Something for now...

It's been a long time since I've written, and I do plan to write a longer post soon. Till then, I'm going to start a new type of post, where I put up a picture of some Chinglish (Chinese English) that I've encountered. Enjoy!

End of the honeymoon

Yesterday I passed the two-month mark for my stay in Taiwan. I know from living abroad that the two-month mark is important because it’s the end of what I call the ‘honeymoon’ period- the time when everything seems new, exotic, and exciting. It’s also the moment that culture shock- that growing feeling of unease which creeps up on you- is most likely to strike.

On a brighter note, my Chinese skills have also crossed a threshold. I’m able to order simple things in restaurants and cafes without any trouble, and I can understand most of what my teacher says in class. I still have trouble when groups of native speakers have conversations, but that is normal.

Last Friday the scholarship students from Taipei had an orientation in a huge auditorium in the north part of town. We Taiwan Normal University students were sat on the balcony on the fourth floor, probably because we were so numerous. I was talking to Julie, a French girl I know, when Jerome, a Belgian, sat next to me. We started talking.

“Isn’t it weird that so many people are speaking Spanish here?” he asked.

I looked around. It was true that there were many people all around laughing and chatting in Spanish. The scene wasn’t new. In the school where I go, in the library or in the halls, it is common to hear people speaking Spanish. I didn’t think anything of it up until then, since there are many people from all over the world here, and Spanish speakers do tend to speak louder than, say, Asians.

“Isn’t it just because they are talking louder than everyone else?” I asked.

“I don’t know, maybe,” he replied.

Just then two people appeared on the stage, an Asian woman and a slightly taller man. The woman talked.

“Hello, ladies and gentlemen, distinguished guests…”

It was then that I noticed the dark suits sitting in the front rows.

“I will be your master of ceremonies for today, in English, and this man will be speaking in Spanish,” she motioned to the man.

“How come they don’t have a French master of ceremonies?” asked Jerome, somewhat jokingly.

So apparently there were more Spanish speakers than others. Then, when the first person, the President of our school, came to speak, everything became clear.

“I would like to introduce to you our distinguished guests. The Ambassador of the Marshall Islands, please stand up.”

“The Marshall Islands,” asked Jerome. “Where the hell is that?”

“It’s in the Pacific,” I replied.

The President continued. The Ambassadors of Vanuatu, the Solomon Islands, Belize, Nicaragua, Paraguay, The Dominican Republic, Guatemala, Haiti, Honduras, El Salvador, Burkina Faso, Palau, Nauru, the Gambia, Swaziland, and Malawi were all present. These are the countries which have continued to have diplomatic relations with Taiwan (see Note below), essentially recognizing its status as a country separate from continental China.

I later learned that students from these countries all received extensive scholarships (lasting three to four years) as a token of gratitude from Taiwan- hence the numerous Spanish speakers.

---

Note: Things like this remind me what a unique position Taiwan is in. An island of 22 million, Taiwan is essentially losing a diplomatic cold war against an ever-growing giant. As more and more countries seek to better relations with mainland China in order to increase trade, Taiwan is being alienated, politically at least. Still, since the island has a relatively developed economy, it cannot be completely ignored.

My first (non) story

It was supposed to be my first major assignment (I had already written a short story on Wednesday, yet to be published). On October 10, a national holiday, I was sent to Shida University's Linkou campus to cover a weekend camping trip the school was organizing. As all the details of the trip were sent to me in Chinese, I didn't really understand what it was all about. The only thing I knew was that I had to meet Anhui, a fellow (student) reporter, at 8am in front of the public affairs office of Shida campus. I got there at 8:02, and just when I got there I noticed my phone was ringing. It was Anhui, and she had tried to call me eight times.
Off to a good start.

Anhui greeted me as pleasantly as one can greet someone after trying to reach them eight times. She and I, along with two other reporters and five people who were dressed not unlike airline staff, got onto a small shuttle bus. I made small talk with Anhui (in Chinese) while wondering what was in store for us. Was it going to be a huge campsite with tons of college kids running around wildly? Or a more sober event, with a strict schedule and everyone marching about? I imagined it would be more like the second.

But upon arriving I found neither of these scenarios to be correct. "Where is everybody?" asked someone as we wandered around empty hallways. Anhui, who attends classes at this campus, lead us to the camp. About 20 tents had been set up on the back campus (overlooking some tennis courts) and a few scouts were walking around doing odd jobs, but other than that, there wasn't much sign of life. I guessed the majority of the Shida students hadn't arrived yet.

The airline people followed us wherever we went. "Who are those people?" I discreetly asked another reporter who spoke relatively good English and who went by the name Little Pig.
"Ah, they are the....[says something incomprehensible in Chinese] smile team," she replied in her soft-spoken voice.
"The what?" I asked again.
"Oh..." she paused as she searched for the word, "the ambassadors of Shida."

We got to the back of the campus, where a brightly colored tent and some golden shovels were placed- a groundbreaking ceremony. From what I gathered the school had made an agreement with the camping association to allow them to use the site for camping. The deal would be celebrated with this ceremony. Suddenly I understood- the ambassadors were representing the University for this ceremony.


"OK, the ceremony will not happen until ten o'clock, so you can have a break," said Little Pig. I decided to take this time to walk around and try to interview some people. One person was the scout leader, an older Chinese man named Mr. Lu.

Mr. Lu was very happy to talk to me, and his English was not bad. He explained that the camping event was jointly organized by Shida and the camping association, and that about 200 campers would come, in addition to the 40 or so Shida students (which, except for the scouts, I had not seen).

The other reporters and I wandered around the campus, and eventually I got the courage to interview some scouts in Chinese. It was pretty dismal, as most of the time I had no idea what their answers were to my questions, but I did manage to get their names, what year they were in university, what their major was (civil education), and what they were looking forward to doing there (apparently going home at the end of the weekend).

At ten o'clock I ventured back to the groundbreaking ceremony site, where they informed me that it had been postponed. OK. The 'ambassadors' were sitting at the seats, looking quite uncomfortable with their suits in the heat (by this point it was starting to get really hot). Anhui and I decided to interview them, but again I had no idea what they were saying.

After a bit more thumb-twiddling, someone got a call on their cellphone. "The ceremony has been cancelled!" Great. One less thing to write about. I was already trying to figure out how I could make three hundred words out of this story, and now one of the events had just been cancelled.

"Apparently the President is mad because of all the RV's which drove on his lawn," explained Connie, a woman who had accompanied us and who (I think) worked at the school.

Since the groundbreaking ceremony would not happen, the ambassadors decided to go back to the van and change into their normal clothes. As we walked back with them, I heard the truth about the whole thing. Connie looked at me and said "this whole thing didn't work out very well with only eight people showing up for the camping trip and all."

"Only eight people? Weren't there supposed to be, like, 200?" I asked.

Connie laughed. "There are 200 people from the camping organization who will attend. You know, the families in their RVs. From Shida, there are only just under 40 people, with 30 of them being the scouts who had to come to help set up the thing. Add the five ambassadors, who also had to come, and then there were just three more people who signed up."

Wow. This event was in fact, a non-event. No wonder everything seemed so...empty. When we got to the van someone got another phone call. The camping trip had also been canceled. All Shida students were instructed to leave.

So this was my first (non) story. At first I thought I could write an article with all the juicy rumors, but when I got home and checked my email I noticed a message from Jimmy, the Editor of our newspaper, regarding the first article I had written. "Keep up the good work," it said, but also "what you wrote cannot be edited because it is not news format." He then went on to tell me I should just wait before writing the next article.

Though I must admit I was a bit let down, at least I didn't have to write the non story.

Scooterama

This week (last Wednesday to be exact) my Taiwanese girlfriend Meng Yao came back from Paris. We've spent the last few days together, and she has been showing me around on her scooter (after buying a helmet of course).
Scooters are big in Taiwan, as you can see from this video of morning rush-hour traffic I made within the first few days after arriving in Taipei. One could be forgiven for mistaking such a sight to be an impromptu scooter race.

It is not unusual to see families of four (two young children and their parents) all piled up on a scooter. It's also common to see furniture tied to the back of a scooter. And if you pass by a police station, don't be surprised if you see a row of police scooters neatly lined up on the sidewalk outside, replete with flashing lights.
Taiwan has even made special lanes for scooters on some high volume roads, as well as boxed areas at traffic intersections where scooters go to make left turns (the logic, I imagine, is that it is too dangerous for scooters to turn left in one go). Some people, like my friend Jean-Robert, does not like the phenomenon, calling it an 'infection'. I guess the fact is that there are too many advantages to using a scooter (rapid transit time, doesn't take up much space, efficient engine, etc).

At the same time, this weekend I've just finished the 'boot camp' for new reporters of the Campus newspaper. It was pretty demanding, but now will come the real challenge- writing articles!

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.