First Weeks: Taiwan
Monday, November 8th, 2010
Kalamazoo, MI
4:23 pm EST
Ben, Jessie, and I sit aboard the V6 Taurus. Two 50 lb suitcases in the trunk, backpacks beside each of us-- that is Jessie and I-- who sit now relaxed for the first time since the frantic rush and haste of packing began 36 hours ago. It is True, this memorable calm, when all that can be done, could be done, and would be done settles like silt, and trades its "might" for the solidity of fact.
Of course, facts are slippery fish. Obstinate, brute, aggressive, real -- all of these things, yes, but not opaque. Facts shimmer, wriggle, flash, change color. When approached, they give way in translucent layers of memory, passion, sins of omission, and confabulations of the rational mind . . .
I find myself misty-eyed in the foggy space between this Kalamazoo memoryscape, whose immediacy lingers on as the miles lengthen, and the unknown land across the sea. Mark Bury says that racing motocross, when you come up a jump the earth behind the jump cannot be seen until after you launch headlong into the sky. For a moment, you are no longer connected to the ground behind, yet the path forward remains unseen...
Memories of Kalamazoo take on a serious air of poignancy. Erik Moisio fixing our toilet bring tears to my eyes. Kjartan Code seems the visceral equivalent of a true brother. Unexpected connections with Sarah Pountain. Kind goats with names and a hurt but holy mother. Many, many old faces of Kalamazoo, fixed in sublime tension, there but gone too soon.
The sun begin to set. Chicago draws nearer, and I fight with the functions on my CASIO watch, its owner's manual the first casualty of constant change in the gears of travel. Up front, Ben and Jessie cover topics such as the flavor of Nesquick and questionable spellings of "effervescent."
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Seoul, Korea
10:04 local time
We are relaxed, filled to the brim with tasty "eco-product" Korean food -- my 1st authentic Bulgogi! --- and without pressing responsibilities for the moment, ensconced as we are in the middle of a 6-hour layover. As far as our eyes can see, Korea appears as a hyper-modern 50-terminal (plus) international airport with all the amenities of a 5-star mall plus luxury lounges and pay-for massage available at additional cost. Were I --- as Jesus preaches -- to see with the eyes of a child, then the glitz and comfort of "Korea" would impress me well indeed. A beautiful country this Korea.
Jessie and I squabble over the location of computer use and it is a good thing I am forced to compromise because our current location is very comfortable, quiet, close to bathrooms, and features a 6 foot by 4 foot television screen displaying without sound what appears to be the Korean version of PBS. A few minutes ago, sexy Asiatic dancers dressed as cranes, and now by my best guess a country peasant manufactures coal from straw.
It seems so far that no matter how far from home we are, internet access and tasty food are our most critical "needs." This is good, and perhaps the reason our bickering is cute, a cute bickering white couple bumbling around the 27th terminal of Korea.
We turned in our boarding pass to a lady at the information counter in exchange for a 120V AC plug adapt, and I then played out a brief catastrophizing fantasy -- that I was stuck in Korea without Jessie, unable to speak the language, unable to access my ATM money. The real comedy in this will come when my so-called Chinese skills --and the hubris that accompanies them in Kalamazoo!--- are put to the fire in Taipei and beyond.
Right now, Jessie insists I report for posterity that the tallest man in the airport is what appears to be a Korean basketball player to whose waist Jessie's stature can only just attain.
The Korean language, with which I boast basically no experience apart from stereotyped utterances memorized for Chom Tuk Tae Kwon Do classes nearly 15 years ago --- e.g., "comsamnidad" means thank you -- is a soft and lilting flow of sound quite reminiscent of Japanese, yet punctuated enticingly with the phonemes and characteristically gutteral sounds of Mandarin. I can hardly wait to be immersed (or is it, buried?) in the cacophonous downpour!
One interesting story, and sad, (or perhaps even heartening to the cold-blooded cynic who relished to disdain the empire), came from a young, simple-minded ex-soldier who sat next to us on the plane. This American lived in Chicago, but traveled frequently to the Philippines -- he had come across the globe some eight times in two year. Each time, he begrudgingly submitted to the request of a women he impregnated there while serving on a U.S. base. He most certainly disliked these trips, as well as the whole situation, expressing explicit anger that the woman would not move to America to live with him, and he admitted in fact that he would only visit if the Filippino woman's family purchased his plane tickets. Thank goodness for Jessica's serene demeanor! "I went to school with a hundred boys like that at Tower," she reminded me. With a comfortable dose of self-satisfaction and a dash of horror, I turned away and enjoyed my tour of Western Philosophy, safe in the hands (and pen!) of Nietzsche scholar, Walter Kaufman.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Taipei, Taiwan
20:11 Local Time
Courteney, Spencer, Jessica French, Jacob Libby -- the first three HESS Native English Speakers to arrive on site at 第一大販店 (First Hotel). Courteney is from London, son of a Presbyterian Minister who spent his first years in Zimbabwe until his parents moved to South Africa in 1995. We connect over C.S. Lewis, take wildly different opinions on tofu and Asian stir fry, and generally form a strong fellow travelers' bond. I ask about Mugabe's "land redistribution" policies and Counteney gives a colorful account of whites pushed off their land willy nilly -- luckily years after his parents' relocation.
We count at least five separate and distinct 7-11 convenience stores within a two block radius of the hotel. At one intersection, two can be seen at once. Generally speaking as it turns out, this is a good thing. The store's isles are packed with exotic candies, drinks, and snacks. I purchase a bottle of sweet barley tea, which tastes delicious to me but elicites from Courteney the comment "I will never buy that!"
I am always so pleased to witness -- in myself and of others -- the little everyday epiphanies and changes of heart that travel in a foreign land works out of all-too-accustomed minds. I explain to Courteney my understanding of the Chinese experience of milk and cheese, namely, I say, "The Chinese view is something like: 'you take a cow, and you do what with it? Oh wait... and then let it rot, and then eat it!!??'" -- and what a lovely response I bore witness to! "I will remember this," he replied. "It makes so much sense of how we interpret dog meat and fish balls."
Taipei --downtown Taipei --- looks like Manhattan to me. Tall buildings, busy streets, lights, and colors. It's exciting and beautiful. The only thing there's more of than 7-11's is scooters. I think every person in this city must own 2 scooters and shop at a 7-11 dedicated just to them.
November 13, 2010
Taipei - on the Metro
10:21 AM, local time
J.C. Melissa. Ryan. Goofy Englishmen invade the hospital. Playing pretend we're school children on Bus Tour. Eating out of the po'ty. Forming the original posse. Achieving fluency in British humour. Dinner with the whole cadre. Courtney from London, South Africa, Zimbabwe, son of a minister, hillariously British, warmly African, communicator. Phillip, intellectual of the Julian Lee variety, witty, calm, thoughtful, introspective, loyal. Charlie, kind, rock 'n roller, harmonizer, simple and easy going. Dan, independent, incisive, academic, Japanophile, wildly intimate on the dancefloor. Ben, American Chicagoan, rough, competitive, emotionally reserved, consummate cool, a bit arrogant. Ryan from Portland, master of the aloof stare, the quick glance askance, with connections, couchsurfing sentimentality, the true West Coast personality, perhaps a dealer, cool and confident at the club. Jonathan, nerdy, smart, perhaps rich, who knows how to get his foreign needs met, friendly, helpful, informative. Kara and Jessie, Dave, and others. Teresa, South African mind traveler, searching past and through conflict and hope, brings up Apartheid after two minutes of conversation, saying Mugabe inspiring a generation of new Black Nationalists, whites are scared, the pendulum must swing, but will heads roll? The African male attitude -- so illiberal! -- "This is my land. This is my soil."
November 13, 2010
Taipei
6:30 PM
I'm deliriously tired. Was chatted up by a very sexy Taiwanese woman on the subway, but I very barely had any idea what she was saying. She wrote a character in my journal/ dictionary and the English word, "Fuck." I think I must have accidentally said "fuck" in Chinese to her. I then proceeded to miss my stop, then get lost walking two city blocks back to my hotel. Really hilarious. Jessie thinks I'm in a grumpy mood, but I can't tell. I can tell, however, that I have less control over my body than I usually have. Jittery. Jittery. Jittery.
Exchanged Facebook messages with Sophia Saunders, an expat I met at the Club, from Toronto. She said she really liked all the guys I came with. Very cool to make such a connection. She's an English teacher, too, and I pulled a shard of glass out of her foot. She says she's OK now.
November 16, 2010
Taipei, Taiwan
7:55 a.m.
No time to write in the blur of days following the weekend of clubbing (positive) and wonder ("negative") -- and while reading Kaufman, the far-reaching power of the Zizek/Lacanian concept of the Real -- what I'm calling the negative sense of God -- rises like a subterranean ridge to shipwreck his critique -- oh this wonder!! --- and to remind me, even though I search the map for salient truth, of the omnipresent invisible at work on and through it all . . . .
Saturday and Sunday, what mattered most was that Jessie and I broke off from the group --- 1st at DanShui, then to sleep early --- then I don't even remember --- and whatever the unknown demons tempting us apart, and whatever the hyper-articulated propositions with which our courageous and tempestuousness minds have given chase -- despite all this --- our friendship and loyalty and the warmth of our togetherness still prove strong. We did laundry, got a phone, ate terrible Indian food, played Sheep at Courteney's hands --- but we were foremost together, and it was strong and sweet.
November 16, 2010
Taipei, Taiwan
22:36
Two days in class. One powerful dream. Phillip, Jessie, and I make plans. Full belly of soup. And Hilary Lake says, "Offer your lost leaves as enrichment for the life growing up just below you . . . "
The dream, the second deeply moving dream about Amolia that I've had this year. The first one after I first arrived in Saginaw, the second just two nights ago. The feeling was of a powerful enrapture -- or is it THE enrapture --- outlasting everything that has changed. Aliisa was in past tense, the friend of 2005 fall. Amolia was a symbol, her lips and face aged, her body deflated. Yet nonetheless, there it was, the passion, that vivid living remainder. I awoke with a start -- thinking of Shane Kenney's "The Three Great One's," the young Shane Kenney's profound and inspiring passion. I got online and found Liz Hugget there, vowing to quit drinking, marveling at her lover's care for her and reveling in her first period in years. I shared my dream with Liz, waking up sleeping Jessie (this was 5 am) . . . . The present and the past, my depths and my breadth -- all these contradictions demanding answer: offer my lost leaves as enrichment . . . yes, Hillary, very much yes indeed . . .
My Chinese learning is accelerating. Vocabulary sticks in my head now, sometimes with no repetition. I'm picking up new words every day. It's incredible. By the time a year is up . . . who knows!!!
Zhanghua City is my placement, where I'll be moving to next Thursday with Jessie and Philip, pronounced ZhangHua, it is a smaller city, famous for its Buddha statue (22 m) with all road signs in clear pinyin (a great plus for language acquisition) and poor public transportation (get ready motorbike, here I come!). I'm told the languages are Taiwanese first, Mandarin second, with very few folks able to converse in English --- another great plus !! But best of all is that Philip is coming. Philip carries in him -- somehow! -- the spirit of Julian, the same smile and the same (although comparatively subdued) anxious intellectual mind. A true concept-based intellect, he and I connect in our strengths and weaknesses in the classroom and in our learning styles. And we have decided to get an apartment together, along with Jessie.
Great news for Jessie. She has been offered and has accepted to take a Kindergarten class!! She will prove to be excellent in this area, I am completely confident in this, and I look forward to watching her grow and develop in her confidence. ... and well she has just now arrived back to our hotel room, so for now I will rest my pen . . .
November 30, 2010
Zhanghua
00:40 A.M.
Where to start? After the first hurdle -- the Kindy demo -- its been mostly downhill all the way. That was Thursday the 18th . . . Sunday we worked our butts off on the Step Ahead curriculum, but Monday we were confident . . and it went well enough . . . We finished training, packed, I bonded with Preston a bit before he mysteriously quit, spent a lot of time with Philip, Charlie, and Kristo --- and when Thursday came, Jessie and I, along with these three and Jared slept to primordial depths on a slow train south to TaiZhong. Joy! and then a comfortable hotel, meal, many introductions, move in to our new apartment, class observations, and tonight motorbike rides with our new family, beers, sanbeiji chicken, and . . and . . . ! Guitar and sweet Mandarin to the shadow of Buddha. Language, endless language, swallow me! China is my maiden.
Jessie. Kenya. Vast distances. Nani and Uncle Tom. Grandma Libby and Jack and Mary. Susan Ruska, 909 Lane. Ben Hastings . . .Kenya. Radical Islam. Slavoj Zizek. Scriaben. Bjork. Fiat Spider. Strange Arrangement. Dream of so many pinnacles, so many faces I have loved and yet lost. John Hogg. Jacob Berglin. Corinna Verdugo. Lisa Hyet. Laura Garavoglia. Tara Klitchman. Buddy . . . Jesse White-O'briant. Jenn Nunes. Julian Lee. Endless years, pouring gently through me. Tears and anger, struggle and dreams . . . self-reliance, autonomy, tools, emotional stability, knowledge, faith, passion, direction, confidence, action, freedom, humility, strength, kindness, truth, goodness . . . . .
Kalamazoo, MI
4:23 pm EST
Ben, Jessie, and I sit aboard the V6 Taurus. Two 50 lb suitcases in the trunk, backpacks beside each of us-- that is Jessie and I-- who sit now relaxed for the first time since the frantic rush and haste of packing began 36 hours ago. It is True, this memorable calm, when all that can be done, could be done, and would be done settles like silt, and trades its "might" for the solidity of fact.
Of course, facts are slippery fish. Obstinate, brute, aggressive, real -- all of these things, yes, but not opaque. Facts shimmer, wriggle, flash, change color. When approached, they give way in translucent layers of memory, passion, sins of omission, and confabulations of the rational mind . . .
I find myself misty-eyed in the foggy space between this Kalamazoo memoryscape, whose immediacy lingers on as the miles lengthen, and the unknown land across the sea. Mark Bury says that racing motocross, when you come up a jump the earth behind the jump cannot be seen until after you launch headlong into the sky. For a moment, you are no longer connected to the ground behind, yet the path forward remains unseen...
Memories of Kalamazoo take on a serious air of poignancy. Erik Moisio fixing our toilet bring tears to my eyes. Kjartan Code seems the visceral equivalent of a true brother. Unexpected connections with Sarah Pountain. Kind goats with names and a hurt but holy mother. Many, many old faces of Kalamazoo, fixed in sublime tension, there but gone too soon.
The sun begin to set. Chicago draws nearer, and I fight with the functions on my CASIO watch, its owner's manual the first casualty of constant change in the gears of travel. Up front, Ben and Jessie cover topics such as the flavor of Nesquick and questionable spellings of "effervescent."
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Seoul, Korea
10:04 local time
We are relaxed, filled to the brim with tasty "eco-product" Korean food -- my 1st authentic Bulgogi! --- and without pressing responsibilities for the moment, ensconced as we are in the middle of a 6-hour layover. As far as our eyes can see, Korea appears as a hyper-modern 50-terminal (plus) international airport with all the amenities of a 5-star mall plus luxury lounges and pay-for massage available at additional cost. Were I --- as Jesus preaches -- to see with the eyes of a child, then the glitz and comfort of "Korea" would impress me well indeed. A beautiful country this Korea.
Jessie and I squabble over the location of computer use and it is a good thing I am forced to compromise because our current location is very comfortable, quiet, close to bathrooms, and features a 6 foot by 4 foot television screen displaying without sound what appears to be the Korean version of PBS. A few minutes ago, sexy Asiatic dancers dressed as cranes, and now by my best guess a country peasant manufactures coal from straw.
It seems so far that no matter how far from home we are, internet access and tasty food are our most critical "needs." This is good, and perhaps the reason our bickering is cute, a cute bickering white couple bumbling around the 27th terminal of Korea.
We turned in our boarding pass to a lady at the information counter in exchange for a 120V AC plug adapt, and I then played out a brief catastrophizing fantasy -- that I was stuck in Korea without Jessie, unable to speak the language, unable to access my ATM money. The real comedy in this will come when my so-called Chinese skills --and the hubris that accompanies them in Kalamazoo!--- are put to the fire in Taipei and beyond.
Right now, Jessie insists I report for posterity that the tallest man in the airport is what appears to be a Korean basketball player to whose waist Jessie's stature can only just attain.
The Korean language, with which I boast basically no experience apart from stereotyped utterances memorized for Chom Tuk Tae Kwon Do classes nearly 15 years ago --- e.g., "comsamnidad" means thank you -- is a soft and lilting flow of sound quite reminiscent of Japanese, yet punctuated enticingly with the phonemes and characteristically gutteral sounds of Mandarin. I can hardly wait to be immersed (or is it, buried?) in the cacophonous downpour!
One interesting story, and sad, (or perhaps even heartening to the cold-blooded cynic who relished to disdain the empire), came from a young, simple-minded ex-soldier who sat next to us on the plane. This American lived in Chicago, but traveled frequently to the Philippines -- he had come across the globe some eight times in two year. Each time, he begrudgingly submitted to the request of a women he impregnated there while serving on a U.S. base. He most certainly disliked these trips, as well as the whole situation, expressing explicit anger that the woman would not move to America to live with him, and he admitted in fact that he would only visit if the Filippino woman's family purchased his plane tickets. Thank goodness for Jessica's serene demeanor! "I went to school with a hundred boys like that at Tower," she reminded me. With a comfortable dose of self-satisfaction and a dash of horror, I turned away and enjoyed my tour of Western Philosophy, safe in the hands (and pen!) of Nietzsche scholar, Walter Kaufman.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Taipei, Taiwan
20:11 Local Time
Courteney, Spencer, Jessica French, Jacob Libby -- the first three HESS Native English Speakers to arrive on site at 第一大販店 (First Hotel). Courteney is from London, son of a Presbyterian Minister who spent his first years in Zimbabwe until his parents moved to South Africa in 1995. We connect over C.S. Lewis, take wildly different opinions on tofu and Asian stir fry, and generally form a strong fellow travelers' bond. I ask about Mugabe's "land redistribution" policies and Counteney gives a colorful account of whites pushed off their land willy nilly -- luckily years after his parents' relocation.
We count at least five separate and distinct 7-11 convenience stores within a two block radius of the hotel. At one intersection, two can be seen at once. Generally speaking as it turns out, this is a good thing. The store's isles are packed with exotic candies, drinks, and snacks. I purchase a bottle of sweet barley tea, which tastes delicious to me but elicites from Courteney the comment "I will never buy that!"
I am always so pleased to witness -- in myself and of others -- the little everyday epiphanies and changes of heart that travel in a foreign land works out of all-too-accustomed minds. I explain to Courteney my understanding of the Chinese experience of milk and cheese, namely, I say, "The Chinese view is something like: 'you take a cow, and you do what with it? Oh wait... and then let it rot, and then eat it!!??'" -- and what a lovely response I bore witness to! "I will remember this," he replied. "It makes so much sense of how we interpret dog meat and fish balls."
Taipei --downtown Taipei --- looks like Manhattan to me. Tall buildings, busy streets, lights, and colors. It's exciting and beautiful. The only thing there's more of than 7-11's is scooters. I think every person in this city must own 2 scooters and shop at a 7-11 dedicated just to them.
November 13, 2010
Taipei - on the Metro
10:21 AM, local time
J.C. Melissa. Ryan. Goofy Englishmen invade the hospital. Playing pretend we're school children on Bus Tour. Eating out of the po'ty. Forming the original posse. Achieving fluency in British humour. Dinner with the whole cadre. Courtney from London, South Africa, Zimbabwe, son of a minister, hillariously British, warmly African, communicator. Phillip, intellectual of the Julian Lee variety, witty, calm, thoughtful, introspective, loyal. Charlie, kind, rock 'n roller, harmonizer, simple and easy going. Dan, independent, incisive, academic, Japanophile, wildly intimate on the dancefloor. Ben, American Chicagoan, rough, competitive, emotionally reserved, consummate cool, a bit arrogant. Ryan from Portland, master of the aloof stare, the quick glance askance, with connections, couchsurfing sentimentality, the true West Coast personality, perhaps a dealer, cool and confident at the club. Jonathan, nerdy, smart, perhaps rich, who knows how to get his foreign needs met, friendly, helpful, informative. Kara and Jessie, Dave, and others. Teresa, South African mind traveler, searching past and through conflict and hope, brings up Apartheid after two minutes of conversation, saying Mugabe inspiring a generation of new Black Nationalists, whites are scared, the pendulum must swing, but will heads roll? The African male attitude -- so illiberal! -- "This is my land. This is my soil."
November 13, 2010
Taipei
6:30 PM
I'm deliriously tired. Was chatted up by a very sexy Taiwanese woman on the subway, but I very barely had any idea what she was saying. She wrote a character in my journal/ dictionary and the English word, "Fuck." I think I must have accidentally said "fuck" in Chinese to her. I then proceeded to miss my stop, then get lost walking two city blocks back to my hotel. Really hilarious. Jessie thinks I'm in a grumpy mood, but I can't tell. I can tell, however, that I have less control over my body than I usually have. Jittery. Jittery. Jittery.
Exchanged Facebook messages with Sophia Saunders, an expat I met at the Club, from Toronto. She said she really liked all the guys I came with. Very cool to make such a connection. She's an English teacher, too, and I pulled a shard of glass out of her foot. She says she's OK now.
November 16, 2010
Taipei, Taiwan
7:55 a.m.
No time to write in the blur of days following the weekend of clubbing (positive) and wonder ("negative") -- and while reading Kaufman, the far-reaching power of the Zizek/Lacanian concept of the Real -- what I'm calling the negative sense of God -- rises like a subterranean ridge to shipwreck his critique -- oh this wonder!! --- and to remind me, even though I search the map for salient truth, of the omnipresent invisible at work on and through it all . . . .
Saturday and Sunday, what mattered most was that Jessie and I broke off from the group --- 1st at DanShui, then to sleep early --- then I don't even remember --- and whatever the unknown demons tempting us apart, and whatever the hyper-articulated propositions with which our courageous and tempestuousness minds have given chase -- despite all this --- our friendship and loyalty and the warmth of our togetherness still prove strong. We did laundry, got a phone, ate terrible Indian food, played Sheep at Courteney's hands --- but we were foremost together, and it was strong and sweet.
November 16, 2010
Taipei, Taiwan
22:36
Two days in class. One powerful dream. Phillip, Jessie, and I make plans. Full belly of soup. And Hilary Lake says, "Offer your lost leaves as enrichment for the life growing up just below you . . . "
The dream, the second deeply moving dream about Amolia that I've had this year. The first one after I first arrived in Saginaw, the second just two nights ago. The feeling was of a powerful enrapture -- or is it THE enrapture --- outlasting everything that has changed. Aliisa was in past tense, the friend of 2005 fall. Amolia was a symbol, her lips and face aged, her body deflated. Yet nonetheless, there it was, the passion, that vivid living remainder. I awoke with a start -- thinking of Shane Kenney's "The Three Great One's," the young Shane Kenney's profound and inspiring passion. I got online and found Liz Hugget there, vowing to quit drinking, marveling at her lover's care for her and reveling in her first period in years. I shared my dream with Liz, waking up sleeping Jessie (this was 5 am) . . . . The present and the past, my depths and my breadth -- all these contradictions demanding answer: offer my lost leaves as enrichment . . . yes, Hillary, very much yes indeed . . .
My Chinese learning is accelerating. Vocabulary sticks in my head now, sometimes with no repetition. I'm picking up new words every day. It's incredible. By the time a year is up . . . who knows!!!
Zhanghua City is my placement, where I'll be moving to next Thursday with Jessie and Philip, pronounced ZhangHua, it is a smaller city, famous for its Buddha statue (22 m) with all road signs in clear pinyin (a great plus for language acquisition) and poor public transportation (get ready motorbike, here I come!). I'm told the languages are Taiwanese first, Mandarin second, with very few folks able to converse in English --- another great plus !! But best of all is that Philip is coming. Philip carries in him -- somehow! -- the spirit of Julian, the same smile and the same (although comparatively subdued) anxious intellectual mind. A true concept-based intellect, he and I connect in our strengths and weaknesses in the classroom and in our learning styles. And we have decided to get an apartment together, along with Jessie.
Great news for Jessie. She has been offered and has accepted to take a Kindergarten class!! She will prove to be excellent in this area, I am completely confident in this, and I look forward to watching her grow and develop in her confidence. ... and well she has just now arrived back to our hotel room, so for now I will rest my pen . . .
November 30, 2010
Zhanghua
00:40 A.M.
Where to start? After the first hurdle -- the Kindy demo -- its been mostly downhill all the way. That was Thursday the 18th . . . Sunday we worked our butts off on the Step Ahead curriculum, but Monday we were confident . . and it went well enough . . . We finished training, packed, I bonded with Preston a bit before he mysteriously quit, spent a lot of time with Philip, Charlie, and Kristo --- and when Thursday came, Jessie and I, along with these three and Jared slept to primordial depths on a slow train south to TaiZhong. Joy! and then a comfortable hotel, meal, many introductions, move in to our new apartment, class observations, and tonight motorbike rides with our new family, beers, sanbeiji chicken, and . . and . . . ! Guitar and sweet Mandarin to the shadow of Buddha. Language, endless language, swallow me! China is my maiden.
Jessie. Kenya. Vast distances. Nani and Uncle Tom. Grandma Libby and Jack and Mary. Susan Ruska, 909 Lane. Ben Hastings . . .Kenya. Radical Islam. Slavoj Zizek. Scriaben. Bjork. Fiat Spider. Strange Arrangement. Dream of so many pinnacles, so many faces I have loved and yet lost. John Hogg. Jacob Berglin. Corinna Verdugo. Lisa Hyet. Laura Garavoglia. Tara Klitchman. Buddy . . . Jesse White-O'briant. Jenn Nunes. Julian Lee. Endless years, pouring gently through me. Tears and anger, struggle and dreams . . . self-reliance, autonomy, tools, emotional stability, knowledge, faith, passion, direction, confidence, action, freedom, humility, strength, kindness, truth, goodness . . . . .