walks and nationalism and other thoughts all rolled into one

Tuesday was my university’s birthday. The original significance of this was that I had to be at school at 7:50 am (twenty minutes earlier than normal) on account of my committing myself to take part in a “walk” with my fellow classmates and teachers.

That morning proved me wrong. I was sure everyone was lying and Tainan never got cold, but that morning was cold. Perhaps I have just become accustomed to warmer weather over the last few months, like the locals. Anyway, I sported my Mont-Bel synthetic fleece out the door, and was happy about my decision.

The participants of the “walk” were grouped by department. So we had our own Chinese Language Center group. We all were given free t-shirts and flags that corresponded to our respective home nation-state-countries. I had a United States of America flag because I am from the United States of America.

The “walk” itself took place in the school’s stadium. We waited on the track for a long time before haphazardly organizing ourselves into rows of six and walking almost half way around the track. Then it was done – for us, anyhow. The other groups, after this epoch journey almost half way around the track, seemed to be placing themselves on the field in an organized manner. There was to be a long speech. We foreigners did not have to stay for the long speech because we are foreigners and seem to be exempt from a lot of things.

But whoever was leading our group of foreigners was unaware of our exemption, and headed our group onto the field. There was obvious confusion at the front of the group, which steadily trickled down to the back of the group. I think something was even said over the loudspeaker about the foreigners. The foreigners were in distress and started going astray. Amidst all the careful planning and obvious organization of the other groups, the clump of very foreign looking foreigners (lots of white people) started trampling across lines and boundaries, running around in circles and lines, every last one of them carrying a bright flag over their head. I think I was the first one to notice the knee slapping humor of the situation, and just stopped to stand and look and laugh like Matt.

I spent the free from class day with classmates, mostly with two German students. The day got warmer and I took off my jacket and we walked around the city for a few hours and ate food and talked. Until today I had been feeling a sense of nostalgia for fall. There still are not any red leaves, but the brisk air, bright sun and slight breeze did me well.

Later there was a kind of Dawg Daze thing on campus. A small festival carnival activities bazaar of sorts. My roommates performed with other Panamanians, singing and dancing and drumming and accordioning. They drew a big crowd, including a Chinese looking person even more enthusiastic than the rest. After dancing to one song, he came up to me, took my hand at about neck height, and shook it very awkwardly. (It was a cross between a high five, a handshake and a kiss on the cheek.) “I am Chinese!” he exclaimed, showing me his official identification card hanging around his neck. I acknowledged his Chineseness, and let him get back to dancing.

After one of the students from Paraguay had me sample some food and asked how I liked it, I responded that it was good, and said it reminded me of papusas from Ecuador. After dancing and shaking hands/throats with the Chinese man, the Parguanian (??) brought his friend over to me. “She is from Ecuador! You can tell her about the food you like.” I obliged.

She responded with a facial expression more expressive than words, and I tried again. No luck. Then she started speaking to me in perfect English. “You must have your countries mixed up,” she said with a degree of accusation. No, no, no. But maybe it’s the wrong name. I thought for a second, and decided that it was the right name, and tried one more time, futilely. “I think you don’t know which country you visited.”

I thought about it very hard, and realized I had said Ecuador and meant El Salvador. I sucked it up and let her know I realized my mistake. The conversation ended quickly thereafter, and I was left standing amid the crowd feeling like a bit of an ass.

If someone were to give me a blank map, I promise I could find both El Salvador and Ecuador and label them correctly. I have done it before (thanks Jackson School). It is not that I am unaware that Latin America is not one country, or that Ecuador is not north of the equator. It is just that I mix those two up with the same frequency I confuse “tiger” and “lion” or “wheel” and “tire”.

But the way she left me, the way she ended our conversation, made me feel guilty – more guilty than if I had called her wheel a tire. And I started thinking about this and I wondered why I had offended her. There was some sort of ego, some sort of national pride, that I had disturbed. How could I confuse Ecuador and El Salvador? “I guess they are kind of close,” she had said.

I do not have to worry about people mixing up the US and Canada, or the US and France, or England. People know where I am from, and it is hard to say how different I would feel about her reaction if people did not know where my home was. Maybe I would be more sympathetic.

Often, when I am sitting down at a restaurant and I make a new Taiwanese friend by virtue of being not Taiwanese, he will ask me how it is I know about Taiwan. The first several times I was asked this, I chuckled. I wanted to say, “Well, you know, you’re right there on the map with all the other countries.”

I have yet to say this, instead explaining that I wanted to study Chinese and I know people that have been here, etc. And now I do not chuckle anymore. It is a sincere question, no joking at all. It is a question borne mostly out of domination by big sister China, but also by many people’s disinterest in affairs outside of their daily life: often my new Taiwanese friend’s response to my explanation of why I have come here is “I thought Americans thought Taiwan was Thailand.”

And, alas, before I came to Taiwan, and even still (from some people, thanks to the internet) I get questions such as “How is China?!” and “You’re in Thailand, right?”

As I was holding my flag over my head, trampling around the field with my classmates like an idiot, no one was looking at me and thinking, “Where is he from?” In fact, I think it is quite the opposite. People look at me, flag or not, and see me first and foremost as an American.

I can have my issues and disagreements with this, but I am not going to change anyone’s first impressions. As long as people understand our little world in terms of nation-states it is probably best that I accept the fact that I am representing some 300 million odd people. So I will study my map a bit harder and smile a bit more and speak Chinese as best as I can – if not for the sake of America, then for the sake of avoiding any animosity between two groups of people whose only connection is a guy named Jonathan Brown that did not know the name of El Salvador.

...

PS

Today at work I was discussing cultural differences between Taiwan and the US with the Taiwanese teacher. Our conversation was revolving around when children moved out of their parent’s house. I suggested I thought it was nice that Taiwanese tended to stick around a bit longer. She asked why the same was not true in the US, and I replied as best as I could. Then, “Oh... So, it isn’t illegal?”

???

I tried not to chuckle, but mustered a “Huh?”

“I thought there was a law that children had to move out, and if they don’t they have to pay their parents.”

This amazed me. She majored in English at university, yet still had this bizarre idea. So I will continue to correct these misperceptions and do my best to persuade everyone I meet that Americans, on the whole, are not that different than anyone else. Yes, yes.

Moving

As I write this, I am sitting in my new home. There is a drizzle outside, cooling the breeze that comes in through the sliding door of the balcony. Having a balcony is nice – it offers views of things that, while not spectacular, are preferable to a reddish solid metal wall. It is also nice having a kitchen with a kitchen table, as well as a living room complete with two couches and a coffee table.

My bedroom in and of itself is not as nice as my previous (bed)room. It did not come furnished with a closet, a chair or a small bookshelf, so those must be obtained. In the meantime, I am living from my floor – which is proving manageable to such a degree that the purchasing of real furniture will most likely be delayed for some time. There are also a few dings and marks on the wall, though if this is an indication that I am allowed to adhere things to the borders of my room (and I am making an assumption that it is), this could be viewed as a plus.

Furthermore, my new roommates have not yet turned out to be demonic in anyway. Instead they are maintaining the same degree of graciousness and civility as they do in classes. They also seem to have their own lives outside of the apartment, so it is not infrequently that I am home alone – on the whole, another plus. When they are around and we are communicating, we mostly use Spanish. Sometimes I will slip into Mandarin, as these days it is closer to the tip of my tongue, and I also intentionally impose English on them every once in a while (I am not sure how this is received yet). Inevitably, though, the phrases in foreign languages are repeated in Spanish for the sake of actual comprehension.

This has had two consequences. First, my Spanish has been rejuvenated after three months of severe malnourishment. And second, I have come to the realization that my Spanish is rather bad.

I persuaded my old landlord to sell me her son’s bicycle, so it is now my bicycle. There is want of something better still, however. The options are a sweeter bike (possibly a fixie which I am sure would be one of, if not the first in Tainan), the more convenient Vespa style scooter, or the more awesome motorcycle. In the same way the floor in my bedroom is sufficing as a closet and shelf, however, I am quite sure my current medium of transportation will last for some time.

And in fact, my bicycle is sufficient. Tainan is relatively small (though it is Taiwan’s fourth largest city) and flat, and I ride around with ease. Every week I encounter a new something or other. Two weeks ago it was the vegetarian Jiaozi (I think these are called dumplings in English, but am honestly not sure) place; last week, another tea shop from which I will buy a bag of tea tomorrow to try out; today it was the bakery and an Indian restaurant I will try next week.

The constants in my life are progressing. I feel I am getting a better grasp on teaching, and I picked up a few books on the subject, which will be an additional aid. This is the first job I have had where my responsibilities are not clearly defined. Well, on one hand that is not true. It is pretty straightforward: teach them English. But the methods by which I fulfill that requirement are malleable.

This realization was the first big step in the right direction, as far as teaching goes. It has led to some thinking about what my aims and expectations should be for different classes, which in turn has led to reconsiderations in how I deal with the students. I do not think that I want to be a teacher for a significant part of my life, but I do prefer doing things well to doing things not well. I also think many traits and skills that make a good teacher (of any level) are invaluable even when I am not in front of the class. So, I will continue to try to be better at what I am doing.

The other constant, the one where I am looking at the person in front of the class, is also going well. My ability to communicate with people that only speak Chinese is improving week by week. Still, successful communication is just as rewarding as unsuccessful attempts at communication are frustrating. I have both a carrot and a stick pulling and pushing me onward.

For instance, as my Chinese improves I hear more and more, “Oh, your Chinese is pretty good. How long have been here?”

After I have this brief conversation, which I have had several times and at which I have become quite adept, the conversation regarding how much lettuce I want or where the post office is or by when I need to be moved out, begins.

And this is where that stick really starts beating me over the head. My partner in dialogue is convinced my Chinese is great and usually starts conversing with me in a matter which I find 80% incomprehensible. I, thankfully having just received a complement, am unwilling to stop them mid-tempest-of-incomprehension to explain that they are wrong and my Chinese is still bad, but prefer to smile and squint and bend forward and ask for repetition every once in a while.

Sometimes this works and sometimes it does not. Sometimes I do not get any lettuce, sometimes I go to the bakery instead of the post office, and sometimes I move out a week too early.

The weather is cooling down, forcing me to recognize that it was in fact disgustingly hot this summer. Still, I am currently in shorts and a t-shirt and do not understand when I see people donning Mountain Hardware alpine jackets, complete with snow hats.

It was fun watching the election from afar. It made me realize I do like and care about America, was less apathetic toward than frustrated with our little nation, and am happy to see something a little different. I guess we will see how things go, yeah?

Administrative stuff

I opened a bank account, and am currently without regular access to the world wide web. Please forgive the post paucity.