Adventures in the Back of the Bus

So today on my return trip on the Taichung City Transit System, I had someone to sit next to.

Two stops after where I stepped on (New Bus Pass in hand, purchased and refillable - of course - at 7-11), a portly hoodlum of 4 12 year old Taiwanese boys waddled to the back towards the only four seats available.

Three of them sat down fast, and one was left standing, staring at the only seat open near his friends: the one next to mine.

I glanced up from my book (Three Cups of Tea, a great read).

We made eye contact.

I looked at the seat next to me.
I looked back up at him.
I nodded at the seat next to me.

He looked at the seat.
Looked at me.
And with wide eyes, shook his head "No" enthusiastically.

I shrugged, and returned to my book.

Now only a few stops away from my destination, the boy worked up some nerve and crept towards me. He backed in and lowered himself down onto the furthest most corner of the bus-seat.

Accomplishment.

I couldn't see his face, but I could see him beaming reflected off of the faces of his three friends across the aisle. He turned his head at the neck, "Hi."
"Hey kid, how are ya?" Then it happened.

High five.

We were friends forever. I had to leave him all too soon though. But after I swiped my card and descended down the stairs to the curb, I turned to see eager eyes and two thumbs up pressed against the window in my direction.

It's good to have friends.

Jesus Loves the Little Children

I was with the medicine man and his family walking around the Taichung Lantern Festival, which celebrates the Chinese New Year coming to a close.

He told me, "Ye-su has a special place in the Festival."
I didn't know what he meant, but it sounded cool.

That's when I saw this.




I laughed. So hard. I couldn't believe it.
Then I got really sad. And kind of embarrassed. Embarrassed of being a Western Christian who told the world this is the best way to portray Christ. No wonder so many thinking people consider Christianity a joke.

There was a sign (no banner, or church passing out flyers or anything like that...), but it was in Chinese. I don't know why this was there - and next to the Festival's mascot. I mean, I know he said "I am the light of world," but come on. Really?

Anyways, just thought you might be amused.

Haircuts as a Multi-Cultural Experience

I've written about getting my haircut before. But this week, I decided not to go to "Beautiful" salon, and rather opted for the little shop around the corner where my Taiwan family goes for a trim.

For awhile now, I've had this silent sneaking suspicion that something else other than haircuts goes on upstairs. But my Taiwan family being friends with the shop owners was reason enough to choose to step through the doorway.

It's run by a young, cute, trendy couple in their 30's. They do all the cutting and styling. They have a girl that, for all I know, might live there, too. She acts as the assistant/front desk/shampoo girl. She also dresses stylish, and wears a fair amount of makeup - which is not something you see a lot here.

Besides her hipster appearance, she basically look like death. Tight-lipped and no emotion. No life in her eyes, and little acknowledgement that the world exists.

People like this typically fascinate me. And I always tend to subconsciously scheme ways to find out if there's anything underneath the surface. There usually is, if you know where to dig.

When it came time after the hair cut for me to hose off, the owner sent me to the back with little-miss-lifeless. She apparently decided I needed a shampoo, which cost me a hundred bucks. But after she started massaging my freshly exposed scalp, I didn't care at all.

I have to wonder if all shampoo sessions are this long. She went on for a solid 5 minutes. I think she wanted an excuse to chit-chat. I was surprised she started to open up - Little-Miss-Lifeless showed signs of vitals.

This is horrible, I know. But, going back to my sneaking suspicion perpetually held in the back of my mind, I thought at first she might have been soliciting me. After some post-salon research, I found out she was just asking me if I understand Chinese. (Apparently, I don't.)

But she didn't speak any English, except "Me, girl," so we kept the conversation to what Chinese I could understand. She asked if the girl I was walking around with last week was my girlfriend,
"No, she my American little sister," I managed to reply.
She asked if I have a girlfriend in Taiwan. I said I don't. And then I think she asked if I like her - which was just a strange inquiry all together. I fumbled to respond. I was going to tell her she should smile more, but I was distracted by the tingly sensation on my scalp and couldn't find the words.

Then she said she goes running everyday. I think. She was jogging in place. I was confused. Mostly because the scalp-massage stopped, and I didn't know why.

"Running?"
"Yes."
"...cool."

I'm sure I missed something. She smiled some when she talked, but there was still not much in her eyes for me to read. I have a lot more Mandarin homework to do...
At least my "sneaking suspicions" are calmed for the moment.

But back to the haircut. Before I came to Taiwan, a friend gave me a "Mandarin Chinese Dictionary" with a whole bunch of how-to-get-around phrases. I looked up how to say "I want it cut short."

When I botched that, the stylist switched to English. "You want it short?" I was grateful. Halfway through the cut, I could see where she was taking it, and told her to hack off the top-center before it gets too pointy.

She was trying to give me a faux-hawk. (I love that I just wikipedia'd "Faux Hawk") "You don't want it like that?!" she asked, shocked. I said, "Honey, I created the Faux-Hawk years ago." (No I didn't say that. Besides, Wikipedia credits David Beckham with that accolade.)

But I did tell her I've had that for many many years. (see here.)
"Change style" the stylist added knowingly.
"Yep. Change style."




I chose to cut it short because, well frankly, I know I'm not going to have hair forever. I might as well get used to looking at my own skull. I'm still getting used to not styling it in the morning... But it's growing on me. (did you see what I did there? "Growing...") I think I like it.




So here it is... the new me.



It's okay, say what you think. So far, everyone here hates it. And they haven't been shy to tell me. No reason you should either.


But that's fine. I didn't do it for them. Or You.
:)

A New Year, a new motherboard.

Well, I'm back online.

My laptop completely died on me about a week and a half ago or so (made in Taiwan.. go figure) and after 8 or 9 days in the shop, and a replaced motherboard, it's back in my hands. And I'm shocked to announce, so are all my files/taiwan pictures/etc.


Today was a Beautiful Day, and retrieving my connection to the world put me in a particularly good mood. So, after little debate, I neglected my bus pass (bought at 7-11), my bike, the possibility of mooching a ride off someone, and the taxis that slowed down and honked everytime they passed, and chose the 50 minute walk to the computer store. My laptop is small. It fits in my shoulder-sling bag, so I knew getting it home wouldn't strain on my back.

After the near-hour trek, and retrieving my life-stream (sad, I know), I decided the only thing that could make this day better was a trip to Cold Stone for a waffle bowl of Ice Cream.

So that's exactly what I did.

There were two girls behind the counter preparing my Peanut Butter Paradise. They were chattering about, glancing occasionally and nervously in my direction. From what I could tell, they wanted to wish me a Happy Chinese New Year in English. They thought the single earbud in my ear was playing music, or maybe that Rhianna's "Umbrella" was playing loud enough that I couldn't listen in on their conversation, but they were less than subtle.

My suspicions were validated when "Eighteen" (Yes, that was the name on her badge, though my guess was she looked at least 24. The other was "Amy") placed a full sized Reece's Peanut Butter Cup into my Waffle Bowl.

Looking at me with a smile, she decisively stated "This one is free because Chinese Happy New Year."

Thanking her, I smiled back and replied with "Happy New Year!" ...in Chinese.

Amy giggled.

I dropped my change in the Tip Jar. And with a wink and a wave of my hand, I told her she didn't have to sing.

Typically, when I am in Cold Stone with my Taiwanese friends, I enjoy tipping because I love watching the Taiwanese-Coldstone employees nervously prepare to serenade me with one of their pre-selected songs ("High-ho, High-ho, sank you for your dough"). I enjoy this because I love the thick cloud of awkwardness that rises in the room.

You see, Coldstone is pretty much the only place in Taiwan that has a tip jar, so not only are Taiwanese not used to tipping, they're not used to being sung at afterwards - and the unsuspecting Coldstone Employees aren't used to it either. My Taiwanese friends grow uncomfortable because they have no idea why I would do such a thing. The innocent diners look around curiously before burrying their faces into their green tea ice cream, and the kids behind the counter are seized with stage fright.

In the midst of it all stands an out-of-place white guy, beaming through the cloud of awkward tension. Great moments.


Today, however, I was alone. And Coldstone was fairly empty, despite it being a perfect February ice cream day. So with a wave of my hand and a wink that said "I'm about to walk out that door, and I promise not to write your boss" I released the steam building up in our little kettle of awkward.

Amy and Eighteen were quite gracious. I could see it on their faces.




Anyways, now that I have my computer back I'm going to rattle off as many blogs as I can to update you with the last three weeks.

Also, look forward to pictures and a blog post from my sister to recap her trip.
She's got some stories for you for sure.

Til then, "Chinese Happy New Year!"