By the Light of the Moon

The fates converged recently and gave us something possibly unprecedented in the history of Taiwan - a Five Day Weekend. Well, technically it was a Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Tuesday off. Friday was Mid-Autumn Festival (This page had the most amusing grammatical errors) and the following Tuesday was Taiwan's National Day, Double Ten. FCU had the foresight to make Monday, the 9th, a "make-up holiday" for the university's founding day celebrations. They assumed, one must believe correctly, that if they did not give the students Monday off, nobody would show up anyway.

This was not the case for elementary school students. They were expected to show up for school on Monday. Then, at the last minute, 5 days before the long weekend was to begin, the government decided to belatedly grant the students Monday off. BUT, the students would have to go to school the following Saturday to make up for the Monday off. This was amidst rumors that the government was granting the day off so as to diffuse the massive "Depose A-Bian" (Here is another article more strictly factual from the China Post) rallies that were planned for sites all around the island that weekend.

Anyway, since I'd first laid eyes on the academic schedule for the 95-96 school year, I'd been dreaming and scheming of places to go and things to do. First on my travel wish list was a 5 day 4 night extravaganza to Korea. Or, perhaps a trip to Jinmen and/or Matzu. Hualian anyone? How about a beach weekend at Kenting? Beginning about last April, I started using a many-pronged attack (including but not limited to pleading, whining, nagging, cajoling, and sometimes, outright begging) which, in theory would wear Jason down, forcing him to eventually make air/hotel reservations. Flash forward to three days before the start of the FIVE DAY WEEKEND. Jason springs his secret plan on me. We would go camping in Yilan - with his entire family. Hmmmmm.....

We left for Taipei on Saturday (The Taiwanese elementary school teachers took advantage of the 5 day weekend to give no fewer than 13 homework assignments. Therefore, Firday was comepletely eaten up by mindless memorization of Tang-dynasty poems so, by my count, we're already down to four days.) and had an enjoyable time setting off firecreackers on the roof of my in-law's apartment. No missing digits to report.

We had to get up at 5:00am on Sunday in order to leave by 6 :00am and thereby hopefully miss the expected traffic jam going through the Hsuehshan Tunnel. The tunnel was quite impressive. It is 12.9km long and took us 17 minutes to drive through. That's 17 minutes of sphincter tightening will-the-Hsueshan-waterdragon-decide-to-give-a-flick-of-his-vengeful-tail-and-bring-the-whole-mountain-down-upon-us-or-not obsession on my part. But we made it through both ways unscathed.

We had a busy day of hotsprings and hiking not returning to the campsite until almost dark. It was about now that I started to have serious pangs about being pissy earlier in the day. I'd promised to be on my best behavior and yet somehow the "15 people as one unit" philosophy of Taiwanese travel inevitably becomes intolerable for me at some point. And, of course everyone knows that I'm peeved and they become all-consumed with determining the root cause of my peevishness and making things right which for some reason only fuels my fury.

So, we finally get tents set up and barbeque eaten and I am busily tossing and turning, consuming myself with regret for my bad behavior when Josh pops up out of his sleeping bag. "I don't feel good," he says. "Okay," I say, "What do you need me to do?" "Mom," he begins, and unfortunately, the rest of his utterance is rendered unintellibigle by the pyroplastic Vesuvian eruption of vomit that begins spewing relentlessly out of his face and onto the sleeping bags and the thin comforter which is the only thing between my ass and the rocks on the ground. Never having been in contention for Mother of the Year, rather than comfort or console, instead I scream at him in a voice full of sympathy, "Shit Josh, get your head out of the tent!" "I tried....OPEN!" he gasps. I get the zipper just in time and the next wave splashes just outside the zipper door.

This alerts the rest of the gang of fifteen to trouble. As if they were one 20-legged creature, moving in perfect syncronicity they descend on the scene where Josh continues to retch quietly under a nearby tree. "Aiya! What did he eat?" "What's wrong with him?" "Why is it that color?" "Make them go away!" I hiss at Jason as Josh finishes off round one of his gastro-intestinal assault and begins to warn of an impending colo-rectal event. I see the bright flourescent glow of the restrooms in the distance. For some unknowable reason, Josh selects me to accompany him on the journey. We arrive without a minute to spare.

We finally make it back to the tent, Josh crawling part of the way back, and as I zip us back into our vomit-scented coccoon, I realize what it is about going on an excrusion with Jason's family that is most disturbing for me. It is simply this: I generally feel myself to be a kind, generous, some would even say nice person. Travelling with Jason's family, however, shatters any part of that illusion and I am revealed to be an impatient, irritable shrew of a woman. I was reminded of the words of Jason's now-deceased uncle, "Good God, boy. Not being married would be better than being married to a woman like that." This was the trip where twelve of them invited themselves along on our trip to Kenting and boy was I not a good sport about it at all. Why can't I be gracious, patient, and pleasant?

My friend Halima who is also a "Taiwanese daughter-in-law" consoled me with her take on things. "It's like you're surrounded by aliens sometimes, isn't it?" she said. In that case, beam me up, I suppose.

Food as Pets

Or is it Pets as Food? I'm not quite sure. I believe I left off in my last post that the boys (all 4 of them) were out on an expedition to the Beetle Store to consult with the boss there about their latest aquisitions. As soon as the elevator doors parted to release them back into our apartment, I could hear the frantic excitement as their little feet pounded down the hallway and the combined weight of their small-medium-large boy bodies slammed into the front door bursting it open.

Let me interject here that as part of my being-a-better-mom-to-Josh plan I have tried recently to make sure that no matter what (seemingly to me) nonsense he is prattling on about, I give him 100% attention - I react with nothing more than mild or pleasant surprise to anything he tells me and I ask the follow-up questions that show my love and concern as a parent - no matter how bored and/or repulsed I am by whatever he is telling me. "No kidding?" (here my eybrows raise with polite interest) "So, what you're telling me is that the rat's insides were spread across the whole sidewalk? Whew! That must have been something to see, no?"

So, when I heard their arrival I was hurrying to quickly affix my "politely interested" facial expression in preparation for whaterver nightmarish (to bugphobic me) tales they had to tell. Unfortunatley, on this particular occasion, I was just a nanosecond too slow and before I had my benign expression fixed firmly in place, Josh explodes into the computer room. "Ohmigod Mom!" he begins breathlessly, "the boss from the beetle store?" and I know already I'm in trouble. "He's got a beetle larvae?" and I know something shockingly awful is to follow and yet at the same time I realize that I am absolutely powerless to stop it or even hope to react with any level of appropriateness. "Uhuh?" is all I can manage. "It's as big as Dad's penis!" he cries triumphantly and I am instantly overcome with equal parts hilarity and horror. "And as thick, too!" And I ask you, how on earth I am supposed to perform my marital duty with that image fixed in my mind?!?

Which brings us to today's topic. In my house, not only am I the only one who doesn't have a beetle larvae between her legs, I'm also the lone voice of reason about the pet issue. Jason, my co-parent and staunch supporter has deserted me and joined Team Puppy. I've come to think of myself actually as The Anti-Puppy. The way I'm portrayed you'd think I were against moms, apple pies, sunshine - anything smacking of good and decency and there I am on the opposite side trying to crush it with my powers of darkness. Eight mournful brown eyes staring at me imploringly. I've taken to carrying around a list of solid fact-based reasons why we cannot ever get a puppy just so they can never catch me unprepared.

I don't know how long I can keep it up. They've already managed to somehow get the beetles in here. And then there are Jason and Jay's morning jaunts to the market that inevitably lead to a new "food as pets" extravaganza. Many of you reading this will most likely recall an email I sent out a few months back about the loach. The one that was carried around in a plastic bag half-full of water until the loach (holiu in Taiwanese) finally gave up and became ginger loach soup for Daddy.

There is, as you can imagine, a certain amount of emotional distress (for humans and loaches alike) in this whole "pets as food" process. Noone who was present at the scene will soon forget the agonized howls of anguish which accompanied the capture and subsequent filleting of the giant walleye last summer. And yet - here is the hardest part for me to get my brain around - when it comes time to actually ingest the pet, the ones who cried with the greatest gusto are the ones most enthusiastically stuffing breaded morsels of former pet into their mouths.

Most recently there has been a catfish (pictured above in our bathtub in the "pet" stage of his visit with us) a "fragrant fish" - don't know the English name - and a crab. The crab sat pleasantly in a pot of water on the kitchen floor blowling bubbles as he slowly and methodically filled the pot with his own waste. The boys stopped in every fifteen minutes or so to taunt him and see how close they could get to its pincers without getting "pinced."

When I staggered into the kitchen the next morning, I did blearily note that the only thing in the pot was floating tendrils of crab poo. Of course, I assumed that Jason had decided to freeze the poor mite in the name of pet - I mean food freshness. Only after I returned from school was I regaled with the tale of the search for, recapture of, and then boiling and consumption of our poor pet crab. "Mommy!" Jayden exclaimed, "Crap in my tum! Crap in my tum!" After Jason supplied the missing details, I got it. "Oh? Do you have yummy crab meat in your tummy? Hmmm...I thought that crab was your friend..." "No Mommy. Yummy crap." My eyebrows arch up with maternal concern and kindness. This time I am able to come up with an appropriate facial expression. "Oh good sweetie." I croon in a faltering voice, "That's so nice."

Tune in next week for an installment I'm tentatively calling "Slice of Fried Puppy"

Day Trippers

Do not be alarmed. I haven't started dropping acid so as to liven up the more mundane aspects of my existence. Those of you who know our son, Josh, would know that I in no way need to start using halucinogenics in order to make my life interesting. Just stop reading for a moment, close your eyes, imagine yourself tripping and at the same time, having a conversation with Josh. "Yeah, little dude, you're right, if the whole world were made of tomatoes, you sure as hell could eat everything. Right on, man." No, no, no what I'm referring to is Team Lai's love of the day trip. We just got back from another one - weary and cheery - and I just feel so in love with them. Well, to be sure, part of that is because they took the four beetles they caught on today's excursion and rushed over to the beetle store across the street. It's easy to be in love with them when the house is quiet and I'm alone with my thoughts and the keyboard.

Last Sunday we went on my favorite day trip of them all. We went to Dongshi, which is about 45 minutes from here. There is a bike trail and, as you can see from the picture, you can rent all kinds of crazy configurations of bicycles. I was traded to the other team after Josh decided it would be more fun to just sit on the back of our bike and let me do all the work. Having 500hp of Rudy churning along behind me made a world of difference after carrying the slack for Josh for about 8km. By the last kilometer I was just panting, "Come on Rudy! Come on...!" and all I could think of was stopping the bike and lying down in the grass by the side of the trail. Rudy just kept chugging right along til the end.

The highlight for me was when a group of young people rode by and, spotting Jayden on the back of my bike called out to him, "Are you a foreigner?" To which Jayden gleefuly shouted, "Are you a foreigner, you mental patient?"** There was something about that moment with the breeze in my face and the sun sparkling on everything - papayas and guavas dripping off the trees on the side of the path. My boys flushed and happy with the glow of strenuous exercise...The fading laughter of our group as well as the chastised young bikers. I just felt so in love with my husband, my sons, my adopted country. You know those happy-for-no-reason-moments that I jealously suspect are actually a regular feature of Jason's existence? It was one of those.

After we turned in our bikes we were back on the road up into the mountains to the hotsprings of Guguan. If you are able to get over the sensation that your actually taking a bath with dozens of strangers, the hotsprings are lovely. Especially if your muscles are screaming after a grueling "Tour de Taiwan" morning. Before heading back to Taichung, we stopped at a touristy restaurant to have the local specialities - rainbow trout - the fillets grilled and the head and tail made into ginger soup - fried cabbage, river shrimp (the kind you pop into your mouth whole and crunch away on), and stir-fried bamboo. The boys were unconscious by the time we wound our way out of the mountains and they slept through until the next morning.

Our trip today was no less exciting. We went with our family friends, the Chen Family. They are those most lovely kind of friends where both families love to get together. Jason and Mr. Chen talk about computers and sports and other manly topics while Mrs. Chen (Anping) and I talk about our kids, our jobs, our husbands, books, music, and all of the other meaningful and earth shattering things that women of the world discuss. And, the kids love each other. The Chen children (Haohao and Weiwei) absolutely worship Rudy. Wherever we are, Rudy has to sit so that there are vacant seats on either side of him for them. Why do they never get along with their own siblings that well?

We went to "Lion's Head Mountain" which is about 1.5 hrs. drive from Taichung. We did a spectacular hike where every few meters or so along the trail there was a new wee beastie to behold or, in Josh's case, pounce on and avoid being bitten by. A snake, lizards (imagine Josh intoning, "See that? That's it's venom gland - that's where the poison comes out." as the lizard writhes and squirms in his little hand trying to get the contents of said poison gland into one of Josh's fingers.), beetles galore, caterpillars, dragonflies, and river shrimp that Jason was threatening to eat raw. Do I wonder where the children get it from? Not really.

On the way back, we stopped in Toufen at a beautiful tea house on the side of the mountain. We lucked into our own private "tea room" which featured wood floors, a low wooden table, and cushions to sit on. The menu featured everything imaginable that could be deep-fried. We got french fries, onion rings, cheese sticks, and chicken strips in two flavors - two large plates of each! After my deprivation diet of the last month (down 3kg+ so far) it was truly heavenly to sit back, enjoy the natural beauty, and suck down handfuls of greasy morsels.

When we got back to Taichung, we parted ways with the Chen family at our favorite bakery on the corner. I had to pick up bread for the sandwiches for Monday's lunches. Back to reality but a little more relaxed and a bit more refreshed.

** What Jayden actually said in Chinese is shen jin bing. Shenjin means "nerves" or "nervous system" while bing means "sickness" or "illness". It is a phrase often heard for example if your friend spends way too much money on a pair of shoes, you would say, "Ni shenjin bing! Why did you spend so much money on those shoes?" Another useful phrase my children banter about when they're not calling each other jiekepigu.