I went with a Taiwanese friend Vickie to her house this weekend for a lesson in Taiwanese cooking. With Vickie translating, her mother walked me through fried rice noodles, oyster soup, stir-fried sweet potato leaves and clams steamed in basil, ginger, chili peppers and garlic. I'm hoping to put together a menu for a Taiwanese meal when I get back to the US, and my notes include North American substitutes (since as far as I know the average American supermarket doesn't carry sweet potato leaves).
Next on the menu is jiaozi, aka dumplings (which I've become completely obsessed with). From what I understand it's pretty involved making the stuffing and the "skin," and everyone has their own method for it. But I'm up for any cooking challenge, especially if it's again followed with tea, cookies and the chance to practice Chinese.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Chinese New Year Resolution
Chinese New Year is coming up and I'm getting my resolutions in order. Since this is the Year of the Tiger - my year - I feel a strong appreciation for Chinese astrology. To show that appreciation I hereby resolve, before I leave Asia, to eat at least one of each animal featured in the Chinese zodiac.
Now some people have been quick to point out that finding a dragon to eat will be quite impossible. An American friend was trying to be supportive and suggested that perhaps before I leave Taiwan scientists will discover a real dragon hidden in the mountains somewhere. I'm pretty sure if I managed to steal some of it for a spirited stir fry I'd be arrested. There are possible compromises - the name for lobster is literally "dragon shrimp" - but I think it's best to worry about dragons after the other eleven. Although they're all real, eating them is going to present some challenges.
There are four that will be quite easy. Cow, pig, chicken and goat are all readily available in markets and restaurants, so all I have to do is determine which specific dish will count as a course in my astrological feast. Snake meat is available in the Liu He night market not far from where I work, so all I need to do there is bother to go into the shady looking shop lined with jars of preserved coils of yellow meat.
Five down. Now all we need is dog, horse, monkey, mouse, rabbit and tiger. Surprisingly I haven't found any restaurants so far in Kaohsiung that serve either rabbit or dog, and I have no idea where I'll find monkey or horse, let alone tiger. But I've added those words and characters to my Chinese flashcards and "May I see a menu?" is one of the first phrases I learned in Chinese. Let the game begin.
Now some people have been quick to point out that finding a dragon to eat will be quite impossible. An American friend was trying to be supportive and suggested that perhaps before I leave Taiwan scientists will discover a real dragon hidden in the mountains somewhere. I'm pretty sure if I managed to steal some of it for a spirited stir fry I'd be arrested. There are possible compromises - the name for lobster is literally "dragon shrimp" - but I think it's best to worry about dragons after the other eleven. Although they're all real, eating them is going to present some challenges.
There are four that will be quite easy. Cow, pig, chicken and goat are all readily available in markets and restaurants, so all I have to do is determine which specific dish will count as a course in my astrological feast. Snake meat is available in the Liu He night market not far from where I work, so all I need to do there is bother to go into the shady looking shop lined with jars of preserved coils of yellow meat.
Five down. Now all we need is dog, horse, monkey, mouse, rabbit and tiger. Surprisingly I haven't found any restaurants so far in Kaohsiung that serve either rabbit or dog, and I have no idea where I'll find monkey or horse, let alone tiger. But I've added those words and characters to my Chinese flashcards and "May I see a menu?" is one of the first phrases I learned in Chinese. Let the game begin.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Christmas Island
Living in Taiwan has provided me with a lot of "first time" experiences. The first time I've taught. The first time I've been self sufficient (mostly, anyway). The first time I've eaten pig's liver or blood congealed in rice (which is surprisingly flavorless). And this week I realized it's also the first time I've spent Christmas away from home.
It hasn't been terribly off-putting, partly because I've been distracted this week by adding ten teaching hours to my weekly schedule and partly because the atmosphere here isn't quite Christmas-y. I have been engaged in a number of Christmas activities, and in honor of the season I'll share them now.
1. Baked cookies with my classmate, Amelia, and her two roommates. Lots of (burnt) sugar cookies and more successful ones made from oatmeal and jam. While we waited for the cookies to finish in their Easy-Bake-sized oven we did arts and crafts decorations for their tree using spare passport photos and construction paper. We also looked up tons of old Christmas movie songs online (Amelia - Mr. Magoo; me- Muppet Christmas Carol).
2. TLI, my Chinese school, had a Christmas party, complete with turkey stew, chocolate fondue, deep fried sweet potatoes and curried vegetables (just to cover the highlights). One of the school officials got things rolling by blowing a Horn of Gondor she bought in Israel (my apologies to religious studies folk, I've forgotten the instrument's name) and singing carols in Chinese.
3. Christmas brunch held by a friend of a friend who is now a friend. Eggs and veggies, country hash browns, raspberry and cream cheese stuffed french toast alongside mimosas and coffee and Bailey's. All before hurrying to work. The event was changed from ladies-only to "almost ladies" to accomodate me and another guy. I've never before been grateful to be considered an "almost lady."
4. Joy, the buxiban where I teach English, also had a Christmas party. All teachers and students brought a dish and a gift, respectively for potluck and raffle. When two Chinese teachers asked if I was bringing hamburger and french fries I indignantly decided to make use of the packaged Cajun food I got in my birthday care package. While the smell of instant red beans and rice gave the apartment a homey smell, the pot cooled to a pretty solid mass by the time of the party itself. Most of the kids snubbed it. Sure, they'll eat tofu that is literally rotten (cho dofu) but what I do with beans is weird. I won a glitter pen in the raffle though. The boy who contributed it doodled a skull and crossbones in the attached Christmas card.
5. That same night I was introduced to a wonderful holiday tradition - Christmas Adam. The celebration follows the logic that December 24th (Christmas Eve, if you will) is for family, so the 23rd is for friends. Mostly the same brunch crowd with many extensions, and I have every intention of passing Christmas Adam along to my friends once I'm back home.
6. Christmas Eve at Katie Beth's, Christmas morning at Elizabeth's (yet another expat from New Jersey) and Christmas dinner (after seven grueling hours with children) prepared by Maggie, a very sweet Taiwanese woman engaged to a burly South African named Dawid. Taiwanese food, wine, Love Actually, and then a 3 am phone call to the US to catch the Darby Christmas party.
It may have been an unusual Christmas, and potluck fried rice may not measure up to my dad's green beans en brouchette or my uncle's stuffed potatoes, but Taiwan made for a pretty good Christmas. At the very least, I wound up with a glitter pen and a knit cap (thanks, Elizabeth). Now let's see how New Year's will measure up.
Happy holidays, everybody.
It hasn't been terribly off-putting, partly because I've been distracted this week by adding ten teaching hours to my weekly schedule and partly because the atmosphere here isn't quite Christmas-y. I have been engaged in a number of Christmas activities, and in honor of the season I'll share them now.
1. Baked cookies with my classmate, Amelia, and her two roommates. Lots of (burnt) sugar cookies and more successful ones made from oatmeal and jam. While we waited for the cookies to finish in their Easy-Bake-sized oven we did arts and crafts decorations for their tree using spare passport photos and construction paper. We also looked up tons of old Christmas movie songs online (Amelia - Mr. Magoo; me- Muppet Christmas Carol).
2. TLI, my Chinese school, had a Christmas party, complete with turkey stew, chocolate fondue, deep fried sweet potatoes and curried vegetables (just to cover the highlights). One of the school officials got things rolling by blowing a Horn of Gondor she bought in Israel (my apologies to religious studies folk, I've forgotten the instrument's name) and singing carols in Chinese.
3. Christmas brunch held by a friend of a friend who is now a friend. Eggs and veggies, country hash browns, raspberry and cream cheese stuffed french toast alongside mimosas and coffee and Bailey's. All before hurrying to work. The event was changed from ladies-only to "almost ladies" to accomodate me and another guy. I've never before been grateful to be considered an "almost lady."
4. Joy, the buxiban where I teach English, also had a Christmas party. All teachers and students brought a dish and a gift, respectively for potluck and raffle. When two Chinese teachers asked if I was bringing hamburger and french fries I indignantly decided to make use of the packaged Cajun food I got in my birthday care package. While the smell of instant red beans and rice gave the apartment a homey smell, the pot cooled to a pretty solid mass by the time of the party itself. Most of the kids snubbed it. Sure, they'll eat tofu that is literally rotten (cho dofu) but what I do with beans is weird. I won a glitter pen in the raffle though. The boy who contributed it doodled a skull and crossbones in the attached Christmas card.
5. That same night I was introduced to a wonderful holiday tradition - Christmas Adam. The celebration follows the logic that December 24th (Christmas Eve, if you will) is for family, so the 23rd is for friends. Mostly the same brunch crowd with many extensions, and I have every intention of passing Christmas Adam along to my friends once I'm back home.
6. Christmas Eve at Katie Beth's, Christmas morning at Elizabeth's (yet another expat from New Jersey) and Christmas dinner (after seven grueling hours with children) prepared by Maggie, a very sweet Taiwanese woman engaged to a burly South African named Dawid. Taiwanese food, wine, Love Actually, and then a 3 am phone call to the US to catch the Darby Christmas party.
It may have been an unusual Christmas, and potluck fried rice may not measure up to my dad's green beans en brouchette or my uncle's stuffed potatoes, but Taiwan made for a pretty good Christmas. At the very least, I wound up with a glitter pen and a knit cap (thanks, Elizabeth). Now let's see how New Year's will measure up.
Happy holidays, everybody.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Big Gun
2012 seems to be the most discussed movie here in Taiwan right now. This is pretty disappointing since I haven't heard a thing about it that seems worht discussing, but whenever one of my English students, or Chinese teachers, my roommate or anyone else for that matter, tries to bring it up there's a moment of confusion about what exactly to call it. My students in particular cant sort out whether to break it into smaller numbers - Twenty Twelve - or just take it on one digit at a time - Teacher, have you seen Two Zero One Two?
We started talking about movies in my Chinese class, and our teacher brought up "The Day After Tomorrow." In Chinese there's an actual word for the day after tomorrow - "houtian" - so Tiffany, one of my classmates, joked that it must have been really easy to translate when it opened here. Our laoshi assured us that while in mainland China they just directly translate movie titles, in Taiwan they try to be more poetic, and to capture the essence of the movie. So instead of just "Houtian," in Taiwan they called it "What Will Happen After Tomorrow?"
"Also, like, 'Top Gun,'" she said, "In China, they just call it 'Big Gun.' Here we call it, oh I don't remember. But it's much better."
We started talking about movies in my Chinese class, and our teacher brought up "The Day After Tomorrow." In Chinese there's an actual word for the day after tomorrow - "houtian" - so Tiffany, one of my classmates, joked that it must have been really easy to translate when it opened here. Our laoshi assured us that while in mainland China they just directly translate movie titles, in Taiwan they try to be more poetic, and to capture the essence of the movie. So instead of just "Houtian," in Taiwan they called it "What Will Happen After Tomorrow?"
"Also, like, 'Top Gun,'" she said, "In China, they just call it 'Big Gun.' Here we call it, oh I don't remember. But it's much better."
Friday, December 4, 2009
Winter in the City
Although the temperature gets a bit lower, and the sky gets a little hazier from pollution, winter in Kaohsiung is more an idea than a season. And the people here certainly try to live up to that idea - on the streets and sidewalks people are bundled tightly in scarves and down jackets and acting as though the island isn't tropical. I've donned a jacket a few times myself, but more often than not it's for riding on my scooter since windchill is a vicious thing when there's no windshield or heater to protect you.
The most visible natural sign that it's winter is the haze that's settled over the city. The last rains for the year are over, and the dust and pollution from the streets have risen into the air to wait for the February rains to wash them out again. Mountains in the distance and skyscrapers nearby are nearly invisible, washed out by the grey that's been creeping higher and higher from the horizon over the past few weeks.
Every store is decked out in sequins and holly, and in the past few days it seems like every coffeeshop I find (and I have the supernatural power to find them anywhere) is playing Christmas-y pop music. I even hung around one shop after finishing my cup just so I could listen to all of "I'll be Home for Christmas." Even the cram school I work for has started to hang up fake pine boughs and cover walls in construction paper to make the main office look like a giant gingerbread house. Since few of the kids actually know anything about the holiday, I'm wondering if I can riff off the Hansel and Gretel story and tell them that Mrs. Claus puts children who scream in class into pressure cookers to render them down for candycanes.
The most visible natural sign that it's winter is the haze that's settled over the city. The last rains for the year are over, and the dust and pollution from the streets have risen into the air to wait for the February rains to wash them out again. Mountains in the distance and skyscrapers nearby are nearly invisible, washed out by the grey that's been creeping higher and higher from the horizon over the past few weeks.
Every store is decked out in sequins and holly, and in the past few days it seems like every coffeeshop I find (and I have the supernatural power to find them anywhere) is playing Christmas-y pop music. I even hung around one shop after finishing my cup just so I could listen to all of "I'll be Home for Christmas." Even the cram school I work for has started to hang up fake pine boughs and cover walls in construction paper to make the main office look like a giant gingerbread house. Since few of the kids actually know anything about the holiday, I'm wondering if I can riff off the Hansel and Gretel story and tell them that Mrs. Claus puts children who scream in class into pressure cookers to render them down for candycanes.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
A New You
After being here for three months, I finally got a haircut. Aside from generally disliking having realy long hair, it's a huge inconvenience here - the heat and air funk combined with wearing a helmet all the time just contributes to overall gross feelings. I finally got so fed up with it that I went to the first place a classmate suggested - Carrefour, a French-run department store that attracts Kaohsiung's affluent.
The price wasn't bad, but the drawback was that the woman spoke no English. In the end I got what I wanted - short hair. But she took so much that I look like a monastery novice. No offense to anyone interested in becoming a monk, but right now I don't think the life or the look is for me.
Things got interesting that evening though when I went in to teach and one of the students came up to me and said "Hello, teacher, what is your name?" To be fair, he wasn't one of my students, but I've been at Joy almost a month now and the kid thought it was my first day. The next morning in Chinese class, my teacher Xu laoshi thought I was a new student when she saw me from behind. Add to this my roommate's comment that I now look like Tom Cruise, and I humbly present my new thesis on Taiwanese culture: Foreigners all look the same. Change one thing, and you're a whole new person.
The price wasn't bad, but the drawback was that the woman spoke no English. In the end I got what I wanted - short hair. But she took so much that I look like a monastery novice. No offense to anyone interested in becoming a monk, but right now I don't think the life or the look is for me.
Things got interesting that evening though when I went in to teach and one of the students came up to me and said "Hello, teacher, what is your name?" To be fair, he wasn't one of my students, but I've been at Joy almost a month now and the kid thought it was my first day. The next morning in Chinese class, my teacher Xu laoshi thought I was a new student when she saw me from behind. Add to this my roommate's comment that I now look like Tom Cruise, and I humbly present my new thesis on Taiwanese culture: Foreigners all look the same. Change one thing, and you're a whole new person.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
The Ahmedabad Effect
There are a couple Chinese phrases that I immediately forget every time I hear them. Since most of my non-English interaction takes place in restaurants or other food-centered arenas, it's not that surprising that both have to do with meals. I've mastered how to ask for take out: the phrase sounds like asking "Why die?" And asking for tea or coffee on ice is no challenge -"bing," 冰 (although getting the tone wrong would mean asking for a soldier or a disease, most of the girls who work tea stands can figure out I mean). But I can never remember how to ask for a drink to be hot, and I'm at a total loss when I need to explain that I'd like to actually eat inside of a restaurant instead of just toting around a parcel of food.
At a lo mein shop I tried gesturing to the seats inside, which just confused the chefs taking my order, when the woman behind me said, "Sorry, what exactly are you asking for?"
Considering how many kids are put in after hours "cram schools" that employ nearly all the foreigners in the city, it doesn't really surprise me that so many people in Kaohsiung speak English. What does surprise me is the way these people materialize exactly when they're needed.
I've dubbed this phenomenon "the Ahmedabad Effect" - essentially when a stranger suddenly interprets a language you can't understand and surprises you be solving a problem explaining a situation. While we were in India in 2007, Katie, Meagan and I routinely wound up in situations where we had no idea what the hell was going on, be it buying overnight train tickets or literally crossing the street. Every time a person would appear almost magically to show us what we needed to do or explain what was happening.
The lesson: to survive in a foreign country you just need to do a few things. 1) Be white, 2) look obviously confused about what's going on around you and 3) be very, very gracious to whoever helps out. If you're just rude about it they may decide to never help confused white people again, and then we'd all be in trouble.
At a lo mein shop I tried gesturing to the seats inside, which just confused the chefs taking my order, when the woman behind me said, "Sorry, what exactly are you asking for?"
Considering how many kids are put in after hours "cram schools" that employ nearly all the foreigners in the city, it doesn't really surprise me that so many people in Kaohsiung speak English. What does surprise me is the way these people materialize exactly when they're needed.
I've dubbed this phenomenon "the Ahmedabad Effect" - essentially when a stranger suddenly interprets a language you can't understand and surprises you be solving a problem explaining a situation. While we were in India in 2007, Katie, Meagan and I routinely wound up in situations where we had no idea what the hell was going on, be it buying overnight train tickets or literally crossing the street. Every time a person would appear almost magically to show us what we needed to do or explain what was happening.
The lesson: to survive in a foreign country you just need to do a few things. 1) Be white, 2) look obviously confused about what's going on around you and 3) be very, very gracious to whoever helps out. If you're just rude about it they may decide to never help confused white people again, and then we'd all be in trouble.
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