Maybe it is the notion of cultural taboos ingrained in me over the years that makes me think the ordinary habits of people in my ancestral homeland are rude and sometimes outright disgusting, or maybe it is my germophobia and abiding hatred of all germs, real or psychologically fabricated, that makes me particularly sensitive. This next matter is not for the faint of heart -- that's right, I'm talking about public nose-picking.
I'm sitting in the air-conditioned post office on a hot day, waiting for my number to be called so that I can pay my health insurance premium. There's a woman sitting in front of me, reading a pamphlet and casually digging into her nostrils with her pinky. No, not just for a brief second or two, this was an indulged, leisurely cleansing exercise, after which she rubbed her fingers together and let it drop to the floor. GROSSSSSSSSS!!!!!! Yes you're waiting, and yes you're bored, but that does not entitle you to flick your boogers in public!
In fact, this is not an isolated incident, a lot of Taiwanese will pick at will, especially when riding on public transit, something about being in a public space must induce these people to empty out their bodily wastes. Even hard stares won't keep them from digging for gold, and believe me I've tried. I know that noses have to get cleaned out, but apparently it is too much to ask people to do it in private, preferably with a tissue, and wash your hands with soap afterwards!!!
I decided to dig a little deeper, and googled "nose picking habit" to see what I could find:
Sorry, I had to get this out of my system.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Monday, July 27, 2009
Due Bu Qi
On June 5th, the second day I had arrived in California, I took the 22 bus from Santa Clara to downtown San Jose to meet up with my friends for the First Friday and Sub Zero art event in the SoFa district. Upon getting off the bus, I started walking towards Second Street, then realizing my mistake, I turned to head towards First Street, and in doing so nearly bumped into a man who was walking behind me. I uttered an involuntary "due bu qi," the same phrase and in the same tone that I have been accustomed to uttering when accidentally bumping into strangers on the subways of Taipei. Thankfully, I 1) didn't say it very loudly, 2) the guy didn't appear to hear or notice, and 3) upon realizing my error, my subsequent embarrassment was short-lived. I'm not in the land of "due bu qi's" anymore.
I hadn't been in an English-speaking country for 15 months, and my mind has been brainwashed. Over the course of my month-long stay, English came back to me in spades, and although every once in a while it still takes me a bit longer to find the right word, I was, by the end of the month, a fully conversant and functioning American English-speaking American. Conversely, this meant that my Mandarin went by the wayside, seeping out of my brain like a sieve.
My second week back in Taipei, I met up with two good friends for drinks. We arrived at the bar an hour before they opened, but the bartender invited us to sit and wait inside, so we sat and chatted and enjoyed the peace before they turned up the music and one must resort to shouting to carry on a normal conversation. They weren't serving alcohol yet, but that didn't matter, my Mandarin was already noticeably slower, a bit slurred with uncertainty, and my grammar and word choices basic. The bartender, himself an Indonesian with near perfect Taiwanese Mandarin, thought it was amusing that a grown person could talk like a child, and then refused to believe me when I said I was American (which is another story altogether). In spite of this, he was very nice about it and I don't resent him for the comment because it was the truth. I have reverted back to simple, elementary Mandarin, and my thick accent had also come back. It takes a bit longer for my mind and my mouth to form the words, and then there is the uncertainty of whether or not I was making the right sound, using the right tone, choosing the right words.
I feel like I'm in a bit of a linguistic netherworld right now, trying to brush up on my Mandarin, going through the chapters of an old textbook and marvelling both at how much I've forgotten and how much I've managed to retain. Maybe being bilingual means that our fluency fluctuates like the cycles of the stock market, and eventually it will even itself out, find the right balance in the dance of supply and demand. At any rate, I hope I don't find myself saying "due bu qi" on the streets of San Jose again, because it would be like trying to sell hard-boiled tea eggs to people who want omelettes (or frittatas, for that matter, mmmmmmm...frittatas).
I hadn't been in an English-speaking country for 15 months, and my mind has been brainwashed. Over the course of my month-long stay, English came back to me in spades, and although every once in a while it still takes me a bit longer to find the right word, I was, by the end of the month, a fully conversant and functioning American English-speaking American. Conversely, this meant that my Mandarin went by the wayside, seeping out of my brain like a sieve.
My second week back in Taipei, I met up with two good friends for drinks. We arrived at the bar an hour before they opened, but the bartender invited us to sit and wait inside, so we sat and chatted and enjoyed the peace before they turned up the music and one must resort to shouting to carry on a normal conversation. They weren't serving alcohol yet, but that didn't matter, my Mandarin was already noticeably slower, a bit slurred with uncertainty, and my grammar and word choices basic. The bartender, himself an Indonesian with near perfect Taiwanese Mandarin, thought it was amusing that a grown person could talk like a child, and then refused to believe me when I said I was American (which is another story altogether). In spite of this, he was very nice about it and I don't resent him for the comment because it was the truth. I have reverted back to simple, elementary Mandarin, and my thick accent had also come back. It takes a bit longer for my mind and my mouth to form the words, and then there is the uncertainty of whether or not I was making the right sound, using the right tone, choosing the right words.
I feel like I'm in a bit of a linguistic netherworld right now, trying to brush up on my Mandarin, going through the chapters of an old textbook and marvelling both at how much I've forgotten and how much I've managed to retain. Maybe being bilingual means that our fluency fluctuates like the cycles of the stock market, and eventually it will even itself out, find the right balance in the dance of supply and demand. At any rate, I hope I don't find myself saying "due bu qi" on the streets of San Jose again, because it would be like trying to sell hard-boiled tea eggs to people who want omelettes (or frittatas, for that matter, mmmmmmm...frittatas).
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
A Whirlwind Vacation
I spent much of the month of June back in my homeland, beautiful California, and stayed just long enough to watch the Fourth of July fireworks. Here were some of the things I really looked forward to, and can now check off on my "to do" list:
- chillin' with good friends
- sit on a giant steel rocking horse and hold on to dear life
- see Spamalot! (the Broadway musical, not the Spam-lover's convention)
- eat Mexican food, lots of it!
- see the beautiful green rolling hills, cheerful wildflowers, and stunning California coastline
- go "hotel camping" with the sleeping-on-hard-ground adverse siblings
- have a slice of Zachary's deep dish pizza dripping with gooey cheese and tomato sauce
- watch someone get bitch-slapped by cheese
- wear a Hawaiian shirt with (blackmail) photos to prove it
- go beaching and witness a gay Jewish wedding on the beach
- belt out The Killers while joyriding with my BFF
- eat a gardenburger
- attend a wedding wearing a sari
- see Wicked, the musical
- drink lots of good ol' California wine
- get henna tattood
- enjoy an afternoon of shoe shopping at DSW
- eat some flaming cheese...yummy!
- eat a giant ice cream sundae at Ghirardelli Square
- experience 4th of July under the fireworks on a boat in SF bay...hooray for Independence! Fraternity, Equality, Liberty! (oh wait, not that last bit)
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