凱元,你為什麼來台灣?

[我的會中文的朋友:請你改政我的錯.以後我就請你吃大餐.很貴的.對呀.]

我的台灣朋友一認識我都問我"你為什麼來台灣呢?你是英文老師嘍?"不是,不是!這是我的故事....

我在美國學了四年的中醫.我的老師都是從中國大陸來的.我學中醫的時後開始對中國文化跟中文有興趣,所以我決定到亞洲多學習.




我和周老師在學校的診所.下面--我和中藥.





我好朋友Rikke建議在台灣讀書,因為台灣人都很熱心.還有看中醫書需要看得懂繁體字(還有我覺得繁體字比較漂亮).

住在國外跟住本國當然不一樣.在美國,我沒有語言的問題因為我說英文說得不錯!但在台灣,有時,我聽不懂中文.我會唱一首台語歌,但一定聽不懂台語!有時,不知道怎麼表達我自己的看法.常常是我台灣朋友幫助我,所以沒有什麼問題.

我覺得住在國外很有趣,因為一切事物都是新的!我認識好多台灣朋友,還有不少的外國人,從不同的國家.我在台灣有機會練習法文,還有西班牙話.

去年我住在台北九個月.我在師大學了六個月的中文書.然後,我回國考加州的中醫執照.今年的八月我回台灣,這次在政大讀書.我住在學校附近,在山上,所以風景很妙,空氣很好.

我繞路前行,但我覺得值得.中國人的看法跟西方人完全不一樣.我覺得對我心靈成長有幫助.

今天要放輕鬆一下

雖然我的中文不夠,我知道,但今天要用中文寫我的blog. 如果你是我的好朋有,請你改正我的錯.

今天,我要放輕鬆一下.現在我在我的套房喝著高山茶,聽著音樂(Coldplay).最近很忙.為什麼在這裡都很忙?有時我想要停,放鬆.不要太嚴肅!想在圖書館跳舞,在捷運唱歌.可是這不是加州.中國文化完全不一樣.

什麼活動讓你快樂?我很喜歡在成品書店把時間花.把握時機做自己喜歡做的事.

昨天我參加政大的合氣道社團(在美國我練過合氣道).哇,好好玩!都很熱情.之後我們一起吃了午餐.我回家以後,接到我朋友的電話.她請我跟她的朋友吃晚餐.

我們在士林見面.從木柵要一個小時,差不多!以前我住在那裡,覺得很漂亮.我記得,那個時候,我一個中國子都不會講.這個時候,我的台灣的經驗很新鮮的.現在我跟台北的生活比較熟了,但是每天還很有意思!

今天我要放輕鬆,可是還要讀書.作業滿多,怎麼辦?我要當一個很道地的中國男孩,所以我要讀書.再會很忙,跟台灣人一樣.我的變化會更道地嘍!

我的台灣朋友:我深深感謝你們,都很熱情,很妙!我真幸運!

我的妹妹的生日快到.妹妹,祝妳生日快樂!

Some Things I Saw Today...

Today, I saw...

My friend Alexis's four month-old dog Chocolat waiting for him outside of our practice room during aikido. I walked up to her and she started wagging her tail. She was so precious and jumped on me. I told her she was a very patient puppy, got a drink of water, and returned to the aikido techniques. After practice, everyone came up to her to play with her. And finally, when her "Daddy" came out, she started whimpering with joy and jumped up on him. Alexis took the leash off of her and she was jumping for joy.

A grandfather getting off of the bus at Gongguan. As he was doing this, he turned around and called his grandson to follow him. Just then, I felt a young boy push past me and catch up with his grandfather. As we waited at the curb for the light to turn green, the grandfather, a short, fat Taiwanese man of about sixty, put his arm around the boy, who was also short and fat, and who must have been about eight. They stood there with their shaved heads, the grandfather's hand on the boy's shoulder. I wonder if fifty year ago, a short, fat grandfather put his arm around this man, who of course was just a boy then.

A mother lovingly holding her sleeping four year-old on the bus. Next to her, her husband is loooking over a stack of math tests.

Two students in my aikido class who are boyfriend and girlfriend holding each others' hands during lunch.

A four year-old boy on the MRT looking up at me from his seat. I smile at him and he smiles back. His mother is next to him. She looks completely exhausted. I don't try to get her attention, as if to let her know her son is cute. She doesn't have time for that kind of thing. I smile at her curious son again and he smiles back. I hope right about now she is sleeping deeply.

A Taiwanese boy of about eighteen on the bus reading a screenplay in English. It looked like is trying to memorize the words.

A busdriver waving at me and pointing behind him, then driving by. He is not taking passengers and wants to assure me there is another bus behind him. A few minutes later, my bus arrives.

My three Taiwanese friends dressing up for their Halloween Party. One is dressed as the Status of Liberty. She is holding a book in her hand just like the real Statue of Liberty, except her book is the Lonely Planet Guide to Taiwan. Another friend is dressed like a ninja fighter complete with a sword. Another is a princess. I don't know about the ninja fighter, but I think my friend really is a princess in real life, and her friend who is dressed as the Statue of Liberty has lived in the States, and her boyfriend is from Texas.

A boy of about ten is doing kungfu (gongfu) moves in the foyer of the restaurant that we are leaving. His mother is nearby and looks totally exhausted. I really want to challenge him to a match, because he looks like he knows what he is doing (or more probably, it looks like he watches a lot of TV), and I am also in pretty good shape these days.

My Garden on the Mountain

Taipei's energy is quick and frantic, and tonight I seek balance, among the crickets and birds that call out in the night. I am here in my taofang (little studio) listening to them, trying to figure out if there's a message for me. That's life on the mountain in Muzha.

After an afternoon of studying, I decided to make a trip to Carrefour, Taiwan's hypermarche from France, where you can buy everything from DVD players to lard. I have a little extra money and there are some things I've needed to buy, so I take the bus to Xindian. It's a surprisingly short ride, and as I walk toward the store, I can feel some excitement.

It's called purchasing excitement. Yes, Roni is going shopping. Roni doesn't like capitalism and Roni has been known to sympathize with very left wing economists. However, tonight, I must confess, I am excited to buy stuff.

Carrefour is bustling with this purchasing excitement. Exciting, I would say inspiring, music is playing over the loudspeakers. I walk in and take my backpack off and give it to a security guard (I have been here before and know that he needs to put a plastic lock on the zipper.) He hands me my freshly locked backpack and smiles, saying (in English): "Thank you!" I give him a big smile, "No... thank YOU!" I say. He doesn't know that this is a little American joke, but I am being sincere. I can feel that he is a nice man.

These moments of human connection are important and transcend language and cultural barriers. They happen a lot in Taiwan.

I walk through the masses of people and see that there is a sale on men's clothing. I didn't come here to buy clothes, but I check the sale clothing anyway. Who doesn't want to look good? You know what they say, "The clothes make the man."

I look through some bins of sweaters that I can tell were once very organized, but have been sifted through by a day's worth of Taiwanese shoppers. I bet you I am the first foreigner today sifting through the hip sweaters.

"Bu hao! Bu hao! (Not good!)" a young girl says poutingly to her boyfriend as he picks up a shirt from the bin. I continue my sifting and then turn to him as they walk away. "Bu hao!" I say, in my imitation Taiwanese accent. Luckily, I get a smile from them and they do not pull out their cell phones and call the Carrefour security line.

"Hello security, there is a foreigner making stupid-ass jokes in the men's fashion section!" Phshew! I am off the hook!

I realize only in Taiwan that we Americans really like to make jokes. When I came here in August, I went to my school's administrative office and registered. When I responded to something the woman behind the counter asked with a joke, she looked at me with a blank stare. Then, a few seconds later, a look of relief came and then a smile. "Oh, you are American. You like to make jokes." Yes, I am American. I like to make jokes.

I walk into the library this past week. There is a table set up in the lobby and students are advertising the school's study-abroad programs to Europe and the States. With a straight face, I say in Chinese, "Hi, I would like to study in the United States." For some reason, I think this is extremely funny. They look very confused. I smile and tell them that I am American and I am just making a joke. Fortunately, they get it and start laughing as well.

I decide not to buy a sweater. I think I brought enough sweaters with me to Taiwan. If I need a sweater, I think to myself, I'll come back in a few months. You gotta be disciplined in these places, because I think the music all has subliminal messages say, "Hey, buy stuff you don't need at all. Come on!"

I pick up the things I came here to buy. A backpack, a water filter, and potting soil and plastic planters for the plants that I bought the first week I arrived in Taiwan. I've been meaning to replant them. Give them room to grow.

A Carrefour employee, a middle-aged Taiwanese woman, is demonstrating a special teapot. She's selling her wares in the middle of the flow of customer traffic, as if we are at a night market. She asks me if I would like to buy it. I tell her I already bought it (actually, a friend gave me the same thing last week). She doesn't have any customers watching her demonstration, so I hang out with her for a few extra seconds. She starts demonstrating the product. I don't want to be rude, so in English I say, "Hey, I gotta run," figuring she will not exactly understand, but she will get the idea that I am taking off. She gets it, especially because as I say it, I walk away.

She smiles at me and I think she is a little bit of a Taiwanese comedian, as she says something in Taiwanese on her microphone, knowing that other customers are watching our interaction. Damn, Taiwan is fun.

I manage to not spend too much time picking up what I need and find myself on the bus home a few minutes later. I get off at Zhengda (政大) and wait for the bus that will take me up the mountain. I must look a little ridiculous, a foreigner lugging around two backpacks (my old and new one) and two plastic bags full of stuff.

My bus comes and ten minutes later, I am in my room. I have decided that tonight is a time to garden. In my room!

I drop my two backpacks and two bags full of stuff, take my shirt off (it's hot!), and pull out the potting soil and the new pots and put them on the bathroom floor. I then pick up my plants and place them next to the soil and the pots and I'm ready to begin.

With Brazilian music in the background, I set about repotting the plants. When I'm done, I hose down the bathroom floor and find good places for the newly repotted plants.


A simple palm graces the kitchen area, bringing a fresh, natural feeling to my daily tea ritual.





As one enters my room, plants in the foyer welcome you, saying, 歡迎光臨.







Several plants grace my desk, making my forays into technology that much more enjoyable.


Gardening can be hard work, and I shower and go to bed, but not without admiring my new garden.

Soulmates

Do you believe in soulmates? In the Jewish tradition, this is called besherta. We all have a soulmate, and if we are lucky, we find her.

Sometimes, I think this idea of having a soulmate keeps me lonely. But someone might say it keeps me available in case she comes into my life.

In the Buddhist tradition, we don't need anyone to complete us. We can give up our hope for a soulmate and just rest in the present moment. The Sufis say that the Beloved is present at all times. These mystical traditions say that Love is available in every moment, and that it doesn't need to come from another person. Here's a poem by Rumi (translated by Andrew Harvey), called "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.

Ken Wilber is a famous philosopher and American Buddhist. He knows that enlightenment is available right now. In one of his books, which is in the form of a journal describing his daily life, he talks about meeting a woman and how they began to grow closer. I loved how in his book, he compared relationship to money. He quotes an old Jewish saying that goes something like this: "Whether you're rich or poor, you can still be happy. But, I'd rather be rich." He says that according to the great mystical traditions, whether you are in relationship or not, it doesn't matter, you can still be happy. But, he describes the excitement of meeting his girlfriend and he concludes, it sure feels better to be in relationship.

I suppose we can approach the topic of love the way an old Zen master would:

The Zen master Hakuin was praised by his neighbors as one living a pure life.

A beautiful Japanese girl whose parents owned a food store lived near him. Suddenly, without any warning, her parents discovered she was with child. This made her parents angry. She would not confess who the man was, but after much harassment at last named Hakuin.

In great anger the parent went to the master. "Is that so?" was all he would say.

After the child was born it was brought to Hakuin. By this time he had lost his reputation, which did not trouble him, but he took very good care of the child. He obtained milk from his neighbours and everything else he needed.

A year later the girl-mother could stand it no longer. She told her parents the truth - the real father of the child was a young man who worked in the fishmarket.

The mother and father of the girl at once went to Hakuin to ask forgiveness, to apologize at length, and to get the child back.

Hakuin was willing. In yielding the child, all he said was: "Is that so?"

If it is time for this kind of love to come into our lives, then we can welcome it, saying "is that so?" If it is not time for this kind of love, can we say, "is that so?"

In an Instant Be Free

Throughout the world, the leading instant coffee is Nescafe. This poem is about instant freedom. There are times when I have experienced this, when getting to the Holy Land doesn't require forty years in the desert. Hopefully, this kind of freedom, like Nescafe, can also become a bestseller.

Precious one,
You live in a house built by your own mind.
Sometimes it gives you hours of pleasure,
and sometimes it's a prison.

In one instant, you could escape.
Be free.

And all of your funny little dilemmas,
your bad karma, your stange preferences,
and your curses, too, would be gone.

Well, let's just say you would
be laughing pretty hard.

Don't forget this.
In an instant, your life can change.

Listen carefully to unseen clues,
trust like a child,
and don't give up.

Meeting with a Heron

Tonight I take a walk just before midnight, down the mountain. After walking for about 15 minutes, I see something with a large wingspan swoop down in front of me. It sits on a bridge over a creek that flows down the mountain. I stand across the street from it, just looking at it. It sees me, but doesn't move. Some cars speed down the mountain, their lights beaming at the heron. It flinches a little bit but doesn't fly away. I am still standing across from it.

Is the bird curious about me? What is it doing there?

I feel like I am with another living being, which I am, and we are meeting for just a moment. I will never see this being again. Tomorrow, when I am in Chinese class, where will the heron be?

The American Indians always believe that every encounter with an animal carries a message. What is the heron's message to me?

Adventure at the Taipei Zoo

I went to the Taipei Zoo a few weeks ago and am finally getting around to posting some photos from my visit. I usually get a little sad at zoos because I don't like to see the animals in captivation. It is bad enough to see what humans beings do to other human beings everyday in the news. Why do we have to involve the animals?

Here are three primates, I think they are macaques. I like the way they groom each other and eat the fleas off of each others' backs. I think if humanity copied this behavior, there would be peace on earth.

They look pretty bored of us humans gawking at them. In sign language, I think one of them is saying, "please get me an Xbox."


Upon entering the zoo, we were all graced with the sight of these flamingoes. I think you can rent them for birthday parties, but they count them before they rent them out and require that they all be returned back to the zoo.

I would rent a van to do this, because I don't think they can all fit in a small Toyota, and I think the MRT has a sign that says, "No chewing gum or betel nut, eating or drinking, and no goddamn flamingoes!"


Here are the zebras. I sometimes wonder why they have stripes, I mean evolutionarily speaking. I think they would be more easily spotted by tigers. So, my only conclusion is, simply, that it makes them look sexier.


Speaking of sexy, here are my sexy friends. My two Japanese friends Hikari and Yumika on the sides were not scared, because I think a long time ago, Japanese people ate most of the animals in the zoo for breakfast, along with a little soy sauce and wasabi.

Yumika's friend in the center was afraid of most every animal. I scared her a few times, so I think she probably doesn't want to go to the zoo with me again because of that. I am sorry. I won't do it again. I promise.

Unless we are in the giftshop again and there is a rubber snake on the shelf and you are right next to me.

It's only rubber, come on!

Loneliness

Yesterday, I woke up feeling lonely.

I remember being straight out of college, having only recently moved to San Francisco, and talking to my friend Gayle about loneliness. Gayle is twenty years older than me, has been around the block a few times, and I always appreciate hearing her words of wisdom.

"Ron, loneliness is just a part of life. Get used to it! Learn to feel comfortable with it, don't run away from it. Fix yourself a cup of tea."

Wise words.

After a morning of practicing aikido on campus yesterday, I had lunch with my practice buddies, and returned to my room on the mountain. I had plans with my friend Yilin in the evening, and I thought I would go to a cafe and have that cup of tea that Gayle told me about so many years ago. I also bought a book of Chinese stories (in Chinese!) and was looking forward to making my way through the first story.

I showered and shaved, and took a bus to Taipei 101. There's a new bookstore near there, the new Xin Yi branch of Eslite (誠品). Besides tea, there are a few other things which make me happy. Bookstores are one of them. I thought I would do a little browsing and then head to a cafe and read my book.

Eslite is humongous, bustling with Taiwanese people looking at books. I think Taiwanese people like bookstores as much as I do.

I finally find a cafe, order some wulong tea, and open my book. It is a beautiful, classic story by the famous Zhu Ziqing (朱自清）Helter Skelter (匆匆). It starts like this:

Though swallows may fly away, they come back again; though willows may drop their leaves, they bud again; though peach blossoms may scatter, they bloom again. Yet, clever one, tell me, once my days have passed, why do they never return?

燕子去了，有再來的時候；楊柳枯了，有再青的時候；桃花謝了，有再開的時候。但是，聰明的，你告訴我，我們的日子為什麼一去不复返呢？

I set about translating the words I don't know. I enjoy this time drinking tea and studying Chinese. In the midst of this, I have a major realization.

I realize that no matter what is happening in my life, I can find beauty in what exists right now. I know everyone has read this somewhere or another. I have heard this a lot, too. But there is some way that I "get it" there in the cafe.

I think about a Zen story I once heard:

The Zen master Hakuin was praised by his neighbors as one living a pure life.

A beautiful Japanese girl whose parents owned a food store lived near him. Suddenly, without any warning, her parents discovered she was with child. This made her parents angry. She would not confess who the man was, but after much harassment at last named Hakuin.

In great anger the parent went to the master. "Is that so?" was all he would say.

After the child was born it was brought to Hakuin. By this time he had lost his reputation, which did not trouble him, but he took very good care of the child. He obtained milk from his neighbours and everything else he needed.

A year later the girl-mother could stand it no longer. She told her parents the truth - the real father of the child was a young man who worked in the fishmarket.

The mother and father of the girl at once went to Hakuin to ask forgiveness, to apologize at length, and to get the child back.

Hakuin was willing. In yielding the child, all he said was: "Is that so?"

Can I be like old Hakuin? Whatever is happening, can I just relax and not take it personally?

This morning, I wake up feeling some of the same loneliness. We all have so much love inside of us and I sometimes believe that the feeling of loneliness comes from our waiting for a specific person to come along and accept our love and reflect it back to us. There's something wonderful about that.

On the bus this morning, I decide to not wait for anybody! I decide to feel all that love inside and give it freely to no one in particular. My heart is open, and the feeling of love expands. I am sitting on the 236 to Muzha and am beaming with a feeling of love.

A college student of about nineteen gets on the bus and smiles at me.

I remember a Rumi poem that once hung in my apartment on Shattuck Street in Berkeley:

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)

Surely, I'll forget all of this and remember it again.

Satisfied Mind

Last night, my friend Yilin (易霖) and I went to Xi Zhi (汐止), a suburb east of Taipei, to meet a friend. She is an American artist who is visiting Taipei to make her contribution to Taipei's "Dream Community," a group of artists whose mission it is to bring more of the arts into education in Taiwan. A wonderful, noble endeavor.

Taiwan is good at "producing", "discipline", "following the rules". Taiwan needs more "wild", "creative", "expression". Fortunately, the seeds are here, they just need nurturing.

Yilin and I met at the Kunyang MRT station, ate, and then took a bus to our destination, a small part of Xi Zhi called the Golden Dragon Village (金龍里). On the bus, we had time to catch up. Yilin's a teacher and quite busy these days as his middle school students take their big high school qualifying exams. And I tell him of my life, settling into my life on the mountain, studying Chinese. Finally, we get to the Golden Dragon and the Dream Community.

Yilin is impressed by what he sees, and we are looking forward to meeting some of the community. I manage to find out where my friend is staying, and we arrive at her apartment. Her French roommate tells us that she is in her room taking a nap and that we should return in an hour. I think about waking her up, but something tells me to let her rest and I just can't bear the thought of waking her up. So, I write a note and slide it under her door and we leave, deciding to find her in an hour.

In the meantime, we walk around and talk to folks we meet in the community. I step in some dogshit right in the middle of the street. "This is common in Taiwan," Yilin informs me. "You will have good luck!"

After sanitizing my shoes for a minute, we stroll over to a well-lit area (it's nighttime) full of large art projects. Some American guys are painting a large paper mache float (like, for a parade). I introduce myself and I can tell they are still wondering what I am doing here. I tell them that my friend has invited me, but that she's asleep.

One of them, tattooed and smoking a cigarette, tells me he's from San Francisco. The other invites us to paint with them. We tell them that we're going to take off and have a few beers while waiting for my friend.

"Bring us some chicks.. and some booze," one of them said. I feel like I'm right back in California.

I have never heard Taiwanese guys talk about chicks and booze. They are are mostly thinking about how to get their next promotion. It's a breath of fresh air.

Yilin and I walk over to the local 7-11 and buy some Taiwan beer and find a nice spot where we can talk and enjoy our fine beverages. It's a comfortable Taipei evening, on the cool side for most Taiwanese, just right for me. The sky's clear. We sit, drinking our beer and talk about whatever--our families, about getting older, life in Taiwan, life in the States--quoting classical sources and poetry if possible. In English, this is called "shooting the shit".

We return to the Dream Community, our brains pleasantly buzzed, and we discover that my friend still hasn't gotten up, apparently. Her apartment building is locked and it's starting to get late. The trip back will take over an hour. We smile at each other and decide to head back home.

This morning, she sends me an e-mail. She finally got up--this morning, after thirteen hours of sleep! I am so happy I didn't wake her up. What is more precious than sleep to a person who probably hasn't slept for days? What a nice gift I gave her, not knocking her door down to wake her.

Life is full of gifts. I am reminded of Johnny Cash's song, Satisfied Mind:

How many times have you heard someone say
"If I had his money, I could do things my way?"
Little they know that it's so hard to find
One rich man in ten with a satisfied mind.

Once I was winning in fortune and fame.
Everything that I dreamed for to get a start in life's game.
Suddenly it happened, I lost every dime.
But I'm richer by far with a satisfied mind.

Money can't buy back your youth when you're old.
Or a friend when you're lonely, or a love that's grown cold.
The wealthiest person is a pauper at times
Compared to the man with a satisfied mind.

When my life is ended, my time has run out,
My trials and my loved ones, I'll leave them no doubt.
But one thing's for certain, when it comes my time
I'll leave this old world with a satisfied mind.

Sitting there under the stars with a friend last night, having a couple of beers, I think to myself that there is nothing more precious.

I've got that satisfied mind.

Kissing the Moment as She Flies

Today was the big day. Two weeks of preparation, every day devoting my spare moments to practicing. Praying, hoping that I would do well. Imagining myself getting it right.

I rested last night so I would have energy for my big day. And finally it came. This morning, I packed my things and headed to Taoyuan with my friends, Xiao Fei (小飛), Xiao Zhao (小昭), and Jian Min (建民).

By now, I can hear you. "Okay, what is all this preparing about? What, are you taking another licensing exam? Sheesh, does it ever end, Ron?"

Well, you'll be happy to know that no licensing exam was involved today (wasn't this past year enough?).

No, today I participated in something fun, something, well, unexpected. I participated in Taoyuan's Folk Festival.

Yes, folks, two weeks ago, our teacher pointed out a flyer for the "Taiwanese Singing Contest for Foreigners". Some bell inside of went off. "You better do this!" a voice urged along with the bell.

I have been so busy, I thought to myself, "No, don't, you don't have the time. Be a little more lazy!" But then another voice said (real loud): "CARPE DIEM". And yet another voice said, "DO THE DIFFICULT". (I heard that last one from a Thai monk and it has stuck with me.)

And so, I ask my good friend Yilin to teach me the most famous Taiwanese song, written in 1933, called "Longing for a Spring Wind" (望春風). We get together and he explains the intricacies of Taiwanese pronunciation. People in the cafe look at the two of us a little funny. "There's a waiguoren in the corner singing 望春風!"

Walking around campus the following week, I look for guitar players strumming their instruments, and find Xiao Fei. I ask him if he would willing to back me up, and a few days later he calls me. "Yes!"

We have our first practice about a week ago, and Xiao Fei brings his two friends Xiao Zhao and Jian Min. They are all great musicians, and members of the school's guitar club. I apologize to them in advance--this week, we'll need to get together a few times to practice and you guys will have to learn two songs.

"No problem," they all reply, "we're not really that serious about our studies!"

"Excellent," I respond... I have a band. (No groupies, though... yet!)

For the past week, I've been singing the song while sitting on benches waiting for buses, sitting on these buses, walking up the hill to go class, walking down the hill to go to class. You get the idea.

I get my haircut yesterday and sing it to the old Taiwanese ladies who cut hair at the university barber shop (for a mere 120NT, or about 4 USD). (They smile and compliment me.) I sing it to the taxi driver who gives me a ride home a few nights ago, and he helps me with some words. He, like all the people I meet here in Taiwan, is very warm (熱情）, and compliments me. He is a little surprised. I am a waiguoren. He probably doesn't pick up many waiguoren who sings Taiwanese songs to him in his cab.

I get an e-mail from the Taoyuan city government cultural office this past week. The contest is cancelled--not enough foreigners, apparently, are keen on singing in Taiwanese. However, they still want me to come and sing. Of course, I say yes.

They also had asked me to prepare a song from "my own culture" (and dress in my "own culture's" clothing). Hmm, what is "my culture"?

God bless America (and the whole rest of the world, while you're at it), but I can tell you that it probably ain't mainstream American culture. I grew up hearing my parents (who are immigrants) talk like this: "You know, Americans are so (fill in the blank)", so I've grown up with a sort of dual (at least) identity. In my twenties, I joined a Middle Eastern Jewish band, and got in touch with my cultural roots, which are somewhere in the Middle East. I became, along with six other dudes, a Middle Eastern Jewish Rock Star.

And so, I decided that I would perform one of our band's show-stoppers, Et Dodim (The Time of Lovers) at the show. I sat in the library this past Thursday with my band's recording of the song and transcribed the words in Hebrew, refreshing my memory for the big show.

And then there was my clothing adventure. I figured I want to wear something Middle Eastern. Half of my family is from Morocco. Of course, I don't have any Middle Eastern clothing with me in Taipei. So, I improvise.

I head to "Tandoor Restaurant" on Friday night and talk to the owner. I tell him I need a white kurta. "What for?" he asks. I tell him I'll be performing this weekend, and I need an ethnic costume. I begin singing the only Hindi song I know (sang by Raj Kapur). "Mera juta hai japani..."

"You don't think I can sing that in jeans, do you?" I say. He nodds his head and shakes my hand. "Call me tomorrow and I'll see what I can do."

That night, I get a message from my friend Sajeev, who is Taiwanese but who has been to India. I had mentioned to him that I needed to borrow some Indian clothing. "Come to Daan Park tonight. I will bring the clothes."

And so, I meet Sajeev at the park. Since it is the Mid-Autumn Festival, the park is bustling with people. On the stage on the west side of the park, an ensemble is playing hakka music. Sajeev arrives and he makes the delivery.

But not before introducing me to his six friends who are all Sufis. "Well, we are all Sufis who have been inspired by Osho." Osho is a guru from India. After the concert, they all dance and sang. I am surprised at how liberally they are all shaking their booties. "Are you sure you are Taiwanese?"

"Actually we're not," one of them jokes. "Can you see how we are all a little more sexual than most Taiwanese?"

Osho is a good guru. He talks about not repressing your sexuality. Maybe I'll talk about him in another blog. We're getting off the topic here. I know you like talking about sexuality and you like where I am going with this, but calm down, there, cowboys and cowgirls.

I guess what I am saying was that preparing for this concert today was a hell of an adventure.

I didn't even mention that on Saturday, while looking for a costume, I bumped into two of my closest friends in Taipei. Emmy had e-mailed me the night before and we bumped into each other at Ximending. Sheenru had messaged me earlier in the day to say hi and I bumped into her on the MRT.

I told both of them that I don't believe in coincidences. Especially not in a city as big as Taipei. When things like this happen, I actually have to remind myself that although they may seem like coincidences, well, just think critically. How many days do you run around Taipei and run into no one? Months maybe? And then two of your closest friends who you haven't seen in a while contact you, and within hours you bump into them?

It's good to be reminded that we are all connected and that something else, something not quite tangible, is going on.

Also, as my friend reminds me, it is the Mid-Autumn Festival, a time for family reunions. "You are bumping into your family!" she says

Okay, so far, I've practiced my Taiwanese song a lot, and with Sajeev's delivery, now have my clothing. Now, I wake up and it's Sunday morning. I realize I need to write some words in Chinese introducing the songs I will be singing. In the past few days I realized that the two songs I am singing are perfectly matched.

The Taiwanese song I am singing, Wang Chun Feng, is about a girl of eighteen or so who has spotted the boy of her dreams, but, because of her cultural conditioning, can't approach him, so she waits for him to court her. He never comes. It is a sad song of longing for that spring wind.

The Hebrew song, Et Dodim, is the song of a groom inviting his love to the garden to celebrate their love. It's the perfect answer to this young girl's longing. Oh my!

And so I walk to campus this morning and bump into a friend of mine, Winston, who is a law student. Winston is in his thirties and just returned from a trip to Nepal. "Do you have any time to help me with Chinese?"

"Sure," he says.

I explain to Winston my situation. I explain the two songs and what I want to say about them. Winston is smart. He writes some eloquent words that say what I would like to say, but in Chinese. I practice them on the way to the gig. Here they are:

今天我要為各位來賓唱兩首歌曲,一首是台灣傳統民謠"望春風",是描述一位少女遇到一位如意郎君的思莫心境.當我的朋友介紹這首歌給我並解釋它的意思,我深深感動,並喜歡上這首歌.
令外一首歌是我的家鄉--以色列的一首家喻戶曉的民謠,用來回音望春風的淒美.是訴說一位未婚夫邀請他的未婚妻來花園團聚,互訴情衷,曲名"愛的時刻",現在是中秋佳節.月圓人團圓.以這首歌祝福大家"有情人衷成眷屬. [是我台灣朋友幫我寫--不是我自己寫得!]

It's time for sound check. I get dressed. And it's time to perform.

I perform. It is nothing special. I am nervous, a foreigner, a white foreigner, singing a Taiwanese folksong in front of an audience of a hundred Taiwanese people. Some of them look like they were born before the song was written. I forget a few words, but manage to not make a fool of myself.

I sing my Hebrew folksong, which I feel more comfortable singing. People in the audience look a little interested. At the same time, the look on their faces says, "Uhh, what the...?"

All of the preparation, and there is no peak experience, no moment of triumph, no ecstasy. It seems the event goes by quickly, and with my friends, I am back in Taipei a few hours later.

We take the bus back to Zheng Da. It stops at the school's entrance, and so I must walk up the mountain (which only takes about twenty minutes). As I walk, I see the tea house at the foot of the mountain. I've run out of tea, and so I walk in.

In Chinese, I tell them I would like to buy some wulong cha. Since this is a tea house and not 7-11, they invite me to have a seat and sample some teas. And so begins an hour of fine tea-drinking and sharing each others' stories.

The laoban (owner), a young-looking man of 43, explains how we smell the tea before drinking it, first in its dry state, then the moistened tea leaves, then in the just-emptied smelling cup, before actually drinking the tea.

"This wulong tea," he explains, "is from Alishan, and is famous for it's hint of milk." He explains different ways of drinking the tea, different types of tea, how to make the tea, and lots more. He tells me he grew up in this house, and now he's made it into this beautiful tea house.

I tell them that I performed a Taiwanese song today, and I sing half of it to them. They smile and tell me I sing it pretty good. I feel like this performance is more meaningful than my performance at the festival.

These moments in the tea house feel very essential. I don't know--the big event was fun, but it didn't have some feeling that is always obvious to me, something which I call "essential". But sitting here, as the laoban explains how he prepares the tea leaves by hand, I feel that I have discovered a treasure.

I buy a bag of tea and say goodnight to them--it is almost midnight--and I walk up the mountain to my little taofang. There's a dog in the street that winds up the mountain, and he's in a playful mood. For the next ten minutes, he plays this game--he looks at me and then runs up the street a little, then looks at me and runs up some more. And then, he's gone.

Mid-Autumn Flamenco

It's the Mid-Autumn Festival in Taiwan. Everyone is taking a break for the next five days. And everyone needs it! I just called a friend (at ten) and it sounded like I woke her up from the night of the living dead. So sorry, dear! Go back to sleep and call me at four.

I am having a lazy morning, listening to flamenco music. Listening to it makes me want to dance fiercely and shout with passion!

Something in this music moves me deeply. Perhaps my own Middle Eastern roots. Since half of my family is Moroccan-Jewish, I wonder where in Spain my sephardic ancestors once lived.

I think back to last year, my friend Michael and I hiked near the Maokang tea plantations, and found an old temple, where some old Taiwanese men were drinking tea. Since Michael speaks fluent Chinese (and is just a jovial kind of guy), they invited us to join them. They probably were wondering how this waiguoren who stands at over six feet speaks such good Chinese. We sat and chatted and let the tea do its wonders. Up on the mountain, drinking wulong cha, communing with nature and our new friends, it was quite a refined moment, typically Chinese.

The spirit of flamenco, hands raised, eyes closed, a foot piercing the floor in defiance. The spirit of Chinese culture, epitomized by that moment drinking tea on the mountain, maybe even reciting some old classic poetry. Totally different.

And yet, you can find flamenco-lovers here in Taiwan. There is a flamenco dance troupe at Zhengda, where I study. At lunch the other day, they put on a performance. I felt moved by the music and by the beautiful dancers. They were all Taiwanese, but they all got the spirit of the dance. We were all in Andalusia, right there at the foot of the Maokang hills.

Different culture have their specialties, but we are all human and we have everything inside of us. Surprising but true.

This English is Chinese!

My friend shows me some reports written in English by her colleague at work. "Please forgive me," I say after skimming through them. "This isn't English." She looks surprised. "It's Chinese."

Reading the words, all written in English, more carefully, one realizes that my friend's colleague is still thinking in Chinese. It's as if she has used some kind of translation software to produce the report. It looks like English, but it's not!

And so, I am in demand here in Taiwan. People always want to practice their English with me. Once Chinese speakers learn grammar and vocabulary, the journey can begin! It's like what they say in the martial arts. Once you get your black belt, you are ready to begin studying the true martial art.

Can you think using the images of an English speaker? Can you shape your sentences like a native speaker? Did you know that English has tones, just like Chinese?

People here in Taiwan are much more academically focused than people on the States. They have all taken a lot of exams. It's funny to meet students who are preparing for their GRE's, but who are still afraid of speaking English.

Fortunately, I am studying Chinese, and I understand the difficulty that people have in learning English. I am trying to climb over the same wall, but from the opposite side! My friends give me words in Chinese and I forget them quickly. The syllables in Chinese sound the same sometimes. Is it "re qing" or "re xin"? And who can remember the tones?

I love my Taiwanese friends. They always encourage me, saying "slowly, slowly, you'll get it." 慢慢萊!

I realize that learning a language is just like life. Relax. Let the river flow (and don't push it). Let it wash over you. Swim hard. Then relax. Do flips in the water. Jump on your friend and splash her! Float. Get out of the water and eat some watermelon.

Learn like a child.