over the years
as my sister gets geared up to turn 26, and I, to turn 28, here is a
look at us and how far we have diverged (or converged) as we seem to
make similar gestures, proving that the chip does not fall far from
the block.
musings. from my life.
I am a Chinese-American Entrepreneur. I was born in State College, PA to very formal Chinese parents. I have never been to any language exchange program, and everything you see here is what I do to resist complete assimilation into American culture and keep any shred of whatever Chinese tradition I have left. It does not work.
This blog documents my inelegance and struggle as an Mandarin speaking American. It is also another way for my friends to understand where I come from and how I grew up. Please don't hesitate to laugh at anything as there is nothing I would write in here that advocates any critical or deep reasoning.
halloween
I went home to see my mom and dad before I started the month on a
sales roadshow, and it was during Halloween. At one point the
inventory was running low, but the kids kept coming. My Dad ran
upstairs to look for a funny hat and clothes, with the intention of
going out to do some trick-or-treating himself, bring the candy back
and and then redistribute it. My Mom said that idea was stupid
because he was too old, at which point he started yelling my name
asking me to come downstairs. I didn't do what he suggested.
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the cantaloupe
A long time ago, when my mother and father had just met in their early
twenties, (my mother married my father in 1978), my dad thought it
would be a great idea to take my mom to see some theatrical re-release
of Gone With the Wind featuring Clark I don't give a damn Gable.
father in front of the theater. My dad was egregiously 10 minutes
late, and when he arrived he was smiling and carrying a knapsack. The
contents would soon be revealed shortly after. Sometime during the film, I am guessing between the 150th - 175th
minute, my father reaches down and begins rifling through this
knapsack that he brought with him while making a gigantic ruckus.
According to my mother this goes on for at least 3 minutes. My father then pulls out a cantaloupe from the bag, fresh and uncut,
the size of a small 5 or 6 lb bowling ball. He then also brandishes a
knife, and not just any knife, but a large serrated knife used to flay
meats and cut through bone. I don't know how my dad would think this
is OK. In public. In the dark. And with a young woman he barely knows. He also didn't bring a cutting board, but he did bring a plastic bag,
for rinds and seeds. He was about to position the melon between his
thighs for a nice cut down the middle when my mother just looked at
him and glared. At this point my Dad jumped in to defend himself, because cantaloupes
were very rare at that time in asia, he really wanted to impress my
mother by obtaining this fruit. His plan was to cut the melon in
half, spoon out the seeds and hand one half to my mother to enjoy
while he ate the other half. I thought it was a most excellent
gesture in theory, but very very poorly executed. My mother equally
agreed, and said that, to give my father credit, had he ignored my
mom's fiery eyes of disapproval, and proceeded to cut the cantaloupe
then and there in the theater, my sister and I would have never been
born and we wouldn't be a family. Of all things, I would've never imagined a cantaloupe to be an
x-factor in deciding my life.
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the guinea pig
Somewhere in the distance, the sound of the circus. This is 大姊's
guinea pig in 新竹.
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shrimping
This is perhaps one of the best things I have ever done in my life,
next to shooting clay pigeons in Kentucky, because it gives me a sense
of profound accomplishment. We went to 景美 (JingMei) to 掉蝦 (diao4
xia1), basically shrimping. I did get a lot of anxiety from this
activity though, perhaps because I couldn't catch anything to save my
life for the first 30 minutes. That is until Jason the baitmaster had
found the remains of the chicken gizzard, the equivalent of shrimp
cocaine, when I began reeling it in like Geppetto in the belly of
Monstro the whale.
and eat my catch afterwards. However, if my life depended on
shrimping, in open, uncontrolled waters, then that would be a
different story. Here is also some video I took of the preparation in the kitchen. I ate the shrimps at 3 am with a nice mixture of wasabi and soy sauce.
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the pickup truck
After a series of promotions at 統帥 (Tong3 Shuai4) golf course, we had
to pack up our gear which included a largeass kiosk complete with
touch screen, some flat panel TVs a printer and various other poster
type propaganda. I didn't know this but our big cheese in charge
found the most redneck (yellowneck?) of taiwanese people to come and
help us load it and drive it back to the office. They only sent one
guy and he had the most jacked up arrangement of teeth I had ever seen
in my life. I was also expected to climb into this truck with him as
my cohorts had to finish cleaning up, so I was in charge of unloading
the goods with the driver.
During the ride I immediately thought of Harold and Kumar,
particularly the scene where Freakshow arrives to tow their car. He
was a friendly guy so it wasn't so bad to begin with, but it smelled
like rotting cabbage inside, there were mosquitoes and the passenger
seating area was quite small, like some kind of clown car. There was
also no AC so I just breathed the pollution in full stride.
We went for a couple miles when I opened my mouth and asked him a
question about the truck, here is a translation:
Both of us spoke in a very deadpan and blunt manner.
Me: "Where is the engine on this thing?"
Driver: "It is underneath us"
Me: "I see that's why its so hot" (I had farted earlier when I got in
so the heat was initially misleading)
Me: "Why is it designed this way?"
Driver: "Well, if we were to engage in a head-on collision the engine
would receive minor damage, if any."
Me: "What does that mean for us then?"
Driver: "The oncoming car would just go straight into us as there is
no engine in front"
Me: "That sounds quite negative and most undesirable"
Driver: "But the positive aspect is that I can see [in front] and
judge the depth easier to prevent any accident"
Me: "That doesn't make me feel any better"
Driver: "Well then, just hope for the best"
Me: "I'll do that"
Driver: [No sound for the rest of the 30 minute ride]
I found an image of this deathmobile online, here it is.
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the motel
Everytime I come back to Taiwan and I go out with my friends, we end
up meeting some girls; some of them are strangers and some are friends
of friends, and some work at the establishment we are throwing cash
around. Doesn't matter. Anyway, one of the guys will inevitably
suggest that I take whichever girl I am interested in to a motel here
in Taiwan. A bit forward and bold, and as an American my first
impression of taking a girl to a motel is that it is the most unclassy thing
anybody can do. When one thinks of motel, one thinks of Motel 6 or a
Super 8. But that is an American motel. There is a difference.
Fast forward to today, where I was proved wrong and have photographic
evidence to show you all what really is the case. When we went on a
outing to 鶯歌 (YingGe Township), my 大姊 sharon got sick and had to find
a place to rest. So 孝哥 took her and checked her into a motel to rest
for a few hours and then rendezvous'd with us at some batting cages.
When the time was up, we went back and picked her up. I'll let the
pictures below do the rest of the talking as I'm sure my own
descriptions wouldn't do it any justice. But by all means, please
form your own interpretation and opinions.
Behold, a Taiwan motel.
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my asian residence
i am very lucky to have a second home in taiwan, as well as my second
family of brothers and sisters that took care of my ass when we were
all living in west lafayette, IN during graduate school. some people
have asked what i do in taiwan on my free time, and this is really it.
it is no different than my time spent in the states minus the fact
that the television programs are in chinese. but look, its
comfortable here, why would i want to do anything else?
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birds of what?
In Asia, the general rule thumb is, if there is english on it, it must
be good. However, the probability of the text being wrong is one.
But what about spanish?
Pajaros de Rezar. I took spanish in high school, and immediately
started laughing. Translated in English, this is Birds of Pray. I've
never heard of this classification. Religious birds, mind you, and
not the kind that hunt using raptor-like talons. I wonder if the
Osprey is a devout Catholic or subscribes to Lutheranism.
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