蚊語
我很久以前發現，我每一次踏出家門，蚊子的嗡嗡聲就有一點不太一樣。 我判斷，這一定是蚊語，牠們一定是在討論…討論甚麼呢? “地主來了!” “他剪頭髮了。” “他怎麼沒帶傘，難道看不出來要下雨嗎?” 牠們到底在討論甚麼呢? 我越想越好奇，終於下定決心，擺壇設幡，認真拜起公冶長，求他賜我聽懂蚊語的能力。 虔誠拜有感應，啟耳聵，出門一試，如願以償，聽懂了蚊子一看到我的那一句蚊語:”開飯囉!!”
Wednesday, January 28, 2004
A young man hove into view, wearing a yellow sweatshirt blazoned with the legend:
A BERO DF THE TROCHLED TDHE
Now, to the inexperienced, this just may seem a mishmash of Roman letters, but my experienced eye immediately picked out the articles A and THE, indicating that this was once English, long since transmogrified. DF was easy, because we all know how similar D and O are.
Don't be misled by the allure of TROCHLED. This word, tripping merrily off the tongue, is one of those words which seems to exist, does not exist, but should exist, and would add spice and melody to everyone's conversation. “We were beroing along the gandersnaff when the stauropod trochled.” Beautiful, yes, and maybe, if they are lucky, people in the twenty-third century will talk like that, but for now, you are on the wrong path. That word is not what it is, it is what it appears to be, veiled in futility. For that matter, let me mention that over ninety percent of my students pronounce 'misled' as if it were the past tense of misle and rhymed with 'whistled.'
To be sure, I understand these things because I have the advantage of years of experience. Back when I was a tender teenager, new to Taiwan, I was enchanted by a little whitewashed cement building down near the east coast, proclaiming itself in wobbly, dripping letters on a hand painted sign: GARPON HOTEL. When I was down that way, I would sometimes detour just to admire that euphonious word, which, I imagined, might connote some abstruse concept in, in who knows, maybe the Amis or Puyuma aboriginal languages, since that is their territory. The HOTEL was the only English word to be seen for many miles in either direction.
Or so I thought, until I got used to reading Chinese signs. Glancing at the Chinese one day:花園大飯店: I suddenly realized that my Garpon Hotel was actually supposed to be the Garden Hotel.
So now you see the kind of training I have had. How are you coming? Have you deciphered that shirt yet? I am sure that by now you have correctly disentangled the words to read: A HERO OF THE TROUBLED TIME. Not so hard once you get used to it, right?
But I still think Garpon Hotel is more romantic.
A BERO DF THE TROCHLED TDHE
Now, to the inexperienced, this just may seem a mishmash of Roman letters, but my experienced eye immediately picked out the articles A and THE, indicating that this was once English, long since transmogrified. DF was easy, because we all know how similar D and O are.
Don't be misled by the allure of TROCHLED. This word, tripping merrily off the tongue, is one of those words which seems to exist, does not exist, but should exist, and would add spice and melody to everyone's conversation. “We were beroing along the gandersnaff when the stauropod trochled.” Beautiful, yes, and maybe, if they are lucky, people in the twenty-third century will talk like that, but for now, you are on the wrong path. That word is not what it is, it is what it appears to be, veiled in futility. For that matter, let me mention that over ninety percent of my students pronounce 'misled' as if it were the past tense of misle and rhymed with 'whistled.'
To be sure, I understand these things because I have the advantage of years of experience. Back when I was a tender teenager, new to Taiwan, I was enchanted by a little whitewashed cement building down near the east coast, proclaiming itself in wobbly, dripping letters on a hand painted sign: GARPON HOTEL. When I was down that way, I would sometimes detour just to admire that euphonious word, which, I imagined, might connote some abstruse concept in, in who knows, maybe the Amis or Puyuma aboriginal languages, since that is their territory. The HOTEL was the only English word to be seen for many miles in either direction.
Or so I thought, until I got used to reading Chinese signs. Glancing at the Chinese one day:花園大飯店: I suddenly realized that my Garpon Hotel was actually supposed to be the Garden Hotel.
So now you see the kind of training I have had. How are you coming? Have you deciphered that shirt yet? I am sure that by now you have correctly disentangled the words to read: A HERO OF THE TROUBLED TIME. Not so hard once you get used to it, right?
But I still think Garpon Hotel is more romantic.
I wore shoes today. When I was leaving for the city, it was seven degrees C and raining. I had been romping barefoot through the mud all morning, but decided that since I was going to be standing on a podium, I should consider putting on my shoes, if I could find them. Otherwise, through lack of practice, I might forget how to tie shoelaces.
Several years ago I bought an excellent pair of low-cut Lowa mountain shoes, and I have even worn them on occasion. The last such occasion was about two years ago, so I figured the time was ripe to try them out again.
I rummaged around, found the shoes, came up with some socks, put on my shoes, and stepped boldly out into the world, cautiously making my way down the steps through the ravine, feeling my unaccustomed way. Shoes really cut you off from the world around you.
Heading down to the bus, I bravely marched past the group of Tayal huddled around the fire by the betel stand. I heard a cackle and a call: “Yugan!? Is that you?”
I kept my head up bravely, “Yes, it's me. Happy year of the monkey, monkey.”
“What have you got on your feet?”
“Shoes.”
“Shoes? You have shoes?”
“Yes, I have a pair, can't you see?”
”We thought they looked like shoes, but we've never seen you wearing them before, so we thought you must have painted your feet.”
“Very funny, ha ha ha.”
I made it to the city, and made it through the whole evening, and back home again. From time to time my line of sight would dip and I would be startled by the sight of my encased feet. What happened? Where are my toes? You mean people wear these things every day?
It was an interesting experience, and I may repeat it some day. Probably not soon, though.
Several years ago I bought an excellent pair of low-cut Lowa mountain shoes, and I have even worn them on occasion. The last such occasion was about two years ago, so I figured the time was ripe to try them out again.
I rummaged around, found the shoes, came up with some socks, put on my shoes, and stepped boldly out into the world, cautiously making my way down the steps through the ravine, feeling my unaccustomed way. Shoes really cut you off from the world around you.
Heading down to the bus, I bravely marched past the group of Tayal huddled around the fire by the betel stand. I heard a cackle and a call: “Yugan!? Is that you?”
I kept my head up bravely, “Yes, it's me. Happy year of the monkey, monkey.”
“What have you got on your feet?”
“Shoes.”
“Shoes? You have shoes?”
“Yes, I have a pair, can't you see?”
”We thought they looked like shoes, but we've never seen you wearing them before, so we thought you must have painted your feet.”
“Very funny, ha ha ha.”
I made it to the city, and made it through the whole evening, and back home again. From time to time my line of sight would dip and I would be startled by the sight of my encased feet. What happened? Where are my toes? You mean people wear these things every day?
It was an interesting experience, and I may repeat it some day. Probably not soon, though.
Monday, January 26, 2004
Friday, January 23, 2004
Yikes, happy new year!
This is to wish you all a happy, healthy, wise new year, the year of the monkey. Which reminds me of a story my sister told me once, years ago, about a friend of hers who gave birth to a red headed boy who was of such, shall we say, extraordinary appearance that the first time the new mother saw her baby, rolling over sort of dreamy-like in her maternal bed, she yelped, YIKES! and opened her eyes wide, then shut them.
The baby boy would now be in his twenties. Maybe somewhere this morning a newly wed bride fondly opens her eyes, and says YIKES!
The occassion behooves me to tell a story of appropriate dignity and good taste. It concerns a lady who had a little boy of, shall we say, extraordinary appearance, but as mothers are wont to do, she loved him and thought the world of her little boy. One day when she got on a bus, the bus driver said, YIKES!
"What do you mean, yikes?" the incensed mother asked.
The driver took up his courage and said, "Lady, that is one UGLY little boy."
The mother burst into tears and dragged her little son onto the bus. A kind old lady noticed her tears, and asked, "What is wrong, my dear?"
"The driver insulted me!"
"That is just terrible! Don't take that, you go right back up there and insult him back, and while you're doing that, I'll watch your monkey for you."
This is to wish you all a happy, healthy, wise new year, the year of the monkey. Which reminds me of a story my sister told me once, years ago, about a friend of hers who gave birth to a red headed boy who was of such, shall we say, extraordinary appearance that the first time the new mother saw her baby, rolling over sort of dreamy-like in her maternal bed, she yelped, YIKES! and opened her eyes wide, then shut them.
The baby boy would now be in his twenties. Maybe somewhere this morning a newly wed bride fondly opens her eyes, and says YIKES!
The occassion behooves me to tell a story of appropriate dignity and good taste. It concerns a lady who had a little boy of, shall we say, extraordinary appearance, but as mothers are wont to do, she loved him and thought the world of her little boy. One day when she got on a bus, the bus driver said, YIKES!
"What do you mean, yikes?" the incensed mother asked.
The driver took up his courage and said, "Lady, that is one UGLY little boy."
The mother burst into tears and dragged her little son onto the bus. A kind old lady noticed her tears, and asked, "What is wrong, my dear?"
"The driver insulted me!"
"That is just terrible! Don't take that, you go right back up there and insult him back, and while you're doing that, I'll watch your monkey for you."
Monday, January 19, 2004
Sunday, January 18, 2004
Saturday, January 17, 2004
Thursday, January 15, 2004
Uray『烏來』是泰雅語『溫泉』的意思。 時常有人問我，在烏來洗溫泉哪一家最好。如果要洗真正的溫泉水，而不是加熱的山泉水，還是溪邊最可靠。 兩三年前部落的人已經在說溫泉水分光了，不夠大家用。 兩年來開了那麼多家溫泉會館，哪來那麼多溫泉水？ 所以有業者跟我說：八二。 八分加熱山泉水、兩分溫泉水。
溫泉業者拼命抽溫泉水，挖空山坡，上方的環山路、溫泉路差點垮了，所以地方政府必須出大筆錢破壞原有的山坡生態、灌幾十噸水泥做擋土牆。工程費當然不是溫泉業者出的。
河川地怎麼可以如此亂破壞，恐是拜前任鄉長密臘瓦旦所賜。 泰雅對長輩、長官極其恭順，唯有前任鄉長死後，無人為之說一句好話。對他的評語是："祖先不高興，把他收走了。" 這個問題就譚到此為止。
起碼烏來的水源豐沛乾淨：聽說中南部有的溫泉館一個月換一次水…
不過，烏來的問題相當嚴重。 為什麼烏來人講到溫泉會館就艴然不悅，其來有自。
首先要了解，溫泉館這麼多，烏來人並沒有賺到甚麼錢。泰雅經營的只有幾家，如沙利達、烏來民宿藝術村等。大錢都是外面的投資人賺的。從外面來投資賺錢，所以對烏來既沒有感情或責任感，又不關心。錢賺了就好了，如果賺錢的代價是殄滅生態、破壞部落組織，他們在乎嗎? 這不是他們的家。
我們的家在這裡。 烏來這幾天才在擺自來水的水塔、水管。向來是自己找水源接管就可以了，烏來是水源區，多得是水。 現在不同。溫泉館需要大量的水，所以他們接大管子，把水引到溫泉館賣給客人，住家水就不夠用了。 甚至於，業者如果認為居民的水管太大，他們就拔掉，斷水源。(我自己有一次沒水，沿管去找，發現整個管子被溫泉館拉去佔用!)
原來充沛的水源被產業道路破壞、剩餘的溫泉業者霸佔，居民產生缺水問題。住家不能沒有水，因為水不夠用，現在部落有鄰居互相告到法院。同族在法院見，兩三年前是不可能發生的事情。 這是溫泉館帶來給烏來的。
讀者也許想，起碼溫泉館創造一些就業機會。恐怕不多吧。業者找員工的順序似乎是: 大陸人最優先，再來是平地人，實在沒有人才考慮到原住民。我知道有一家的招待請泰雅，還有一家接電話的是泰雅，但這似乎是例外。如果原住民在溫泉館工作，通常只有掃地、刷廁所的份。有的溫泉業者表明，幫客人叫計程車，絕對不叫原住民的司機。可能覺得客人太尊貴，原住民配不上為他們開車吧?
當然不是所有客人需要叫計程車，很多是自己開車來，把車子停放在居民門口，堵死住家的出路，業者不管。
做溫泉業真好賺。拉個管子接免費的溫泉水，再一個接免費的山泉水，就可以看現金滾滾入帳。還想吸引客人，可以附設卡拉OK。我常覺得現代人生活實在太貧乏。到了山明水秀的野外，無福享受大自然的祥寧、體悟山巒天空的寂漻、或安下心靜玩一些人生滋味，卻放聲模擬電視上的俗麗歌星，唱起流行歌曲，吼到夤夜還不釋麥克風。唱的好一點也就罷了，加上音響遠傳的變質，在山上唱卡拉OK，十分像是孤魂野鬼在懺悔前世造的孽業。部落的習慣，最晚九點半十點就睡了(除了打飛鼠的獵人)，遠方傳來震耳驚魂的慘叫聲，又是平地人來山上唱歌，如何能做好夢?
這並不表示沒人唱歌時烏來的深夜是安靜的。溫泉館有工程，通宵電鋸榔頭聲，管你鄰居九點要上班、孩子要上學，讓你用電就不錯了。為了配合工程，把電斷掉，包括鄰家的在內，他們不會事先通知或說到幾點才復電，住溫泉館附近是你的榮幸:"忍耐一下就好了"(附近溫泉老闆常跟我說這一句。)
總是抱著那麼一絲的希望。臺灣的風潮流行一陣子就退。 泡湯熱過了，溫泉不好賺的時候，烏來還給居民，我們可以開始收爛攤。
溫泉業者拼命抽溫泉水，挖空山坡，上方的環山路、溫泉路差點垮了，所以地方政府必須出大筆錢破壞原有的山坡生態、灌幾十噸水泥做擋土牆。工程費當然不是溫泉業者出的。
河川地怎麼可以如此亂破壞，恐是拜前任鄉長密臘瓦旦所賜。 泰雅對長輩、長官極其恭順，唯有前任鄉長死後，無人為之說一句好話。對他的評語是："祖先不高興，把他收走了。" 這個問題就譚到此為止。
起碼烏來的水源豐沛乾淨：聽說中南部有的溫泉館一個月換一次水…
不過，烏來的問題相當嚴重。 為什麼烏來人講到溫泉會館就艴然不悅，其來有自。
首先要了解，溫泉館這麼多，烏來人並沒有賺到甚麼錢。泰雅經營的只有幾家，如沙利達、烏來民宿藝術村等。大錢都是外面的投資人賺的。從外面來投資賺錢，所以對烏來既沒有感情或責任感，又不關心。錢賺了就好了，如果賺錢的代價是殄滅生態、破壞部落組織，他們在乎嗎? 這不是他們的家。
我們的家在這裡。 烏來這幾天才在擺自來水的水塔、水管。向來是自己找水源接管就可以了，烏來是水源區，多得是水。 現在不同。溫泉館需要大量的水，所以他們接大管子，把水引到溫泉館賣給客人，住家水就不夠用了。 甚至於，業者如果認為居民的水管太大，他們就拔掉，斷水源。(我自己有一次沒水，沿管去找，發現整個管子被溫泉館拉去佔用!)
原來充沛的水源被產業道路破壞、剩餘的溫泉業者霸佔，居民產生缺水問題。住家不能沒有水，因為水不夠用，現在部落有鄰居互相告到法院。同族在法院見，兩三年前是不可能發生的事情。 這是溫泉館帶來給烏來的。
讀者也許想，起碼溫泉館創造一些就業機會。恐怕不多吧。業者找員工的順序似乎是: 大陸人最優先，再來是平地人，實在沒有人才考慮到原住民。我知道有一家的招待請泰雅，還有一家接電話的是泰雅，但這似乎是例外。如果原住民在溫泉館工作，通常只有掃地、刷廁所的份。有的溫泉業者表明，幫客人叫計程車，絕對不叫原住民的司機。可能覺得客人太尊貴，原住民配不上為他們開車吧?
當然不是所有客人需要叫計程車，很多是自己開車來，把車子停放在居民門口，堵死住家的出路，業者不管。
做溫泉業真好賺。拉個管子接免費的溫泉水，再一個接免費的山泉水，就可以看現金滾滾入帳。還想吸引客人，可以附設卡拉OK。我常覺得現代人生活實在太貧乏。到了山明水秀的野外，無福享受大自然的祥寧、體悟山巒天空的寂漻、或安下心靜玩一些人生滋味，卻放聲模擬電視上的俗麗歌星，唱起流行歌曲，吼到夤夜還不釋麥克風。唱的好一點也就罷了，加上音響遠傳的變質，在山上唱卡拉OK，十分像是孤魂野鬼在懺悔前世造的孽業。部落的習慣，最晚九點半十點就睡了(除了打飛鼠的獵人)，遠方傳來震耳驚魂的慘叫聲，又是平地人來山上唱歌，如何能做好夢?
這並不表示沒人唱歌時烏來的深夜是安靜的。溫泉館有工程，通宵電鋸榔頭聲，管你鄰居九點要上班、孩子要上學，讓你用電就不錯了。為了配合工程，把電斷掉，包括鄰家的在內，他們不會事先通知或說到幾點才復電，住溫泉館附近是你的榮幸:"忍耐一下就好了"(附近溫泉老闆常跟我說這一句。)
總是抱著那麼一絲的希望。臺灣的風潮流行一陣子就退。 泡湯熱過了，溫泉不好賺的時候，烏來還給居民，我們可以開始收爛攤。
Wednesday, January 07, 2004
Tuesday, December 30, 2003
To the west and north of my property are bamboo groves. The old path up the mountain goes west beyond the bamboo, within earshot, but out of sight from my house. A couple of years ago, the town hall shored up the path with old railroad ties for the convenience and safety of hikers, but very few people ever use that trail. From time to time, a work crew is dispatched to keep the trail free from undergrowth.
Early this afternoon, I heard someone calling me. I went out to be greeted by the work crew, about eight Tayal. “Yugan, today we are clearing the path. Will your dogs bite us?”
“No, but they will lick you.”
I left them to their work. A few hours later, Batu came by and called. “Yugan! We are taking a break. Come chat with us. Bring your dogs to play with us.”
I went out and sat on the trail chatting with them. Batu circled around, and discovered my poor Giant Bamboo. I have two stands of Giant Bamboo, which, true to their name, grow tall and thick, even though our climate is much cooler than their native Malaysia. Unfortunately, they do not have strong roots, and both stands got knocked flat by Typhoon Dujuan late in the summer. I suppose now I should call them lies of bamboo, not stands.
I had sawed the fallen bamboo into sections and left it there to dry as I figure out if there is any use I could find for it. Batu beat me to it. He came to us with a six foot section over his shoulder, singing and beating out a rhythm with a stick. Everybody joined in, singing and clapping.
Batu lay the bamboo across the path. Hayung chopped off a tree branch to prop up one end of the bamboo, which is about as thick as my thigh. The other end was wedged into the side of the path. Batu and Lmuy started beating rhythms with bamboo sticks, but Batu's sticks were rotten and broke. I picked a soki and chopped two drum sticks from a qesu tree, and gave them to Batu. I sat down and steadied the free end of the bamboo drum. The hollow bamboo sticks played soprano to the tenor qesu sticks, and I provided bass by beating the bamboo with my palms. Work was forgotten. Pretty soon Batu handed his sticks to Hayung and started dancing. His dancing was so burlesque that everybody dissolved into laughter. Sayun joined him. They pretended to be a pair of lovers, hamming it up as we laughed. Somebody shouted, “Belly dance!” We all took up the shout, so Batu started performing a belly dance (This is the first time I have seen two belly dances within one week. Friday on Third Street in Santa Monica, a black lady in a gold costume performed a belly dance to the rhythm of her finger cymbals. Today, Batu. An interesting contrast.) As he danced, he held up his tee shirt, but after half a dozen grinds, Lmuy pulled his shirt up over his head. Batu almost danced off the path, but was pulled back in time. Then Lmuy and Batu performed a waltz: another first for me: the first time I have ever seen anybody waltzing in a bamboo grove. That didn't last long, because Lmuy complained Batu's footwork was off, so she reached down to pull his leg into the right position. That was too much for me: “Are you dancing or wrestling?”
After a few more numbers, everybody decided that it was time to quit work for the day. “Yugan! We have done our work for today, and we are happy. We will come back tomorrow. Will you come play the bamboo drum with us again tomorrow?”
Of course!
Early this afternoon, I heard someone calling me. I went out to be greeted by the work crew, about eight Tayal. “Yugan, today we are clearing the path. Will your dogs bite us?”
“No, but they will lick you.”
I left them to their work. A few hours later, Batu came by and called. “Yugan! We are taking a break. Come chat with us. Bring your dogs to play with us.”
I went out and sat on the trail chatting with them. Batu circled around, and discovered my poor Giant Bamboo. I have two stands of Giant Bamboo, which, true to their name, grow tall and thick, even though our climate is much cooler than their native Malaysia. Unfortunately, they do not have strong roots, and both stands got knocked flat by Typhoon Dujuan late in the summer. I suppose now I should call them lies of bamboo, not stands.
I had sawed the fallen bamboo into sections and left it there to dry as I figure out if there is any use I could find for it. Batu beat me to it. He came to us with a six foot section over his shoulder, singing and beating out a rhythm with a stick. Everybody joined in, singing and clapping.
Batu lay the bamboo across the path. Hayung chopped off a tree branch to prop up one end of the bamboo, which is about as thick as my thigh. The other end was wedged into the side of the path. Batu and Lmuy started beating rhythms with bamboo sticks, but Batu's sticks were rotten and broke. I picked a soki and chopped two drum sticks from a qesu tree, and gave them to Batu. I sat down and steadied the free end of the bamboo drum. The hollow bamboo sticks played soprano to the tenor qesu sticks, and I provided bass by beating the bamboo with my palms. Work was forgotten. Pretty soon Batu handed his sticks to Hayung and started dancing. His dancing was so burlesque that everybody dissolved into laughter. Sayun joined him. They pretended to be a pair of lovers, hamming it up as we laughed. Somebody shouted, “Belly dance!” We all took up the shout, so Batu started performing a belly dance (This is the first time I have seen two belly dances within one week. Friday on Third Street in Santa Monica, a black lady in a gold costume performed a belly dance to the rhythm of her finger cymbals. Today, Batu. An interesting contrast.) As he danced, he held up his tee shirt, but after half a dozen grinds, Lmuy pulled his shirt up over his head. Batu almost danced off the path, but was pulled back in time. Then Lmuy and Batu performed a waltz: another first for me: the first time I have ever seen anybody waltzing in a bamboo grove. That didn't last long, because Lmuy complained Batu's footwork was off, so she reached down to pull his leg into the right position. That was too much for me: “Are you dancing or wrestling?”
After a few more numbers, everybody decided that it was time to quit work for the day. “Yugan! We have done our work for today, and we are happy. We will come back tomorrow. Will you come play the bamboo drum with us again tomorrow?”
Of course!
Saturday, December 20, 2003
Thursday, December 18, 2003
What miracles we take for granted!
December 18, I set out in a Singapore Airlines 747 on an utterly routine (I hope) flight across the great Pacific Ocean to LA. Almost exactly one hundred years earlier (consider the time difference between Taipei time and Eastern Standard), the Wright Brothers launched their plane off the surface of the earth to make the first powered flight. Their momentous little hop would not have taken them from the fuselage to the wingtip of a 747!
How far we have come in a short one hundred years!
Now, if only morals advanced as quickly.
December 18, I set out in a Singapore Airlines 747 on an utterly routine (I hope) flight across the great Pacific Ocean to LA. Almost exactly one hundred years earlier (consider the time difference between Taipei time and Eastern Standard), the Wright Brothers launched their plane off the surface of the earth to make the first powered flight. Their momentous little hop would not have taken them from the fuselage to the wingtip of a 747!
How far we have come in a short one hundred years!
Now, if only morals advanced as quickly.
Tuesday, December 16, 2003
How to Get to My Place
I have discovered that I have an excellent line of defense.
People trying to find my place asking at the last house on Huanshan Road before the turnoff to the sideroad leading to my track are apt to encounter Laowa. First, let me state that although she is fluent in Tayal, she is actually an Amis, our only long-term resident Amis, I believe. I forget how she ended up in Wulai, but she is almost always there in her little roadside house to befuddle the passerby with her impenetrable directions.
“Oh, you're looking for the American? You mean Yugan? I've never heard of him. Does he live around here? I don't know. Well, there is a house up there somewhere, but I'm not sure. You're trying to find the American, right? No, I don't know him, I'm not sure where he lives. The one with dogs, right? His name is Yugan, right? No, I've never heard of him. He lives uphill somewhere. You might try the next turnoff, but he doesn't live there. Well, I don't know. He has beautiful dogs. Now he has three of them. The little puppy is named Yumin. My son Bilao loves dogs, but we're right by the road, so it's dangerous for dogs. Look at Tunux next door. She was a beautiful, intelligent little dog, so some sightseer from the city stole her! Isn't that terrible! Stealing a dog from someone! And taking a mountain dog to the city is especially cruel. How can they live in an apartment? Look at Yugan's dogs, they couldn't live in the city, they are mountain dogs. Who? Yugan? An American? Never heard of him. Does he live around here? Really? An American lives around here? Where? You don't know? I don't know, either. Maybe uphill somewhere. I hear there's an American living around here. I don't know him. He teaches English, yes, that's the one. I asked him to teach my son Bilao, but he said, Not yet, Laowa, wait till he's bigger, I don't teach kids, they're uyuq yungay, that means baby monkeys in Tayal, Yugan can speak Tayal. Yes, he's American. Yes, the English teacher. You mean Yugan? An English teacher? Yugan? An American? Never heard of him. You mean the one with dogs? Yes, of course, his place is not by the road, so it's a good place to raise dogs. Every time he comes down with his dogs, he has to tie Yumin on a leash. Yumin is a beagle, he's a puppy, so he doesn't understand cars. My son Bilao loves dogs. Every time he sees Yugan with his dogs, He says, Mama, I want a dog like Yugan's. But I tell him, Bilao, we live too close to the road, these sightseers from the city drive like maniacs. Yugan? Oh yes. Yugan lives near here, but it's very far away. I don't know where his house is. Up near the spring. Which spring? Why, the spring Yutas gets his water from, that spring. He pipes it down from there. So do Meilu and Banzi and Mulang too. No, Mulang lives downhill, and Yugan lives uphill. Not this road, the next one, but it doesn't go there….”
Laowa can go on like that ad infinitum, but after a few minutes, strong men break into tears. All but the hardiest, the most determined, are ready to flee the mountains.
Yeah, so sure, come on up for a visit some day. If you can't find my place, just ask anybody. Especially Laowa.
I have discovered that I have an excellent line of defense.
People trying to find my place asking at the last house on Huanshan Road before the turnoff to the sideroad leading to my track are apt to encounter Laowa. First, let me state that although she is fluent in Tayal, she is actually an Amis, our only long-term resident Amis, I believe. I forget how she ended up in Wulai, but she is almost always there in her little roadside house to befuddle the passerby with her impenetrable directions.
“Oh, you're looking for the American? You mean Yugan? I've never heard of him. Does he live around here? I don't know. Well, there is a house up there somewhere, but I'm not sure. You're trying to find the American, right? No, I don't know him, I'm not sure where he lives. The one with dogs, right? His name is Yugan, right? No, I've never heard of him. He lives uphill somewhere. You might try the next turnoff, but he doesn't live there. Well, I don't know. He has beautiful dogs. Now he has three of them. The little puppy is named Yumin. My son Bilao loves dogs, but we're right by the road, so it's dangerous for dogs. Look at Tunux next door. She was a beautiful, intelligent little dog, so some sightseer from the city stole her! Isn't that terrible! Stealing a dog from someone! And taking a mountain dog to the city is especially cruel. How can they live in an apartment? Look at Yugan's dogs, they couldn't live in the city, they are mountain dogs. Who? Yugan? An American? Never heard of him. Does he live around here? Really? An American lives around here? Where? You don't know? I don't know, either. Maybe uphill somewhere. I hear there's an American living around here. I don't know him. He teaches English, yes, that's the one. I asked him to teach my son Bilao, but he said, Not yet, Laowa, wait till he's bigger, I don't teach kids, they're uyuq yungay, that means baby monkeys in Tayal, Yugan can speak Tayal. Yes, he's American. Yes, the English teacher. You mean Yugan? An English teacher? Yugan? An American? Never heard of him. You mean the one with dogs? Yes, of course, his place is not by the road, so it's a good place to raise dogs. Every time he comes down with his dogs, he has to tie Yumin on a leash. Yumin is a beagle, he's a puppy, so he doesn't understand cars. My son Bilao loves dogs. Every time he sees Yugan with his dogs, He says, Mama, I want a dog like Yugan's. But I tell him, Bilao, we live too close to the road, these sightseers from the city drive like maniacs. Yugan? Oh yes. Yugan lives near here, but it's very far away. I don't know where his house is. Up near the spring. Which spring? Why, the spring Yutas gets his water from, that spring. He pipes it down from there. So do Meilu and Banzi and Mulang too. No, Mulang lives downhill, and Yugan lives uphill. Not this road, the next one, but it doesn't go there….”
Laowa can go on like that ad infinitum, but after a few minutes, strong men break into tears. All but the hardiest, the most determined, are ready to flee the mountains.
Yeah, so sure, come on up for a visit some day. If you can't find my place, just ask anybody. Especially Laowa.
Monday, December 15, 2003
UPS and downs
Sending parcels by UPS (United Parcel Service) is expensive, but it's worth it for the comic value alone.
Recently I ordered some merchandise, which the company suggested sending by UPS. I have not been happy with UPS service, but I acquiesced. The package was sent December 3. By December 11, I had not received it, so I sent the company an e-letter. They responded immediately with a tracking number, reporting that the UPS website listed that the package had reached Taipei at 1100 December 8. I checked the website and found the same information, so I phoned the UPS office. The lady who answered the phone said there was absolutely no information concerning that tracking number. I assured her I found the number on the UPS website. She did not believe me, and asked me to fax the email with the tracking number. After trying for 15 minutes without success to get through the UPS fax number, I gave up and phoned again. The second lady I got managed to find my number. It turns out that, in my ignorance, I was pronouncing the letter “R” in the tracking number like “are.” The second young lady kindly informed me that that letter should be pronounced “ah,” rising tone. Forgiving me for my ignorance, she said, “Oh, we mailed you your package through the post office.”
I eventually got someone in charge of deliveries. They said that on the 8th, they phoned, but were unable to deal with my answering machine, so they mailed me the package instead of leaving a message. I asked why they didn't phone again, or even attempt to deliver, and they said it was ‘not convenient.’
So now we know that the Post Office service is so much better than UPS, even UPS prefers to send packages that way.
I finally received the package from the postman on the 12th of December, nine days after it left North Carolina, about four days after it would have arrived if it had been sent by regular old air mail.
This morning I got a phone call from UPS, follow-through. When I answered the phone, I heard a young lady say, “Hello-Mr-Tao?-how-are-you-this-is-UPS-last-week-you-had-a-package-you-have-received-it-already-right-so-there-is-no-problem-ok-thank-you-goodbye” *click* lickety-split, all in one breath: “你是陶先生是不是你好這是UPS你上禮拜有個包裹已經收到了吧對不對沒有問題好了謝謝拜拜” From the time I picked up the phone until she slammed down her receiver was at most eight seconds.
Who says UPS isn't efficient?
Sending parcels by UPS (United Parcel Service) is expensive, but it's worth it for the comic value alone.
Recently I ordered some merchandise, which the company suggested sending by UPS. I have not been happy with UPS service, but I acquiesced. The package was sent December 3. By December 11, I had not received it, so I sent the company an e-letter. They responded immediately with a tracking number, reporting that the UPS website listed that the package had reached Taipei at 1100 December 8. I checked the website and found the same information, so I phoned the UPS office. The lady who answered the phone said there was absolutely no information concerning that tracking number. I assured her I found the number on the UPS website. She did not believe me, and asked me to fax the email with the tracking number. After trying for 15 minutes without success to get through the UPS fax number, I gave up and phoned again. The second lady I got managed to find my number. It turns out that, in my ignorance, I was pronouncing the letter “R” in the tracking number like “are.” The second young lady kindly informed me that that letter should be pronounced “ah,” rising tone. Forgiving me for my ignorance, she said, “Oh, we mailed you your package through the post office.”
I eventually got someone in charge of deliveries. They said that on the 8th, they phoned, but were unable to deal with my answering machine, so they mailed me the package instead of leaving a message. I asked why they didn't phone again, or even attempt to deliver, and they said it was ‘not convenient.’
So now we know that the Post Office service is so much better than UPS, even UPS prefers to send packages that way.
I finally received the package from the postman on the 12th of December, nine days after it left North Carolina, about four days after it would have arrived if it had been sent by regular old air mail.
This morning I got a phone call from UPS, follow-through. When I answered the phone, I heard a young lady say, “Hello-Mr-Tao?-how-are-you-this-is-UPS-last-week-you-had-a-package-you-have-received-it-already-right-so-there-is-no-problem-ok-thank-you-goodbye” *click* lickety-split, all in one breath: “你是陶先生是不是你好這是UPS你上禮拜有個包裹已經收到了吧對不對沒有問題好了謝謝拜拜” From the time I picked up the phone until she slammed down her receiver was at most eight seconds.
Who says UPS isn't efficient?
Sunday, December 14, 2003
老鄭看到我，馬上將小貨車靠路邊停、跳下車、衝過馬路、拉住我的袖子，眼中悲傷帶一絲的希望地問我，”陶維極，你不開車，對不對?”
“對啊。”
“你沒有汽車，對不對?”
“對啊。”
“也沒有摩托車，對不對?”
“也對啊。”
“朋友有難，一定要幫助他，才夠朋友，對不對?”
“對啊。”
“我有一件事情想請你幫忙，你是夠義氣的人，你一定要幫我這個忙!”
“到底怎麼一回事?”
老鄭把我拉過馬路，打開小貨車的後門，從裡面拿一盒一盒的衛生紙往我手上送。
“你不知道當司機的苦衷。 車子一定要有油。 每一次加油，加油站就要贈送衛生紙，可是他們從來也不想，人的食慾有限，怎麼用得完這麼多衛生紙?
“只好叫孩子多吃一點，你懂這個利害關係嗎? 偏偏女兒只想她的身材，怕發胖，顧不得做爸爸的困窘，就是拒絕吃那麼多。”
“那麼你怎麼辦?”
他繼續一盒一盒地在我手上堆。“有甚麼辦法? 只好偷偷給兒子下瀉藥。夏天冷氣開到最大，天氣冷開窗、沒收全家的棉被、外套，目的是要大家流鼻水。 浴室、廚房的毛巾、摸布都丟掉了，叫家人用衛生紙代替，沙發也丟了，放一堆衛生紙，千方百計，可是衛生紙還是有增無減。
“我前幾天打電話給我大甲的表舅，請他吃飯，他居然開口第一句話問我，’你是不是又有衛生紙，要找人幫你用?’ 我自己的表舅跟我講這種話! … 他怎麼知道?”
老鄭熱淚盈眶。“我老闆有多姦詐，你知道嗎? 每一次叫我把他的轎車開去加油，自己怎麼樣不靠近加油站，然後假裝很慷慨，說，‘有贈品你自己留著用。’ 如果喝礦泉水能拉肚子那還好…我該怎麼辦？
“我發現你們山路上直潭有個加油站沒有贈品，馬上停下來加滿油。有時候我在新店安康一帶送貨，就特地繞到直潭去加油。”這個時候我手上衛生紙太多，已經看不到他。老鄭哼了一陣、哈了一陣，就問，“你要不要喝礦泉水？”
“謝了，我家裡喝的就是礦泉水，不用瓶子裝的。”蹐蹐後退，想趁早逃脫，可是講到『水』給了我一個靈感。 “老鄭，你不是有親戚住清水嗎?”
“我太太娘家的。 我不想把關係搞壞。”
“我教你。 你跟他們講，臺大醫院研究出一個秘方，整個房子地板用衛生紙鋪滿，可以預防SARS,可是因為他們怕衛生紙價飆長，所以現在還是保密…”
老鄭眉顏間的愁雲終於放晴了。 他一語不發，跳上車，笑哈哈地開走。 看樣子，他是往清水開的。
但是我告訴你，如果有遠親啊、久違的朋友啊、失去聯絡多年的小學同學之類的人物突然出現，說要傳授一個預防SARS的秘方，你還是小心一點。先問他有沒有開車再說。
“對啊。”
“你沒有汽車，對不對?”
“對啊。”
“也沒有摩托車，對不對?”
“也對啊。”
“朋友有難，一定要幫助他，才夠朋友，對不對?”
“對啊。”
“我有一件事情想請你幫忙，你是夠義氣的人，你一定要幫我這個忙!”
“到底怎麼一回事?”
老鄭把我拉過馬路，打開小貨車的後門，從裡面拿一盒一盒的衛生紙往我手上送。
“你不知道當司機的苦衷。 車子一定要有油。 每一次加油，加油站就要贈送衛生紙，可是他們從來也不想，人的食慾有限，怎麼用得完這麼多衛生紙?
“只好叫孩子多吃一點，你懂這個利害關係嗎? 偏偏女兒只想她的身材，怕發胖，顧不得做爸爸的困窘，就是拒絕吃那麼多。”
“那麼你怎麼辦?”
他繼續一盒一盒地在我手上堆。“有甚麼辦法? 只好偷偷給兒子下瀉藥。夏天冷氣開到最大，天氣冷開窗、沒收全家的棉被、外套，目的是要大家流鼻水。 浴室、廚房的毛巾、摸布都丟掉了，叫家人用衛生紙代替，沙發也丟了，放一堆衛生紙，千方百計，可是衛生紙還是有增無減。
“我前幾天打電話給我大甲的表舅，請他吃飯，他居然開口第一句話問我，’你是不是又有衛生紙，要找人幫你用?’ 我自己的表舅跟我講這種話! … 他怎麼知道?”
老鄭熱淚盈眶。“我老闆有多姦詐，你知道嗎? 每一次叫我把他的轎車開去加油，自己怎麼樣不靠近加油站，然後假裝很慷慨，說，‘有贈品你自己留著用。’ 如果喝礦泉水能拉肚子那還好…我該怎麼辦？
“我發現你們山路上直潭有個加油站沒有贈品，馬上停下來加滿油。有時候我在新店安康一帶送貨，就特地繞到直潭去加油。”這個時候我手上衛生紙太多，已經看不到他。老鄭哼了一陣、哈了一陣，就問，“你要不要喝礦泉水？”
“謝了，我家裡喝的就是礦泉水，不用瓶子裝的。”蹐蹐後退，想趁早逃脫，可是講到『水』給了我一個靈感。 “老鄭，你不是有親戚住清水嗎?”
“我太太娘家的。 我不想把關係搞壞。”
“我教你。 你跟他們講，臺大醫院研究出一個秘方，整個房子地板用衛生紙鋪滿，可以預防SARS,可是因為他們怕衛生紙價飆長，所以現在還是保密…”
老鄭眉顏間的愁雲終於放晴了。 他一語不發，跳上車，笑哈哈地開走。 看樣子，他是往清水開的。
但是我告訴你，如果有遠親啊、久違的朋友啊、失去聯絡多年的小學同學之類的人物突然出現，說要傳授一個預防SARS的秘方，你還是小心一點。先問他有沒有開車再說。
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