first day of school!

Oy, I'm exhausted. But I am perfectly happy to be this exhausted if everyday is like today with Declan. I had been a little anxious about Declan's first day at a new school environment in yet another foreign (to him) country. His teacher's multiply-expressed concern about whether he'll be comfortable in an all-Chinese class didn't assuage my own wondering on that count.

 So I prayed before bedtime yesterday, and this morning before I pushed him in the stroller while back-carrying Petra the four kilometers to his kindergarten--that he would not be anxious, would listen to the teacher, would learn good things, make new friends, and all-in-all enjoy his new school. I also prayed for extra support for his teacher, who seem really nice and patient about my missing or inappropriate school gears for Declan that apparently all the local parents have prepared well in advance. I finally gathered everything tonight, so yay. (and whew!) Throughout the day, when I started worrying and imagining that he might be having a meltdown at school, I stopped to pray that he's having a good time. When I went to pick him up, he smiled a huge one and came to give me a hug. The principal had spotted me upon arrival and came up to tell me some details about Declan during lunch and snack times, and overall I already knew that his first day went fairly well before we reunited. I was so relieved! And then, amazingly, it was like Declan become responsible and reasonable over a matter of hours. I usually get into power struggles with him about what to do when and how about almost literally everything. This afternoon after pick-up, he ended up playing at the large outdoor sandbox at his kindergarten for an hour--and Petra joined in too--before we had to walk 20 minutes to ride a 15-minute free bus shuttle home. He listened well to all of my opinions and shared his own thoughts without the usual tyrannical edge in his petition. It. Was. Incredible.

He was patient with his sister, and talked gently with her by bending down to her level and asking questions to her quietly while looking at her kindly. He held her on the bus ride home and let her play with his hands even though he initially protested "My hands are not a toy, mei-mei. I am a people!" I could go on, but suffice it to say, he really acted like "a big guy" all the rest of the day. I took out the utensils and bowl he used for lunch to wash after we returned home, and discovered that they've already been washed--by Declan. His teacher taught the whole class to clean up after themselves and brush their teeth after lunch. She wasn't, however, able to persuade him to leave his toothbrush kit at school as everyone else did. I guess he remembered that I still needed to buy him another set for home use.

Instead of being my usual pessimistic self and waiting for the other shoe to drop about the return of Grouchy Declan, I just give praise to God for so many things. That we were able to register Declan for this kindergarten, that he enjoyed the first day, that he seems to be picking up good things about the Taiwanese culture (taking initiative to use chopsticks with a respectable degree of competence during dinner), that I genuinely enjoyed hanging out with him this whole day as opposed to the usual fear that I just don't have the energy/patience/love to take care of him properly. Kids being kids, I don't expect Declan to always be this perfect. In truth, he's a pretty cool kid even when he's being annoying. (Only when he's cruel to his sister do I usually blow my stacks.) I have to remember this, these things. Store them up like a squirrel towards nuts in case of the barren days.

a (not at all) funny thing happened on the way home

I was about to write out my feelings here, but then a friend emailed me asking for updates (for which I hope she doesn't regret now) and I ended up word vomiting out what happened earlier today to her. I might as well post the pertinent information here, since it played a huge part in my doubt/uncertainty/distrust/confusion about Taiwan culture now per the personal anecdotal experiences I am compiling...

---email excerpt---

The timing of your email is pretty interesting in that it was a really hard day, emotionally, for me. Case in point, I'd been visiting (along with Daniel, Declan, and Petra) my parents in Kaohsiung for the past week and took the high-speed rail this morning back to Hsinchu. Daniel had to keep riding the rail north to Taipei for a conference, so I disembarked with the kids and two giant luggages (things my mom wanted me to take) to the taxi pickup place near the high speed rail station. As my turn at the taxi came, I rolled the luggages by the taxi trunk and was making sure Petra wasn't running towards the other idling cars as I wore Declan on my back. Usually, at this time, the taxi driver would be loading whatever luggages the passenger has into the trunk, but the taxi driver assigned to me stood by his open trunk and yelled at me as I was picking up Petra that it's not his job to put my luggages away for me, that they're so big and heavy and he doesn't get paid enough to do that much work, that this isn't his personal taxi company, etc etc...he just went on and on complaining about his job and the taxi company and how the system works, all in a really nasty tone as I proceeded to load my luggages while he stood there literally yelling next to me. I admit that I got pretty angry and muttered under my breath "I'm doing everything so you can stop complaining now" as I picked up the second luggage. Then, as he was still complaining, I moved to slam the trunk hood closed--to make a point about doing everything myself--and hit him on the head with the hood.

It was accidental (I promise!), but no doubt hurt a great deal. It wasn't until he pushed the trunk hood back up and then slammed it back down while screaming swear words at me that I realized what I'd done. I really did feel terrible and repeatedly apologized as I strained to see if the hit caused visible damage to his head, but he kept yelling more swear words until I got angry again at how he's now trying to get everyone to look at him and how poorly I've treated him. Since he wasn't responding to anything I was saying, I turned, popped open the trunk again, and this time dragged out all of my luggages and deposited them back onto the sidewalk. After he quieted down and glared at me for some time, he got into his taxi, drove a way off, got out, and gestured for the people waiting in line behind me to board his taxi. Then the entire row of taxis waiting after his drove past me. I silently watched each of them pass, one after another, as I held onto Petra with Declan on my back, wondering how I was going to get home by bus.

I felt really terrible, and prayed several times throughout the day afterwards for the taxi driver's head to be okay, that I didn't hurt him seriously. At the same time, I couldn't believe that all the other taxi drivers took his side. This, in addition to a currently ongoing standoff with several immigration officers about Petra's last name (Israeli birth certificate lists her with my maiden name but US recognizes her with Daniel's last name...In the eye of the Taiwanese government, I have two different daughters of different surnames but same first names born in the same city at the same time. Amazing! But also this means Petra is having a hard time acquiring her Taiwanese citizenship and therefore national health insurance) -- all made me feel like "returning" to Taiwan is a terrible mistake. That I don't belong here. But this has been my longed-for home for so long. If I don't belong here, where can I go? I actually missed Israeli bureaucracy and Israeli interactions. For some reason, getting yelled at in Israel never fazed me as much as all the things (several other incidents that I won't belabor your attention span with) that happened today did.

----end of email excerpt----

If this had been China or the US (except I wouldn't catch a taxi in the US, since that would be way too expensive), I would almost immediately chalk this up to a rotten culture/society. So rude, so insensitive, and so expected. But it's Taiwan, and my impression had always been that Taiwanese people = polite and service-oriented. Clearly, this reflects first my bigotry towards several other countries/cultures, and perhaps a bit of an entitlement attitude I have regarding myself in Taiwan. (Also, I might have been confusing Taiwan with Japan. Half-jk!) Maybe that's why this incident haunted me all day, because as awful as I felt he acted, I clearly shouldn't have lost my temper and brained him, even accidentally. Damn it, why can't it be more black and white, so I can work myself up into a self-righteous tizzy and then just benevolently forgive him? I suck, too.

on vacation, technically

So far the visit to Kaohsiung to see my parents have consisted mainly of:

Morning - get woken up by the kids, yell at the kids to settle down as they start destroying things, get dumplings for breakfast from vendors downstairs, dress the kids in swimsuits and head to the apartment complex's swimming pool

Afternoon - naps, sometimes by the kids too, then walk to a mall and let the kids play at the arcade because it's too hot outside; usually joined by my mom at this point

Night - dinner, see my dad during his brief break from work (although not at all tonight), fight with the kids about proper bedtime for one or two hours, then I stay up waaaay too late relishing alone time (such as not sleeping until 2:30am last night and wanting to kill myself this morning as the kids jumped around me)

Today followed the above template, with a slight, ever-so-exciting variation of dental check up for Declan and shopping for kindergarten supplies at Carrefour. Growing up, I've noticed with bemusement the huge "back to school" sale catalogues for the local shopping centers in Oregon. Since I did my own school supplies shopping in the US, and most of the time at garage sales, going to Carrefour to pick out lunch set, water bottle, etc school supplies for Declan today was my first ever participation of this autumn ritual. I felt like such a MOM, and it made me strangely giddy.

I also stopped by Eslite to see if they carried the Divergent trilogy by Veronica Roth in the original English. Astonishingly, they did not. This lack was not what astonished me--it was the fact that Eslite did however carry the Fifty Shades series in both English *and* Chinese. How is such a stupidly written* porn-in-words "literature" ubiquitously found in every country I've visited since the series' conception, while a beautifully-themed post-apocalyptic dystopian fiction series like the one by Roth is...not. Is this me being a literary snob? No, I think I just actually have standards.

*based upon 15 minutes of skimming through the first book in the series at the bookstore in Horev Center. The first clue was the email exchange format in huge chunks of the book (yuck!) and the last clue was how it feels like reading the diary of a drunk 12-year-old.

In the end, I bought the Chinese version of Four. (They didn't have it in the original English.) It's been on my ebook hold list at the Vancouver Public Library. Sadly, Joyce's generously shared library account recently expired and so kaput goes the hold list too. I figured reading Four in Chinese will help me improve my language even if it turns out to be a dud.

Five more days left in Kaohsiung before we ride the high-speed rail back to Hsinchu (and Daniel solo onwards to Taipei for a conference). I hope we don't get stuck in this particular routine.

my son's first significant friendship / something tragic

A few days ago, I wrote a Facebook message to the mother of Declan's best friend from gan: "Declan was eager to show Kimi his new shirt today, then he told me after gan with some surprise, 'Kimi wasn't at gan today.' I don't think he's fully grasped the extent of their separation yet."

The previous day, to give her some time to pack and her husband more time at the office before their trip to Germany, my husband and I oversaw a playdate between Declan and their two older children: Kaya, who is six, and Kimi, who is three and in the same gan (daycare) as Declan. Declan and Kaya had a memorable time laying ambushes and swinging around sticks while pretending to be King David. As the playdate ended, Kaya called from the backseat of their dad's car as they drove past us: "Bye, Declan!" and Kimi yelled, "Love you, Declan!" "Love you too!" Declan yelled back.

Every time I went to pick Declan up from gan, he would be in the middle of something with Kimi. When I dressed him in the morning and prepped him to go out the door, Declan would want to hold one toy "to show Kimi."

It's starting to hit me, I think, that we're leaving. I've finally started setting down roots and found genuine community in this country with a strong clannish culture (which seems to be the case of this entire region, actually). And now, as I start to pack definitively, the roots are being ripped out bit by bit. I find myself morose, avoiding people's invitation to hang out because...what's the point? The real kicker is listening to Declan chatter on every now and then about how he's looking forward to Kimi coming back from the latter's family vacation. How they'll play together again when he returns. When my husband and I tried to prepare him for the transition, Declan said, "I will make friends at gan in Taiwan. Then I can play with Kimi in Taiwan, and Kimi in Haifa!" He tells me he likes his gan now, even though not everyone is his friend there.

Declan with his best friend in Israel. 

They have a fascination with action figures...

I wish we can stay. I have no idea what living in Hsinchu is going to be like, or if I'll actually make friends there without the typical local regard of me as someone slightly (or a lot) freakish. At least here I'm not expected to fit in. Tired.

And I hope this operation officially ends by the time we leave.

nothing spectacular but kind of nice

Writing the scales... because I don't feel particularly drawn to writing, but I should make this a daily discipline. I guess the same goes for running, but this is the second day my morning run window of time is closing because I either wake up too late (6:20am instead of 6am or 5:30am as planned) or squander the first 20 minutes or so cruising FB. Priorities, priorities.

Yesterday was rather un-momentous. I seemed to have caught a stomach bug of some sort and had, shall we say, extreme gastric distress the whole day. Missed a going-away party in Isifiya and spent most of the day lying in bed, alternating between curled up in pain at the twisting of my stomach and reading Candace Bushnell novels on digital loan from the Vancouver Public Library. This little fact is about as embarrassing/odd as my fascination with Britney Spears music videos: I find Bushnell to be a really enthralling writer. Sure, her characters tend to be on the side of insipid, but their relationship dynamics is so cuttingly realistic. I've read comparisons between Bushnell's writings and that of Jane Austen. In terms of social satire, I can see the parallel. Now anybody with a sharp or literary mind reading this have just lost all respect for me, I presume.

Because one of the mothers I hang out with in Haifa is heading to Germany on Tuesday for a vacation (and I'll be gone by the time she returns), I chose not to beg off a dinner gathering at a local Asian fusion restaurant. Four of us showed up: Two Germans, one Israeli, and one Taiwanese/American (moi). We chatted over our food for about two and half hours. I'm really going to miss this small mothering community that I finally have and which I will be leaving behind in three weeks.  I really have no idea or expectation on the people I might befriend back "home".

Taiwan no longer feels like home. Israel does. Oh well. Such is life that whenever I start to feel remotely comfortable, then it's time to move on. Again.

reflections, on israel

Gulf War 1991 - I remember classmates gathered around me on the playground, and me relaying everything I've overheard the adults saying about this outbreak of violence between nations in a region called the Middle East. About the fear that this could be the start of another world war. I remember being thrilled that my class crush at the time (we were in third grade) came over to listen with quiet attention as well. A few months later, I immigrated to the US.

Oslo Accords 1993 - I remember walking into my fifth grade class that morning to find a TV set airing live footage of Rabin, Arafat, and Clinton shaking hands in front of the White House. Our teacher was telling us what a big deal this was, and I wondered why it was in fact such a big deal and why everyone seemed so happy. I noted the applause and smiles and figured it was a good thing. Then we did fifth grade stuff and never talked about it again that year.

Assassination of Yitzhak Rabin 1995 - I remember sitting in the crowded and noisy choir room, waiting for the obligatory Channel One news to finish airing before our conductor did his usual belittling act of shaming us middle school choir members into behaving more like professional musicians. Most of my classmates were communicating with each other through American Sign Language, or laughing and chatting loudly... To be honest, I don't remember if everyone stopped talking when the footage of Rabin's assassination played. I just remember, personally, seeing the blood-stained papers that carried the speech he was about to give and being stunned to a quiet roaring in my ear.

Second Intifada 2000-2005 - I remember hearing about bus bombings, restaurant bombings, night club bombings. But I was also trying to fulfill my college expectations and being crushed daily, so actually during my college years, when I expected to be the most politically active, I wasn't. Unless you count my foray into US prison reform, but I mostly just made friends with prisoners and not much else. I do remember seeing demonstrations on the Michigan U with placards that accused Israel of stealing Palestinian resources. That's when I started reading Edward Said.

Unilateral Israeli withdrawal from Gaza 2005 - Having recently arrived to a new US city (Pittsburgh) after working for a year in Taiwan at my first real job after finishing university, finally completely ending a three-year-long relationship, and touring Paris while fulfilling my promise to visit my closest cousin there... I was staying at my ex-boyfriend's apartment while looking for an apartment of my own. I remember picking up the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette one morning to see Gaza as one of the headlines. Reading through the news article, I had hope for land for peace.

Second Lebanon War 2006 - I remember sitting in my Oregonian neighbor's living room and watching CNN on their TV while I was house-sitting and dog-sitting for them the summer before I return to Pittsburgh and start graduate school. I called up my Jewish cousin (the same one I visited in Paris) and asking some questions on Israel's "disproportionate responses". She shared with me several sources that pointed out the unique practices of the IDF which no other military in the world exercises. It was the start of my disillusionment with all media.

2010 - I don't remember anything noteworthy about Israel...except that I visited it for the first time in my life. My parents' only input when we talked on the phone was how dangerous it was. I returned to Pittsburgh and told my boyfriend (now my husband) how I became open to the possibility of having a child during the trip. (BOOM -> our son)

2012 - My husband, our one-year-old son, and I (five months pregnant with our daughter) moved to Israel. Two months later, Hamas rockets picked up in frequency towards the south and Operation Pillar of Defense began. We checked the news obsessively. My parents called daily to persuade me to get on the next flight out. I spent a ridiculous amount of time arguing online with strangers. I spent the mornings chatting with southern citizens who've came north to wait out the constant sirens; they're easy to spot as they're the only moms beside me who tend to be by themselves at the parks as their children played.

2014 - Again rockets from Hamas and the ongoing Operation Protective Edge. My family's reaction to it very different than two years ago. We have more friends here now, and personally know soldiers who are fighting as well as Israeli Arab friends who either support or hate the IDF. Didn't really hear from my parents aside from some internet jokes sent by my mom and some Confucius sayings from my dad. I unfriended about 300 people on FB--not necessarily for the offense of too much stupid noise over all the shit that went down and are still going on; mainly because it made me realize how many people with whom I've only the scantiest connection. If someone you consider to be a friend doesn't even care or remember you when you're in the middle of a war, it is safe to say they're not really a friend at all. So that helps me to trim back closer to the ideal scientific number of 150 people who I can deeply support as a friend myself.

So this is my personal history/connection with the Middle East, and specifically Israel. It's terrible that for the most part, the memory lane is marked with war. It reminds me of Simeon, a man who prayed all his life "for the consolation of Israel" (Luke 2:25). When Jesus was being dedicated at the Temple, the latter was already a graying old man and he prayed as he saw Jesus: "Lord, now you are letting your servant depart in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation that you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel."

It is with this same longing that I pray daily, that one day--before I die--I might be able to see Palestinian Arabs and Israelis living in the same region as equals without rancor.

eating (or not) my emotions

What is the ultimate comfort food for me? A piping hot bowl of Asian ramen.

I have to make a distinction between Asian (namely Taiwanese, Japanese, or Korean) ramen vs. Western or Israeli. The former is an addictive cocktail of dried vegetables, real oil, and MSG while the latter is just not even worth chewing. A lot of my American friends don't understand the warmth and childlike joy I have in the prospect of a savory slurp. If you don't get it, it can't be explained.

So, very thankfully, the student I tutor for English with incredible thoughtfulness brought back several packs of Shin ramen from Korea. She had been away for about a month, visiting family, and shares my pain of having no way of buying real ramen here. And I've been trying to make them last, but we have a war right now, and seriously I try my best not to eat a pack a day. But sometimes knowing that I'll get to have 20 minutes of not thinking about the dead and dying, immediate friends being called up, immediate friends with children and pregnant wives--knowing I'll get to take a break from real life and just enjoy a bowl of noodles like all the times during typhoon blackouts as a child, helps.

On July 15, I fasted in solidarity with the Muslims and Jews who were fasting for notable days in their religion but who're dedicating their fast towards peace and breaking bread together at sundown. It was the first, or perhaps only the second, time that I actually really stuck by a fast from the night before to sundown the next day without, say, swigging just a little bit of juice at least. As I counted down the hours to when I got to eat, it really hit me how everyone needs to hunger for peace the way I hungered for food. How many other people thought about this as we drew close to the end of the fast? To long for that something to fill us with strength again, fill our hollowness. Am I just paying lip service when I say I want peace too? Does wanting--longing for peace amount to real attainment?

Abba God, what are You doing right now?