the mist all blew away five minutes later.
Rain in the afternoon.
Figures.
Monday, January 30, 2006
未時，上坡的溫泉館放鞭炮，十分鐘不熄。知道是年節了吧。
民國六十幾年的臺北市，由尾牙到元宵，沖天炮不停；除夕從亥到丑，鞭炮不斷。不管在臺北哪一個角落，一樣只聽到轟隆炮爆聲，沒有方向、沒有距離。全市濃厚火藥味，久久而散。
說鞭炮危險嘛，製造鞭炮危險，玩鞭炮不一定危險。畢竟中國小孩比美國小孩能思考。兩個美國小朋友兩個爆竹怎麼玩？"I can hold it longer than you can!"兩個美國小朋友一個爆竹怎麼玩？"I dare you to stick it up your nose!" 中國人發明火藥，玩爆竹歷史悠久，那種基因大概在宋元明已經淘汰。玩鞭炮不一定危險，但是製造鞭炮危險：以前很多燄火工廠剎那間停止營業、拆員遷廠，到天國再會。為了讓這些燄火工廠裡煙癮發作的工人有機會傳香火，燄火業嚴格管理。現在這種炮風，都集中在鹽水。有意者自己去，俺不送，謝謝。
民國六十幾年的臺北市，由尾牙到元宵，沖天炮不停；除夕從亥到丑，鞭炮不斷。不管在臺北哪一個角落，一樣只聽到轟隆炮爆聲，沒有方向、沒有距離。全市濃厚火藥味，久久而散。
說鞭炮危險嘛，製造鞭炮危險，玩鞭炮不一定危險。畢竟中國小孩比美國小孩能思考。兩個美國小朋友兩個爆竹怎麼玩？"I can hold it longer than you can!"兩個美國小朋友一個爆竹怎麼玩？"I dare you to stick it up your nose!" 中國人發明火藥，玩爆竹歷史悠久，那種基因大概在宋元明已經淘汰。玩鞭炮不一定危險，但是製造鞭炮危險：以前很多燄火工廠剎那間停止營業、拆員遷廠，到天國再會。為了讓這些燄火工廠裡煙癮發作的工人有機會傳香火，燄火業嚴格管理。現在這種炮風，都集中在鹽水。有意者自己去，俺不送，謝謝。
Thursday, January 26, 2006
= Yugan, why are Americans so fat now?
=Junk food.
=Doesn't American food make you strong? Americans drink a lot of milk, don't they?
=That's one of the problems.
=What do you mean?
=Your body can't absorb calcium without phosphorous, so drinking milk alone is bad for your bones.
=Really?
=Sure, osteoporosis is a much bigger problem in the US than in Taiwan, because Americans drink more milk.
=But they say milk is good for you.
=Who says milk is good for you?
=Well… people who sell milk.
=See? If you want strong bones, stay away from milk. Eat leafy vegetables, because they have a high proportion of phosphorous to calcium, so your body can absorb lots of calcium. That's the way to build strong bones.
=Really?
=Sure, just think about how strong the Tayal used to be, and they never drank milk, did they?
=No, you're right, our people were much stronger before we started eating things like beef and milk.
=Because they ate a lot of wild vegetables, and millet.
=That's true. Our people had such strong bones that sometimes they might get hit by a headhunting knife without serious damage.
=Are you kidding?
=For real! Tayal are very strong, but sometimes we just don't think. Bones like iron, and heads like iron, too!
=How could that happen?
=When Tayal start doing something, sometimes we just do what we do and we don't think about it. So sometimes two men would be out clearing the underbrush, one working here and the other working there. They would be clearing out the underbrush, hacking and hacking with their headhunting knives, but they wouldn't think, Hey, he's over there, they just cut and cut and cut, and sometimes they would get too close and cut the other man.
=Then what?
=But usually the other man wouldn't be hurt too bad. These are headhunting knives and they chop down saplings with one cut, but the other man would not be cut too bad. Bones like iron, our Tayal had in the old days.
=Strong people.
=Right, and we didn't get that way by drinking milk or eating your American food!
=I know. The old folks weren't tall, but they were really strong.
=But Yugan, sometimes Tayal just don't think, they don't plan, so things like that would happen. I've served in the Army. They trained me how to plan so that sort of thing doesn't happen, but you know our old Tayal just don't have any brains at all. So sometimes they hit each other with the headhunting knives by accident, and the knife comes out worse than the Tayal.
=Amazing.
=Amazing how stupid we Tayal can be. No heads, no brains. Did you hear about Yutas and Yaki at the last community outing?
=No, what happened?
=You know we all went to that amusement park, right?
=I heard.
=They have this big heavy mallet, a ball, and a bell. If you hit the target hard enough with the mallet, the ball goes up and hits the bell. If your ball hits the bell you win a prize. Otherwise you can see your score.
=I know that sort of game.
=The Tayal took turns hitting the target, but although they are strong, they didn't hit the target on center, so the ball didn't hit the bell. Then Yaki said, You young men are useless, let an old lady show you how to do it, and she took the mallet.
=Then what happened?
=The mallet was heavier than she thought, so she could barely hit the target. So Yutas said, Yaki, you are useless, you are worse than the young men. Here, give me the mallet and I will show you how to hit the target so the ball hits the bell.
=Yeah, Yutas is an old man, but he's still strong.
=For sure, he chops all his firewood with an ax. So he said, Yaki, watch and I will show you how to use the mallet. Yugan, Tayal don't have any brains! Yutas took the mallet, and Yaki stood right behind him, watching over his shoulder. Yutas hoisted the mallet to give the bell a big hit, but he forgot Yaki was watching over his shoulder, so he knocked her clear out of the ring on the backswing!
=Was she hurt?
=No, the Tayal watching him caught her, but it ruined his swing.
=He should have gotten a prize for flinging his wife.
=I tell you, Yugan, we Tayal don't have any brains at all!
=Junk food.
=Doesn't American food make you strong? Americans drink a lot of milk, don't they?
=That's one of the problems.
=What do you mean?
=Your body can't absorb calcium without phosphorous, so drinking milk alone is bad for your bones.
=Really?
=Sure, osteoporosis is a much bigger problem in the US than in Taiwan, because Americans drink more milk.
=But they say milk is good for you.
=Who says milk is good for you?
=Well… people who sell milk.
=See? If you want strong bones, stay away from milk. Eat leafy vegetables, because they have a high proportion of phosphorous to calcium, so your body can absorb lots of calcium. That's the way to build strong bones.
=Really?
=Sure, just think about how strong the Tayal used to be, and they never drank milk, did they?
=No, you're right, our people were much stronger before we started eating things like beef and milk.
=Because they ate a lot of wild vegetables, and millet.
=That's true. Our people had such strong bones that sometimes they might get hit by a headhunting knife without serious damage.
=Are you kidding?
=For real! Tayal are very strong, but sometimes we just don't think. Bones like iron, and heads like iron, too!
=How could that happen?
=When Tayal start doing something, sometimes we just do what we do and we don't think about it. So sometimes two men would be out clearing the underbrush, one working here and the other working there. They would be clearing out the underbrush, hacking and hacking with their headhunting knives, but they wouldn't think, Hey, he's over there, they just cut and cut and cut, and sometimes they would get too close and cut the other man.
=Then what?
=But usually the other man wouldn't be hurt too bad. These are headhunting knives and they chop down saplings with one cut, but the other man would not be cut too bad. Bones like iron, our Tayal had in the old days.
=Strong people.
=Right, and we didn't get that way by drinking milk or eating your American food!
=I know. The old folks weren't tall, but they were really strong.
=But Yugan, sometimes Tayal just don't think, they don't plan, so things like that would happen. I've served in the Army. They trained me how to plan so that sort of thing doesn't happen, but you know our old Tayal just don't have any brains at all. So sometimes they hit each other with the headhunting knives by accident, and the knife comes out worse than the Tayal.
=Amazing.
=Amazing how stupid we Tayal can be. No heads, no brains. Did you hear about Yutas and Yaki at the last community outing?
=No, what happened?
=You know we all went to that amusement park, right?
=I heard.
=They have this big heavy mallet, a ball, and a bell. If you hit the target hard enough with the mallet, the ball goes up and hits the bell. If your ball hits the bell you win a prize. Otherwise you can see your score.
=I know that sort of game.
=The Tayal took turns hitting the target, but although they are strong, they didn't hit the target on center, so the ball didn't hit the bell. Then Yaki said, You young men are useless, let an old lady show you how to do it, and she took the mallet.
=Then what happened?
=The mallet was heavier than she thought, so she could barely hit the target. So Yutas said, Yaki, you are useless, you are worse than the young men. Here, give me the mallet and I will show you how to hit the target so the ball hits the bell.
=Yeah, Yutas is an old man, but he's still strong.
=For sure, he chops all his firewood with an ax. So he said, Yaki, watch and I will show you how to use the mallet. Yugan, Tayal don't have any brains! Yutas took the mallet, and Yaki stood right behind him, watching over his shoulder. Yutas hoisted the mallet to give the bell a big hit, but he forgot Yaki was watching over his shoulder, so he knocked her clear out of the ring on the backswing!
=Was she hurt?
=No, the Tayal watching him caught her, but it ruined his swing.
=He should have gotten a prize for flinging his wife.
=I tell you, Yugan, we Tayal don't have any brains at all!
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
O'er the Laaaaaand of the Freeeeeeee
In 1950, the incarceration rates in the USSR under the heinous demon Josef Stalin was 1,423 per 100,000.
In 2002, the incarceration rates in the USA under the compassionate conservative George W Bush was 2,298 per 100,000.
Yeah, but if you let all those black people and Hispanic people out of jail and gave back their voting rights, how could a Republican get elected?
In 1950, the incarceration rates in the USSR under the heinous demon Josef Stalin was 1,423 per 100,000.
In 2002, the incarceration rates in the USA under the compassionate conservative George W Bush was 2,298 per 100,000.
Yeah, but if you let all those black people and Hispanic people out of jail and gave back their voting rights, how could a Republican get elected?
Monday, January 23, 2006
Loziq gave me a lift to the bridge, where I wait for the bus. Three Wulai Junior High boys were there already. They hailed us, "Yugan, where are you going?”
"I'm going to the city to teach."
"Loziq, where are you going?”
"I am going to the court to play basketball. Where are you going?”
"We have a game我們要打.”
I asked, "Game or a game?"打球或者打架?
"Some boys are coming to Wulai to fight," one answered. A bus zipped past us, coming in to Wulai. The boys strained to see who was on the bus.
"So we are going to advise them not to fight," another dutifully proclaimed, although his tone was dubious.
"Fight? Who's coming?”
"Some boys from Wufeng Junior High in the city.”
The littlest of them sneered, "They come to die." All other conditions being equal, I would place my money on kids who grew up scrambling up steep mountains, thrashing through rushing streams, and listening to the old folks reminisce about the good old days of headhunting, rather than on kids who grew up watching basketball on tv and listening to the old folks reminisce about the size of that squash 4th Uncle grew fifty seven years ago.
I could see a group of kids by the bus terminal. "Whose are those?" I asked.
"Wulai Junior High. Those are ours.”
"So you haven't seen the Wufeng kids yet.”
"No, and if they have any sense, they won't come and try to fight us.”
We could see the recently arrived bus stop at the terminal and disgorge passengers. The boys watched keenly. Aborigine kids have good eyesight.
"Fighting isn't good," I said. "If they want to come, they should enjoy our beautiful scenery.”
"Yes, Yugan, Wulai is beautiful, but we have to protect our land. They are the ones who want to come fight.”
"That's really stupid," I said. "Can't they find anything better to do with their vacation?”
"We didn't ask them to come … look, who's that getting off the bus now?”
"No, can't be one of them, look, he's with his parents.” The tension in the air was palpable.
"Yugan, we are going to go patrol." They climbed on a motorcycle. As they headed off, I told them, "Remember to keep your wrist straight when you punch." Huge smiles.
The mood was eager, tense, happy, and full of suspense. This is what I would call excitement.
IMHO, excitement is a word that Americans seriously abuse. A potter tells me he is excited about a new glaze. A teacher declares a student's particularly apt use of a difficult word exciting. A blog promises you can make a fortune marketing DVDs and implores you to send in "for truly exciting details." A glaze may offer intriguing possibilities and the prospect of engrossing experiments, wonderful discoveries, and surprising results. A student's use of a word may be indicative of great progress. This does not make them exciting, and, IMHO, nothing about marketing is remotely exciting.
It must be true that, as Master 心道法師 Hsindao said, "America is an 18 year old girl, always in love, always bubbling with enthusiasms."
I watched the boys motorcycle go down past the terminal. My bus came and I left. Evidently the city boys had some sense, because there was no fight.
"I'm going to the city to teach."
"Loziq, where are you going?”
"I am going to the court to play basketball. Where are you going?”
"We have a game我們要打.”
I asked, "Game or a game?"打球或者打架?
"Some boys are coming to Wulai to fight," one answered. A bus zipped past us, coming in to Wulai. The boys strained to see who was on the bus.
"So we are going to advise them not to fight," another dutifully proclaimed, although his tone was dubious.
"Fight? Who's coming?”
"Some boys from Wufeng Junior High in the city.”
The littlest of them sneered, "They come to die." All other conditions being equal, I would place my money on kids who grew up scrambling up steep mountains, thrashing through rushing streams, and listening to the old folks reminisce about the good old days of headhunting, rather than on kids who grew up watching basketball on tv and listening to the old folks reminisce about the size of that squash 4th Uncle grew fifty seven years ago.
I could see a group of kids by the bus terminal. "Whose are those?" I asked.
"Wulai Junior High. Those are ours.”
"So you haven't seen the Wufeng kids yet.”
"No, and if they have any sense, they won't come and try to fight us.”
We could see the recently arrived bus stop at the terminal and disgorge passengers. The boys watched keenly. Aborigine kids have good eyesight.
"Fighting isn't good," I said. "If they want to come, they should enjoy our beautiful scenery.”
"Yes, Yugan, Wulai is beautiful, but we have to protect our land. They are the ones who want to come fight.”
"That's really stupid," I said. "Can't they find anything better to do with their vacation?”
"We didn't ask them to come … look, who's that getting off the bus now?”
"No, can't be one of them, look, he's with his parents.” The tension in the air was palpable.
"Yugan, we are going to go patrol." They climbed on a motorcycle. As they headed off, I told them, "Remember to keep your wrist straight when you punch." Huge smiles.
The mood was eager, tense, happy, and full of suspense. This is what I would call excitement.
IMHO, excitement is a word that Americans seriously abuse. A potter tells me he is excited about a new glaze. A teacher declares a student's particularly apt use of a difficult word exciting. A blog promises you can make a fortune marketing DVDs and implores you to send in "for truly exciting details." A glaze may offer intriguing possibilities and the prospect of engrossing experiments, wonderful discoveries, and surprising results. A student's use of a word may be indicative of great progress. This does not make them exciting, and, IMHO, nothing about marketing is remotely exciting.
It must be true that, as Master 心道法師 Hsindao said, "America is an 18 year old girl, always in love, always bubbling with enthusiasms."
I watched the boys motorcycle go down past the terminal. My bus came and I left. Evidently the city boys had some sense, because there was no fight.
Sunday, January 22, 2006
As I walked uphill, three tiny little girls from the Tribe were coming downhill towards me, arms around each others' shoulders, all about first grade. As I approached them, I heard them saying, "1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3," and then they shouted all together, "Hiiiiii, Yugan!" and dissolved into giggles.
That's one of the nicest things that's ever happened to me.
That's one of the nicest things that's ever happened to me.
Saturday, January 21, 2006
Outside magazine admonishes me, "Every second you're not living life to the fullest is an opportunity missed," and proffers a list of 50 things to do before you die. The author of the first piece shows us how it's done by telling about a party he went to attended by the wife of the lead singer of some band I've never heard of; how someone he knows got invited to play golf with some actor I've never heard of; and how once he was 'standing several feet' from some model I've never heard of. Hmm, I'm not a very good student. I haven't figured out if living life to the fullest means performing those dreadfully boring frills, or name dropping. If living life to the fullest means playing golf with some actor, please, please somebody send me some cyanide.
Okay, let's try #2 on the Big 50 list. Climb an 8,000 meter peak. I love mountains and probably could not thrive without mountains, but I long ago gave up the dream of climbing an 8,000 meter peak. Above 6,000 meters, lack of oxygen causes continuous headaches. If you get a cut, it doesn't heal, for lack of oxygen. In the previous issue of the same magazine, Nick Heil described climbing an 8,000 meter peak: gravity, darkness, snow, ice, frozen boots, peeing in a bottle, runny nose, headaches, stomachaches, lethargy, dizziness, sleeplessness, and windburn. See what you miss by not living life to the fullest?
Also, you can't just whistle up your dogs and go. You need massive support teams and huge wads of money to climb the Himalayas. For a couple NT, I can get a plastic bag and a brick; I can cut off my oxygen with the plastic bag and hit my head with the brick, thereby simulating the 8,000 meter peak experience.
#3 is Race Hawaii's Ironman. 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike, and 26.2 mile run. Well, swimming and biking, maybe, but I don't enjoy running. Do I have to?
#4 is finally something I can grasp: Love a dog. Now we are talking about living. Why do you have to scream and shout to feel you are alive? I suppose I have had some adventures in my time; give me a minute and I am sure I can come up with something. But for me, living life to the fullest doesn't mean name dropping, torturing yourself, or spending gobs of money on equipment and training. Okay, I've thought of an adventure I had. When I was in Pasadena High, one night I bumped into a carload of vicious crazies who planned to take me apart with hammers and saws; I ran so fast that I outran their car. I've lived through big earthquakes, typhoons, and blizzards. I've seen things almost nobody has seen, such as a Viet Cong sentry standing at attention. But I didn't plan these things. I didn't go out seeking them. For me, living life to its fullest means taking each day as it comes and finding what is in it. Take a good look and see what you have right there in the palm of your hand.
And for gods' sakes, please don't make me play golf!
Okay, let's try #2 on the Big 50 list. Climb an 8,000 meter peak. I love mountains and probably could not thrive without mountains, but I long ago gave up the dream of climbing an 8,000 meter peak. Above 6,000 meters, lack of oxygen causes continuous headaches. If you get a cut, it doesn't heal, for lack of oxygen. In the previous issue of the same magazine, Nick Heil described climbing an 8,000 meter peak: gravity, darkness, snow, ice, frozen boots, peeing in a bottle, runny nose, headaches, stomachaches, lethargy, dizziness, sleeplessness, and windburn. See what you miss by not living life to the fullest?
Also, you can't just whistle up your dogs and go. You need massive support teams and huge wads of money to climb the Himalayas. For a couple NT, I can get a plastic bag and a brick; I can cut off my oxygen with the plastic bag and hit my head with the brick, thereby simulating the 8,000 meter peak experience.
#3 is Race Hawaii's Ironman. 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike, and 26.2 mile run. Well, swimming and biking, maybe, but I don't enjoy running. Do I have to?
#4 is finally something I can grasp: Love a dog. Now we are talking about living. Why do you have to scream and shout to feel you are alive? I suppose I have had some adventures in my time; give me a minute and I am sure I can come up with something. But for me, living life to the fullest doesn't mean name dropping, torturing yourself, or spending gobs of money on equipment and training. Okay, I've thought of an adventure I had. When I was in Pasadena High, one night I bumped into a carload of vicious crazies who planned to take me apart with hammers and saws; I ran so fast that I outran their car. I've lived through big earthquakes, typhoons, and blizzards. I've seen things almost nobody has seen, such as a Viet Cong sentry standing at attention. But I didn't plan these things. I didn't go out seeking them. For me, living life to its fullest means taking each day as it comes and finding what is in it. Take a good look and see what you have right there in the palm of your hand.
And for gods' sakes, please don't make me play golf!
Friday, January 20, 2006
pathetic
A recent study in the US shows that fully one quarter of the people talking on cell phones in public actually do not have anyone on the other end of the line: they are just trying to look official and important.
I simply don't know what to say about this. But PIPE DOWN seems to be a good start.
A recent study in the US shows that fully one quarter of the people talking on cell phones in public actually do not have anyone on the other end of the line: they are just trying to look official and important.
I simply don't know what to say about this. But PIPE DOWN seems to be a good start.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
In the last 35 years, altogether I have spent only several months in the United States. Because of this, some trends become apparent that may not be obvious to those who live there every day.
On my recent trip to New York, in a department store something struck me. Now you see all sorts of people together. When I was a boy, in Illinois, in DC, in LA, when you went someplace like Sears, you rarely saw black people. I don't think they were prohibited from entering, they just didn't go. That was Sears, much less Macy's or Sax! They were still separate. The prohibitions may have been struck down, but maybe black people felt uneasy, or just hadn't taken the steps in through the door. In airports, black people were redcaps, not passengers. Now you go to a department store, a restaurant, a theater, an airport, a mall, a bookstore, a clothing store, and everybody is together as they should be. If there is any tension, it isn't noticeable.
So progress has been made. There's still a long way to go, but it's not hopeless. People just have to take steps.
Happy birthday, Dr King, even if I am a bit late.
On my recent trip to New York, in a department store something struck me. Now you see all sorts of people together. When I was a boy, in Illinois, in DC, in LA, when you went someplace like Sears, you rarely saw black people. I don't think they were prohibited from entering, they just didn't go. That was Sears, much less Macy's or Sax! They were still separate. The prohibitions may have been struck down, but maybe black people felt uneasy, or just hadn't taken the steps in through the door. In airports, black people were redcaps, not passengers. Now you go to a department store, a restaurant, a theater, an airport, a mall, a bookstore, a clothing store, and everybody is together as they should be. If there is any tension, it isn't noticeable.
So progress has been made. There's still a long way to go, but it's not hopeless. People just have to take steps.
Happy birthday, Dr King, even if I am a bit late.
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Monday night when I was firing pots outdoors on a bonfire, Yumin slipped off to go a-roving. Nothing new, but an hour later he hadn't returned. He usually doesn't stay away so long. Two hours later, he was still not back. I called, but no response: nothing new. He was still not back by the time I was ready for bed. That is unusual. I called and called, but no response. I fell asleep listening carefully to all the dogs on the mountain, but did not hear Yumin's distinctive beagling.
Tuesday morning I woke up because it was so quiet: no beagle barking at the morning light. He still wasn't back. I called. No beagle. I was not particularly worried about him having an accident in the jungle. He has lived in these mountains since he was 2 months old. He was brought up by Tlahuy and Bengax, who are plenty tough, and his short legs had to pump extra hard to keep up with their long running legs. He grew up tussling wild dogs, hunting dogs, snakes, and whatever happened his way. Yumin is as cute as all get-out, but he is also a rough tough fighter. I don't worry about anything happening to him in the jungle, but the road is another story. He goes down there, and no matter how agile he is, some of these drunk sightseers drive like maniacs. I went out for a quick walk around, especially down by the road. No beagle. I called. No beagle.
I had to spend the day in the city. A neighbor's dog walked all the way to the bus stop with me. This has never happened before. I was happy for the company. In the city, worry preyed on my mind. It's been almost exactly a year since Bengax died (January 18, 2005), and Yumin was deeply attached to her. He still sits pensively by her grave. Don't let this anniversary mean anything. When I got out of the subway terminal on my way home and stood waiting for the Wulai bus, something touched the back of my leg. I looked back to find a beautiful aborigine dog wagging its tail at me. I had never seen this dog before. He was dark with brown stripes, a striped face, and beautiful intelligent eyes. He played with me for a few minutes and then walked around a pillar and disappeared. I was happy for the company.
When I got home around midnight, still no beagle. Tlahuy was forlorn, but not very helpful. I went out back to feed Tlahuy and to call again. From uphill I heard a yelp. I grabbed my knife and a flashlight and set off uphill. When I got to Yata's vegetable patch where he loves to play, I called again, but the yelp was not repeated. I went further uphill. As I passed the shacks and called, I heard the yelp again. I called again, but no response. Tlahuy and I went to the shacks, and there I found Yumin trapped in a snare. Evidently he had been trying to investigate (discrete choice of words) Sinkang's henhouse. Sinkang had told me he had trouble with a python stealing his hens, so he probably set this snare for the snake, and caught a beagle instead.
His head and left foreleg had been caught in the snare. He was subdued as I very gently released him. As I rearranged Sinkang's snare, Yumin touched noses with Tlahuy and started staggering home. On the flat space by Yata's shack, under the bright moonlight, I sat down and called Yumin, but he walked slowly by me and jumped into the ditch, where he spent several minutes lapping up water. Then he came and sat in my lap. The snare had not cut into him, but he was exhausted and shaken. As we walked home, I was marveling at how meekly he walked, hardly his typical dog-of-war take-all-comers demeanor. He quietly sat down to polish off his bowl of kibbles, and second helpings too. Then he went to the doghouse and began to snore.
I hadn't thought to search uphill because I figured I would have heard Sinkang's dogs barking if Yumin were there. For some reason, Sinkang's dogs are gone. I still don't understand why Yumin didn't bark when I called earlier. Maybe pride? Maybe guilt? He may have thought he could get out of the snare by himself and didn't want me to find him there.
All's well that ends well. Maybe he's learned a lesson. But I doubt it.
Tuesday morning I woke up because it was so quiet: no beagle barking at the morning light. He still wasn't back. I called. No beagle. I was not particularly worried about him having an accident in the jungle. He has lived in these mountains since he was 2 months old. He was brought up by Tlahuy and Bengax, who are plenty tough, and his short legs had to pump extra hard to keep up with their long running legs. He grew up tussling wild dogs, hunting dogs, snakes, and whatever happened his way. Yumin is as cute as all get-out, but he is also a rough tough fighter. I don't worry about anything happening to him in the jungle, but the road is another story. He goes down there, and no matter how agile he is, some of these drunk sightseers drive like maniacs. I went out for a quick walk around, especially down by the road. No beagle. I called. No beagle.
I had to spend the day in the city. A neighbor's dog walked all the way to the bus stop with me. This has never happened before. I was happy for the company. In the city, worry preyed on my mind. It's been almost exactly a year since Bengax died (January 18, 2005), and Yumin was deeply attached to her. He still sits pensively by her grave. Don't let this anniversary mean anything. When I got out of the subway terminal on my way home and stood waiting for the Wulai bus, something touched the back of my leg. I looked back to find a beautiful aborigine dog wagging its tail at me. I had never seen this dog before. He was dark with brown stripes, a striped face, and beautiful intelligent eyes. He played with me for a few minutes and then walked around a pillar and disappeared. I was happy for the company.
When I got home around midnight, still no beagle. Tlahuy was forlorn, but not very helpful. I went out back to feed Tlahuy and to call again. From uphill I heard a yelp. I grabbed my knife and a flashlight and set off uphill. When I got to Yata's vegetable patch where he loves to play, I called again, but the yelp was not repeated. I went further uphill. As I passed the shacks and called, I heard the yelp again. I called again, but no response. Tlahuy and I went to the shacks, and there I found Yumin trapped in a snare. Evidently he had been trying to investigate (discrete choice of words) Sinkang's henhouse. Sinkang had told me he had trouble with a python stealing his hens, so he probably set this snare for the snake, and caught a beagle instead.
His head and left foreleg had been caught in the snare. He was subdued as I very gently released him. As I rearranged Sinkang's snare, Yumin touched noses with Tlahuy and started staggering home. On the flat space by Yata's shack, under the bright moonlight, I sat down and called Yumin, but he walked slowly by me and jumped into the ditch, where he spent several minutes lapping up water. Then he came and sat in my lap. The snare had not cut into him, but he was exhausted and shaken. As we walked home, I was marveling at how meekly he walked, hardly his typical dog-of-war take-all-comers demeanor. He quietly sat down to polish off his bowl of kibbles, and second helpings too. Then he went to the doghouse and began to snore.
I hadn't thought to search uphill because I figured I would have heard Sinkang's dogs barking if Yumin were there. For some reason, Sinkang's dogs are gone. I still don't understand why Yumin didn't bark when I called earlier. Maybe pride? Maybe guilt? He may have thought he could get out of the snare by himself and didn't want me to find him there.
All's well that ends well. Maybe he's learned a lesson. But I doubt it.
Monday, January 16, 2006
Sunday, January 15, 2006
Saturday, January 14, 2006
On 南昌 Street near 南門市場 South Gate Market is a store called 雅式, pronounced ya-shi, roughly, elegant style. The store proudly displays a bilingual sign declaring itself in English to be the Royal Yasl, Yasl being somebody's brilliant transliteration of 雅式. Now, I don't care how carefully you enunciate, when you say that you are going to sound like you are discussing Our Beloved President Bushbaby, who, all patriotic Americans will agree, is a royal yasl.
A student of mine last year gave himself the Western name Axel. He probably thought it was a good, masculine, rough and tough name. the problem is that his pronunciation wasn't all that great. It was a real surprise to hear him say, “Hi, I'm Axel.”
He must be having a great time in the States by now. "Hi, what's your name?”
"Axel.”
"You too, sh|thead!”
A student of mine last year gave himself the Western name Axel. He probably thought it was a good, masculine, rough and tough name. the problem is that his pronunciation wasn't all that great. It was a real surprise to hear him say, “Hi, I'm Axel.”
He must be having a great time in the States by now. "Hi, what's your name?”
"Axel.”
"You too, sh|thead!”
Friday, January 13, 2006
Thursday, January 12, 2006
The banister on the steps needs replacing. This is the season to chop bamboo. The weather was pleasant, so I chopped some poles and wired them in place. I got the job half done, just enough exertion to feel pleasantly exerted, but I had misjudged. I should have noticed that the humidity was so high that the ground was like soup. The mosquitoes were out, and very happy to see me. I had been bitten so much that I was feeling short of breath: time to come indoors. It would be dark before long anyway. At the top of the stone steps, I glanced back and gasped at the sight of the moon, two days short of full, two palms over the ridge, shining brilliantly against the gloaming.
At dark, the sky was bright and speckled with stars. I poked my head outdoors from time to time to enjoy the moonlight and stars. Later in the evening I picked up a book to read before bed. Next time I stuck my head out, a gentle rain was spattering down. Good old Wulai weather.
At dark, the sky was bright and speckled with stars. I poked my head outdoors from time to time to enjoy the moonlight and stars. Later in the evening I picked up a book to read before bed. Next time I stuck my head out, a gentle rain was spattering down. Good old Wulai weather.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
About twenty years ago, negotiators seeking to do something about Japan's trade imbalance pointed out, Japan exports everything and imports nothing: not even dogs were allowed to be imported.
The Japanese delegation accepted that yes, maybe banning the import of dogs was a bit much. But, they said, if we import dogs, we have to have some sort of standards, we can't let people import mutts or something.
This was taken as a valid point, so the Japanese delegation retired to draw up their standards for an acceptable dog. They presented their standards: full grown dog should be about a meter tall, male should weigh about 50 kg, coat should be black, white, brindle, fawn, or combinations, and so on and so forth, and lo and behold, the only dog in the world that met these specifications was… the Akita.
In much the same way, northern Europeans used to say that the ideal environment for producing perfect people would be cold, so they had to struggle to stay alive, not hot where people would be slothful. Lo and behold, the perfect environment seemed to be nowhere but northern Europe. On the one hand, they neglected to note that the knowledge required to live in a cold climate can be much simpler than the knowledge acquired by people living in a rich jungle environment, where they may be familiar with thousands of plants and animals. On the other hand, when confronted by Siberian peoples, whose environment is far more rigorous than anything the blonds had encountered, the Nordics scorned the Siberians' perfect adaptation and masterful skills as 'primitive,' probably because they don't listen to Wagner out on the taiga.
Heads I win, tails you lose.
The Japanese delegation accepted that yes, maybe banning the import of dogs was a bit much. But, they said, if we import dogs, we have to have some sort of standards, we can't let people import mutts or something.
This was taken as a valid point, so the Japanese delegation retired to draw up their standards for an acceptable dog. They presented their standards: full grown dog should be about a meter tall, male should weigh about 50 kg, coat should be black, white, brindle, fawn, or combinations, and so on and so forth, and lo and behold, the only dog in the world that met these specifications was… the Akita.
In much the same way, northern Europeans used to say that the ideal environment for producing perfect people would be cold, so they had to struggle to stay alive, not hot where people would be slothful. Lo and behold, the perfect environment seemed to be nowhere but northern Europe. On the one hand, they neglected to note that the knowledge required to live in a cold climate can be much simpler than the knowledge acquired by people living in a rich jungle environment, where they may be familiar with thousands of plants and animals. On the other hand, when confronted by Siberian peoples, whose environment is far more rigorous than anything the blonds had encountered, the Nordics scorned the Siberians' perfect adaptation and masterful skills as 'primitive,' probably because they don't listen to Wagner out on the taiga.
Heads I win, tails you lose.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
A middle aged man got on the bus wearing a baseball cap that had on it, TALK ENGLISH TO ME. I groaned. First, I detest baseball caps. Second, talk English to me is lousy English: speak English with me. Third, I knew what was coming. As soon as he saw me (sinking down into my seat, looking desperately out the window, cringing), his eyes lit up: opportunity! "Hello, sir!" He said in a voice loud enough for the entire bus to hear. Asses always have the loudest voices. "Hello, sir! How are you! Are you a teacher? You are the best teacher! How long you come Taiwan? Are you married? What's your name? You have children how many? You are the best teacher!" Do I have the right to remain silent? I do not wish to be ungracious. Am I obligated to engage in asinine conversation simply because you have put on a stupid hat? You don't have anything to say in the first place, why do you have to say it in English?
I said, "Uh, uh, uh," a few times, just to be civil, and scrunched down further into my seat. I considered putting my backpack over my head or hiding under the seat. I hope this is an isolated case. Is there some place handing out these idiotic caps? If there is, I'm going to get one of those French Foreign Legion caps, the kind with the flap down the back. If I spot somebody wearing a TALK hat, I'll turn around the cap covering my face with the flap, and on the flap I will have written SHUT UP.
+=+=+=+
PS: writing this has triggered a long-repressed memory. When I came to Taiwan, there were very few foreigners walking loose on the streets. Society here in those days was, shall we say, less sophisticated. From time to time you would be accosted by a total stranger who would pump your hand, fling his other arm around your shoulder, and say, "Hello, you my best friend, you teach me English." Then he (invariably he, never she) would reach into his bag and drag out a notebook full of execrable English and ask interminable questions about grammar. And the problem was that these were never people you would find personable or want to deal with anyway. They confined their efforts to untangling the minutiae of dreadful grammatical quandaries, and never had any inclination to learn to actually use the language or talk about anything. This was common enough that we even had a term for them: English leeches.
My dog, maybe I've met this guy in the baseball cap before.
I said, "Uh, uh, uh," a few times, just to be civil, and scrunched down further into my seat. I considered putting my backpack over my head or hiding under the seat. I hope this is an isolated case. Is there some place handing out these idiotic caps? If there is, I'm going to get one of those French Foreign Legion caps, the kind with the flap down the back. If I spot somebody wearing a TALK hat, I'll turn around the cap covering my face with the flap, and on the flap I will have written SHUT UP.
+=+=+=+
PS: writing this has triggered a long-repressed memory. When I came to Taiwan, there were very few foreigners walking loose on the streets. Society here in those days was, shall we say, less sophisticated. From time to time you would be accosted by a total stranger who would pump your hand, fling his other arm around your shoulder, and say, "Hello, you my best friend, you teach me English." Then he (invariably he, never she) would reach into his bag and drag out a notebook full of execrable English and ask interminable questions about grammar. And the problem was that these were never people you would find personable or want to deal with anyway. They confined their efforts to untangling the minutiae of dreadful grammatical quandaries, and never had any inclination to learn to actually use the language or talk about anything. This was common enough that we even had a term for them: English leeches.
My dog, maybe I've met this guy in the baseball cap before.
Monday, January 09, 2006
Sunday, January 08, 2006
Saturday, January 07, 2006
Friday, January 06, 2006
Thursday, January 05, 2006
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
Monday, January 02, 2006
古人說，大福不再。有機會就要把握。不要讓機會流失。
去年夏天好友Bulang Yugan跟我說他請教了泰雅老人，譔了一首新歌﹝Bulang就是得過金鐘獎、金馬獎的泰雅歌手﹞。他先教我歌詞。因為比較艱澀，他叫我先把歌詞背熟了，他再教我旋律。
一拖、再拖，常想到，但沒安排時間帶錄音機請他幫我唱。
北京跨年，Bulang彈bass為齊秦伴奏。舞台佈乾冰，Bulang可能沒注意到他已靠近邊，踩空，頭撞到階角，hoqing la.
嗚呼, Bulang, mswa su helaw byaray kwara? Ngihuy ilungan ta!
聊記歌詞。紀念Bulang Yugan, rangi ku.
Hazin qani ga,
Sin bilan na qotas ta Tayal.
Anay saku skalay bblaq na' cinasan.
Knziq saku mttzyaw krryax.
Ungat ku skguy,
Lulungwun sku nikwun.
Yasa ku strahu' saku krryax.
Swa sitbah ga wayen klikan ku.
Kkayen skuliq ru cinasan maku.
Aba utux gayen
Ini saku bkahu sunan.
Ana ga braki saku.
Iyat saku slalax
Iyat saku nuah-sheliq gaga na Tayal,
Ana mswa ga lokah ta kwara.
Bulang, 自己說 braki saku. Ngihuy ilungan, sunun su balay. Taway gangi, Bulang.
去年夏天好友Bulang Yugan跟我說他請教了泰雅老人，譔了一首新歌﹝Bulang就是得過金鐘獎、金馬獎的泰雅歌手﹞。他先教我歌詞。因為比較艱澀，他叫我先把歌詞背熟了，他再教我旋律。
一拖、再拖，常想到，但沒安排時間帶錄音機請他幫我唱。
北京跨年，Bulang彈bass為齊秦伴奏。舞台佈乾冰，Bulang可能沒注意到他已靠近邊，踩空，頭撞到階角，hoqing la.
嗚呼, Bulang, mswa su helaw byaray kwara? Ngihuy ilungan ta!
聊記歌詞。紀念Bulang Yugan, rangi ku.
Hazin qani ga,
Sin bilan na qotas ta Tayal.
Anay saku skalay bblaq na' cinasan.
Knziq saku mttzyaw krryax.
Ungat ku skguy,
Lulungwun sku nikwun.
Yasa ku strahu' saku krryax.
Swa sitbah ga wayen klikan ku.
Kkayen skuliq ru cinasan maku.
Aba utux gayen
Ini saku bkahu sunan.
Ana ga braki saku.
Iyat saku slalax
Iyat saku nuah-sheliq gaga na Tayal,
Ana mswa ga lokah ta kwara.
Bulang, 自己說 braki saku. Ngihuy ilungan, sunun su balay. Taway gangi, Bulang.
Sunday, January 01, 2006
16 hours is really a lot longer than you want to spend sitting on a plane, especially in one of Cathay Pacific's squeeze-till-you-diet seats. Especially when the purser says, very apologetically, "I'm sorry, we forgot to load your meal." Airplane food is nothing to drool for, but at least you want something to eat! I made my request (Oriental vegetarian) weeks in advance, confirmed it at on-line check in, confirmed it at the check in counter at the airport, and went hungry. The purser valiantly tried to make me a sandwich from pieces of lettuce.
The Wheaton student in the seat next to me discovered that on one video channel they have a closed circuit camera placed behind the jet's front wheel. We watched entranced through take off and until dark.
Our flight flew north over Canada. By 5 PM local time the earth was black. An orange band marked the edge of the sky. A sliver moon sat near Venus. Another hour flying time over blackness and I spotted the lights of a town, imagined the lives of the people there. (not a lot to do on a 16 hour flight, not much to watch on the video, and nothing to eat I'm not hungry I'm not hungry.)
Ling's intuition is remarkable. She had sent me off with a box full of sushi. By the time I judged we were crossing the magnetic pole, I couldn't hold off any longer, and snarfed the whole box, thanking her silently. At least I hope I didn't make a lot of noise as I ate. I didn't wake anybody up, anyway.
Our flight continued south over Siberia, endless snow. The river below us must have been at least 15 kilometers across. Ob? Lena?
I saw the first settlement somewhere over Mongolia, and fell asleep again as we passed into northern China. Hong Kong, connecting flight, another hour and back to Taiwan. The seats on the short hop were bigger and more comfortable than on the long haul. Go figure.
16 hours is really a lot longer than you want to spend sitting on a plane. My waist was sore for two days afterwards.
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