Why zombie, you ask?  Well, yesterday, I was wandering around in a state of delirium.  It’s almost October, so it’s almost Halloween.  And, oh yes, I’ve been incommunicado in blogworld for too long, and I have come back from the dead! Wait.  Are zombies revived (well, not revived, as that would mean a new life, and they are quite unlike their original form, are they not?) from the dead?  Or what?  What is the provenance of zombies?  SOMEONE HELP ME!  I could ask the internet.  Wait.  I am asking the internet.

At any rate, quite a lot has transpired since I last updated.  Let’s see.  So, I was in Taiwan for much of the summer.  The first week, I visited my family.  My dad’s side lives in the mountains, and my mom’s side is in central Taiwan.  Then, I attended a language learning program sponsored by the Overseas Compatriot Affairs Commission (OCAC) for six weeks.  It’s for people who (theoretically) have some sort of connection to Taiwan, aged 18-24.  They’re the same people who run Loveboat (not it’s official name, which I think is Formosa Camp), which is kind of like the Taiwanese version of Birthright, if you know about that.

I’ll have to come back later and upload more Taiwan pictures.  JP’s sister, Cathy, noted that her impression of Taiwan was that it was very lush, and that was exactly the word that came to mind when I got to see the natural scenery.  Most of my time was spent in Taipei, though, which is all hustle and bustle.

When I returned from Taiwan, I had about two and a half weeks to pack for Ohio.  Oh yes, I have returned to the motherland.  Well, the non-Taiwan motherland.  Is your motherland where you were born, or where your mother was born?  And if the latter, then what if your mother and father were born in two different places?  Would it therefore be more accurate to have both a motherland and a fatherland?  I think Mik has some kind of Latinate terminology for such things.  I am no Latinist; nor am I a Hellenist.  Digression!  (Everyone but Mik should get that reference…)

At any rate, my parents set out from California on September 5, opening day of college football!  Luckily, both the Bears and the Buckeyes handily defeated their respective opponents.  (And sadly, are both one-loss teams now.)  We stopped in Salt Lake City, Denver (got to see Katie!), and St. Louis, before arriving in Columbus.  I’ll have to write more about that journey later; for now, let’s just note that, between sleeping and failing at life, I missed every state border crossing except for Ohio.  The heart of it all

What I really want to talk about today is something that happened this past Saturday night.  I’ve emailed this story to a couple people already, so I’m copy/pasting here.  Then, I’ll update at the bottom.

***

Cast of characters:
me
Natalie (my friend Peter’s friend, goes to OSU, is nice and showing me around)
Anna (their other friend from high school, just met her tonight)
8 guys who live in a house together (Kirk and Dusty are brothers, Jesse, and Ben are the relevant ones to this story)

Evening: at a bar. Nothing particular to note.

After: back to the guys’ place. It’s raining, so I walk fast. And that, I believe is how I manage to stay dryer than the other two girls do. I think. Or, you know, I’m a duck and repel water. OOH after this weekend’s game, I don’t think I should be making duck references. *Sigh* Anyway. A bunch of them smoke, so we sit on their porch and hang out, while away the hours, &c. Ben turns on the music from their roof and disappears. Mid-conversation, there is a loud CRASH. Uh-oh, car accident on their streetcorner. Dusty and Anna rush over to make sure people are ok. There are two cars involved, but a food delivery guy had just gotten to the guys’ place, so he pulled over to the side, and some good Samaritan also pulled over. Meanwhile, Dusty, Anna, and some other passersby make sure the people in the crash are doing ok and divert traffic. (All of a sudden, a bunch of cars, cabs, and pedestrians are trying to get through the previously-quiet intersection.)

Kirk goes upstairs to turn the music off, because Lady Gaga or something similar is, you know, probably not appropriate. Dusty and Anna are still on the street when the cops finally arrive, but then their statements are apparently not needed. I’m not sure what the procedural due process is for this, but I guess the driver of one car jumped out of her car immediately and started admitting fault/apologizing/&c. By the way? The driver of the other car lost a tooth and his passenger had something wrong with his neck. So, we sit on the porch and watch the police stand around, then start to interview only the people in the cars, not the passersby. The paramedics come and have to carry the second passenger away on a stretcher. Yeesh.

Meanwhile, Jesse doesn’t know why the music is off, so he turns it back on. As we’re all watching the street, every official’s head whips around toward us and they all say, “TURN IT OFF!” Kirk goes to make him turn it off again. The processing continues for awhile, until finally everyone leaves except for one squad car. The two police officers come to the porch and say, “Everyone get your IDs out.”

Uh, what?

The officers each go to one of the brothers; Kirk had been straightening up the porch and left his wallet on his seat, so when the police asked for his ID, the first thing he could find was his military ID. The officer seemed to think he was trying to get out of trouble by playing the serving-our-country card and was displeased. Dusty asked what was wrong, and the other officer started his tirade: “Did you SEE the accident happen in front of you? Police officers and paramedics need to be able to hear to do their job.” Dusty tried to interject, “We were trying to help…” but the officer cut him off, “I don’t care. It’s 3 in the morning, and everyone in a 50-block radius can hear you, you keep talking and we can cite you for any number of things…” He had taken Dusty’s ID, so Anna stood up (and Natalie and I were both going for ours, too) and asked, “Do you need to see my ID?”

The cop turned to her and brusquely demanded, “Do you live here?” And when she said no, he scoffed at her and said, “Then sit down and shut your mouth.” Um. Yes. America’s finest, ladies and gentlemen. They take the two IDs and go sit in their car, filling out their paperwork FOR A LONG TIME. We’re not sure if they’re just trying to make us sweat, or if it’s going to be a BFD. They then call Kirk over, who stands at the door and gets a long, angry lecture. He comes back with a citation. They then call Dusty over, and Kirk said that, among all the other things the police hurled at him, one of them said, “You can thank those girls up there for giving us lip.” EXCUSE ME?

It’s clearly not Anna’s fault, but she feels so bad that she is on the brink of tears, Kirk goes inside, clearly peeved but, you know, what can you do, and Dusty gets a much shorter lecture. The police finally pull away, seeming to have spent far more time trying to cite two brothers for something out of their control than actually surveying the accident.

GIVING THEM LIP!? EXCUSE YOURSELF!!! I’m definitely calling to file a complaint today. I don’t think it’ll do any good, but it needs to be on record that a) two men were cited for something they didn’t do (and I realize that there’s nothing my statement will be able to do about that) and b) the police officers treated all of us so rudely and unprofessionally.

***

So, I called the Department of Internal Affairs (sounds so serious!) and filed my complaint.  He didn’t take it very seriously, but he had to take it anyway.

Officer: So, he didn’t swear at you or anything?
Me: No.  And I realize, in the grand scheme of things, this is nothing compared to homicide.  But, it was rude and unprofessional.  You wouldn’t talk to your mother that way.
Officer: I would never compare this to speaking with my mother.
Me: That’s fine, but you simply don’t speak to people that way without giving the impression of rudeness.  Even had we been aggressive, which we were not, they would have been required to maintain their composure!

***

I don’t, in general, have “beef” with law enforcement.  We have systems.  All citizens, private or public, ought to do their best to uphold the reason and sanity of society.  The two police officers were out of line.

By the way?  It was Columbus PD, and the number on their squad car was 9041.  Keep an eye out for them, and if they’re nearby, I guess you’d better shut your mouth.

• We have a 10PM curfew. At 11, the building is locked. True story.
• Which means we sometimes have to go out at 9 and leave at…oh, 9:45. HAHA.
• Btw, we’re not allowed to drink. Even if we’re not in the building and of age (which all of us are, because we’re all over 18).
• Speaking of age, almost everyone is younger than I am. I’m such an old lady.
• The program had a kareoke contest today. My class won. (Clearly not by myself. That would be bad for all involved.) These are the songs my class did:
  • 王力宏 [你是我心内的一首歌]: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bgbrUigfLrE&NR=1
  • 周杰倫 [稻香]: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NgxPpw95bqc&NR=1
  • We paired off and did the dance in the first video. Except for my class has 4 guys and the rest are girls, so most of us were in girl-girl couples.

That seems to be about it for now. OH, I “saw” the solar eclipse today. Pretty cool.

Happy Independence Day, america.  Yesterday, we went to temple and my grandparents hired a new servant.  Both should be discussed.

We are Daoist…but also kind of Buddhist.  I asked my grandmother if she learned what we pray to as a child, and she laughed, “Who learns these things?”  So, I really don’t know who knows, and if I were more adept at reading Chinese, I could probably look up the names of deities written beneathe each figure, but I only know maybe one out of every three characters, if that, so it’s a bit impossible.  In high school, I did a group project about Daoism, but reading about the traditions in English is very different from doing things.  The customs are also so engrained culturally that it can vary from region to region and family to family because it’s how you lead your life, not a separate “religion compartment” that you open up to find an instructional manual.

My paternal grandmother told me to “make wishes,” but I find prayer a complex undertaking.  English?  Mandarin?  Taiwanese?  Does it matter?  Putting my desires and aspirations into words feels false, for these thoughts, not typically verbalized, are ill-fitted to my stilted prose.  So, too, are my aspirations prosaic.  If I ask for one “thing” for each member of my immediate familiy, I feel guilty for neglecting my grandparents’ health.  If I rotate through my relatives, who am I to decide what would most benefit each of their lives?  Then, too, if i am judicious in selecting spiritual boons, shouldn’t I concentrate my summoning powers on starving children and war-torn communities?

The whole experience is smoky, from the incense sticks we light to the god money we burn.  You enter from the right-hand door and exit from the left.  The doorways often have raised thresholds, because the gods can float; they don’t need to step over the panel the way we do.  My family takes a rather agnostic approach; my mother laughs a bit at some of the bizarre attributes we ascribe to our deities, but still teaches us the customs because she respects the institution.

Yesterday also saw the advent of a new servant.  JP once made the odd claim that Mongolia is the Mexico of Asia.  Not true.  I think East Asian nations have a relationship with Southeast Asia similar to the US with Mexico.  My grandmother explained to me that, in the early days, Taiwan hired many Filipino laborers.  The problem was that “they liked to go out on weekends, and they didn’t do work on Sundays because they would go to church.”  The labor force thus shifted to the Vietnamese, and I’m not sure if there was any problem with them.  Lee Papa mentioned that Taiwanese men started marrying Vietnamese women, so perhaps households were loathe to exploit “their own.”  At any rate, most workers now come from Indonesia.

Whether motivated by an intent to prevent exploitation or to protect Taiwanese menial laborers, the government passed laws restricting who could hire workers from Southeast Asia.  Households may only do so if someone is elderly or disabled.  Because my grandmother has been having knee troubles, my grandparents have hired a worker to help out around the house.  Two years ago, they had Anda, who was boisterous and claimed girlfriends all over Taiwan.  she ran away with one of them.  Because of the labor laws, they had to wait 6 months; then, the agent brought Lily.  Lily was very delicate and didn’t last very long.  She suffered from depression and went home.  Anda was my age; Lily, a couple years younger.  Yesterday, the agent brought Dina.

The interview with my uncle and his wife ranged from more understandable questions like, “Are you going to run away?” to odd/preposterous pronouncements from the agent, “She only looks dirty because she’s dark.”  the agent didn’t strike me as particularly genuine, sharing details of Dina’s life about which she was quite mistaken.  She tried to assure my family that this would be a good fit, but it became clear that she didn’t know much about Dina.

The entire system is exploitative, but my grandparents do need the help, and they treat their employees with respect and care.  at the same time, I don’t feel comfortable having Dina do things for me, as I’m neither old nor infirm.  I left all my laundry until today to do, so I was about 3/4 done this morning when Dina took over.  (I’m slow.)  It’s the guilt thing again.

She calls my aunt tai-tai (wife, or the Chinese equivalent of Madame), my grandparents Grandma and Grandpa, and me jie-jie (older sister).  Which is cute, but she’s 27, so she’s older than I am.  On the other hand, everyone in my family calls me jie-jie, because my mom’s younger sister is cute and affectionate, and she started calling me that.  So, I guess it’s not really a subservient thing.

My uncle, aunt, and cousin went to Kaoshiung today.  Before he left, my cousin talked to the fish: “I’m leaving now.  You guys be good!”  So cute!

–

I don’t think I’ve adequately worked through the power structure thing, but I’ll take a break now to share some pictures.

Here’s what a temple looks like.

I didn’t take pictures inside, but I did take pictures of the god money part.

This was the temple we went to with my maternal grandparents.  My dad’s village is in the mountains, and the temple there is set against this backdrop:

It’s enough to make you feel spiritual, isn’t it?

June 28, 2009

2009 is shaping up to be a year of many flights.  1/2 of the flight to Paris, the ones coming back from Paris, to and fro Columbus, and now, Taiwan.  Today’s estimated flight time is 12 hours 28 min; we are supposed to arrive in Taiwan at 9:55PM.  The plan: stay up the entire time, eat everything, drink everything, watch thought-provoking films, world movies, and trashy pleasures.  This should render me physically and mentally exhausted so that I can rest soundly upon arrival.

Now watching: The Watchmen

Followed by Two Lovers

–> bathroom break

~7 hours left

crossword interlude

And now, no video is showing.  might I have broken the feed?  Fail.  Aha.  There is a problem with the system, which they just announced.  At first, I was worried, because in Chinese, they said wo men shu yiao tsong shin chi dong, which i thought meant something was seriously amiss with the plane.  Luckily, the next announcement was in English: We need to reboot.

I’ll jot down some of the highlights of the day, and if the movies don’t start back up when I’m done, I’ll commence with the Oscar Wilde.  (I missed Pride, so it’s the next best thing.)

• Jon giving me advice
  • Try not to make people hate you
  • You’ll be living with 4 other girls.  Your cycles will sync. So I’ve been told.
  • Watch out for a guy called Louis.  He’s perverted…and smelly…
• Running into family friends we’ve known since Cleveland who now live in the Bay Area.  Same flight.
• Man starts talking to us in the waiting area.  Asked how many children Lee Papa and I had.  (Fail.)
• Man next to me on the plane got moved to better seats (three to himself) so Lee Papa and I get to spread out.  (Win.)
• The Watchmen-is superhero sex more super?  What’s the back story?
• Two Lovers-Why settle?  Didn’t Joaquin Phoenix go wonky?

Thoughts on the trip…

• Not yet packed for Ohio.  Fail.
• Lee Mama is neurotic.  Clearly, I’m her daughter…

Alright, time for some Wildeing…

July 1, 2009

I read “The Importance of Being Earnest,” (or should plays be underlined?) but then my eyes got really dry, so I thought I’d better take a nap.  I never did get any more movies to play.

-> baggage claim took forever!
-> American lady asked how to call home; she had lived in Taiwan 15 years ago
-> My name is listed wrong in the Taiwanese computers

We finally got back around 11PM and went to sleep.  The room i got seems cleaner than it was last year.  Hm.  I woke up around 8:30 and spent the day watching TV, with interludees helping out with the store and selling peaches.

-> something to look up: movie in French, took place in Japan.  Frenchman and his Japanese daughter.  Male lead looked familiar.

[I did look this up.  It's a movie called Wasabi.]

I wonder if I should read A Picture of Dorian Grey today.  It seems pretty creepy…

Now writing on THSR.  I ended up reading a book on mythology entitled…wait for it…Mythology.  Its author, Edith Hamilton, was apparently a renowned classicist.  This is yet to be confirmed by my classicist friends.

Between yesterday and today, I must have become much tastier, as I now have a multitude of bites and am oddly swollen.  Gross.  (Hand, finger, arms, possibly panty-line, face, feet, ankles…ô, my poor delicate ankles…)

Wow, HSR is freaking fast.  Well, duh, that’s the point.  It’ll take only half an hour to travel from Taoyuan to Taichung.  i feel pretty out of sorts.  First off, I ate too much for breakfast.  In the past, when I felt full, I could soldier on for another 10 minutes.  Now, if I fell full, I fell like throwing up.  Then, i twas hot.  Then, there were all the mosquito bites.  Then, there was the car ride down the mountain.  My intestinal fortitude is lacking these days, so the twists and turns began getting to me, at which point I took a nap.  Now, my eyes are dry, I’m swollen and itchy, and…I cannot go to school today, said little Peggy Ann McKay…

Let’s talk a bit about Asian guilt.  From a young age, I was taught that the home of my father’s childhood is my home.  These are my people, but they don’t know me.  Fewer and fewer in the village recognize my dad each time we go (it’s still a small town, though; many still know him); there is nothing in my visage to mark me as his or my grandmother’s.  Filial loyalty instills love and respect, but going to the mountains makes me uncomfortable.  Then, I am guilty, for I am uncomfortable.

Also up for disucssion- temple.  I’m never quite sure who hears my prayers, and my dad doesn’t really know, either.  I don’t know if he’s paid much attention to these things.  I should ask Lee Mama.

–

So, that’s all transcribed from my travel journal.  I’m now in central Taiwan with my mom’s family.  Perhaps there will be more later, but now, it’s time to eat

There are quite a few things on the to-do list, including the continuance of the travel journal entries (which exist…just not in electronic form!), Steve Chu stories, and of course, my paper on rum.  The last one probably doesn’t belong on this blog.  Unfortunately, I’ll be holding off on these goodies a little bit longer because this weekend, I’m visiting The Ohio State University and Miami University.

I’ll keep you posted.

As always, I turn to blogging when I should be working.  Don’t worry; it’s all to your benefit.  I bring you…more travel tales!  Youki, I’ll do you one better and include pictures when I post to FIT.  I promise.  Onto Day 3:

We had originally planned to go to Rouen on January 3, but rearranged our itinerary and decided to go to the Picasso Museum instead.  (Oh yes, there was quite a bit of itinerary-changing!)  Not so much French this time around.  I think I was too tired/cold when I was writing!

samedi 3 janvier 2009

Tiff needed a hat, so we started at the mall next door.  Auchan opens at 8h30, but the shops don’t open until 10.  Uhh…H&M finally rolled up the gate at 10h07.  Good job, guys.  Off we went…

We wandered around for awhile, searching for the museum.  Because we got off at Châtelet, we passed by Pompidou, so we went in.  There was a HUGE line in the back…for the bathroom.  (That was originally mis-written, and then crossed out.  That’s how tired I was when I wrote this.  I meant the library!)  Right.  We didn’t have museum passes yet, so we browsed a bit and headed out.  Actually, that’s not completely true.  We had just gotten the passes, an adventure in and of itself.  I knew we could go somewhere in Les Halles, possibly at a store?  The information guy [by the way, my handwriting got very sloppy here; I was definitely nodding off as I wrote!] said no, no passes here, but gave us a couple maps.  (Which I used for the rest of the trip, by the way.  Very handy…and slightly ragged by the end!)  I asked at a telephone store.  “Maybe FNCP???”  Turns out, I was close.  FNAC.  It’s a Virgin-like store.

We walked through the free part of Pompidou, then checked out a blindfolded painter in the courtyard.  Across from this glass monstrosity is an ancient cathedral/cloister; the juxtaposition seems so Paris.

I spotted a crêperie en route to the Musée (ok, that’s not hard to do), so I picked up a Nutella one and finished its gooey awesome-ness just as we arrived.  Both the museum and the artwork were pretty cool; in fact, there was a temporary exhibit going on, and when we asked about it at the end, we found out we had been walking through it the whole time.  A contemporary artist had erected huge mirrors and replaced some of the windows with colored panes.  (Other observations previously noted.)

***

[I interrupt myself to note that no, I have not noted my other observations here for the blog.  So, I will delineate my scribbles and perhaps find supporting Internet evidence for some of my favorite pieces...]

• pic of Diego Giacometti in Musée Picasso
• Picasso and ace of clubs-why?
• <<Le Baiser>> 12 janvier 1931
• <<La Suplicante>> 18 décembre 1937-wardrobe malfunction, missing shoe
• retrato = portrait (Sp.)
• I like <<Retrato de Dora Maar>>

***

We then met up with Joyce’s friend David underneath a statue of Danton at a Mètro station.  I think we saw a movie about Danton starring Gérard Depardieu in Barnett’s class.  David took us around the Latin Quarter.  We stopped in at a café whose doors, like many French doors, do not swing shut.  You must push them shut.  Later, Tiff and I had Cuban food.  I think I’m bad at picking cocktails–they’re always too sweet.

As Tiffany mentioned, we stayed at her mom’s friend’s ex-husband’s place right outside of Paris.  So, for future reference, Shu Shu = uncle and Ah Yi = auntie.  For about the first week, I have actual travel journal stories, so I’m just typing out what I wrote in the lovely journal Michelle gave me for Christmas

vendredi 2 janvier 2009

Aujourd’hui, nous nous reveillons à 9h45.  Pour le petit-déjeuner, nos hôtes nous offrent du pain, de la confiture des fraises, et 雞肉醬.  [Today, we awoke at 9:45.  For breakfast, our hosts offered us bread, strawberry jam, and "chicken paste."]  The jar wouldn’t open, though, and when I looked at it, I noticed it was <<de grenouilles.>>  That’s not 雞.  That’s 田雞!  (雞=chicken.  田雞=farm chicken=frog!)

Plus important, il neigeait!  [More important, it snowed!]  As we finished eating, the snow stopped falling, and the sun came out.  Before we left, we saw the snow start to melt.

Nous partons pour le gare.  Aujourd’hui, c’était un voyage plus facile que lequel d’hier, car nous n’avons pas eu nos bagages aujourd’hui.  Nous avons pris le RER C à Champs de Mars pour rendre visite à la  Tour Eiffel.  À midi, la tour était fermée car il faisait trop froid et, comme un officiel nous dit: <<It’s too icy.>>  Tout de même, il y avait un queue long ne bougeant pas.  [We leave for the station.  Today, it was an easier trip than yesterday's, because we didn't have our luggage today.  We took the RER C to Champs de Mars to visit the Eiffel Tower.  At noon, the tower was closed because it was too cold, and, like an official told us, "It's too icy."  All the same, there was a long line, not moving at all.]

Ainsi, nous nous sommes promenées au parc.  Une femme avec hijab nous a approché: <<Do you speak English?>>  Elle voulait de l’argent.  Nous avons pris de photos, de la tour et au mur de paix.  Nous avons marché plus, en passant l’École Militaire, un chocolatier, une libraire, des autres magasins, et beaucoup de cafés.  [And so, we walked around the park.  A woman in hijab approached us: "Do you speak English?"  She wanted money.  We took pictures--of the tower and of the Wall of Peace.  We walked some more, passing the Military School, a chocolatier, a bookstore, more shops, and many cafés.]

Les immeubles de la rue sont dans un style classique, avec des portes merveilleux.  J’aime bien ces portes.  [The apartment buildings in the street were in a classical style, with marvelous doors.  I really like those doors.]

En retournant à la tour, nous l’avons découverte ouverte, avec des queues tellement longs!  [On returning to the tower, we found it open, with so very long lines!]  There was a pair of girls in front of us around our age from some sort of place with white people that did not speak English, Spanish, or Italian.  They didn’t talk enough for me to figure out what language they were using.  In front of them was an American family; behind us were 3 Midwestern college students, possibly?  (Definitely American, maybe Midwestern.  Sidebar: while in the park, there were 2 little British girls “cantering” around yelling, “Giddy-up!”  Also, many cute little doggies.  Adorable.)

To climb the tower, it costs 3,10 € and many steps.  With the wind blowing, it was quite easy to become short of breath, although the stairs were pretty manageable in height-length ratio.

Gorgeous views of course.  Upon descent, we headed south and walked along Avenue de Suffren, which was mostly residential.  In search of lunch and the métro, we turned onto Motte-Picquet.

Pain au chocolat. Win.  Public telephone.  Lose.  We peered into the booth (3 stuck together in a triangle) and spied no coinslots; only a card slot.  I tried inserting my ATM card, to no avail.

We had to ask the lady at a desk of a hotel for help twice.  The calling card didn’t work.  The guys at a phone shop told us to buy a carte téléphonique at le tabac, which we hadn’t been able to find, but it was INSIDE the café!

Finally, we could call David, but he was on his way to his uncle’s for tea, so we decided to just stick around the area and browse.

Monoprix- amazing!  First floor: clothing, household items, boulanger, pâtisserie.  2nd: grocery store.  Coke is made with sugar, not high fructose corn syrup.

McDonald’s- really popular!?  Many kinds of coffee, breakfast sandwich: bacon & egg sandwich.

We meandered down the street (Commerce), which had many cute shops, at least three Asian buffets, and lights arching over the street.  There was a church at the end.

We headed back to the métro stop and got home just in time for dinner at 7h30.

*Random observation of the day: Placard on side of l’École Militaire in memory of 743 Jews sent to Auschwitz was rather non-descript.

***

Alright, now for some meta-commentary.  Here are some “dumb American” things on my part: the lady in a hijab?  All the ladies in hijab that I thought were Muslim?  Were probably gypsies.  I never did end up trying the frog paste, even after it was opened (but Tiffany did, so maybe she’ll tell you about it), but I did have snails, ok?

Oh, and David is Joyce’s friend from Princeton who is parisien and was nice enough to show us around (later in the trip).

I’ll post pictures of things at some point.  They have been uploaded to the Internet, but I’m not sure if I want to insert them in blog posts or not.  Anyway, Ashley had greatly recommended Monoprix to me, so I was super excited to check it out (continuously throughout the trip), and since it was across from McDonald’s, we looked at its menu, too.  Also, I believe buffet in the French sense is like “smorgasbord,” or “spread,” rather than “all-you-can-eat.”

I’m visiting Davis this weekend, though, and Allie is lying in bed yelling at me/talking to Sichen, so I should excuse myself.  À bientôt!

I have been remiss in posting, but here’s good news!  My travel buddy, Tiffany, a friend from high school, is not yet back in school.  That’s right, they don’t start until February!  Can you imagine!?  February. So, lucky for you (?), she has composed a guest post about our travels.  Without further ado…

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Bonjour readers =) You are in for a treat today: a guest blog! This is Cindy’s good friend Tiffany and more recently, Cindy’s comrade on our fabulous trip to France. It was absolutely one of the best trips I have ever taken, and I highly recommend a trip to France to all those who have never been there. Heck, bring Cindy along too. Then you can relive my experience =P

So what is Paris like? Well, it is all Eiffel Tower, museums, coffee, bakeries, and shopping. Basically, everything anyone has ever told you about Paris. But despite all that I have ever heard, I still was not prepared for what Paris is really like. For one, it is a big city on a very small area of land. Walking from one end of Paris to the other, and I’m talking about edge of suburbia to other edge of suburbia, is definitely feasible if you’re willing to go on foot for probably 3 to 4 hours. Crazy right? I wouldn’t even dare dream about walking from one end of New York City to the other unless I had an entire day. French people are also an entire other aspect. Or maybe just people in Paris since those were pretty much the only French people I was exposed to. First of all, the French are not as rude as their stereotype. Or maybe I was just imagining egregious snubbing, in which case, it is not difficult to exceed expectations. Honestly, though, I found the French very friendly. They say hi to strangers, perhaps even more so than people in the United States. Then again, I’m so used to ignoring the people in my surroundings while at college that my personal experience is most likely a very terrible example to base off of. All I can say for myself is that I definitely said hi to more strangers in France than ever at home. Their fashion during the winter is definitely all drab, dark colors. Everyone in France wore black, gray, or dark shades, and that coupled with the rain, snow, and clouds was pretty dreary at first, but you get used to it. I’m sure it’s just a winter fashion thing because their spring lines came out while we were there, and the colors were definitely very spring-like.

Ok, enough about France for now; I don’t want to bore you ten sentences into this entry, so I’ll tell you about me and Cindy’s first, slightly amusing mishap. As a quick background, in France, Cindy and I stayed with a family friend of mine in a small suburb right outside of Paris called Issy les Moulineaux. It was actually a great location because we lived within 3 minutes walking distance of the train station. Train and subway is seriously the only way to get around Paris if you don’t want to walk, and the system is very good, though there are daily delays and quite a few “accidents.” I should probably also clarify the family friend aspect. We were actually staying at my mom’s friend’s ex-husband’s place in France. He’s definitely a character… Shu Shu is very cheap, as in frugal up to the point where it’s simply ridiculous. He’s been in France for the past year because his company in Taiwan sort of sent him out on this long-term business trip. I found him all at once to be absurd, amusing, annoying, and I guess my relation to him began and ended the same way after three weeks – acquaintances. I definitely relied a lot on Cindy to keep conversations going at breakfast or dinner. My Chinese is most definitely not as fluent as hers nor am I willing to maintain conversations, so Cindy was definitely a lifesaver. His wife, on the other hand, is really amiable and funny, so that was definitely a plus. Ok, but what of the mishap that I totally got off topic from? Alright. So it’s maybe three days into our trip and it’s something like 10 pm. I was lying in bed, about to sleep, and Cindy had just gone to the bathroom and was now brushing her teeth. A while later, she comes in and lies down, and we’re both laying there in the dark, listening to the toilet still run from flushing when Cindy then turns to me and asks, “Is the water still supposed to be running like that?” At the time, I was thinking the exact same thing because the water had definitely been running long enough to become noticeable. We both get up to inspect the toilet, and it must have been near midnight by now. I think we both might have been a bit nervous because we really couldn’t wake Shu Shu up to ask how to fix the toilet since it was late and he had work tomorrow. And besides, it’s kind of embarrassing having to tell your hosts that you broke their toilet less than a week in. It also didn’t help that it was at this most inconvenient time that I was beginning to remember that the other day, the drain on their bath tub was slightly clogged while I was showering. I mean, seriously, why not just pour on the bad news right? “Morning Shu Shu. Um… while you were sleeping, Cindy and I kind of broke the toilet, and your drain is now clogged. I kind of noticed it while showering last night.” It just would not have gone over well, especially since I suspect that the drain stoppage was due to mine and Cindy’s hair…

Anyway, Cindy and I decide to lift the ceramic cover on the back of the toilet. While she holds it up, I kind of start fiddling with the pipes and stuff inside. Eventually, we manage to get this central tube to disengage, and the water stops flowing and actually starts to accumulate in the tank. Hooray, we fixed it! Cindy puts the ceramic cover back on, and we happily go to the sink to wash our hands. Cindy picks up the bar of soap next to the sink and starts scrubbing her hands, and I offhandedly comment, “Oh, is that the soap you’ve been using?” She looks at me confusedly and responds, “Um, yes?” She then watches as I pick up this bottle on the other side of the sink with a blue clear-ish liquid, examining it while wondering aloud, “Wait, then what is this?” I turn around the bottle, which I had assumed was soap since it had the pumping type of nozzle, to read the label and was horrified to read something about daily facial cleansing something. “Oh my god! I can’t believe I’ve been using facial cleanser for hand soap!” Cindy proceeds to burst out laughing, and we hurry back to our bedroom. Not only do we manage to nearly break the toilet and clog the bathtub, but I had been using Shu Shu’s wife’s facial wash to wash my hands for the past few days. Cindy and I both agreed as we got back into bed that we would definitely not mention to them any of this, and we finally got to sleep a little before midnight.

Moral of this little story? None really. Just know that living with Cindy seriously isn’t that bad. There are definitely other tales I could regale you of Brussels, beer, and boys, but that might have to wait a bit as this story took a lot longer to write than expected. ~Tiff

Alright kids.  I’m waiting for Allie in lab right now, so I’ll start transcribing from my travel journal, which, by the way, is still not completely updated.  I figured I should have a handwritten record, and Michelle gave me a cute little notebook to use right before I left, so I’ve been jotting down notes and stories while I’ve been gone.  Here goes!

Leg 1: SFO > DTW

Tiff and I sit apart; someone is sitting in my seat so I sit with a family from Sacramento.  The mom is a Buckeye!  We talk about her travels (Hawaii, Belize, Jamaica, Mexico, England, France, Italy), her work (family care nurse), her husband (pharmacist–I almost mentioned my first-time pharmacy purchase), her kids, her dad (WWII vet), the drinking age in C-bus (used to be 18; her kids think she’s a lush), &c.

I also slept a bit, drank water, and avoided the bathroom.  Arrival in Detroit: 17°F.

Items of note: tram, Jose Cuervo Tequileria, Starbucks, diner whose breakfast costs half of SFO, TCBY but no Dunkin Donuts.  HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Leg 2: DTW > CDG

Departure temperature: 15°F.

Drinks, then dinner, then SkyMall, then breakfast.  (I definitely got carded when I asked for wine.  WHAT?!  On an international flight?  To France?)

read: Paris Match, Herald Tribune

Arrival

I don’t seem to have this already written out, so this will be a brief synopsis from my memory.  We arrived around 11 and took some time in picking up our luggage, clearing customs, and the like.  Then, the transportation adventure began.  The line to purchase train tickets was long, whether it was from a kiosk or from a human being.  The lady at the window wasn’t particularly friendly when we tried to buy the transportation pass, so we bought only the one-way ticket (holy freaking expensive!  8€40!) and left.  The train took us through many graffiti-ed neighborhoods, and there was more adventure to be had when we reached the town, Issy-les-Moulineaux.

To be continued…

Hello!  I’m blogging from a suburb of Paris on Tiffany’s computer, which is either set to California time or Boston time.  As I’m too lazy to figure out what time it actually is, I think I’d better get to bed–my flight leaves tomorrow (today?) at 2 in the afternoon, and I’ll get to SFO at 10 at night.  Coming soon: trip updates!  Hurray!  And thanks to Youki and Jen for the shoutouts

PS: The jardins were definitely less impressive in the winter than they would have been otherwise.

PS2: I have blurbs for Found in Translation!  Coming soon!