Heat

(traditional douhua, or tofu pudding-- this isn't the kids' play you get in Chinese restaurants)

Here's the thing about Taiwan and Malaysia (and even Korea): It was hot. I hardly went a day without an icy drink during my monthlong stay. Certainly in Malaysia, we had some kind of fruit "ice blended" at least once a day (I stuck mostly with ice teas in Taiwan). It was hot and humid and I sweated a lot every day. That's why, coming home last week, I stood at pedestrian pick-up at Logan, drained after a 20-hour-plus journey, and smiled.  An hour and a half earlier, I had almost missed my connecting flight and was the last passenger to get on.  I was so out of breath when I got to the gate that I didn't actually have words for the flight attendant, I just weakly held out my boarding pass and she re-opened the doors.  (Before my mad dash, I had asked an airport lady how far away my gate was from immigration [I overheard it was 15 min, I only had 7 to spare], to which she replied, "Don't think about it, just run!"  And so I did.)  I was still wearing my jacket, huge bags to each side of me, standing in the 90-degree heat, breathing in car exhaust, and happy because as miserable and hot as I was, it was mild and lovely compared to where I'd just come from. I was not sweating buckets. I could walk and not feel dehydrated*. For a whole week, I smiled and breathed in New England summer. So warm during the day, so cool in the evening, so beautiful. That is, until two days ago. This isn't cute anymore, New England. It's starting to feel like Taiwan. And if I wanted to put up with this weather, I would've stayed. And eaten more Taiwanese fried chicken.

*It's not that I didn't walk. I walked a lot. I just felt like Shadrach when I was walking.