to God.

Since I was born Jewish, this is a part of who I am and when I look at those letters, something resonates. I've always thought the Hebrew letters are beautiful. In my apartment in Berkeley, I had a page of a holy book hanging on my wall. I can't describe what I feel when I look at those letters, but it is something very ancient, alive, magical.

I feel something similar when I look at Chinese characters, especially looking at shufa (Chinese calligraphy, 書法). I feel that I can look at the shufa hanging at my school library for hours.

I also like writing the characters. When I am in a bad mood, my writing shows it. When you write Chinese, it is best to be patient. Like a good artist, be mindful.

My Chinese is getting better. Last year, I used to teach English at a school near Taipei City Hall MRT. There's a massive neon billboard for a life insurance company at the corner of Zhongxiao and Jilong Rds. To my amazement, I knew all the characters in the ad.

Lest those of you who don't study Chinese start clinking your glasses, I must say, as anyone who is studying Chinese would say, that knowing all the characters in a sentence in Chinese by no means ensures that you actually understand the meaning of the sentence. I can tell you it had something to do with life insurance, though.

The old Jewish mystics believed that looking at the letters, writing them, meditating on them, could have a profound effect on a person.

On a lazy day like today, when I don't have to run around too much, I wonder, how is Chinese shaping my soul?

Drunken Sufis

Recently, a friend sent me this poem. It's written by a famous 14th century Persian Sufi poet named Hafiz. I love the Sufis. They're so spiritual, and yet so exuberant, drunk on love.

We Have Not Come Here to Take Prisoners

We have not come here to take prisoners,
But to surrender ever more deeply
To freedom and joy.

We have not come into this exquisite world
To hold ourselves hostage from love.

Run my dear,
From anything
That may not strengthen
Your precious budding wings.

Run like hell my dear,
From anyone likely
To put a sharp knife
Into the sacred, tender vision
Of your beautiful heart.

We have a duty to befriend
Those aspects of obedience
That stand outside of our house
And shout to our reason
"O please, O please,
Come out and play."

For we have not come here to take prisoners
Or to confine our wondrous spirits,

But to experience ever and ever more deeply
Our divine courage, freedom and
Light!

Hafiz

There was a time in my life where I read lots of poetry by Rumi and Hafiz. I would come home, pour myself a glass of wine, turn on some quiet music, paint, and read poetry.

Sufi poems talk about some deep, deep Love, deeper than all your boyfriends or girlfriends put together. Sometimes, I would suddenly cry while reading them, they are so beautiful. Here is my favorite:

Love's Horse Will Carry You Home

The whole world could be choked with thorns
A Lover's heart will stay a rose garden.
The wheel of heaven could wind to a halt
The world of Lovers will go on turning.
Even if every being grew sad, a Lover's soul
Will stay fresh, vibrant, light.
Are all the candles out? Hand them to a Lover -
A Lover shoots out a hundred thousand fires.
A lover may be solitary, but he is never alone.
For companion he always has the hidden Beloved.
The drunkenness of Lovers comes from the soul,
And Love's companion stays hidden in secret.
Love cannot be deceived by a hundred promises;
It knows how innumerable the ploys of seducers are.
Wherever you find a Lover on a bed of pain
You find the Beloved right by his bedside.
Mount the stallion of Love and do not fear the path -
Love's stallion knows the way exactly.
With one leap, Love's horse will carry you home
However black with obstacles the way may be.
The soul of a real Lover spurns all animal fodder,
Only in the wine of bliss can his soul find peace.
Through the Grace of Shams-ud-Din of Tabriz, you will possess
A heart at once drunk and supremely lucid.

Rumi (Translated by Andrew Harvey)

A few months ago, after a concert in Da'an Park, I hung out with my Taiwanese friends. They brought a drum and were dancing. Since I play the drum, I played for them, and they shook their bodies and danced like maniacs. Taiwanese families were staring at the like they were a little crazy. This is a normal scene in the park in California, but not in Taiwan, folks.

"Are you sure you guys are Taiwanese? I asked.

"No, I don't think so," my Taiwanese friend answered. He said they were all Taiwanese Sufis.

I say, long live the Taiwanese Sufi movement!

Chocolat the Magic Puppy

One of my best "friends" in Taiwan isn't a person. She's a dog. Her name is Chocolat, and she is still a puppy.

She is my friend Alexis's dog. Every time she see's me, she jumps on me and we start to play. I do the same thing with kids, and their parents sometime say, "Hey, Ron, don't get them too wild--they've got to go to bed soon." But I don't think Alexis minds. Chocolat is a dog, already wild.

Dogs, like children, don't have time for bullshit, and they pay attention to signs of real life. Kids, when they walk by a few musicians on the street, are transfixed. Stories contain life, and when you start telling a little one a story, you'll see their eyes open wide and their imaginations move into fifth gear.

The other day, Alexis was in a bad mood and was a little mean to his dog. So, Chocolat walked into the living room, looked Alexis in the eyes and started peeing on the floor.

Alexis later told me he wasn't upset with his dog, because he realized that it was his fault for being mean to her.

I hope I can be as alive as Chocolat (expect for the peeing part).

The Funky Bohemian Dog

On Saturday mornings, as I walk down the mountain, I usually see a middle-aged Taiwanese guy slowly riding his scooter down the mountain. Long hair flows of his helmet as his dog trails behind. He's taking his dog for a walk, and probably running a few errands while he is near the university.

The dog is funny-looking. He's been shaved, his whole body except for a mohawk/mane that extends from his head to his shoulder blades. He's also got funky beard and a soft, neatly-trimmed tuft of hair on the end of his tail.

Today, I see the man on his motorcycle going up the mountain, moving slower than I can jog. Sounds like his bike could use a tune-up. His hippie dog is following behind, sniffing here and there. Every once in a while, his owner stops and waits, and then continues puttering up the mountain.

I pass him while he is waiting. I say "nihao" but he is looking for the dog. I don't think he is in the mood to talk to a waiguoren or practice his English.

I picture the guy's house at the top of the mountain, perhaps near the big temple. What does it look like?

Perhaps a part of me want to have a little dog and live on the mountain, have a more quiet existence.

Except I wouldn't shave the dog like that.

A Little Vacation

Tonight, put on your favorite relaxing song, maybe a ballad by Beck or a cello solo, and just listen. Pay attention to your breath.

Turn off the TV. Turn off the lights.

Whatever's going on in your life, be thankful for what you have, for the people that love you. You got two arms, two legs, you can see pretty good, and you can breathe. You can talk. You can hear. Be thankful for those things as well.

"Life" is harsh, with all it's pressures, we all know that. Right now forget about them all. Take a few moments and be gentle.

Give yourself a little vacation.

Listening to "Crazy" People

I am waiting for the train to Xindian (red line) at midnight at Taipei Main Station. An older Taiwanese man with dark, wrinkled skin walks up to me and says in heavily accented English: "I give you heart analysis. I read you energy tell you how you improve you health."

This is interesting to me. A Taiwanese businessman standing next to me starts getting nervous. His nervousness looks like it is mixed up with a little irritation. A frown starts to form on his face.

I ask the energy-reader if he does qi-gong. I ask him if he has a namecard. My train will arrive any minute.

A young Taiwanese policeman walks up to the guy and he doesn't look pleased. "I've seen you here before, talking to passengers. You better stop it," he says in Mandarin, intimidatingly. The old guy responds with some words I don't understand. I want to tell the policeman that he isn't bothering me.

My train has just arrived, and with the police on his ass, Energy-Reader Guy needs to go now, but not before he turns to me and says, "Go to sleep earlier and you will feel better."

I don't think it takes a super-psychic energy reader to know that I've been going to sleep pretty late recently, but I appreciate the reminder.

Reminds me of another experience I had waiting for a train, in the Bay Area.

It was early 2006, and my whole life was about preparing for the California State Board exam in Chinese Medicine. I was walking my bike to the end of the platform at a BART station (that's San Francisco's subway system), thinking about some concept in acupuncture, maybe a location of a point. This was what my life was life in those days. I was studying between four to eight hours a day. Chinese Medicine was the air that I breathed.

Suddenly, I heard someone talking loudly and looked up. It was an African American man about ten feet in front of me. He was strutting on the platform, as if he were performing in a play, and his character was pretty upset. His voice was aggressive and his words were timed with his step.

"Ya body got energy," he proclaimed, almost as if he were preaching to a congregation sitting in the tracks. He paused, and a few seconds later, he finishes his thought, "it's called qi (氣)."

I am in a little shock. I am in my little world of Chinese Medicine, and this guy, who seems to be a little crazy, maybe homeless, shakes me out of my thoughts, talking about Chinese Medicine.

For a second, I realize that somehow we are connected, that there is something greater than our little worlds. That life has meaning if we pay attention, and we are part of a greater web of being.

Deeper Connections

On Friday morning, I woke up on the mountain and remembered that I had a midterm soon. I knew that I would need the correct mixture of proteins, sugars, and caffeine flowing in my brain in exactly 38 minutes and after doing some advanced mathematics (while drinking my morning wulong tea), I realized I would need to catch my bus a little earlier so that I would have time to eat my morning egg sandwich and Yiren Milk before going to class.

My calculations were, fortunately, correct, and I was able to remember most everything I needed to, and was able to express myself in ways that no Chinese-speaker would ever think of (it's called a lack of vocabulary). Do I get points for that?

The last part of the exam was a short essay: write about your most memorable holiday. I thought about writing about Passover in the States (how do you say matzos in Chinese?), but I thought it would be easiest (and truthful as well) to write about my first Chinese New Year in Taiwan last year.


A picture of me when I was a famous Hollywood actor. Don't I look handsome?

I recalled how I came to Taiwan in January of 2005, just an innocent waiguoren (外國人) not knowing anyone here. I had never even smelled stinky tofu (臭豆腐) or seen more than maybe one or two English spelling mistakes in one day. I didn't know what I was in for.

Soon, though, I began making friends. If you know me, you know I'm good like that. And one day, through a friend that I made in a cafe, I met Hui-Jun.

Hui-Jun was in her early 20s, having just graduated from university in Danshui. She wore glasses, was tall and looked smart, and really wanted to practice English (she majored in English in school). Hui-Jun was the first Taiwanese person I met who actually spoke English that I could understand. And she was the first Taiwanese person I met who actually wasn't afraid of speaking English (actually, she smiled a lot while speaking English).

Hui-Jun was my first real taste of the kindness of Taiwanese people. She explained Taiwanese culture to me and took me to Danshui where we enjoyed the food and walking on the boardwalk. And afterwards, she would always be smiling and would say, "That was fun. I don't think I have ever spoke that much English at one time."

When the Chinese New Year was approaching, Hui-Jun asked if I had plans. "Of course not," I replied. If I knew Chinese, I would have said, "哪還用說嗎?" but I didn't know anything beyond "你好嗎 (ni hao ma; "how are you?") at that point. I really didn't know that many people here. And so Hui-Jun invited me to dinner with her family on the eve of the New Year. I told other friends this and they told me that this was a big honor.

I arrived at her house, a little nervous, and met her family. Despite my lack of Chinese, they all received me with much warmth, her father practicing his bad English with me (but he was trying!). He even tried to get me drunk.

At the end of the evening, I received red envelopes from her father and grandfather. I was so surpised, and even more suprised when I got home and opened them up. I called up a Taiwanese friend and wondered, "Uh oh, she invited me to dinner with her family for the New Year and they gave me money. Does this mean I have to marry her?"

Fortunately, according to my Taiwanese friend's knowledge of Taiwanese culture, there are no such customs. If there are, I think I might have messed up big-time. Let me know if you know about such a custom. Thanks.

Well, Hui-Jun and I stayed in touch for a little while, but our phone calls and emails got lost in the busy-ness of Taipei, and we eventually lost touch. I know that she was planning to study in Canada, and I thought about her from time to time, but we never managed to see each other again.

Forward to this past month. I will spare you the details, but I was a little absent-minded and lost my wallet, something I've never done. I guess now I can understand what people feel like when this happens.

To make a long story short, I had to get some obscure certificate from some office in downtown Taipei after I lost my Taiwanese alien I.D. After taking a bus and the MRT, transferring twice, I finally found the government building on Guangzhou St. I walked in, and saw that it looked just like every other bureaucracy in the world, brimming with anxious, frustrated people and workers who didn't want to take time out of their precious days to be there.

I went to two different information desks to find out where to go, and took a number. Actually, I don't mind all this running around, because it is all new to me, and I usually get a chance to practice my Mandarin. Don't get me wrong, I am not looking for opportunities to get involved in the bureaucracy of the Taipei city government, but I can deal.

Walking with my number to get a seat, a familiar face approaches me and smiles. It is Hui-Jin! We hadn't seen each other for over a year and a half, and she told me that she just returned from studying in Canada.

My number is called, and I give her my cell phone number so we can stay in touch this time.

***

Later in the day, after working in clinic, I meet an Australian friend for dinner (he's also a hippie acupuncturist), and we end up walking several kilometers through town from Gongguan to Tonghua Jie, mostly through Taida's (台大) beatiful campus (Taida, also known as National Taiwan University, is the Harvard of Taiwan). My legs need a break, but I don't say anything (am I becoming Taiwanese?).

We finally get to Tonghua market, where we have some Taiwanese night market snacks (mmm, a greasy omelette with tomato sauce, and some chewy corn on the cob--how do they do that?). After dinner, it's time for me to get home, and I realize there's a bus nearby I can catch that will take me back home to Muzha in less than twenty minutes.

But, before I leave Tongua market, I spot a fruit stand that carries my favorite type of guava, soft and red on the inside. You can't get these babies at 7-11, so I buy a few from the old Taiwanese woman sitting next to the stand reading a paper. "I never see this type of guava in Taipei--only in Danshui," I tell her.

"That's my family's stand in Danshui," she tells me with a smile. She packs up the fragrant fruits, and I am off to catch my bus.

I wait near Taipei 101 for the bus, and when it arrives, I get in, sit down, and review a handout in Chinese from my teacher. My teacher asks us to memorize useful phrases each week, which we will be tested on. Fortunately, she has a sense of humor. One of the sentences reads: "我什麼都吃,就是不吃女人的豆腐" (untranslatable!).

"Ron!" I hear from behind. It's my friend Gloria. We bump into each other all the time. Even though she lives in Muzha as well, I think it is quite strange that in the past few months, we have bumped into each other no fewer than six times.

I always tell her that our "coincidental" meetings have meaning, but she never believes me. This time, though, she is smiling, and I think I know what she is thinking, that perhaps I am right, that these meetings can't be simple accidents.

As she always does, she asks me, "Hey, what are you doing on this bus?" And as usual, I reply, "Hey, why are you asking me why I am doing what I am doing?" as if I'm some kind of stalker or something.

"What are you doing in front of the grocery store?" she asked when we met in front of Kuma supermarket. " What are you doing at the bus stop?" and "What are you doing on the subway?" she asked me the last few times we saw each other. That girl, she's so funny.

"I'm just living my life," I say to myself.

***

What I am doing, telling you all these stories? I guess it's a long way of explaining the concept of "yuan fen" ( 緣分) to those of you who don't know what it is.

I mean that if things like this happen, don't lose out on an opportunity to make meaning of your life. Think clearly. What are the chances of these things happening? I mean, there are some people in your neighborhood who sleep 50 meters away from you every night, and I am sure you never see them.

What does it mean when you bump into a friend who you just wrote an essay about on your midterm? Or, how about the person you keep bumping into, maybe six times in the past two months?

There's "reality" and we all know what that's about. You know, planning your next career move, or getting excited about your next purchase. Maybe pulling an all nighter, and then having to work the next day. Sometimes its beauty is indescribable. And frankly, as one Israeli friend once said to me in his thick accent, "face it, life eez a pehn in theh ass."

But then there's a glitch in the matrix, and I see beyong my mundane life, and I remember, there's something else going on, deeper, nonlinear, and way more magical.

New Year's Resolutions

This evening, I do what I always do on New Year's Eve. I stay home and relax. I've never felt the New Year was an important event, just people getting drunk, and lots of cops on the streets, looking for drunk drivers. People making resolutions they don't keep. And more drinking and rowdiness. At least that's the way it is in the States.


This is a picture of Taipei 101 last New Year's Eve. It pretty much looked the same this year.

Or perhaps it's my Jewish heritage. My ancestors used a different calendar, dictated by the moon, not the sun, and the new year starts during the new moon in the fall, during harvest time. Perhaps your ancestors are always inside of you, deciding your innermost desires, your fate, your girlfriends, and you can't get away from them. Just a fun thought.

Despite my customary indifference to New Years' celebrations, I did go outside tonight. I live on a mountain, and sure enough, the part of the street about 100 meters uphill from my house was packed with spectators. That's the part of the street that has a clear view of the tallest buiding in the world, which we call Taipei 101. I was happy to see my neighbors. I like being around kids and dogs and families. And I really love Taiwanese people, too. There wasn't a drunk, rowdy dude among them. (Why is that?)

All of us waited until midnight when Taipei 101 began to light up. Fireworks. It was a beautiful light show. Like many people, I clapped when I saw the fireworks. I guess fireworks are one of the ways we mortals can get a taste of magic. This massive steel structure that represents serious business for the rest of the year, tonight becomes something out of a fantasy film. Giving us a taste of a different reality, a magical reality, one that we all long for deeply, even though we may not know it consciously.

I just got home, and thought I would share with you some of my New Year's Resolutions for 2007:

1. Become a top DJ of Asia and travel to Bangkok, Tokyo, Singapore and do commercials to encourage kids do not do drugs except for some glue sniffing, because it actually smells pretty good.

2. Learn to consciously control growth of body hair on specific areas of my body.

3. Increase my Chinese vocabulary, not by studying, but my mystical methods, including chanting of mantras, lighting incense, prayer, meditation, and gigong exercises.

4. Audition for the next James Bond movie, most of which will be filmed in Muzha. Do your own stunts, including jumping out of Taipei 101 with a parachute to escape bad guys.

5. Invent new recipes for common Taiwanese dishes based on my dreams.

6. Master psychokinesis, starting with small polystyrene cookie wrappers, and then with yarmulkes, and then medium-sized lumber.

7. Memorize all Jay Chou songs. Ask Taiwanese girls at bus stops if they like Jay Chou. If they do not, then keep singing his songs to them until they hit you with their umbrella.

8. Win the Belgian lotto.

9. Start e-mail campaign to McDonald's, petitioning them to import wulong tea from Muzha for flavoring their fastfood products, including "McTie Guan Yin" ice cream and "McWulongburger", so that tea farmers can provide better education for their kids, including English lessons.

10. Invent new style of dancing combining elements of tango, breakdancing, and bungee jumping.

11. Invent personal version of simplified Chinese and popularize it using Blogger.

12. Invent new operating system for PC, combining best elements of Linux and Windows and give all profits to fakirs of India for emergency care.

13. Do more Internet research to finally find connection between 9/11 and invasion of Iraq.

14. Start a movement in Taipei and other cities, making it a misdemeanor punishable by a small fine of 400NT for women who weigh less than 50 kilograms to say, "I am fat".

15. Petition Taipei government to increase number of public trash cans from 12 to 846.

16. Sing Taiwanese songs on Taipei MRT trains using traditional puppets for illustration of romantic elements of songs.

17. Plant a garden in front of my apartment that has all different kinds of melons.

18. Start making my own clothing from bamboo leaves, feathers in parks, and chopstick wrappers.

19. Invent a new Chinese instrument called the kucheng, based on the guzheng. Actually, it will be exactly the same, but I will package it differently and use a different spelling and invest a lot in infomercials, and people will really believe that it is a new instrument, especially in the States.

20. Try to talk more sense into religious people by taking out a full page ad in major newspapers in the U.S., telling them that they can't support killing people in other countries, even if does support the dominance of U.S. capitalism, a system which ensures that they have a job and health insurance, because that's what it says in their bible.

21. Visit one old Taiwanese couple a week, asking them about their first date, and write a book based on these stories which will be translated into at least 23 different languages.

22. Distribute small camcorders to Taiwanese kids between the ages of four and eight with a self-addressed stamped envelope, asking them to randomly film their lives, but to make sure they don't let their parents know about the project so they can have more artistic freedom. Then, after they send them back to you combine the videos and edit them so that they fit together seemlessly and distribute worldwide.

23. Build a Buddhist temple in Muzha made out of used pencil erasers, so that people can go there and forget their problems, including memories of asshole boyfriends, mean bosses, and betrayals by best friends in high school.

24. Start a movement to require all people in the world practicing yoga to memorize the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali in Sanskrit to ensure that they know how to ethically use the powers they gain after doing a lot of yoga.

25. Write a letter to the government of China, asking them to be nice, because their country is getting more popular, and if they want to continue this trend, it's pretty important.

26. E-mail Starbucks in Taiwan to set up a meeting so I can do a Powerpoint presentation explaining why Pork Pita and Bacon Bagels are offensive.

27. Do a reality show in Taiwan in which I go on dates with Elva, Jolin, and Lin Chi-lin, and try to fight with them for no reason, and see who gets most annoyed.

28. Go to SOGO and other department stores and conduct salsa classes in Chinese in their food courts. Bring Taiwanese friends from school who walk around distributing pamphlets stating that I am a famous teacher from Puerto Rico.

29. Decrease humidity in Taiwan.

30. Become chums with managers at major drug company plants in the U.S. and hatch a plan to secretly replace all anti-depressants with a mixture of soy protein powder and green tea extract, but use the same capsules, and anxiously await to see what happens.

31. Only wear sexy underwear every day, and then at the end of day keep track of how I feel, using a scale of 1 to 10. Then, at the end of the year, do a statistical analysis to see if it really works. I bet you I will feel outstanding.