Freedom and Chaos

My friend Javier from Mexico and I had lunch today at the vegetarian restaurant near campus. I like Javier a lot. He is thoughtful and because he is older (he's got a wife and kids back home), we can share our deep thoughts about living in Taiwan. I think his English is probably not so great, because I have to speak Spanish with him. So, today at lunch, I think my Spanish improved by about 26% over the course of an hour and a half lunch consisting of various fake meats.

We both like a lot of things about Taiwanese society. Like the fact that, for the most part, you are safe, even walking at night. When I am on the subway, I am not worried about my wallet, even when the train is packed. When I put my bag down for a second and look away while I am waiting for my bus, I don't worry whether someone is going to steal it.

The other night, Javier saw someone walking by the river near school. At 11 o'clock at night. You can't do that in Mexico, because people will think you are bad and you are doing something illegal. You might get killed.

When I came back to the States after living in Taiwan for nine months, that is one of the things I noticed. People's shit is always being broken into or stolen in the U.S. You've always got to keep an eye out.

One time, I went to do my laundry and left my back porch open by accident. When I came back, I found that most of my CD collection was stolen. I found a whopper (that's a burger from Burger King, that the thief had abandoned) on my porch. Someone had jumped the railing and took my CDs. Unbelievable.

The other thing that both Javier and I agreed upon, that is true in both Mexico and in the States, is that there is a plethora of drugs floating around, and that definitely has an influence on society. To me, it sounds like most Taiwanese people learn about drugs (we're talking illegal drugs, folks) from the paper and movies.

But for us folks in the U.S. and Mexico, if you aren't living in a small-ass country bumpkin town (and even then you're not assured), you're going to know someone who is doing drugs, or someone who knows someone who is doing drugs. You're going to have a friend at work who used to be a drug addict and now is clean. Or, maybe that "bad" kid who smoked cigarettes in the parking lot at school, well, you found out he died when you were 24.

You go to the local drugstore or pizza place, and you look at the guy at the register and maybe it seems like he's a little off. He's not retarded, he just smokes a lot of weed.

Whether you know it or not, drugs pervade America. People at the highest level of the corporate world are coming home and snorting coke. On the weekends, their employees are going to clubs and doing ecstasy.

Marijuana (weed) is so pervasive, and I would say it is abused. Where I come from, in California, there are people who are using weed to get away from reality. (Um, I think people are doing this in other states, too.) They smoke it first thing in the morning every morning. They are spaced out. They are angry. They are inconsistent and apathetic.

Drugs aren't a simple topic to discuss. A question we might want to ask is this, whether or not drugs are pervasive, why do people take them? What are they escaping from? What are the conditions that lead people to have no desire to drug themselves?

Of course, I know that drugs are a problem in Taiwan, but I don't think you can compare the situation with the States.

Taiwan does a pretty good job of protecting its kids from the dangers of drugs. It seems that they are not that plentiful, and the society provides support for them, like an extended family and a safe living environment. It also helps that they are about six times busier than American kids of their age, preparing for their all-important high school and university entrance exams. They leave for school at seven in the morning and come back home from their cram school at ten at night.

I quoted someone who said that because the United States is the freest of countries, that it also means that there is more fucked-up shit going on there. I like freedom, and I see how in some ways, people in Taiwan, because of their more conservative culture, lack some of the freedom of expression we enjoy in the States. I think this is why my Taiwanese friend Gene says she would like to leave Taiwan.

I think she would probably want to come back here, though, later.

One of the things I also like about living in Taiwan is that gives me a new perspective on things that we're used to taking for granted, things like "society" and "freedom". You travel and you see that these concepts change from place to place. And most people don't question them at all.

Javier and I could have talked for a few more hours. We were finished with our fake chickens, the waitress cleared our plates and then we said adios.

On True Love

Someone said that finding true love is beyond words, something which brings us a feeling of peace and contentment.

Like winning the lotto.

Sitting in a Corner at Eslite Reading Poetry

There are times when I just need to talk English with a native speaker. When I need to express myself in an uncensored way, using all the idioms and verbal phrases and cultural references and nuances that make English so hard for Taiwanese people.

On most days, I am happy enough with the cultural learning and stretching that happens in Taiwan, some good Taiwanese friends, along with other goodies. But I find that every once in a while, perhaps after a hard day of studying Chinese, when I am discouraged, or when I'm feeling homesick for Berkeley, I need a taste of home.

However, unlike some foreigners here, I don't have that many foreign friends. This is not accidental. I am living in Taipei, trying to learn Chinese. I'm not trying to recreate home.

I realize how our daily interactions with other people are a way that we can reflect our experience back to ourselves. Maybe a way to feel our lives a little more deeply. And I still can't do that all in Chinese.

Yesterday, I was studying in Eslite 誠品, my favorite bookstore. During a study break, I went to the poetry section. There I found my "foreign friends". I found a book of poetry, sat my ass on the floor, leaned by back against the wall, and hung out with Mary Oliver, Derek Walcott, Rumi, Whitman, and some others.

Perhaps I have a need to go to that sublime place that intimate conversation with a good friend takes you, or in the case, poetry.

If you are in Taipei, and want to join me at Eslite for a little poetry, let me know, and perhaps we can both go to that place together.

你很幸運嘍!

唉,最近沒有寫文章.我希望我的粉絲不會那麼失望.不好意思!

為什麼我那麼忙,沒有時間連寫一篇小小的文章? 就是因為我在學中文!你不覺得這是一個非常好的原因吧?中文那麼難.你(我台灣朋友)從小到現在一直都講中文,已經念那麼多書.哇,你很幸運,我忌妒你.欸,不要說「英文也很難啊!」.你會看英文雜誌,對不對?是啊,就是,因為教育的關係,你不敢說話.我知道,很多人這樣回答.但,我沒有辦法看中文雜誌,一定要一邊看字,一邊查字典.

我以前認為中文跟英文一樣難,因為我的朋友一直都抱怨說英文的文法那麼難.但最近,我改變我的想法,覺得中文比較難.

到現在學了一年的中文.最近,我決定我一定要待在亞洲很久學中文.如果我今年才回國,我會認為我的一年的中文學習很浪費時間,因為以後就不會很流利地講中文.

Under Construction

We're sorry, this blog is currently under construction. I know lately you've been looking here for the exciting adventures of Chinese-Like Taipei Boy. Maybe you've been wondering, what is going on with him?

Way Back into Love

Uh oh, you're gonna really think I've fallen off of my rocker, because I'm about to post a video of a pop song on my blog. Not only that, but it's from a mainstream Hollywood movie that I went to see with my friend Emmy a few weeks ago.

Pop songs and Hollywood movies, I discovered, do sometimes contain eternal truths. There are many "ways back to love". Perhaps some of us are consciously looking for these ways, perhaps some of us aren't. Or, as someone once said, perhaps that's what we're all doing on this planet, whatever we're doing, and however messed up it all looks to everyone else.

So, I dedicate this song to all my friends and family. You know who you are. You are my way back to love. I am sending you blessings for love always.

Roni

The Magic of Yao Consulting

Specifically, Yao has helped people in the following areas:

• Image Consultation. Face it, image is important. Yao will suggest ways for you to change your image, like for instance, by wearing different sunglasses or getting a smashing haircut. If you are overweight, he will have his assistants surprise you and jump on you when you come to the office, and you will have to fight them, and you will probably lose a lot of weight this way.

• Financial Wealth. Find out the best ways to increase your financial luck. Yao will not only suggest lucky places to buy Taiwanese lottery tickets (based upon your birthday), but he also knows secret Daoist prayers and they have usually worked. If you have a lot of money, Yao will suggest investments that most fit your personality. One time, Yao recommended a client to invest in a pet store, and since then, she opened up a chain and has pet stores all over the place.

• Poverty Consulting. For those with little or no money who are always worrying, Yao also provides ways to manage the stresses of poverty. He recommends such clients convert to Buddhism, as it teaches that all life is suffering. He also can suggest "All-You-Can-Eat" restaurants located near large universities in Taipei. Also, you can save money on umbrellas because on most rainy days there are a lot of umbrellas right outside of most 7-11's and you can just take one.

• Mood. If you find yourself often feeling unhappy, Yao can help you change your mood. One way he does this is by calling his clients every day and saying in a very sweet voice, "You are so beautiful!" and "You don't need plastic surgery--honest." Also, if your mother is always yelling at you and asking you when you are going to get married, he will have a talk with her (he also knows a few words in Taiwanese, and you would be amazed to find out how Taiwanese mothers find it very cute) so that she will ease up a bit. This usually takes care of 90% of mood problems in Taiwan for people under the age of 35.

• Love. Many people find themselves lonely and longing to be with someone. Others feel like they have bad luck, meeting one asshole after another. Yao uses drastic means to help people realize that to find the love of your life, you really have to start with yourself. To begin the process, Yao will usually personally go to your boyfriend's (or girlfriend's) house and break up your relationship. In addition, Taiwanese clients are not allowed to use MSN anymore. You can't imagine how much more free time they have to go out and actually meet people.

• Job. Most people in Taiwan work too much at jobs they don't like, and for bosses who are too strict. Yao gives you qigong (氣工) exercises to do at work so that you sincerely enjoy your time there. In addition, Yao can teach you ways to keep your boss calm, such as putting calming herbs (and sometimes drugs that make him sleepy) into his coffee. Also, Yao's "One Year/Six Jobs" (1Y6J) Program has been extremely effective in helping people to get a better understanding of the workplace. In this program, clients get a new job every two months and either resign or try to get fired so that they can move onto the next one. Believe me, after a year of this, clients are very happy to stay in their next job.

These are just a few examples of the magic of Yao Consulting. Contact Yao Consulting now so that we can help you create some magic in your life!

Visit to Yilan

I was planning to go to Bali for my vacation, but my friend Wanling invited me to visit Yilan and so at the last minute, I cancelled my plans. It's no big deal--I saved a lot of money, and I hear that during this time of year, Bali is full of Taiwanese people. Luckily, I can get that right here in Taiwan!

So, right before the New Year, some friends (including my friend Kenny, who grew up on St. Kitts, an island in the Carribean) and I got on a train to Yilan.











Kenny, Cynthia, and me posing in front of "Double Happiness".

Wanling took us to the Luodong Night Market. Kenny refused to eat the stinky tofu. I took a bite and just smiled, saying, "Oh, it's good, but I'm full already!"











Stuffing our faces with nightmarket food.

Yilan is very nice. It's quiet and has a suburban feel. I know that's not usually considered good, but after living in Taipei, at least for me and my friend Kenny, it hits the spot.











Here we are being Taiwanese.

At night, we went back to Wanling's house and sang karaoke with her mom. I sang a duet with her in Taiwanese.











Wanling, thanks for inviting us. You are the best!

Yao Consulting

Hello, and welcome to Yao Consulting. We are please to offer our services to the citizens of Taiwan. After consulting with ourselves, we decided that today was the most auspicious day to open our Taipei branch. We plan on opening additional branch offices in Taichung (台中), Pingtung (屏東), Hualien (花蓮), and Penghu (澎湖). I know these aren't exactly the financial centers of Taiwan, but we got an excellent deal on office space which we couldn't refuse.

First, a little about Yao Consulting. Yao Consulting was started over ten years ago in California by Ron Elkayam (姚凱元; Yao Kai Yuan). Yao has degrees in psychology and Chinese medicine from extremely prestigious academic institutions. Not one to rest upon academic accomplishments, Yao says that licenses and degrees are worthless if you don't actually help other people get results. And that he has.

Over the last decade, Yao has helped people find happiness, experience more joy, increase their financial worth tenfold, and bring more creativity and love into their lives.

Specifically, Yao has helped people in the following areas:

• Image Consultation

• Financial Wealth

• Love
  

• Career

• And much more!

Stay tuned for more information about Yao Consulting's services. In the meantime, if you have questions, don't hesitate to contact us. We'll be happy to help you.

The Art of Tea

Since coming to Taiwan and having been accepted as a government-sponsored foreign scholar, I have been doing some intense studying on several important subjects related to Chinese culture.

Initially, I thought I might speak about music stores with good listening stations in Taipei, but the Office of Traditional Costume and Fashion Research (part of the Ministry of Education, and also in charge of managing and costuming foreign scholars), gave that one a big "不行" ("no way, Jose").

So, today I will speak about tea.

In many ways, tea represents the essence of Chinese culture. Varieties of tea abound. You've got your greens, your wulongs, and your black teas, to make a long story short. In Taiwan, wulong teas are preferred. Green teas are mostly gotten from 7-11 in plastic bottles and also contain lots of sugar, or sometimes, you can find a cafe here or there that serves authentic tea from Japan.

But today, we are not here to talk about Japan. Or Korea. Did you know that in the United Nations registry of holidays, the Koreans recently claimed Dragon Boat Festival as their "authentic" Korean holiday. Oh, come on Koreans. Are you going to claim Thanksgiving, too, as your own? I bet you will, and will also have TV shows with pilgrims.

Anyway, I am getting off the topic.

Why tea? I once heard that while coffee is prose, tea is poetry. Doesn't that just rock, as analogies go? I mean, think about a novel, one that you can't put down, a classic, like, say, . That's a cup of coffee. It keeps you enthralled and entertained, and when you can't read it, you sort of go through withdrawal. I also think coffee is like rocket fuel. Soon after drink it, you feel like you can conquer the world.

But then there's tea. When I drink a cup of tea, it slowly.

Missing New York

I'm getting lunch in the basement of a big department store in Taipei, near the Zhongshan MRT station. I've ordered and am waiting for my chicken leg to be prepared and decide to walk around and guangjie yixia.

Maybe check out the fruitjuice booth, the tea shop, or the cheese- and black forest cakes neatly wrapped in clear plastic around the corner. The ladies in the sweet shops of these foodcourts always smile at me, hoping I'll buy some of their cakes. From their eyes, I know what they are thinking, "Oh my Heavens, this foreigner probably knows no Chinese, but maybe he will buy!"

There's hustling and bustling as people are taking a break from their New Year's vacation department store shopping.

As I turn a corner, making my way around a daydreamy teenage girl who is walking too slowly (probably thinking about her next haircut), a middle-aged man looks at me, smiles, and says, "Hello!" in a thick Chinese accent. I say hello back and he looks like he wants to talk some more. Does he want to practice his English?

Little does he know, he has found the king of "waiguoren who like to talk to Taiwanese strangers in public".

In English, he asks me what I am doing here. I try to use only English, but with his thick accent, I assume he won't understand, and so I throw in some Chinese. Even though my Chinese is not the greatest, I am not really used to speaking English these days, especially with middle-aged Taiwanese guys in department store foodcourts.

I tell him I am studying Chinese at Zhengda. I can see he is happy to meet an American and talk English. To my surprise, he tells me that he is American and lives in New York, that he hasn't lived in Taiwan for twenty years.

"Welcome to Taiwan!" I say, a little abruptly perhaps. I listen as he tells me more of what's on his mind. Prices are expensive here, he says. He likes the prices better in the States.

He is beaming, and perhaps will feel a little more himself today. I need to excuse myself to get my lunch, so I say goodbye. He pauses, smiles, and shakes my hand, and it almost seems that he doesn't want to say goodbye to me, a friendly face that reminds him of home in old New York.

Chinese New Year

It's Chinese New Year, and people are just starting to come back to Taiwan from their family homes all over Taiwan.

Last week, a friend invited me Taoyuan for New Year's Eve. Quite an honor. On Saturday afternoon, I got on the MRT to meet my friend's good friend Chi in downtown Taipei, and we would take a bus to Taoyuan. By the way, Chi is also my good friend and we sometimes talk about very, very secret things that not very many people talk about.

I had taken a shower and wore my nice clothes, and got on the train at the zoo near my house. There were like two other people on the whole train with me as I made the trek from Muzha in southern Taipei to where Chi was waiting for me. Taipei felt empty. Everyone, I later found it, packed into their cars, onto trains and buses, after finishing work on Friday afternoon.

By Saturday, when I got onto that train, everyone was already back in Kaohsiung, or Yilan, or Taichung, watching TV with their families, eating nuts, fruits, getting ready for a big dinner. While eating these snacks, firecrackers were going off everywhere in Taiwan, continuously. This is to keep away the big bad monster that threatens everyone's good fortune for the next year. His name is Nian, and I say, keep the explosions coming, because I'm for good fortune!

Chi and I were waiting for the bus on Minquan West Road on Saturday afternoon at about four. I had brought a bag of goodies for our hosts and Chi was checking it all out. In the meantime, the bus went by. Chi was a little flustered and told me that if she hadn't been checking out my chocolate, then we wouldn't have missed the bus. I like my friend Chi so much, that I told her that now and in the future, she is allowed to blame me for any kind of traffic-related lateness or even an accident or two. That's how much I like her!

It was no problem, as another bus came ten minutes later. We arrived in Taoyuan about a half-hour later and our friend Cecilia picked us up. She just got back from getting her MBA in Holland. She told me that it is not fair that Taiwanese parents will not hire her to teach English even though her English is good. Well, I sort of agree that it's not fair, if they are not hiring Taiwanese people who grew up in the States, but she grew up in Taiwan. So I gave her a hard time and told her that if I were a Chinese parent, well, I would want a native speaker, too, and I don't think it's discrimination.

I love languages, and the more I study Chinese, the more I come to love English. And the more I come to appreciate how languages contain so many cultural codes. And that to really learn a language, one has to live with it every day, hear it until it enters deeply the limbic part of your brain, until it becomes completely unconscious.

In every sentence, there are layer upon layer of meaning, nuance, feeling, and history. There are things that I can say to another native speaker that even proficient non-native speakers of English in Taiwan would have a hard time understanding. And, needless to say, the same thing happens the other way around, in Chinese.

Cecilia introduced us to her parents and we sat down to chat before dinner. I can't say that Chinese has fully entered my limbic system, but it is dancing around my cerebral cortex at most hours of the day (including in some of my dreams), and so I can hold a conversation with them. We have a little wulong tea.

Some more guests arrive, some friends of Cecilia who were from Holland. They have two beautiful children. Their Dad drives TGV trains in Europe, and is here teaching operators to use the new high-speed rail here in Taiwan. We chat about the project here in Taiwan and he explains that because of politicians, it is a big fucking mess. They are using Japanese trains and German tracks, or Japanese tracks and German trains or something like that, and the French guys can't talk to the Japanese guys.

Before we get too cozy in the living room, we are invited to the dinner table, and we feast. As we fill our bellies, I suggest we sing karaoke after dinner, and sure enough, Dad informs me that the family has a whole karaoke setup in the living room, complete with spinning colored lights.

I had been invited a few days earlier to visit my friend Wan Ling in Yilan, and after a group of us got back from the night market, her Mom joined us for snacks and a little plum wine in their den, where they had a high-tech karaoke machine and several songbooks with song codes. I sang "It's a Wonderful World" and then me and my friend Kenny sang "Uptown Girl". Afterwards, Wan Ling's mother asked us if all those "wooo-wooo-wooo's" were actually part of the song, and we told her that they were indispensibly so. We all laughed a lot.

Back to Taoyuan, where more karaoke is taking place. Some English songs, but mostly, Cecilia's parents are singing in Taiwanese, with a few Chinese songs. Cecilia's Dad has a great voice. He's always in key, and he's got an authentically raspy voice, as if he's smoked just the right number of cigarettes to make it sound cool. I especially like his rendition of the Chinese version of "My Way".

As midnight approaches, we all head out. I put on my shoes and thank my hosts repeatedly. The next morning, I'll need to get on a bus to head to the south. My student has invited me to spend time with her family in Kaohsiung.

I arrive at home at one in the morning, and start packing. My phone alarm rings at eight, and I make some tea, eat the tea eggs I bought yesterday at 7-11, get dressed, and walk down the mountain, getting ready for meeting another Taiwanese family.

There's certain to be a lot of food, smiles, a few cute Taiwanese kids, and as always, too much complimenting me on my Chinese. I don't have family in Taiwan, but somehow, people come forward, and they take care of me, they feed me, laugh with me.

Yehoram Gaon in Muzha

It is late up here on the mountain. The roosters will start crowing in a few hours. It's okay. I'm on break from school.

For some reason, when I hit iTunes tonight, it started playing some Israeli music, the famous Yehoram Gaon. To me, he is the voice of Israeli. He is sing old songs about Israel's beauty.

Up here in Muzha, halfway around the world, I couldn't be farther from the Galil or Jerusalem, physically or spiritually.

There was a point in my life, a long, long time ago, when I wanted to live in Israel. What would my life be like now?

Instead, I am here in Taiwan, learning Chinese.

Virginia

I take a break from studying in a cafe today and go outside for some air. There's a guy with a small fruit stand right in front, and I see he has some oranges and a press for making juice. I ask him for a cup of orange ( 柳橙; liu cheng) juice. As he is pressing the juice, I see that his sign reads 柳丁 (liu ding).

"What's the difference between 'liu cheng' and 'liu ding'?" I ask him. As usual in Taiwan, I am pretty good at asking questions, but I don't always manage to fully understand the answer. I think he says 'liu cheng' is more sour. I pick up an orange and decide that 'liu ding' is a valencia juicing orange. I know 'liu cheng' is not a tangerine, because that is 'ju zi', so maybe 'liu cheng' is a naval orange. It might take me a few more years to get all the different kinds of oranges. As you can see, Chinese is hard.

An old man with grey hair is standing and watching me get my Chinese lesson on oranges and he has a kind, grandfatherly smile. I look at him.

"You speak Chinese," he says.

"A little, but not as good as your English," I respond. As you can see, I am becoming Taiwanese, developing my flattering ways. "Where did you learn?" I assume he was a professor who did graduate work in Ohio in 1957, or an engineer who was trained in Michigan in the 60s. Or something like that.

"I was in the army and I worked in the States, in Virginia," he says.

I wonder what was going through his mind as he was looking at me before I noticed him. Did I remind him of an American soldier he once knew? Was he thinking about his life when he was younger, stronger, full of hope? What did he hope for back then? What has he lost since then? What has he gained?

He raises his hand and says "goodbye" in a soft, polite voice.

"Goodbye," I say, and smile at him.

The First Meeting of the Taiwanese Association for Peace in the Middle East (Muzha Chapter)

When you live in California, it's not often that you meet real Iraqi citizens. But when you live in Taiwan, you can meet a few right here in Muzha, studying Chinese with you at the National Chengchi University School of Mandarin Studies.

We students at the Hua Yu Ban (華語班) have all seen each other at least once, but we don't all know each other. Today, while walking on the Zhinan Rd. Bridge, I saw a nice couple whom I had seen before. They look Middle Eastern, and I had been wanting to introduce myself to them.

For those of you who don't know, my father is from Morocco and both my parents grew up in Israel. I feel I have a deep connection with the Middle East. Made me want to help start a band band in Berkeley, California that plays traditional Arab music (www.zaatar.web.com), which I did, along with my good friend John.

I am also a friendly guy and am interested in learning about all cultures, all of which made me want to say hi.

Walking on the sidewalk next to them, I said hello and asked them where they are from. "Iraq," they replied.

"Keyfa haluka (hello)," I said to them in my best Arabic accent. They asked me where I am from, and I said California. I told them that my father is from Al Magreb, Morocco. When I said this, the girl's face lit up, as if she were meeting family. I introduced myself and they told me their names were Bruah and Kisha.

"So you are muslim?" Bruah asked.

"No, ana yahud (I am Jewish)," I replied. It was amusing to see Kisha's reaction this time, which was an obvious frown. I am sure she had no idea what her facial expression looked like.

"You know, I don't support my country's government," I said.

"Why not?" Bruah asked me.

"Because they are killing people, and perhaps they got rid of Saddam, but I don't think they would have done it if there weren't oil there," I said.

"We are Kurds," Bruah informed me, "so we are glad that the US got rid of Saddam, but there are things we don't like about the US government."

I told Bruah and Kisha that I play Arabic music in California, "I play tabla (Arabic hand drum)", and Muslims and Jews and Christians all come to our concerts and they dance and enjoy the music together.

I continued: "I believe that people are good and that it is the governments of the world that pit one people against another. I have good Palestinian friends and we all know that there is no reason we should hate each other. It's certainly not because of religion."

Bruah told me that Islam does not permit terrorism and that if someone is good, he likes them; if someone is bad he hates them. He, too, doesn't believe that just because you are a Jew or a Christian that he as a Muslim should hate you. "How about you, how do you feel about Islam?" he asked me.

I told him that all the Muslims I have met are good people, and that I know that the true message of Islam is about peace.

I then took his hand and I said, "Bruah, you are my brother." And I looked at Kisha, "You are my sister." It doesn't matter what religion we are.

We had walked a few blocks together, and they needed to turn the corner, and so we said goodbye.

I'm glad we got a chance to talk.

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!