In protest and in defiance to LeeAnn's claim that all the halfwhaters' fingers have been my claimed by gangrene or some freak accident involving margarita glasses, piranhas, and a lot of silly string, I decided to return from my leave of absence. My fingers are fine, thank you, if not a little tired. I'm still keeping up my travel blog, which has now become a "random thoughts while i'm bored at work" journal about reimmersion and the pointless differences between my two favorite countries.
Girls who haven't seen each other for a long time talk about weird things over dinner, sitting streetside in twilight Isla Vista. Namely paper toilet seat covers. Europe doesn't generally stock toilet paper or seat covers in their bathrooms, but back here in sanitary America I have recently become aware of a little seat cover trick. Apparently it is not necessary to take the extra three minutes to carefully punch out the middle, as the paper just dissolves on contact. I have officially become a voracious tree killer and paper seat cover user in response to this revalation. Thank you friends.
Monday, July 31, 2006
The trouble with summer
I can't sleep. This happens all the time during the summer. I stay up to the point where I'm too tired to get ready for bed, so I just stay up a little longer.
Now it's almost 3:30 in the morning and I'm not getting up early tommorrow like I wanted to.
In my defense, I had to read a couple of articles today for some research I'm going to start this week.
Then again, at 2 am I was playing sudoku and talking on aim.
Whatever, I'm jsut gonna blame the heat.
Then again, it's a lot cooler than it has been in the past.
I just can't win.
Now it's almost 3:30 in the morning and I'm not getting up early tommorrow like I wanted to.
In my defense, I had to read a couple of articles today for some research I'm going to start this week.
Then again, at 2 am I was playing sudoku and talking on aim.
Whatever, I'm jsut gonna blame the heat.
Then again, it's a lot cooler than it has been in the past.
I just can't win.
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Slave of Duty
I've decided to begin facing this summer as if I am the average, bright-eyed bushy-tailed American college student out in big wide world for study and travel abroad. As an 11-day stay in Italy has just been tacked on to my summer itinerary, this should give Halfwhat some fodder, since, once again, my fellow bloggers appear to have been rendered incapable of posting because their fingers claimed by gangrene or some freak accident involving margarita glasses, piranhas, and a lot of silly string.
By nature, I'm perpetually bashful and afraid--I don't like to make a stir, I don't like to have public trouble, I hate to be late, and I don't like it when my answers don't fit in the squares or the choices provided on applications--and I can't quite decide which sort of foreign excursion would bring out the best in me: one in a country where I look like everyone else, can linguistically pretend to be a native as far as describing what I like to eat and where I'm going, and have family and friends scattered here and there; or one in a completely enchanting and novel place where I can't speak a word, look a tourist (four-fold, with my family at my side, and perhaps more on tours), and don't know what there is to eat or where I'm going. It's comfort versus curiosity, and I wonder which one I care more to satisfy.
In France, I believe I shared a tiny tale of watching five big Americans plop themselves down in a cafe near Notre Dame Cathedral and butcher the French language as the waiter replied to them in English. I know that the only thing that kept me going in Paris was being able to figure out the Metro system, reading the map, and having an elementary French vocabulary; at least "Pour aller au..." and the sense to say "s'il vous plait" and "merci" as often as possible. (Also, it probably also saved me to be able to say, "How much is all of this?" when I accidentally knocked over a basket of asparagus in a grocer's shop while I asked him how to get to the Funiculaire of Montmartre, which we didn't ride.)
I'm terrified of not knowing Italian, of being Taiwanese, and being in big groups of tourists. Apparently, trips in September are calmer than the overdrive months of June and July, but I know I still will be wrought with the guilt of being an intruder and an ear and eyesore. I guess I can comfort myself with the fact that I'll contribute to their economy both by buying things and probably by being robbed.
To pay some attention to the here and now, I have a test for which I am not prepared and an assignment to do which must be done now or never. It's rather ridiculous that even with only one class, I still seem to avoid devoting the proper amount of time to studying.
By nature, I'm perpetually bashful and afraid--I don't like to make a stir, I don't like to have public trouble, I hate to be late, and I don't like it when my answers don't fit in the squares or the choices provided on applications--and I can't quite decide which sort of foreign excursion would bring out the best in me: one in a country where I look like everyone else, can linguistically pretend to be a native as far as describing what I like to eat and where I'm going, and have family and friends scattered here and there; or one in a completely enchanting and novel place where I can't speak a word, look a tourist (four-fold, with my family at my side, and perhaps more on tours), and don't know what there is to eat or where I'm going. It's comfort versus curiosity, and I wonder which one I care more to satisfy.
In France, I believe I shared a tiny tale of watching five big Americans plop themselves down in a cafe near Notre Dame Cathedral and butcher the French language as the waiter replied to them in English. I know that the only thing that kept me going in Paris was being able to figure out the Metro system, reading the map, and having an elementary French vocabulary; at least "Pour aller au..." and the sense to say "s'il vous plait" and "merci" as often as possible. (Also, it probably also saved me to be able to say, "How much is all of this?" when I accidentally knocked over a basket of asparagus in a grocer's shop while I asked him how to get to the Funiculaire of Montmartre, which we didn't ride.)
I'm terrified of not knowing Italian, of being Taiwanese, and being in big groups of tourists. Apparently, trips in September are calmer than the overdrive months of June and July, but I know I still will be wrought with the guilt of being an intruder and an ear and eyesore. I guess I can comfort myself with the fact that I'll contribute to their economy both by buying things and probably by being robbed.
To pay some attention to the here and now, I have a test for which I am not prepared and an assignment to do which must be done now or never. It's rather ridiculous that even with only one class, I still seem to avoid devoting the proper amount of time to studying.
Monday, July 17, 2006
Traveloguer, I am not
Souperlindz, travel journaler extraordinaire, who kept us fed heartily with internationally flavored running commentary of her journeys through many countries and many months, should be congratulated for her work. I have been in Taiwan for almost two months and not produced a single substantial insight or quirky story.
I don't have as many pictures available as I would like, but I've discovered that the jarring sensation of stopping a moment to photograph it is becoming less and less appealing. The photos I have taken are on film (thanks, Norman!) and I am still anticipating getting back to the States to find that I have seven rolls of overexposed or poorly lit or generally awful photos. No matter, my cousin's friend Tomoo took some beautiful digital photos of our trip to Green Island that you might sink your teeth into.
A little over a week ago I went with my cousin, his girlfriend/fiancee-to-be, and his middle school friend Tomoo to Green Island (off the eastern coast of Taiwan) and Taitung (Taipei is "Tai North," Taitung is "Tai East). It was outrageously hot and I bought a correspondingly outrageous straw hat which I also wore under my scooter helmet throughout our one-day stay in Green Island.
Steve, Me, Jessica after sunrise on Green Island
This photo was taken as we left the vista from which we'd planned to photograph the sunrise on the morning we were to leave Green Island. We got up at 4:35 only to find as we arrived around 5:00 a.m. that there were already three groups of tourists there. The sunrise itself was a bit anti-climactic, as (mercifully) there were clouds off the coast, I suppose preparing the way for Mr. Bilis, who was supposed to hit Taiwan sometime in the next week.
Mr. Bilis turned out to be a fairly quiet typhoon. A little rain, a little wind, but no holiday or disaster. It's alright, we've got another one coming.
There's not much to report on the ultimate front, although I have learned much about diagonal stacks and ho stacks and catching swilly silly stuff and throwing IOs and OIs. I've been getting terrifically tan (or skin cancer, as some like to call it) and playing disc with a few more random frisbee-fetching vagabonds: a Bella Donna sophomore named Eyleen and Nancy Sun's little brother Jeff, a senior at Yale, as well as some more British, Costa Rican, and Hungarian pickups.
This trip has been bittersweet, but I have gotten used to the weather, and learned a bit about Chinese, family, boys and girls in their late 20s and early 30s, how Bob Dylan feels, Chinese medicine, stray dogs, riding buses, and choosing what to wear when it rains.
That's all from this side of the Pacific for now. My last two bits of wisdom: if you stick ginger in a cat's nose, it'll pee, and that pee can be used to drive out earwigs. Western doctors don't tell you these things!
I don't have as many pictures available as I would like, but I've discovered that the jarring sensation of stopping a moment to photograph it is becoming less and less appealing. The photos I have taken are on film (thanks, Norman!) and I am still anticipating getting back to the States to find that I have seven rolls of overexposed or poorly lit or generally awful photos. No matter, my cousin's friend Tomoo took some beautiful digital photos of our trip to Green Island that you might sink your teeth into.
A little over a week ago I went with my cousin, his girlfriend/fiancee-to-be, and his middle school friend Tomoo to Green Island (off the eastern coast of Taiwan) and Taitung (Taipei is "Tai North," Taitung is "Tai East). It was outrageously hot and I bought a correspondingly outrageous straw hat which I also wore under my scooter helmet throughout our one-day stay in Green Island.
This photo was taken as we left the vista from which we'd planned to photograph the sunrise on the morning we were to leave Green Island. We got up at 4:35 only to find as we arrived around 5:00 a.m. that there were already three groups of tourists there. The sunrise itself was a bit anti-climactic, as (mercifully) there were clouds off the coast, I suppose preparing the way for Mr. Bilis, who was supposed to hit Taiwan sometime in the next week.
Mr. Bilis turned out to be a fairly quiet typhoon. A little rain, a little wind, but no holiday or disaster. It's alright, we've got another one coming.
There's not much to report on the ultimate front, although I have learned much about diagonal stacks and ho stacks and catching swilly silly stuff and throwing IOs and OIs. I've been getting terrifically tan (or skin cancer, as some like to call it) and playing disc with a few more random frisbee-fetching vagabonds: a Bella Donna sophomore named Eyleen and Nancy Sun's little brother Jeff, a senior at Yale, as well as some more British, Costa Rican, and Hungarian pickups.
This trip has been bittersweet, but I have gotten used to the weather, and learned a bit about Chinese, family, boys and girls in their late 20s and early 30s, how Bob Dylan feels, Chinese medicine, stray dogs, riding buses, and choosing what to wear when it rains.
That's all from this side of the Pacific for now. My last two bits of wisdom: if you stick ginger in a cat's nose, it'll pee, and that pee can be used to drive out earwigs. Western doctors don't tell you these things!
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
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