The Straw and The Camel

I woke up this morning with a stomach ache. On my way to work, I found at that my usual route was closed off for construction. Then, in my morning class, only a third of the students did their homework. Sometimes, trouble comes in small doses, but my how they can add up! One of the things I've been noticing this week is how, in a foreign country, every small mishaps seems to have a way of ballooning outward and having an exaggerated impact on one's life.

My small stomach pain, for example, is complicated by the difficulty of finding familiar, plain, and digestively non-threatening breakfast foods. On my bike ride, I ran into a series of cones and a big ole sign smack dab in the middle of (I thought) the only road out of our micro-neighborhood. I figured the message was important, yet felt how limited my understanding can be when I'm functionally illiterate. Even with the children in class, as a cultural question it can be a difficult matter to know the proper balance between discipline and laxity. Too far one way, I fail to motivate my students and fail to control the class. Too far the other, and I risk pushing the upsetting the students, the school, and my own self. The question of where the boundary is, metaphorically (as with teaching) and physically (as with the construction) has proven to be a major theme of my travel. It's just so easy to miss the mark!

Of course, such boundaries are often hard to read even in our own homes, so part of the experience is just a heightened sense of what already goes on everyday--the navigation of indeterminate social and physical relationships with the world around us. Yet, I am definitely feeling a renewed appreciation for my firm understanding of American cultural norms. Reliability is great!

On another note, this weekend I've been invited to travel to a scenic area for a few days in the mountains of central Taiwan. From everything I hear, this place is very beautiful. I've been looking forward to seeing more of the mountains for some time. I promise to write some more positive reflections next time! With fuel like beauty, it shouldn't be hard.

All the best,

-Eli


A shot of Pingtung from outside my window.

Family Ties

On the other side of the world...

My trip to Taiwan this summer has many reasons behind it. As a Chinese minor, pragmatically, I know that there is no better way to learn a language than to immerse oneself within a language community. Coming to Taiwan, and particularly to the relatively smaller town of Pingtung, has provided the best sort of experience of this kind. Last year, as well, I found that teaching English was a really rewarding experience. Given the opportunity to repeat this work, I felt compelled to come. In short, the opportunity for a unique language and work experience have been at the forefront of my thinking about this trip since the beginning. However, these were never the only motivating factors.

For as long as I can remember, I have known that my uncle Ben was Taiwanese, but for most of my life this had little bearing on my relationship with him. When I was young, for example, this information was filed away in the category of factoids, along with the knowledge that one uncle liked to work with computers, or that another lived on a farm.

As I began to consider studying Mandarin Chinese, though, this aspect of my uncle's life took on new significance. At least part of my decision to pursue the language was due to growing up with an internationally inflected extended family. Yet, despite this, I never knew my Uncle's extended family well, and rarely met them. It is worth noting, too, that his family speaks primarily the Taiwanese dialect of Chinese, not Mandarin. Although the older generation learned Mandarin under Guomindang rule of Taiwan after World War II, my uncle's generation emigrated at a young enough age that Mandarin, also variously known as "Guoyu" (the national language), "Putonghua" (the common dialect), or "Beijinghua" (Beijing dialect), was not a language that ever much influenced their lives. This meaning, of course, that linguistically at least, my Chinese education did linguistically connect me to my uncle's family.

Culture, though, is another matter. In three years of studying Chinese I have been impressed by how textbook knowledge of a language is entirely distinct from experiential cultural knowledge. Understanding of the consensuses that drive social norms, the milieu in a regional community, or the daily breathed rhythms of thought and life are a different matter altogether. Last summer, especially, I found what an expansive sense of culture shock one encounters in stepping into a new region, even after years of study. This is obvious to anyone who has travelled to a country where they speak another language. Still, the combined influence of so many day-to-day "culture surprises" (the repeated experience of: "Oh, you find that offensive? I see...") had the effect on me of alienating my own knowledge of Chinese from my sense of myself as a social person. Again, culture shock maybe common phenomenon, but to feel it in connection with one's own chosen direction is at the very least a little disconcerting.

Condundrum. But of course the solution is one that has been near to me all along. Against the background of this experience, only this year did it finally dawn on me that my own family, with extended relatives living on either side of the Pacific, might be able to help me to ease this conflict between knowledge and life. Despite some apprehension about reaching out to distant family members I had never met, my experience that followed has been a deeply fulfilling connection with a side of my family that had until now been strangers.

The organization of the trip itself has been entirely dependent on the goodwill and generosity of my Taiwanese family. My position helping at the Carrick's English school was the direct result of a recommendation from my uncle (to stretch the term, he is my uncle's uncle) Ray. In the final leg of my trip, I will be staying in Taipei, with the great fortune of a roof over my head due to the kindness of another relative, my uncle Tom (also my uncle's uncle**).

Even more than this sort of logistical aid, though, I have been overwhelmed by the sense of truly being welcomed into Taiwan. Last year, I was greeted at the Nanjing airport by an organizational representative, a wonderful help and great kindness which nonetheless constitute any kind of intimate connection. This June, on the other hand, I arrived in Taipei to be greeted by uncle Tom, who came on his own to pick me up. After one feast that first night, a trip around Taipei with distant cousins, and a truly outstanding connection with uncle Ray in nearby Kaohsiung, I feel almost overwhelmed by the show of support I have found. Since then, I have felt completely uplifted by the helping hands and homes of family members whose kindness has really been the greatest gift, even more than the professional and language experience, this summer has yet had to offer.

Wishing you all the best,

-Eli



**If anyone can tell me the precise English term for this relationship, I would be very appreciative!

In the Thick of It

Hello friends,

At this point, I've been in Taiwan for close to two weeks, and in Pingtung for two weeks. Over that period I've been plenty busy, adjusting to life in Taiwan, adjusting to life in Pingtung, and adjusting to my position teaching at a school owned by my host, Andrew Carrick. The period has been a wild mix of bracing acceleration punctuated by open spaces of empty "down time." My brain, ears, and stomach have been busy reorienting themselves to a new social and physical environment, with a different cityscape, different food, and different language. For all of these reasons, the trip so far has been a little rocky. It is important to emphasize, however, that it has not been bad--each success I reach is all the more fulfilling because the road is rough.

Since my arrival, working at Carrick's English School has captured most of my time and attention. The school itself is a good example of cultural difference between Taiwan and the USA. As a "Bushiban" or "Cram School," the English school is not any sort of standard elementary, middle, or high school. Rather, it is akin to an after school program. After students have finished their normal school day (which runs until about 5:00), their parents will enroll them into a "Bushiban" program such as Carrick's, where they will stay to learn English until sometime between 8-9:00pm. By the time I'm done with them, these kids are really exhausted.

From my own end, teaching has proven to be quite challenging. Last summer, too, I was teaching English. The experience was really exciting, felt like a success, with the one caveat that my Chinese was not yet very conversationally communicative. This summer, coming to Pingtung, I was looking forward to using much better Chinese to communicate with a new batch of kids. What I didn't count on was that the school, Carrick's Bushiban, requires that teachers speak no Chinese in the classroom. This, has been a challenge. Lately, I've been finding that I am naturally loquacious, and not given to the simple, direct, easy speech that is necessary to the classroom, especially with young children. This has led to a lot of misunderstanding, which is currently my biggest frustration with teaching, the counterbalance to having my job, essentially, being to make kids laugh.

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When not spending time at the school, I've spent much of my free time exploring the immediate area. Pingtung, the city where I am staying is not too big, boasting only about 100,000 residents or so. It has a very local-town feel. It is adjacent, however, to Kaohsiung, which is the second largest city on the island of Taiwan, following only Taipei. Kaohsiung has a fascinating history. Founded in the 17th century by the earliest immigrants from China, the city grew into an important industrial base and shipping center under the Japanese colonization from 1895 up until the end of World War II in 1945. Kaohsiung's mixed legacy from the Japanese rule, having experienced both colonial repression and significant investment in the form of colonial development, matches the experience of much of the island to Japan's presence during the war. In comparison to the heavy prices exacted against the populations in Korea, Manchuria, and the Chinese heartland, Japanese rule in Taiwan was much less harsh. In the case of Kaohsiung, investment during the war did much to position it to become one of the largest commercial harbors in the world in the second half of the 20th century. It is still up there, following below only the likes of Singapore, Shanghai, Rotterdam (Dutch), and Guangzhou (Southern China). In the last few years, the city has also begun to grow not only in industrial and commercial capacity, but also as a metropolitan, livable city. Perhaps 1.5 million people live within the city limits, and maybe 3 million in the wider metropolitan area (including Pingtung!). (Thanks to Wikipedia, Lonelyplanet.com, and my hosts for the history).

So it's an interesting place to be next to. Perhaps surprisingly, Pingtung doesn't feel entirely overshadowed by its larger neighbor. Sure, people travel to the larger city whenever they want to do serious shopping, but Pingtung still has a strong sense of regional identity. Much of this comes, it seems, from Pingtung's position--a space between the mega metropolis and the rural countryside leading up into the mountains. It is a mere 20 minutes in either direction to international shopping malls in Kaohsiung or to the territories reserved for native (non-Han Chinese) Taiwanese villages in the nearby mountains.

So far, as part of my busy schedule, I've had a chance to visit both Kaohsiung (see the pictures of the beach below) and the native-Taiwanese village of Sandimen (lit: Three Gates) at the edge of the mountains (see the picture of the mountains). Both were rich visits fully worthy of their own independent posts, but for the moment I leave you with a few pictures of the surrounding world around the Pingtung region.

Until next time,

-Eli

My hosts (Andrew and Julia Carrick)














The beach by Kaohsiung














Lanterns by a restaurant where we ate in Kaohsiung














A view from Sandimen














Morris (a student) and me!