Another Saturday

Lee is the name of the lady with the son, whom I met several Saturdays ago at the children's bookstore. A number of weeks ago I told Lee I would go with her and her son to a large Buddhist temple in Tainan County. An opportunity to go to a tea farm persuaded me to tell Lee I could not go with her on what would have been today. Not wanting to disappoint either her or her son, I said I could come over for lunch on Saturday, yesterday, at 11:00.

I was late. I had rejected her offer to come and pick me up from my apartment, preferring to ride my bike independently despite the distance. I left ten minutes before 11:00 for a journey that would take me three quarters of an hour. It would not have taken quite this long, but I could not recognize her particular apartment building, even though I was sure I was on her street. It turns out on the outskirts of Tainan City all of the apartment buildings off the busy main road, down the alleyways and side streets, all look very similar.

I tried to call to ask for directions or help, hating to do so as I was sure she would never let me ride there myself again, insisting on picking me up instead. However, I had missed one digit in the telephone number I punched into my phone before I left, and could not call her. I was forced to find it myself, which I eventually did.

Then I had to remember which apartment was hers. There was no bypassing the huge metal door that is the entrance to her apartment building. The first couple buttons I pushed were the result of failed memory recall. After that I implemented a strict methodology of pushing every button, starting at the top and moving down the list. After the third or fourth try an old lady answered. It was not Lee, but I asked if it was anyway. In response I got what sounded like Taiwanese. Despite my inability to understand her words, I understood her meaning. "Who is this?" I was finally able to make her understand who I was looking for - the only option, because she would not hang up the phone and allow me to continue down the list.

She gave me the floor and room number and I called and went up and said hello.

Lee was the same as before. A large smile spread across her face, under eyes that were somehow troubled. But she was glad to see me, and food was laid out across the table. She had obviously spent a lot of time preparing a lot of food, and I felt guilty for being late.

The apartment was the same, though her son was much more active than last time. He was excited to have company, Lee said. Usually it was just her and her son and he was quiet.

We ate and talked and her son ran around and did not eat. He threw balls and jumped behind and on top of things. Every once in a while Lee would try to get him to calm down or eat by either asking calmly or spurting out a river of hurried, angry Chinese followed by another smile aimed in my direction. Neither worked and it did not seem like Lee expected it to. At times it reminded me of trying to interact with my young students.

I tried to get to know Lee a little bit better, but it was not much use. For my part, I felt more bold than the last time I was in her home. I pushed gently in ways that for any number of reasons I normally would not. I wanted to know if this was someone I wanted to know and to be around. I wanted to know if I wanted to come back.

I asked where she was from, but did not receive much of an answer. I asked what she did for a living, and I received a very different answer than last time. I asked where the boy's father lived and after a long silence she said it was not too far from here. I stopped here, pressing no further. Despite her invitations, generosity, and pleasantries, she was not doing a good job of making me feel comfortable.

The phone rang and her son ran and picked it up in one of the two other rooms in the apartment. She followed, and shortly came back. I had the notion that someone was coming up. I politely asked if this was the case, and Lee confirmed. "Two people from the temple, and two children."

They were husband and wife, though Lee introduced the lady as Chu Jie, or sister Chu. These two were very amicable, but not regulars to Lee's apartment. From the body language and polite manner I understood that this was their first time visiting. They spoke Chinese for a while, and Lee frequently apologized and I responded in turn, saying it was good listening practice.

I gathered that Lee had invited them here and they knew a friend of hers would be visiting, but they seemed surprised that I was not Taiwanese. She soon asked if I wanted to go to the temple with them.

Understanding that the day's events would most likely spread beyond lunch, I had freed my Saturday of any obligations. I had all day, but I had given Lee an artificial deadline. I needed to be back by six to study with classmates.

I accepted the invitation, less because I sincerely wanted to go at this point than because I wanted to pull all the stops. I wanted to explore as much of Lee's life as I could while I was there. I wanted to explore before committing myself to be a regular part of their life.

I thought it was curious that her fellow temple goers showed up for the first time while I was there. I thought it was odd that she only invited me to the temple after I had arrived. The scenario had obviously been planned in advance, but I had the feeling I was not being shown the blueprints. I was being led along. This was fine and I smiled as Chu Jie offered me the front seat.

The temple was beautiful. It was a new building, huge and square and prominent in the countryside. The landscaping past the gate, before the temple itself, was well manicured and pleasant. (Still, as with all the temples I have seen and visited here, none begin to compare to those in Korea. I have very high expectations now, and they have not been met and I long for Korea's temples every time I visit one here.)

The temple consisted of three large floors. Each floor had a large room, or hall, and outside the halls were side rooms for various purposes. The people were kind, and there seemed to be a scurry to find someone when we arrived.

There happened to be a very pleasant, bright man who spoke nearly perfect English as a result of five years of study in a Ph.D program in Nebraska. He introduced himself, and I did the same and he asked if we should sit down to talk. I was under the impression that we had come to the temple to look around and see the country side. This man was under the impression that I was there to find out more information about the temple and religion. I do not think that he gave himself this impression, but that it was impressed upon him by someone else.

It turns out that it was a Daoist temple, not Buddhist, per se. And he continued to expand upon Daoist philosophy as well as the particulars of what this temple's religion put forth. It was fine and interesting and not completely foreign. He showed me around afterward, and we soon left. I declined to take part in the ceremony whereby I would commit myself to the temple and practicing Dao. The monthly ceremony happened to be taking place that weekend, though I am not sure it was simply incidentally.

We drove back and the sun was getting lower and I was tired. It was hot and I was sweaty. The couple and their kids dropped us off and drove away. Lee asked if I wanted to come up to have something to drink. Again, wanting to explore as much as possible, I accepted. It was only five and I did not "need" to leave for another half hour.

Her son was tired and went to the back room and fell asleep. Lee poured me cold fruit tea made from pear and mango and asked if I liked the temple and if I was happy. I told her I did like the temple and I was happy. It was quiet and she sat across the low table. We were face to face and it was dark and gloomy outside now. A typhoon was on the way.

She asked if I was scared of the typhoon. I said no, but that I perhaps should be. They seem to be more dangerous than I am willing to recognize. She replied that she was not scared and asked if I believed in fate. I said I believed things were half out of my control, or fate, and half in my control. She said she did not believe in fate in the past but that she did now, so she was not scared about the typhoon or anything else. I told her I thought it was important not to worry, and it was good if it helped her not to worry.

The clothes on the balcony blew in a gust of wind and clinked against the glass door. I looked at the clock, past her head. I asked about the boys father again.

She looked at me, and instead of hesitating she seemed freed by the fact that no one was around or coming. She told me in measured pace, like a metronome, in words that seemed rehearsed, that when the boys father left she did not know why, she did not understand and that she was very sad. She said she used to forget many things, she would forget how to get home. She said she came from a miserable life. But, she said, since she started going to the temple, and studying "the Bible" (the book of Dao), she had been better. She said she went to a doctor and she took medicine and she remembered things now. She confided that now she only hoped the boys father was happy, she was not sad anymore. She paused for a moment, breaking the measured pace of her words. Through the last several minutes the tip of her nose had reddened. Tears looked like they may have been welling in the bottoms of her eyes. Her throat seemed strained. I asked if she thought the boys father was happy. This seemed like it might break the thin seal that was shielding her from tears. She said she did not know, but she hoped that he was happy. She hoped.

Whatever had motivated her nervous hands in the car several Saturdays ago had now spread through most of her body. Only her words were conveying complacency and happiness. Her eyes, lips, nose and body disagreed with her words and became progressively distressed and sad. I let some time pass in silence before I glanced at the clock and said I needed to leave.

She burdened me with several times the amount of food she did last time, none of which I wanted. I did not want to owe her anything. I felt like I was talking to a student, imploring her to stop giving me food, this time my face without a smile. A large can of raisins, mangos, other tropical fruit, several unopened boxes of cookies, a box of cereal, packages of dried seaweed... I finally just turned to leave.

"Thank you," I said. "Take care."

I did not belong there and I did not think I would see her again.