Too Many Words

Glad Embankment Air Delicious Food Plaza probably would not have been my first choice of a translation for the food court. But I'm certainly glad that they went with it. It is increasingly difficult to find funny English things in Taiwan, what with everyone learning English and all. These types of things only happen when you step away from Taipei.

Speaking of stepping away, I have really come to appreciate major train and high speed rail stations in Taiwan. They are clean, well lit, efficient, traveler-friendly, and well equipped with convenience stores, helpful attendants, spotless restrooms, etc., etc. Step away from the major hubs, however, and you have the little county train stations. That operate without escalators. Which meant lugging my backpack and carry-on suitcase up and down long flights of stairs. Two days in a row. While other people look on with faint amusement. And an old lady chided me for having too much luggage. "Where are you going?" she kept on asking. "There's almost no room for your legs in the seat."

Taiwan, J'Adore

Our super good family friends, Ruby and Glenn, opened up a personal pan pizza joint in Taipei a couple of years ago. I love these guys and if you are ever in the city, you must vist them. The dough is made from scratch (as in by hand by hand, as in no industrial mixers on the premises) and each pizza is made to order. I used to ride on Glenn's shoulders when I was little (but not that little- he still let me get away with it when I was 9 and gave me a piggy back ride today just to prove that he could) and Ruby made my award-winning science fair poster for me when I was in the third grade.

When I finally visited their restaurant today (in a new, swanky location) and got to watch them in action, I made a joke about spitting in the pizza dough for some extra flavoring.

Glenn: Maybe it'll rise differently with the spit.

Moi: Spit is warm. It will totally help with the rising.

Glenn: You've been into gross out humor ever since you were little.

Faux Godmother: Really?

Moi: Wasn't I always good and quiet?

Glenn: That, yes, and I can't remember specifics, but I'm pretty sure you joked about some disgusting things when you were little.


I have no recollection of this.

A Case of the Unday

Today was an "un"day. Unexpected. Unusual. Unlikely. It all started at 5am with the driver that never showed up. For whatever reason, the car we had arranged for Ashley did not show up at 5am. The oddity and offness of the day continued with oversleeping and running late to lunch with my faux-godmother (she's not technically my godmother but she has known me since I was little and is very good to my brother and I and was our most trusted long-term babysitter). Running into a rain storm while peddle-boating with faux-godmother's real godchildren. And then there was the wardrobe malfunction. This being polite company, I can't disclose the details, but it did involve a trip to the nearest available undies store where the over-attentive sales lady over-shared my measurements and commentary on my body size with faux-godmother while I was in the dressing room (I believe the trigger was "I like your uniform."). Yet the surrealness did not end there. The surrealness was sitting on the edge of a hotel bed sipping Inner Mongolian milk tea (salty and strange) as faux-godmother visited with a distant friend on a sighseeing tour from the mainland whose father had taken a fall. Huh? You say. Exactly. Huh, indeed. A completely bizzaro day.

For the Changs

Spotted in restaurant restroom in Insadong: the largest tongs I've ever seen, mysteriously clipped to the wastebasket for paper towels. Why? Why? Why? Please speculate.

Da Bears

The woman who took this picture is Taiwanese, so when I asked her to take the picture, I asked her in Mandarin (which is good, since I don't speak Korean). She replied in Mandarin. But perhaps because of Ashley's presence, she also spoke to us in English and asked us to say "cheese," which we did. Her daughter or niece did not know that we spoke Mandarin and kept commenting that we look "really stupid" when we posed like that. That made me want to slap her. So I did.

Addendum to the Post:  When Mother heard the story, she said, "I like the kid.  She's like the kid in the Emperor's New Clothes."  Also, Koreans really like Teddy Bears.  Also, the woman at the Chinese restaurant (at a tourist hub no less) spoke neither English nor Chinese.  And insisted on speaking to me and not Ashley.  Her stubbornness  made ordering incredibly difficult.

Like Royalty

Yesterday, I had my first free meal by myself since coming to Seoul, and since I probably won't have too many free meals alone for another week or so, I took the chance to do what I'd often wanted to do when I'm in Asia but so rarely get to do: eat a convenience store meal. I love Asian processed foods. I prefer them over Asian fast food. And both of these, of course, rank above American and European food. For about $4, I got a bento box with chicken katsu, kimchi, side salad (which comes in a separate case so you can remove it before you microwave the rest of the tray- they think of everything), and a big bag of chips. That's pretty amazing considering how I could spend the same amount of money for a cup of coffee at the cafe next door. And it all tasted great. I wanted a dessert pastry to round things off but was much too full to eat anything else. And of course, I had it all with awesome yogurt drink. Drinking it every day at Ashley's is totally bringing back childhood memories... memories of drinking it every day.

Twice as High

Today, while strolling around a rose garden (as one does), we witnessed Hilarious Korean Scene #837: A boy wearing these cute butterfly balloon wings was beckoned into a picture a couple was taking (the man was taking the picture and the woman was posing).  The woman pulled the boy in, but made him turn around so that his back, and not face, was to the camera, so that only the wings and the woman's face were in the picture, and not the little boy.  Yet that wasn't the oddest part.  That came when she released the little boy.   And we realized that the boy did not belong to the woman.  She had just pulled a random child into the picture and turned him around to take a picture with his butterfly balloon wings.

Bon Chicken Bon Bon

Three things made me very happy today.

1. Awesome stroll and bike ride along the Han river today.  There was a lovely park and lovely company and most lovely of all, we had fried chicken for dinner.  And the chicken was delivered to the park.  How amazing is that?  Every major park in the world should have the option of fried chicken delivery.  Though I would just settle for fried chicken home delivery.  It's not fair how many fried chicken joints there are in this country.  They even have an abbreviated term -chimaek- for (fried) chicken and beer.  That's how common it is.  You've got to respect a country like that.

2. What do I love more than awkwardity?  More than pictures of foreign toilets?  Foreign toilet awkwardity.  I don't have a picture yet, but I learned today that what I thought was the overzealous, unnecessary emergency button in the metro bathroom stalls were actually equally unnecessary "courtesy buttons."  What are courtesy buttons?  They make a flush noise to disguise any other noises that you may be making that you want to disguise.  Except it sounds totally fake, so people will still know that you are doing something that warrants noise cover up.  Also, it doesn't make a lot of sense.  People will also know what you are doing by the length of time you are in the bathroom and of course, the smell.  Plus, the courtesy flush button doesn't actually flush.  So really, it announces to the whole world that you are peeing loudly, retching, or dropping a deuce.  Happy flushings!

3. I thought I'd left my anti-itch cream at home but I just found it and all is well with the world.  Except for the clear liquid oozing out of my mosquito bite (sorry, we already talked toilet stuff so I thought we could continue in this streak).  Finding the cream has actually been my happiest accomplishment today.  And I've had a really good day.  Because I am supposed to apply this cream 2 weeks out of each month.  And I am not supposed to eat that much fried chicken.

If I Were A Rich Man's Child

I have been in Seoul for a few days now, and tonight, I got to have Korean BBQ in Korea.  It was phenomenal.  It wasn't just the good meat (and it was good meat! I need to order pork BBQ more often), but the nice ventilation system they had (so I don't reek of smoke) and the fact that the wait staff went gaga over Amelia and pretty much babysat her and showered her with candies while we ate.  People of Korea, you are brilliant in many respects.

Yet the best story of this trip so far has nothing to do with Korea or Koreans.  It has to do with one very special birthday boy Mark, whose father had the most ingenious theories on discipline: The Two Hundred Dollar Cash Drawer.  In order to teach his three children responsibility, Pere Mark had a drawer that he stocked with two hundred dollars in cash.  If ever his children needed to use any money, they were to simply take the money out that they needed and write on the envelope how much they took and what they needed it for.  That was it.  The idea was to teach them accountability.  Because there is no better way to hold teenagers accountable for their actions than a bottomless drawer of cash.  The pure creativity and naivete of it all had me laughing for 5 straight minutes.

Of all the crazy parents in all the world, Lord, how did Mark get the good one?

Must See Thursday

Well, that was a fun way to spend an evening.
Let's go over things I have mastered: 2.4 languages, regression and analysis of variance, analysis of rates and proportions, theories on family change and culture, basic cooking techniques, walking, following movie plots- the list goes on and on. This afternoon, I added 'navigating the Seoul metro system' to that list.
Unfortunately, the list of things I haven't mastered is even longer. It includes: breathing while swimming (and ergo, swimming), not being awkward, blowing bubble gum, and most pressingly, reading digital watches.
That's right. I messed up reading my digital watch today (yes, digital, as in the kind with numbers and not hands) and thus totally missed meeting up with Jae. So instead of spending an evening catching up with Jae, I've spent it in the station and on the metro, questioning my own literacy. I've had worse Thursday nights.
Sent from my iPod

Use Your Hands

Am I going to start every entry talking about how chaotic life is?  If I am, what are you going to do about it?  Yesterday, I had a reprieve from the work work and the not-packing and spending time with family to brunch with Zvi and Susan. 

(talking about chem free dorms at the Bo')

Moi: It's too bad that the good kids are so often stuck with the weird kids.

Susan: Exactly (gestures to herself, then to Zvi and myself).

Moi: No- (I start to correct Susan, but since my mouth is full of delicious crepe, I gesture instead to myself, then point to Zvi and Susan).

Zvi: You guys are here gesturing like mad, and I'm the weird one?

Faculty Sandwich

As I have already mentioned, and will probably mention many times over, I commenced yesterday.  Just like I did four years ago (and hope to do again in 4-5 years), everyone believed in me and thought I could and then I went ahead and did.  All very anti-climactic stuff.  Mother seemed much more excited to be attending an H'bomb graduation than her daughter's graduation, and insisted we take a picture at every H sign.  At one point, she even put on my robe.  I wish I was making this up.

In the chaos of yesterday, I took some time to eat lunch in the courtyard, sandwiched between Prof Singer (there's no time for nicknames) and Prof Papa.  If Meredith wasn't already sitting there and talking with them, I probably would have avoided such a faculty fest, but she was, and so I sat, in total nerd glory, and gleaned some last bits of facetious Papa.

(on how faculty caps are like the hats at the royal wedding)

Papa: Oh yeah? Did you go?

Moi: No, I had a biostat lab so I couldn't make it.

Papa: That's why I didn't see you.  It was a lovely ceremony.

(on his years as the guy who 'hooded' the doctoral students during commencement and his problems with not knowing how much he could touch the female students' hair to make room for the hood)

Moi: Did you give each of them a personalized message?

Papa: I whispered a haiku in all of their ears.

Moi: But you're not very good at haikus.

Papa: I just said, "one two three four five-" and counted the syllables.

And finally, some injury prevention tips (after informing me that I was going to the school with the "second best injury prevention center" in the United States-- the same week that the vice chief contemplated Baltimore and said, "well, everyone makes one mistake in their life")

Papa: Don't throw your cap in the air.  That's a safety hazard.

Today, I become a master.  Nothing has sunken in yet and a million things are in the air (including our flight tickets to Malaysia- insert pun at your own leisure).  The folks get here in about an hour and I'm sitting in a half packed room.  Which is why I have really been milking this graduation thing and dropping a few H bombs to have everyone be really nice and patient to me.  So much to get done before Tuesday!

Oh, did I not tell you about Tuesday?  I'm going away.  For a whole month.  Yikes.  That, and my mom's preference for pretending to date a friend rather than being friends to come in a few days.

Degrees of Separation

Doc Query: I never heard back from you about your title for the paper.

Moi: Really?  I'm pretty sure I emailed you.  Well, I graduate Thursday.

Doc Query: It's OK, I already put you down as an MPH.

Moi: But I'm getting an MS...

Doc Query: Oh well.  You can have both degrees.  Good job!

Riding in Cars with Boys

(my titles are on a movie streak) 

It appears that getting into an unmarked SUV has raised quite a bit of alarm.  Sister Claire offered gentle chiding, advice, and congrats (the best kind of alarm).  DBomb chose the "let-me-ask-you-a-rhetorical-question-to-point-out-your-idiocy" approach: 

DBomb: So your mom is freaking out about you traveling and civil unrest in Bangkok but here you are in Boston, getting into unmarked SUVs?

And Lenny?  To the point as always.

Lenny: I'm really losing faith in your ability to not die in Baltimore.

I promise to only ride in legit taxi cabs from now on.  

Date Day

I love Sunday dates.  I have a default Sunday date between May-September.  I've done it with Nik, Ash, Dwight, mom, as well as people without monosyllabic names.  It goes something like this: post-church brunch in the South End (preferably at a place with exposed wood beams.  And nettles).  Followed by a leisure stroll through the SOWA open markets.  With lots of free samples, lots of sarcasm, and perhaps the purchase of a few overpriced thank you cards or pretty trinkets.  The whole thing wraps up at a reasonable time so everyone goes home happy and in time for a nap (or homework- eck).  If I were to be profiled in the Times, this would be my Sunday routine. 

Are we friends?  Do we live in the same city?  If so, we're overdue for a Sunday date.

Things We Lost in the Fire

Confiscated by the TSA:

The Stonewall Kitchen blueberry preserves meant as a thank-you present for the Zack family.  When I arrived, all I had left to give them was a box of muffin mix and a blue spatula, loosely jostling in a now too-big bag. 

Not Confiscated by the TSA:

My Swiss Army knife.  I didn't even realize I had it until I started unpacking this morning.

The World Didn't End

I took a cab ride in a black SUV without a meter tonight.  Feeling lazy and tired after a flight from Ballymore, I decided to take only one bus from the airport instead of the usual two and get off at South Station for take out and a cab ride.  The Chinese place was still open, so for the second time in as many weeks, I got greasy, bad, Chinese take out and I ordered it all in English so as not to let people know that I am actually Chinese.  Because, yes, I am ashamed of myself every time I order terrible Chinese food.  But I've been an American for too long and sometimes, in the absence of good food, I crave some spring rolls with indiscernible vegetable fillings.  Within seconds of stepping out of South Station, I was approached by a man asking if I needed a cab.  I wasn't sure if he worked for the station or not but told him, yes, I did.  He asked where I was going.  I told him.  He asked if $15 was reasonable.  I had no idea and said sure.  He walked me to a cab.  The cabbie was gone.  And he asked if I wanted to go with him in his SUV.  There was no meter.  I didn't see a license.  I trusted that he would take me home.  It is not as shady as it all sounds.  I'm pretty sure he works for a limo service.  But I am also pretty sure it wasn't the best decision I'd made.  But hey, we had a great talk, a great ride, and other than the last bit where he pretended he didn't have change for my $20, we all got along very well.  His shady SUV smelled very nice.  And it's a much better story than taking a cab.

Retrospectus

In the end, it all turned out OK school-wise.  And in the end, I am optimistic that this Ballymore housing mess will all turn out OK as well. 

Things got hairy toward the end of the semester there (hence the lack of posts).  Pressed for time, and tired of how picky the graders were about homework assignments I clearly understood, I gave up on studying for a course and decided instead to happily settle for a B+.  Despite having taken a couple of mid-level biostat courses, the policy department's quantitative method course had my homework grades hovering around the average for 3 assignments (1 was even slightly below).  So I washed my hands of it all and decided to focus on my biostat course.  But I also ran out of time studying for that.  And braced myself for limping toward the finish line with 2 B's.  Who cares?  I kept telling myself.  Grades don't matter.  Then 10 minutes before the biostat final, on a morning when I already ran out of time to grab breakfast, I realized that I had left my laptop on the shuttle bus.  There was much frantic phone calling (and of course, my phone dying so I had to borrow Allison's) and rushing out of the classroom and asking Professor Bob if I could get a few extra minutes and being put on hold and perhaps tears shed in the bathroom as the exam began and I was still trying to get a hold of someone who might know about my laptop.  Those were the 15 worst minutes of grad school in my last 2 years.  But it's funny how finding out my grades for the course changes how I remember it all now, because it worked out OK.  I aced and aced-minused and passed my way to the end despite feeling like a failure in the moments just before (thank you, grading curves and grade inflation!).  A little less than a week from now, I expect everyone to address me as Master. 

Bananas

Even the most casual of readers (not that this blog has any) should know how much I like to win and how much of a nerd I am.  Put these two together, and you've got my love of word games.  Not anagrams.  I hate those.  But games along the Scrabble, Boggle, Bananagram variety.  My school friends did not know this (unlike my Bo' friends- I love playing Bananagram with Jenny and Karina!).  They just discovered that this past weekend when we had a pre-graduation retreat.  What started in the plans as a camping trip quickly became spending the weekend playing board games and reading in a really, really nice house on the water.  Exactly how I like it. 

After I won the third straight round of Bananagrams, they imposed a handicap on me.  (I also have a 4-letter handicap in Boggle.  I hate playing with equally competitive people who won't just let me win but have to make life difficult for me)  They may not have expected to be whupped in Bananagram (these, after all, are all very smart people with very high GPAs and expansive vocabulary), but they knew about my pitiful tolerance (for alcohol, not people of other cultures).  So they made me take a sip before I could say "peel" to get more letters.  Did it slow me down?  I did narrowly lose one round but then won 2 more.  However, within 15 minutes, I had also downed 2 glasses of wine.  Even if my awesome winning skills were not hampered, my face was beet red and the strategy was not sustainable.  We tried switching to eating Wheat Thins, but chewing crackers quickly while spelling words and shouting "peel" proved to be a choking hazard.  And I had to settle for retiring, knowing that I am the greatest Bananagrams player these H'bomb losers have ever seen.