Typhoon Jangmi and the Campus Reporter

Saturday, 1:30pm- It's raining and cloudy again. Another typhoon is on its way. I don't let that stop me, though, and after a bit of walking around the red-brick buildings of National Taiwan Normal University (NTNU), I find the room I'm looking for.
No, this isn't a remedial Chinese class.

Last week, at the NTNU International students' welcome party, I had the pleasure of meeting (and being interviewed by) Jocy, a campus reporter at the school's newspaper, the Campus Reporter. Since I'm interested in exploring journalism as a career, I decided to ask her if there were any opportunities for writing articles at the school.
Jocy, a young college student who speaks excellent English, gave me more than I bargained for.
"Actually we are hiring right now. You should apply!"

A week later, I'm entering a classroom full of Taiwanese college students. Jocy invites me to sit down at the back of the class. This is the 'boot camp' for new campus reporters for, you guessed it, the Campus Reporter. They are giving speeches on how to find stories, how to ask questions, how to write articles. Only problem is, it's all in Chinese.
Occasionally, some students look back and are surprised to find a waiguoren sitting among them. I try to follow the speaker, Ms. Lin, but it's usually way too hard for me and I have to resort to asking Jocy to explain.
Six hours later, after a few short breaks (including a 30-minute bento box break for dinner) and some light conversation, we have to do the first writing exercise: describe today's boot camp. I now know why they called it a boot camp and briefly consider using the word "boring" in my description. But good sense prevails, and I write something along the lines of what I used to write in my former job as a translator for a news company.

"On 27 September 2008, 32 potential campus reporters met for the orientation meeting for the school newspaper."

I continued, listing the things that, as far as I knew, we did that day.
I went to the back of the line, waiting to see what the teacher's response would be (she had gone to a US university, so I figured speaking to her wouldn't be a problem).

When I got there, she asked me to read the thing. After reading half of it she stopped me.
"Too long. And try to write a better lead sentence. Talk about the atmosphere."
Atmosphere? WTF was she talking about?
I went back to my desk and started again. Jocy looked at me.
"Well? What did she say?"
"She said I need to write about atmosphere."
"That's the same thing she said to me!"
I tried to think of something that I had missed the first time. What could I possible write about that I had missed the first time around?
Then it hit me. My style was too dry, too factual. I shouldn't write like for a business newspaper. I needed to get the reader interested.

"'How do you make a compromise between creativity and objective reporting?' was on of the many questions addressed at the orientation meeting for new student reporters of the Campus Reporter."

I came back with a checkmark (which had freaked me out for a second- was this like Japan, where a checkmark means it's bad?) and- relief- the word 'good' written on my paper.
Another hour of talking and you can imagine I was itching to get out of there. I felt like we were having so much training we were going to become world-class reporters right then.
So after 7 hours of someone talking Chinese at me, you can imagine how happy I was to go home.

On the way back, I bought a bunch of supplies to prepare for the typhoon. Important stuff, like water, instant noodles, coffee, chocolate, beer. I've been reading up on typhoons and it seems the last one was small compared to what this one will be like. I can see that, considering it hasn't even hit land yet and there have already been huge downpours and window-rattling wind. After looking at some forums about it, I feel more ready for a typhoon than I've ever been.

And, tomorrow we don't have school!

Beach

On Sunday I went to the beach with some new Taiwanese friends I met on Saturday night at a party. We rented surfboards and I tried surfing for the first time. People are really friendly here!

Back to basics, and Ba Gua

Last Friday- I'm in my new Chinese class, with Teacher Zhu. In this class there are three Japanese, two Koreans, an Indonesian guy, an Indian guy, and a Canadian dude. At first I was a little bummed that I was in a lower level but now I realize it's probably the best thing that could happen to me. I know most of the characters (albeit in simplified form) and the grammar is not so hard. But in my first day in class we were reading passages from the textbook, with each student reading one line. So when it comes to my turn, I read off the characters as quickly and fluently as possible.
Teacher Zhu, dressed in light, pastel colors, (but not looking very easygoing) gives me a stern look and calls out my Chinese name: "Anjian." She looks at the other students.
"How is the character 'ke' pronounced?"
A chorus of voices pronounces it with a mild upward tone, as if asking a question: "ke?"
"That's right, second tone. You need to work on your tones, Anjian. Buy a red pen and mark the tones above all the characters, then practice them. Next student."

So this week I've been going over my basic characters, pronouncing them slowly and carefully. It's a mind-numbing task, considering I've been saying them wrong, or sometimes, just not pronouncing the tones. I have to relearn everything, but I think in the long term it will be worth it because I'll actually be understood when I speak. And I'm getting better.

Tuesday- A (Chinese) American I met, Jon, invited me to go to a Ba Gua class. I was really excited about this because I had heard about Ba Gua but never seen it. It's an internal martial art, which means that, like Tai Chi or Aikido, it's based on 'Qi' or internal energy instead of raw strength. Wondering whether it was going to be foreigner-friendly or all in Chinese, I asked if there were many foreigners at the class.
"It's taught by a foreigner," said Jon.
I had heard of these types of classes, taught by ex-pats who had years of experience. They were rarely advertised and mainly expanded through word-of-mouth.
"Cool, what's his name?"
"Fox."
I had never heard of Fox, but it would be interesting to see what the class would be like.

When I got to the location (which I will not divulge, except to say that it's a public area) there were a few students warming up and some young b-boy kids nearby, playing hip-hop and practicing freezes. I stretched a bit with Jon and made small talk. Then I saw a big black guy approach. He was wearing athletic wear and clear sunglasses, a la RZA, . At first I thought he was meeting the b-boys.
That was Fox.
Fox has a muscular physique, but carries it effortlessly, more like a dancer than a bodybuilder. Spotting me as the new student, he came directly towards me and greeted me.
"Yo, what's up man? Have you ever practiced Kung Fu before?"
"Uh...yeah, I practiced in France a modern style."
"Cool, I teach Ba Gua. It's a bit like Kung Fu, but kinda different. You'll see."

The class was good, more athletic than Tai Chi, but not as demanding as Kung Fu. Though the moves could be considered internal, Fox preferred a hands-on approach, making us practice in pairs.
Occasionally the b-boys would check out some of the moves we were doing, interested in the circular movements of the Ba Gua. Likewise, sometimes we couldn't help but check out the b-boys' crazy acrobatics. It was a moment where the cultural visions of each were reversed- a group of young Taiwanese practicing a relatively new dance form created in the West, and some waiguoren practicing an age-old martial art invented in the East.
Not sure if I'm going to stick with this particular martial art (there are tons here and I should check some out before making a decision) but it's a step in the right direction.

Typhoon Sinlaku and the barbecue

This weekend was fun, considering there was a typhoon. Most people who haven't experienced a typhoon associate them with massive destruction and/or death, but those are only the ones that make the international headlines. Actually it's more like crappy weather which lasts for three or four days. It alternates between just drizzling, to wind with rainshowers, to heavy rainshowers, to heavy rainshowers with strong wind, to...well, you get the point. Whenever you go outside it's a gamble. You could be strolling around with your umbrella like it was just another rainy day and then bam! the wind suddenly turns into a high-powered mega vaccuum and your umbrella has just become a piece of interestingly-shaped garbage.
Anyway, I awoke Sunday morning to the sounds of wind gusts and rain drops on my window. I went to check the weather forecast because a) a friend had invited me to a barbecue and b) the typhoon could potentially stay another day, in which case I wouldn't have to go to school on Monday. Old Mr. Zhang was cooking in the kitchen, his son Li was watching the news on TV. After being perplexed at all the maps and characters I didn't understand, I asked Li what in the hell was going on outside.
"Well the typhoon is still gonna be here for a day or two. They say it might go and come back. We have a lot of typhoons here"
Talk about strange typhoons. I had experienced my share in Japan, but never one that lasted so long, let alone went away, only to come back.
This afternoon Mr. Hao, a friend of a friend, was having his annual Zhong Qiu Jie (Mid-Autumn festival. Don't ask.) barbecue at his house. I wondered if a typhoon might alter the plan. I called Xiao Yu, the girl who was supposed to pick me up on her scooter, to make sure it was still on.
"Yeah, but I don't pick you up."
Phew, I didn't exactly want to be on the back of a scooter going on a highway during rainfall and gale-force winds. "So what do I do?" I asked, trying to use the most simple, but clear, English possible. "Take MRT to Shilin, and meet Joey there. I give you his...her...phone number."
That was a thing many Taiwanese mixed up. Him and her. You never knew if you were going to meet a guy or a girl, and the name didn't usually help. Fortunately, there weren't too many waiguoren (foreigners) walking around, so more likely they found you before you found them.
So at 4 o'clock, I ended up meeting someone, (a girl btw, whose name was Kenny, not Joe) at the MRT station. Kenny was a short girl dressed up like a punk, with a black baseball cap and a certain amount of piercings, and she was with two other girls. We got in a cab amidst the pouring rain. Apparently Mr. Hao was intent on having his barbecue and a stupid little typhoon wasn't going to stop him. When we got there people were setting up the barbecue on a covered terrace.
Mr. Hao is the boss of Danceworks, a dance production company. He has an athletic build and actively helps out in setting up the barbecue, so he could be mistaken for a worker and not the boss.
Not many people spoke English, which was good for my Chinese, but it did add an extra hurdle to me meeting people (the first one being that I didn't know many people there). In the end though I met some really cool people, and the food was good too. They put whole squids on a stick here and barbecue them, along with slabs of beef, chicken legs, sausages, and shrimp. The one thing that was missing, in my opinion, was beer. I've said this before: the Taiwanese don't seem to drink much alcohol. There were three large bottles, which I shared with two or three other guys, but it wasn't enought to get me hammered or anything (which in retrospect is probably a good thing because I had a test the next morning).

Cape Number 7

Today I saw the movie Cape Number 7 (Hai Jiao Qi Hao) with my friend Lieh Fang, a reporter. The movie, which is Taiwanese, has been well-received here by critics and the general public alike for being very true to Taiwanese culture. In the story a discouraged rocker moves back from Taipei to his sleepy town of Henchung. As he takes on work there, his music and life slowly becomes intertwined with that of the people around him.
It's a slightly cheesy tale, but has some really funny moments, and struck a chord with me because a large part of the storyline has to do with Japan (not going to give away how).
Anyway, after the movie, the director and lead male actor came out on stage and answered questions.
Meanwhile, in school I am stuck in a type of educational limbo, wondering from class to class like an errant samurai.

Back to school

So I had my first day at school. In the class, taught by a Ms. Li, there are six women and two men (including me). There are two Vietnamese (one man and one woman), a Balinese, a Thai, a Russian, a Japanese, and a Korean. In the class we give self-introductions which takes about an hour (the class is two hours long). I was surprised to hear that most of them had been studying Chinese for under a year. But I'm cool with this. Sure, they are using some words I don't know, but I understand the general gist.
Then the next hour comes. The teacher hands us a sheet, all in Chinese, of how the class is to be carried out. I can read some of it but am anxious that I miss something important. She talks about 'tingxie.' Of course I know what that means because we used to do it all the time in France (dictée or dictation). She goes on to explain how the class will go, but I only understand a few words and have no idea about the general meaning. I start to get a little nervous. Actually, one of the requirements for the scholarship I am on is that I have to get grades of at least 80 percent. So that's where my anxiety was coming from.
Then we play a game where we each get cards with words on them and we have to explain the word without saying it and others have to guess what it means.
I don't know if it was the words they had chosen, but I suddenly felt like that time when I was six years old and learning how to swim and I just went into the deep end of the pool and freaked out and almost drowned (I didn't almost drown, but I thought I did). It wasn't just the fact that I didn't know most of the words, it was also that everyone was just speaking so comfortably and I was there, like a sitting duck. Now I know what my Junior High School Japanese students felt like when I tried to make them talk.
Ms. Lin said if anyone felt the class was too difficult she had no problem with letting them go. And that was my cue. As soon as the class was over, I went over to her and told her it was too hard. She explained to me calmly and clearly what it was I had to do.
I didn't understand any of it. (Actually, they had explained it in the orientation meeting, but I was, let's say, chemically imbalanced at the time.) After struggling a little, I finally understood the words 'sixth floor'.
I went to the sixth floor and told them I wanted to change classes. They asked me if I had talked to my teacher about what level I needed to be in. "Maybe you should talk with her about your level.' They said. So I went back upstairs to the teacher's office, found Ms. Li, and asked her what level she thought I should be in.
"Maybe you need to be in a group which uses book two," she said. She went and got the book.
I really didn't want to go to a group that uses book two. This is what I get after two years of university-level Chinese? She asked me if I knew the characters. Yes, I said, it's just that at my school in France we were learning simplified ones. "OK," she says, and starts to walk me to another office.
When we get to the office, they say that since I am a new student I need to stay in the class for at least two days to try it out. And that's that.
I think what really annoys me is that the school I went to in France, Inalco (allegedly the best in the nation for teaching Chinese), never taught us how to really speak. After I left the teacher and looked at my textbook and textbook two, I noticed that I knew about 90% of the words and most of the grammar. But it was just the combination of the inability to speak and the difficulty in listening which prevented me from participating in the class. And it's probably because at Inalco the most we had to do in class, in terms of communication, was nod our heads when the teacher asked if we understood and present a short dialogue which we had memorized in front of the class (JET teachers, does this ring a bell?)
Ultimately taking a few steps back will be good for me because it will consolidate the information I know and I'll actually learn how to speak it in a regular conversation. In the end, that's why I came here.

The last week of summer...

This past week was the last week before actually beginning classes. I saw Jean Robert, a class mate and documentary film director, for the last time before he went back to Paris (we had a Japanese style all-you-can-eat hot pot and grill). I went to the government office to sign up for my Alien Registration Card. Mr. Zhang took me to the grocery store (huge, but I couldn't find any canned tomatoes).
On Friday I went to ShiDa, the university I will be going to, for the orientation meeting and to find out my schedule. I managed to arrive at the red-brick building where the meeting took place on time, but I didn't have time to get a coffee before arriving. So you can imagine the headache I had during the whole meeting (OK, I admit, I'm addicted to caffeine.)
After the meeting, which IMO didn't have anything really interesting to say, I went downstairs to get a coffee before getting my schedule and books. I figured by the time I got back upstairs the long line for the schedules would have disappeared.
I ordered a 'bing' (iced) coffee at the small cafe downstairs and sipped it slowly, visualising the receptors in my brain which were firing up after getting a healthy dose of caffeine. Magic.
But when I returned back to the fifth floor, surprise, there was still a super long line which I had to wait in. I saw a guy who looked completely lost, and saw others try to talk to him in English and show him where to go. Still clueless. He fixed his gaze on me and then asked me in French "do you know where I need to go?"
I quickly translated everything the other person had said in English. "Orientation is over there," I said, pointing towards the door.
"Yeah, I bet the orientation is in English too!" He replied.
"And Chinese!" I joked.
That was weird. How did he know I was French?
Anyway, after I finally got my schedule, I went upstairs to get my books. I looked at the paper. Dammit! I start classes at 8:10AM! I'm not sure what my level is but my book says level 3, so it can't be that bad. I mean, I had been worrying that either a) they noticed I had taken two years of university-level Chinese, so would put me in a super difficult class, or b) they noticed how I bombed the evaluation test, and would put me in a beginner's class. But it seems they put me in a class which is not too difficult but still challenging (to be confirmed in the near future).
This weekend I tried to practice some more traditional characters, looked at my textbook a little, and got fed chou (stinky) tofu by Mr. Zhang. I had asked him about the restaurant downstairs, and he said he didn't know if it was any good but that he could make me some. So on Saturday I tried it. The tofu, which looks and smells like a fresh cow patty (OK, actually it only smells like one), doesn't taste so bad, a bit like a spongy fermented cheese.
Today, to return the favor, I made spaghetti bolognese for Mr. Zhang, his son, and his mother (who came over for lunch). We talked in Chinese most of the time, which is good practice for me. I have no idea what the old lady is saying though, she just says stuff to me and laughs. I can't wait to speak Chinese well enough to understand because she seems to be having a hoot.

The travails of learning (traditional) Chinese

I start my classes next Monday, and to prepare I've been spending the past few days reviewing my traditional characters. This was one of the daunting things about going to Taiwan. Like Hong Kong and Macau, Taiwan decided not to use the simplified characters that mainland China adopted in the 20th century (by my count about one in every four characters have been simplified).
I thought it wouldn't be a big deal because I had already learned Japanese characters, which (I mistakenly thought) were traditional.
But it isn't as simple as that. The Japanese imported kanji throughout different eras, and thus have a mish-mash of traditional and simplified characters. Plus, after studying Chinese for two years, I know about 400 more Chinese characters than Japanese. So even if the Japanese ones were all traditional, I'd still have about 100 more traditional ones to learn. (for a list of examples, check here)
Not that learning traditional characters is without value. Once I know them, it will be a lot easier to study ancient Chinese texts...

Apartment hunting in Taipei (part 2)

By Friday afternoon I was basically freaking out. I had agreed to meet Ivy, a Taiwanese friend, at 8pm at Dingxi MRT (metro) station and go to a night market with her. I hadn't signed the contract yet, and my plan was to divert Mr. Zhang, my landlord, from signing the contract for two months, or basically until I could be assured that living at someone else's place was not a problem (and that if it was, I could back out).
The room itself was not a problem. Far from it. It had a view of a park (way better than that studio near Shida), a bathroom with a bathtub, a double bed which didn't take up most of the room, and it was near the national library, where I figured I could get some studying done.
The problem was I would have to live with the landlord. I would have to tip-toe if I came home late at night, I would have to clean up after myself in the kitchen, when he wasn't using the kitchen, of course. And how would I get back home at night, with this being so far from all the bars and clubs (it was a residential area)? And, I later found out that I wasn't just living with him, but his son, one year my senior.
I left the apartment at ten to eight, saying "ni hao" to the friendly concierge. I walked past a restaurant which emitted a seriously bad smell, and couldn't believe people were actually eating there. I walked to the super modern metro, er, MRT station and took the train one stop to meet Ivy.
Ivy is a Taiwanese girl who is about my age and works in sales. I had never actually met her before as we had met online, so I waited around the exit, unsure what she would look like in real life. She would undoubtedly recognize me, the tall waiguoren (foreigner) first.
It was Ivy who found me, and all smiles, led me to the local night market, a hodge-podge of sights (think small stalls selling unnameable chicken parts) and sounds (scooters honking to get past the people).
"I used to live near here, so I know this area very well," said Ivy. Wow, I thought. A local. I hit the jackpot. Immediately I wanted to ask her questions.
"So, did you go out a lot when you were living here?" I asked innocently.
"Yeah, I used to go out in Taipei city," she replied.
"How did you get back home after the MRT was closed?"
"Taxi of course. It costs about 200 NT." About the price of a large dinner.
After passing many stalls we turned into a small restaurant on the side of the street, one of those restaurants where you sit on a counter in front of a grill and the chef cooks in front of you.
After ordering some meat and seafood (and a beer for me), Ivy turned to me and asked how my stay in Taiwan was going so far.
"Well, to be honest I'm running into some problems with apartments. I found one but I'm living with the landlord."
"Living with the landlord? Wow. That's even worse than living with your parents!" she said laughing.
My worst fears, confirmed.
"Did you sign the contract yet?"
"No, I'm supposed to do that tonight. That's why I can't stay that late. I'm thinking of asking him if he can put it off for a while, but not sure if I can do that."
"Maybe you need to negotiate with him."
"Yeah, but he's gonna be with his son. It's like, two against one. It's gonna be difficult."
I know I'm a terrible negotiator. Though Mr. Zhang is a nice man, I could imagine him asking me to either sign the contract, or leave the next morning.
I ordered another beer and looked around. Not a single other person in the place was drinking beer. Some were taking small cups of iced tea from a tap, but that was it.
"Do people drink with their meals here?" I asked.
"Not really, unless it's a business dinner or something," Ivy replied. I was starting to realize that, though there are many similarities with Japan, Taiwan is very different in many ways. If this were Japan, practically every adult male would have beer or some other type of alcohol.
After more conversation, a lot of food, and beer, I realized it was time to go. The moment of truth had arrived. Ivy agreed to walk me to the station.
We walked away from the brightly-lit night market to the MRT. I felt some drops of water on my head.
"Is it raining?"
"No!" Ivy said, laughing. "That's just the drops from the air conditioners above!"
Apparently I had a lot to learn about this new country.
When we arrived at the station I prepared to say goodbye.
"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?"
I looked at her and wondered if it was a sincere proposition.
"No, it's OK, his son will be there. We can talk in English."
"Yeah, but it's gonna be difficult. Two against one," she insisted.
"Okay, yeah, maybe your right."

The three of us sat at the kitchen table (in the end, the son didn't show up), the contract in the middle. The woman spoke for a few minutes in soft tones, and the old man nodded in agreement. He looked me in the eye and said something I didn't understand. I turned to Ivy.
"He says that normally he wouldn't do this, but since you are a foreigner and you don't know many people here, he has agreed to let you stay here for two months without a binding agreement," said Ivy.
I sighed in relief. And pulled out the presents I had bought before leaving France, a pair of shot glasses with Parisian scenes.
"I want to give these to you," I said, handing him the presents. In return, Mr. Zhang took out some fresh beers from the fridge and opened them. At least they sometimes drink here.
"Ganbei!" I said.
"Oh! You shouldn't say that, it means you have to drink the whole thing," said Ivy.

As I walked Ivy back to the MRT station, she said "that was easy, it's basically what I do in my job everyday." (Thank goodness for sales people.)
As we passed the stinky restaurant, I mentioned the smell.
"Oh! That's stinky tofu!" she said.
"Huh? You mean they cook it like that on purpose?"
"Yeah! It's a specialty here in Taiwan. You should try it sometime."

As I said, I have a lot to learn while here in Taiwan.

Apartment hunting in Taipei (part 1)

On Thursday, I moved into a room near YongAn Market Station, about three stops from where I will go to school (at Shida, or National Taiwan Normal University).
When I went apartment hunting with Oliver (it's the English name of a friend of a friend) last week, we visited many studios around the university, but to no avail. Since I am on a scholarship, I have a pretty tight budget, so when we looked online, we used the filter functions on the internet site www.591.com.tw.
The funny thing was, what looked great on paper was not exactly up to par when we saw it live (on a side note, I'm happy I didn't try to arrange something before coming to Taiwan).
Oliver, a soft-spoken young man with thick black-rimmed glasses and usually wearing a cap of some sort, would bring me to what seemed to be Taipei's hottest new cafes (with wifi de rigeur) and bring his laptop to do some internet searches.
"This one looks good," he'd say, pointing to the many traditional Chinese characters I was still struggling to learn.
"It has internet connection, cable TV, a laundry machine, a double bed, and gas and water is included," he said.
But upon visiting the room we realized that we ignored the fact that the room was about the size of a walk-in closet. The double bed took up three-quarters of the room, and it was fortunate that the television was flat-screen, because otherwise there would be no space between the bed and the wall. On top of that, the window had an amazing view of...another building at arm's length.
To make a long story short, I ended up taking a room in someone's (we'll call him Mr. Zhang) apartment. I really worried about this after moving in as it's the first time I've lived with someone in over 5 years (if you don't include the time I lived with my mom). I worried about it so much, in fact, that I started doubting my decision. Should I have moved into the tiny apartment, that would have been all to myself? Or should I have tried to find some flat mates?