Alive

Over the past twenty some years, I have gotten to know myself quite well and there are a couple of sure-fire signs that I am bored and avoiding work:  I start taking "artistic" pictures of my desk and I start missing places I've lived- especially Taiwan.  And by Taiwan, I mean Taiwanese food.  I also start blogging.  Since I can't take pictures at work, I have spent the past 2 hours filling in a spreadsheet with cursory interest while my mind dreams of Taiwanese street food.  It's a sick, sick way to kill time.  And googling "Taiwanese street food" only makes things worse.  When I visited Taiwan last fall, I was like a Uruguayan rugby player just led down from the Andes.  Whereas my parents and brother had preferences about what food they wanted to eat, which restaurants were good, which trends worth trying, I concurred with every food suggestion.  Everything was grand.  Not because I am less picky than they were.  But I was the most desperate.  Brother lives in San Francisco and parents had spent a few months in Taiwan last year.  Me?  I just spent four years in the frozen summits of Maine.  I have sat in front of the computer screen for countless hours wondering what I will eat when I return to Taiwan.  So much so that when I arrive, I often turn down the items I have fantasized about the most- a Taiwanese 7-11 hot dog, a bowl of aiyu jelly, or cold noodles, because just being in the presence of such items were enough.  I didn't want to eat them.  Just to know that they're there.  And isn't that why we climb up into the Andes in the first place?  Just because it's there.