Happy Thanksgiving

This past week has been a rather frantic whirlwind of emotions.

November was an especially busy month to be a student, because we had a speech contest, a final, and good-byes to prepare for. I also had friends visiting from Japan the week before the speech.

I must admit I'm not the best at maintaining balance in my life. Over the years I've definitely learned that when I'm really passionate about something, I tend to work my butt off, regardless of the consequences. My passion is something I've always taken pride in (why do something if you're not going to go all the way?), but it's also something that has consumed me as much as it has helped me.

Case in point: I really wanted to do well in my speech and my final. It's true that I'm generally a pretty competitive person (those who have had the misfortune of playing board games with me know this firsthand), but mainly I wanted to do well for my own sake. I came to Taiwan to study Chinese seriously, so doing well at the speech (even though I was terrified) and doing well in my final (also terrifying, but in a different way) were two big priorities for me.

I think during the whole month of November I slept maybe an average of 5 hours every night - when I wasn't studying Chinese, doing language exchange, or teaching English, I was busy trying to memorize the speech, which took even longer than expected due to the numerous corrections my teacher, exchange partners, and friends helped me make. But in the end, it was worth it, because I knew that speech backwards and forwards. I can still probably recite it from memory now. Maybe I can't pronounce every phrase correctly (Chinese tones are so hard to get down!), but I come pretty close.

Unfortunately, in the mist of everything that made up the busyness of November, I forgot to take care of one crucial issue, something that resulted in some serious consequences: I forgot to extend my visitor's visa. In Taiwan, you can extend your visitor's visa up to one month if you're a full-time student at an accredited university Chinese Language Center; after 4 months of continuous study you can apply for a resident's visa. However, the catch is that you have to go to the immigration office about 5-7 days before the visa actually expires; otherwise, it's a no-go. I didn't do that. As a result, by the time I discovered my mistake, I had already overstayed my visa by 2 days.

I never had to worry about extending a visa abroad before because 1) I either didn't stay long enough to warrant needing an extension or 2) someone else took care of it for me (as was the case in Japan, where I could pretty much stay for 3 years without ever visiting the immigration office). I remember during NCCU's orientation, they put a lot of stress on remembering to extend your visa, because the immigration office is not at all lenient when it comes to visa infractions, no matter how desperately you plead your case.

Once I realized my mistake (which, in a cruel twist of fate, happened to be right after I took my final), I had one choice and one choice only: to leave Taiwan and come back. Moreover, I had 8 days to get out or my fine for overstaying would increase at least ten-fold. Luckily, my discovery of my mistake coincided with our one-week break between semesters, so getting time off wasn't an issue. Financially, I probably could have done without the spontaneous round-trip ticket to Hong Kong, but plane tickets were not as expensive as I imagined, considering that I had booked it 2 days prior. And of course, I had good friends to stay with in Hong Kong, something for which I cannot express my gratitude enough. They made my stay as seamless as possible - if it weren't for them, the situation would have been significantly more stressful than it already was.

Going through the immigration office at the airport was the only time as of yet that I've seen Taiwanese officials look truly unfriendly. They don't take visa overstays lightly - even for students such as myself. Even though I had only overstayed about 5 days up until that point, I had to pay a fine and got a scary-looking stamp in my passport that basically says I can't enter Taiwan without a visa for one year. Unfortunately, this means my visa saga is not yet over, as I am planning to travel outside of Taiwan before my 90 days is up. Which means...I need to get another visa, in another country, if I want to go back into Taiwan. This obviously takes time and money.

When this first happened, I felt pretty miserable and stupid about it. Sure, I may have done well in the speech (with the help of numerous individuals) and on the final (also with others' help), but how could I have been so stupid to make such a costly mistake? The whole situation would have been easily avoidable if I had just remembered to stop by the immigration office the second week of November and applied, free of charge, for that initial visa extension.

However, I realize that lamenting over my stupidity and carelessness is rather pointless, as it doesn't really change anything, much less make the situation more bearable. On the contrary, I should really focus on the positive things that came out of this situation. Were it not for everyone who helped me - my friend who let me stay at her place and even came to the airport early Sunday morning to meet me, her boyfriend who cooked us dinner nearly every night and let me crash on their couch, my classmates who consoled me in my throes of misery, the office ladies at the CLC who helped me call immigration several times, my friends who told me what I would need to do to get this issue sorted out, even the immigration officers who let me back into Taiwan - this situation would have ended up much, much worse. I lost time and money, but I also realized that there are a considerable amount of people in this world that I am truly grateful for.

Ultimately, striving to do your best at any one endeavor should not overshadow other necessities in life, the most important being your health and peace of mind. While diligently preparing for my studies, I repeatedly neglected these two areas to no avail and as a result paid the price in more ways than one. What's the point of being a good student (or good anything, really) if it means you lose out on yourself as a whole? This is a lesson I continually forget, no matter how old I get. But I'm not a child anymore; I need to take better care of myself, for my own sake and that of others.

Today, I want to give thanks to the many people in my life who have helped me out in tough situations. I am so grateful for my family, the friends I've met, the people I've encountered, and the good times I've had. I am fortunate to have each and every one of them in my life. Adversity, big or small, only makes this that much more clear.

Gross, I just vomited after taking one of the pills that the doctor prescribed me.

This is why I don't take medicine. Before going to the doctor, I had a fever (that I didn't know I had) and my throat was killing me, yes, but I was still eating and walking normally. After going to the doctor (who was very nice, have nothing against her) and getting a bunch of pills and taking them like I was supposed to, what happens? 1) I completely lose my appetite. 2) I'm not sure if this is because I didn't eat anything substantial in 24 hours, but I almost pass out walking from my apartment to 7/11, which is like 2 blocks away. By almost pass out I mean like seeing lots of black dots, man. 3) I get stomach pains all day and start vomiting. So gross!!! I haven't vomited since I don't even remember and I HATE the feeling.

Next time, I'm not going to the doctor and I'm not going to take medicine.

Tests and Hospitals

Today we had our midterm. It was divided into three sections: 1) listening, 2) written, including a short essay (only 100 characters), and 3) speaking. Listening was harder than I expected, the essay wasn't as bad as I expected, and speaking went fine. The thing that really screwed me over was the part where we had to mark the tones though. I know I messed up on that part because I really wasn't expecting it to be a big part of the test and therefore did not study much for it.


But anyway, it's over now, at least. I didn't sleep very well the night before so I was pretty tired throughout most of it. The reason I didn't sleep well is because over this past week, I had what I thought was a relatively benign cold. I was coughing a little bit and I didn't feel well. Then one day I woke up with a really bad sore throat and it eventually grew to the point where I couldn't swallow anything without it hurting. So today I went to the hospital near the school (I bought health insurance when I registered for classes).

Taiwanese hospitals are interesting. Like every other official building here, you take a number and wait for your turn. Well, I got number 9 and they were going through at least 2 numbers every few minutes, it seemed like. It wasn't 10 minutes before it was my turn. I walked in and luckily the doctor spoke pretty good English. She asked me about my symptoms and then this nurse walked by, stuck something in my ear, and said something to the doctor in Chinese. She said I apparently had a high fever, which surprised me because I felt unwell, but not burning hot or anything. Then she said my throat was inflamed and she wasn't sure if it was an infection or a symptom of a cold. So I got some medicine to take and if my fever doesn't break in 3 days I have to go back. I was in and out in less than 20 minutes.

I'm kind of bummed because even though my midterm is over I can't really have fun because I'm not feeling well. But I suppose the smart thing to do would be to stay in this weekend and not do anything strenuous. I was going to go run tonight but I don't feel like it anymore. Just feeling really lethargic....

When I moved to Taipei, I thought I was being smart by not bringing a lot of clothes with me. But I really underestimated how often it rains here. Plus it can be really hot outside and then you walk into a building or walk onto a train and you're blasted with cold air. And lately at night I feel like I need another blanket, more than the thin one I currently have. (But maybe that's because I'm sick?) Basically I don't dress appropriately for the weather because I didn't bring enough clothes. And also the weather here really sucks. If it's not humid, then it's raining. And it rains off and on so you really can't predict when it will rain so you have to carry your umbrella with you at all times. And you can't plan a lot of day trips in case it suddenly starts raining. I knew the weather was going to make me sick.

I currently have no appetite.

So tired

We have our midterm this Friday, which is worth 30% of our overall grade, so everyone's been showing up to class really tired. I think we all start talking really strangely in Chinese when we're tired, including me. Been studying every day...initially I thought Chinese grammar was pretty easy (especially compared to Japanese), but I'm not sure what happened in merely a month, it seems to be getting a lot harder already. I especially have trouble using 了, which has so many uses other than past tense...

I also attended the scholarship ceremony for all the Huayu recipients...which was held more than a month after most of us have already started classes, not sure why they decided to do it so much later. It was nice of them to put together the event though. The only question I had was why group us by nationality - I currently feel more uncomfortable sitting at a table filled with only Americans than I do at a table filled with various nationalities, such as the situation in my Chinese class. Not to mention, I was the only Asian-American, period; it seemed like 90% of the American scholarship recipients were white males. I think I was very tired that day, but I didn't find any of our conversations particularly stimulating. Perhaps I simply feel less American as time goes on...

I am sort of rambling because I'm tired. My sleep schedule got thrown off by the typhoon and I have a cold. I hope I can recover by this weekend. We have Thursday off, but we'll probably spend the whole day studying.

Saying Good-bye Abroad

Though there are many awesome things about living abroad, there is one very definite downside that has me preoccupied lately.

It's not culture shock. Since arriving in Taipei, I haven't experienced much culture shock at all. Right now off the top of my head I can't really think of anything that has really shocked me about being here. Taiwan is definitely more like the U.S. than Japan was.

It's not missing home either. Although I miss my family and friends like any normal person, I don't yearn for them in that way that makes you wish you had never left. It's become second nature not to see them on a regular basis, or even talk to them regularly, partially because I know that we will be reunited eventually. Things might have changed a lot by that time, but relationships can also be rebuilt, perhaps for the better.

What sometimes makes me a little sad though is the ultimately fleeting nature of my relationships abroad. When you're living in a foreign country, you often form bonds with people you otherwise might have never met or gotten to know. This is a great feeling. You find things you can talk about, laugh about, maybe even argue about. You see them on a regular basis and get to know them as individuals, both the quirks and the annoyances. But at the end of the day, you know that all the good friends you've made and the sweet moments you've had- none of it is permanent. Eventually, the day will come when you have to say good-bye to those you've known and fly home, leaving it all behind.

This is not to say that it's impossible to stay in touch with friends living in other countries. But the relationships you have with them after you have left will never be the same as when you were in the same time and place; it can't be. Nothing can replace spending time with someone in person - enjoying the little nuances that can never be captured in print or photos. And though I will always try my best to stay in touch with those I care about, no matter where they are, my knowing them will forever be rooted in the fact that nothing is permanent, and moments from one area of the world cannot be replicated in another. Good-byes will be said, and life will continue in its own fluid fashion. I know that they will likely never live in America, and I will likely never live in their country. Hence the inevitable parting of ways - maybe not of the emotional kind but definitely the physical. They simply won't be a bus ride away.

It is times like these when I wish I could freeze time and preserve moments beyond their mere memories. But I suppose no moment is as sweet without impermanence to temper its sweetness.

The only way to deal with it is to enjoy being in the moment as much as possible, and to remain grateful for the experiences had (and for the ones yet to come). And to enjoy the company of those you were lucky enough to meet.

It is a very bittersweet feeling.

Typhoon and School Activities

We had a four-day weekend for Mid-Autumn Festival, which was great. The not so great part? I barely got any sleep. Typhoon Usagi recently came to Taiwan, which meant that these past few days have been filled with a tremendous amount of rain and wind. My first umbrella got ripped apart because of how strong the winds were. Then there's the howling at night. I don't think I ever experienced this strong of a typhoon in Japan. I was honestly afraid of the windows in my apartment shattering from the sheer force of the wind, which was made all the worse by the fact that they're located right next to where I sleep. (I really don't want to wake up with a glass shard stuck in my eye.)

I already have a bit of a tough time sleeping through the night here, because I'm not used to how flat the pillow is or how hard the mattresses in Taiwan are (I know, I sound like such a princess, but I swear, I can usually sleep anywhere!). Recently I've been waking up more and more often with a serious neck ache. But these past few days, not only has there still been lots of humidity (it doesn't even go away with the storms), but the noise from the typhoon has repeatedly kept me up. It sounds like a giant smashing his big fist into the walls.

Luckily the typhoon is gone now (or so they say), so I'm hoping for a good night's sleep tonight after 4 days of little sleep. It rains so much in Taipei. I know I shouldn't be this surprised because Taiwan is a tropical country, so the rain makes sense, but it's really inconvenient. I'm kind of worried that having just one waterproof jacket won't be enough to get by here, especially during fall, when the weather becomes even more unpredictable. Plus I haven't been able to do a lot of the stuff I've been wanting to do, like running or hiking. How am I supposed to train for the race in October when I can't even run? I suppose I could run in the rain, but I'm worried about catching a cold or damaging my music player. Since I have class nearly every day, getting sick wouldn't be very pleasant.

On a good note, I'm starting some free courses this upcoming week, on top of my regular language courses. I signed up for a basic pronunciation class (I really need a tone refresher course), a TOCFL (Test of Chinese as a Foreign Language) listening prep course, and just for kicks, a Shaolin Fist Punch course. I don't really know what that last one entails, but I'm excited because I always wanted to do martial arts as a kid but my mom wouldn't let me (not for girls, she said). Now I can finally see what it's all about! That class filled up really quickly (only 15 spots) so I'm glad I was able to get in.

Basically, starting from this week, I'm going to be spending a lot more time on campus. They're going to do a Club Fair this week, and NCCU has a fair share of clubs, including academic clubs, athletic clubs and just-for-fun clubs. A few friends and I are planning to join the Film Club, although I'm a little worried all the movies will be in Chinese with no English subtitles. Oh well, I'm curious regardless.

I think this week will be very busy (starting a new language exchange as well!), but in a good way.

How to Study Mandarin in Taiwan for Free

Towards the end of my teaching contract in Japan, I was thinking seriously about my next step. Did I want to go back to the U.S. and apply for jobs/internships/grad school or attempt to live in another foreign country? I've mentioned this before, but my interest in my heritage peaked while I was in Japan, as did my desire to study the language of my parents' home country. I initially wanted to study Cantonese and retain my childhood fluency, but as most academic centers do not teach Cantonese, I realized that this would be hard to do (and Mandarin is undeniably more useful).

At the same time, I had just gotten back from visiting friends in Taiwan and had loved many things about it, including the food, the environment and the ease with which people interacted with one another. Though I had a great time in Japan and wouldn't trade that experience for anything, Taiwan felt pretty different to me - less grounded in rigid customs and, in many ways, more international. And of course, everyone spoke Mandarin there.

So it was really great timing when I happened to stumble across this article while still in Japan, about getting paid to study Mandarin in Taiwan. It seemed like the perfect fit for what I wanted to do next: be a student again while still managing to live in a foreign country (I suppose I wasn't quite ready to return to the States permanently yet).

Initially, finding out where to apply was tricky. The Huayu scholarship is basically open to anyone without Taiwanese citizenship and who is not an overseas Chinese student, but to apply you must find the nearest embassy in your country of residence. For me, this was San Francisco. Though the Huayu scholarship application is supposed to be released in January, I don't think SF's website had it up until the beginning of February. The deadline is always at the end of March, but it is recommended that you send in the application package as soon as possible for a higher chance of getting accepted.

Putting the application together was a little bit tougher for me since most of my contacts were located overseas. I had to make sure to mail in the application early enough so that it would reach San Francisco (from Japan) long before the deadline. Filling out the application and writing the study plan (essentially the statement of purpose) didn't take me that long, but I also had to secure two letters of recommendation. For one of them, I asked my boss in Japan, who graciously wrote me one almost immediately after I put in the request. For the second, I asked one of my professors from UCLA; however, since I wasn't living in California, I asked that she please mail the recommendation to my residence in Japan so that I could assemble all the materials myself. (It is also recommended that you send everything in one package, to minimize the chances of something getting lost in the mail.)

The application also asked for a formal, stamped copy of my university transcripts, which I had to order online. However, when the transcripts had yet to arrive to Japan after one week, I called the registrar office and they told me that international postage can often take as long as 2 weeks to arrive, if you don't pay for the expedited service (which I didn't, since I thought I had ordered them early enough). As a courtesy, they told me they could send me another copy, free of charge, to my home address in the States, which I could then have someone forward to me using a faster mailing option. I eventually asked my dad to do so.

Obviously, the whole process would have been a lot less stressful and cheaper had I applied back in California (I wouldn't have had to pay for international postage, for one), but since I wouldn't be returning home until April, this wasn't really an option. Another unexpected obstacle I ran into was not having a printer in my Japanese apartment. At first, I decided that the best option was to use an internet cafe nearby, which offers printing charged by the page. This became somewhat of an ordeal due to various reasons, but fortunately, I managed to print everything out after several failed attempts.

Some tips on the application:

1. Give serious thought to your letters of recommendation. I can't know for sure, but I'm pretty sure they play a pretty significant role in the selection. The way I saw it, the scholarship committee (whoever that might be) would definitely want to pick candidates who a) would likely finish out their term in Taiwan without incident and b) had academic qualifications that proved they could take their Chinese studies seriously.

This doesn't mean you have to be good at Chinese or even know any Chinese to apply (this matters for the other scholarships, but not Huayu). 

Essentially, they want someone who can live abroad for an extended period of time and who has a strong background in academia. Since I had already spent well over a year living and working in Japan, I figured that asking someone from my job would show that I could successfully live in a foreign country and carry out my responsibilities diligently. As for the academic part, I have a feeling that graduating from UCLA with a fairly high GPA carried some weight, as did asking someone who could extensively assess my abilities in the classroom (I ended up asking a professor in the film department, whose class I had absolutely loved and did pretty well in).

2. Make sure your "study plan" is amazingly thorough and personal. When I first read the "study plan" part, which stated, "Please describe your study plan in Taiwan in __ number of words," I was initially confused. Did they mean how much I was planning to study once I got to Taiwan or the means by which I would be studying? It seemed strangely worded, to say the least. However, after doing some googling, I realized that they were really just asking for a statement of purpose. Why Taiwan? Why Mandarin? How does this apply for your future plans and how are you planning to implement these goals during your time there?

One of the reasons why this scholarship exists is to promote international exchange among citizens of countries with diplomatic ties to Taiwan. It's important to focus in your essay on why you picked Taiwan specifically, as opposed to other countries where you can also learn Mandarin (China, for example). So showing in your essays that you have some political knowledge about Taiwan is very important, as well as explaining how that knowledge relates to your academic and career goals.

Since this is the only part of the application where your personal agenda can really shine, it's important to spend a lot of time on it and have someone (or many people) read it over and offer critiques. They want to make sure they're not giving the scholarship to someone who just wants free money to spend in a foreign country.

3. Stay in touch with your embassy and the language center that you're planning to study at. For those interested in learning Mandarin in Taiwan, there are a lot of language centers you can choose from. Initially I was debating on whether to study in Kaohsiung or Taipei. I didn't want to be in a big city, but most of the major language centers are located in the more densely populated areas of Taiwan (obviously). You have to pick your language center before you apply and request a letter of acceptance to submit with your application. This isn't hard to do, but it does involve choosing a place early on and keeping in touch with them throughout the application process (think: lots of paperwork).

I ultimately decided on NCCU because 1) it was located in Taipei, but in a more rural, scenic area than most of the major language centers downtown, 2) it got lots of positive reviews online, 3) it was about the same price as the language center I was looking at in Kaohsiung, where I initially wanted to go because living expenses would presumably be cheaper than in Taipei. However, I knew that Kaohsiung had worse humidity than Taipei, and that was the ultimate deal-breaker for me.

I'm glad I made the choice to go to NCCU because it's an incredibly international school (with some of the best English programs in any Taiwan university, though that doesn't really affect me as a language student) and they seem very organized in all their dealings with international students. For example, the woman in charge of admissions to the language center always responded immediately to my e-mails and was very straightforward in informing me of the paperwork she needed to complete the application process. She was also really warm, friendly and easy to communicate with. In fact, I was significantly more impressed by my dealings with NCCU than with the experience I had at the embassy in San Francisco (getting a visa was probably one of the most exasperating parts of the whole experience).

And though I didn't know this at the time, it doesn't seem like there are that many Americans studying at NCCU's Chinese Language Center. Most of the people I've met are from somewhere else in Asia (mainly Korea and Japan), Europe or Latin America. It's great because it definitely feels like one big melting pot where you're meeting people from all over the world - and as a bonus, it's very easy to find exchange partners when your primary language is English (still the lingua franca of the developed world).

Pro: 4-Day weekend due to autumn moon festival



Con: High probability of rain all weekend due to incoming typhoon



Result: Will probably spend a lot of time doing hw/studying

The Cost of University in America

I was talking about university costs with my Japanese classmate during our language exchange session. Because she's an exchange student, her yearly fees at NCCU's Chinese Learning Center are waived; she only needs to pay her university back home in Japan. I asked her if tuition costs a lot, and she replied that yes, because her university in Tokyo is a private one, tuition is fairly high. Curious, I asked her how much her tuition was per year, bracing myself for some astronomically high number.

Turns out, the amount she pays per year is around 50% less than what the average public university cost is in the U.S.(think any University of California school). I asked her how much tuition would cost at the top school in Japan, Tokyo University. She said it would be cheaper, since Todai is a public university and heavily subsidized by the government. When you think about it, the differences really are baffling. The top universities in the U.S., or least those that appear to be best ranked academically, are, for the most part, private schools: Harvard, Yale, Stanford, etc. Based on the estimate my friend gave me, the cost of attending a private university in the U.S. is about 75% higher than attending one of the same caliber (relatively speaking) in Japan. 

In Japan, it seems, getting into a public university often seems more competitive than getting into a private school - when you consider that many of the best-acclaimed schools (Tokyo University, Kyoto University and Osaka University, to name a few) are national institutions rather than privatized. So along with getting a great education, there's the financial incentive of having to pay less, which means more applicants and a lower acceptance rate. Therefore, one would assume that the public universities attract the cream of the crop, which then raises their rankings even more. It's like an endless feedback loop of (affordable) quality attracting talent.

But not so in the U.S. The most highly ranked schools are private institutions, not public, and therefore cost a lot more to attend. Even the application fees alone are higher. So who ends up applying to these schools? Applicants with talent, yes, but also applicants with more money. Of course, private universities have a lot more money to give out as well, meaning that scholarship packages are more likely to be substantial and readily distributed based on need.

However, what does it take for an average high school applicant in the U.S. to be groomed for a place like Harvard? Either you have to be at the very top of a low-performing school (and have qualities that put you high on the affirmative action list) or you probably attend some kind of prep school known for producing Harvard-bound elites. If you're one of the latter (which tends to be the case), then more likely than not, one of your parents went to an Ivy League school, preferably to the same one you're applying for. Alumni of the top-tier schools in the U.S. tend to be well-off financially, education-driven and better connected, thus affording their children the same opportunities for a clean shot at a great - albeit expensive - education. So in addition to quality attracting talent, there's another factor involved in college acceptances in the U.S., especially for private schools: money attracting money. Hence legacies are born, and the rich get richer.

But what can a poor kid attending a mediocre high school at which he performs not badly, but not at the top of his class either, do? He probably won't be attending Harvard because his grades aren't good enough (compared to the top 3% at his mediocre school), and he has no one to pull any strings for him. In fact, he's probably the first person in his family to go to college. If he goes to a decent (but not famous) public university in his home state, he will probably graduate university with a good amount of debt. Which is assuming he has a choice in the first place - even if he got into one, attending private school out-of-state does not seem too affordable.

Essentially, unless you're born into money and prestige in the U.S., it becomes much more difficult to attend (and graduate from) a private university. So for the majority of people who are born middle-class or lower, attending a well-recognized public university is the best option. But because public universities in the U.S. are increasing tuition fees at an alarming rate (due to lack of funds, poor fiscal management, politics, etc.), these students, if they manage to graduate, rack up a mountain of debt the moment they leave school.

To pay off these debts, they put off furthering their education for jobs that can pay the rent, often jobs unrelated to their majors (and sometimes interests). They can't afford to solely do unpaid internships in the fields they want to pursue, so they supplement them with part-time, minimum-wage jobs on the side. Or many of them choose to forsake such fields altogether for something more lucrative in the long-run: medicine, finance, corporate law. Many of them move back home to live with their parents because it's a lot more affordable. Subsequently, career paths end up at a standstill (or heavily stalled) and some of them choose to have kids later or not at all. By the time their children go off to college, who knows how affordable even public universities will be?

Thus, the non-wealthy in America are (ultimately) benefiting from higher education, but at a substantially lower rate than the wealthy, regardless of talent. Education opens some doors for them, but in the same breath, saddles them with debts that limit their overall choices post-graduation.

The one question that keeps coming back to me: Why is attending university in America (even a public one) so darn expensive? Compared to almost every other country, where higher education seems heavily, or at least partially, subsidized by the government, American universities seem to place most of the financial burden on students (and their families). Is it really because American universities are that much better? (And what area does "better" pertain to?)  Sure, American universities are recognized all over the world and often rank highly on news/academic reports, but do the names and the numbers justify their ever increasing cost?

Confessions of an Asian-American in Asia

Though sometimes it's easy to rag on the country you're from, because it's the place you feel you know the best, there are also many things about the U.S. that I quite admire. One of the biggest and most important things (to me) is that growing up in America, I got a strong sense that who you start out as/what you start off with does not necessarily reflect who you'll become/where you'll end up. In other words, though not everyone is born with equal opportunity, the future is not as fixed on immutable things such as age, gender, class or race. I can't say I've never felt limited by these things in my own life, but certainly not to the degree that citizens of other countries might have been.

To begin with, a little family background: my parents were both born in Guangzhou, China. My dad's family, as citizens of a communist country, erred on the side of the more wealthy and educated; his grandfather was a landowner, and both his parents, my grandparents, were teachers. My mother, on the other hand, grew up poor; both her parents were farmers barely surviving on the brink of poverty. When Mao instigated the Cultural Revolution, and for years after, both their destinies were greatly altered, as young people everywhere were dispersed to do hard labor in China's countryside.

It did not affect my mother as much since 1) she wasn't of age when the Revolution occurred and 2) her family members did not have professions worthy of prosecution (they were neither wealthy nor educated). In fact, she was considered to be a part of the "good class" and had the rare chance to enter a well-known and extremely competitive high school. Despite studying for and passing the difficult entrance exam, my mom was ultimately denied a spot because she had the Hepatitis B virus in her system (not uncommon back then); in order to be a student, you had to be intellectually and physically strong, and to her great dismay, she was not considered a part of the latter. Her dreams crushed, my mother started work at an electronics manufacturing factory instead, where she would eventually meet my father.

My father's beginnings also started off ominously, though for quite a different reason. He was separated from his brothers and sisters as a young teenager to work in a remote area, forced to do strenuous physical work as punishment for being born into a "class enemy" household. Most days, he and the other workers only had one or two bowls rice to eat during their long days of work, and they were rarely permitted to see family members. Because the family name was tainted by his social and economic background, he, too, was denied the chance to obtain a quality education; my father never finished middle school. Eventually, after several failed attempts, he and his brothers managed to escape Communist rule by swimming the channel to Hong Kong, where they lived for awhile until they were able to immigrate to the United States.

For most of my childhood, my parents both worked full-time, doing odd jobs as janitors and cooks to make ends meet. When we moved to California from New York, our extended family all lived together in one house, including my two cousins, their families, as well as my mother, father, brother, and me. I was raised mainly by my grandparents on my dad's side, who taught me how to tie my shoes, cook rice and speak Cantonese, which was my first language before learning English. Eventually, both my parents got stable jobs working at the U.S. Post Office, where they still work today. I was the first person in my family to go to college, and my brother and I the first generation to be born in America.

So here's where the beauty of America comes in. There are very few countries in this world where two peasants from China, both poor and with little hope of any future, much less a bright one, could stake out new lives in an unknown land, eventually accumulating enough wealth not only to purchase their own home, but to send both their children to well-acclaimed universities without incurring any debt. My parents went from having little money and virtually no freedom in their home country to being part of the middle-class in one of the wealthiest and arguably most powerful nation in the world.

I happened to be born in the right place at the right time, just a new-born when I was introduced to America's most immigrant-friendly place: New York City. My brother and I didn't grow up wealthy but unlike both my parents, we never lacked the essentials of food, shelter and education. My dad didn't buy me everything I wanted, but he also never hesitated to buy the books I wanted to read or to take me to the library whenever I begged to go. This, I believe, played an enormous role in my future aspirations and a big reason why I love to read and write today. By believing in the power of education to boost future generations, my parents were able to overcome the odds and essentially mold entirely different lives for themselves and their children. Of course this didn't come easily or quickly; it was the accumulation of many years of dogged, tiring work, of endless scrimping and saving, often at the expense of fostering nurturing relationships at home. As a teenager, I often felt unloved and misunderstood by my parents, feeling like their love for me was contingent on how I performed in and outside of school, particularly in comparison to my brother and cousins, but I understand now that my parents believed that the best way they could show us love was by providing for us financially and logistically; it is what their own parents would have done.

This kind of story is not uncommon in America. Many people would claim that it is a nation built from the ground up by immigrants, and that it's these very stories that make America beautiful and unique. It was only until I went abroad, however, that I started to really appreciate what all of this meant. It is a cultural legacy not common in many parts of Asia. While growing up, I never felt like growing up Chinese-American was strange or unfortunate; in fact, until I entered university, I never really questioned it much at all. It was all so perfectly normal from my standpoint.

But from the standpoint of many people in countries such as Japan and Taiwan, this upbringing is indeed very much out of the ordinary. I was born to Chinese parents (who eventually received American citizenship), but I grew up with a foot in both worlds, receiving not only what my parents/grandparents gave me but also what America gave me: the need to question facts and authority, the desire to speak my mind and the freedom to do both things without fear of repercussion.

My teachers always encouraged me to question what I learned, whether it was in history, math or art. They told me I could be whatever I wanted to be, if I was willing to put in the hard work and dedication. I received constant signs, both subtle and otherwise, that where I came from (my family background, my socioeconomic background, even my genetics) did not determine who I would become. The only thing that could and would determine my future was myself. And here I am, doing exactly what I want to be doing at this moment in time with the full support of my parents, friends and teachers. Could I have arrived at the same place had I not been born in America in 1988? I'm not sure.

If I tell someone in America that I want to be a writer, they do not say, "You cannot do that because your parents never went to college." The government does not say, "You cannot do that because your great-grandparents were teachers and factory owners." My parents do not say, "You cannot do that because you're a girl or because you're Chinese-American." On the contrary, many people say, "Because your parents never went to college, and because your great-grandparents were teachers and factory owners, and because you're a girl who grew up Chinese-American, you have something important to write about. You have a history to draw from, a story to tell. You have talent and you should give it everything you have." And then they smile and say, "Go after your dreams. Do what you love. You won't regret it."

In both Japan and Taiwan, I've noticed that there is a strong emphasis on bloodlines, certainly a stronger emphasis than in America. Perhaps this is true of much of Asia as well. Who your parents are and where they come from make up a strong part of your identity. I won't deny that this is true - I, too, believe that who my parents were and where they come from (China, later Hong Kong) have influenced myself in a myriad of ways. But ethnically, Japanese and Taiwanese people often insist that I'm Chinese. Where I was born and how I was raised has nothing to do with who I am, because genes trump all. If my parents were born in China, then I must be Chinese. But to a Chinese-American such as myself, such a strong assertion often comes off as puzzling and at times offensive, least of all because I'd sooner jump off a bridge than let a stranger tell me what my ethnic identity is, without knowing anything about my family background or upbringing.

In America, or at least in California, where I grew up, exploring your roots and trying to define for yourself who you are is a big part of the culture. It is practically considered a rite of passage with anyone with parents/grandparents born outside of the U.S., and nobody thinks it's strange (or at least nobody I know) if you end up straddling both worlds your whole life. It is a theme heavily discussed in ethnic studies courses or even just in casual conversations you have with people you just met. Most of my friends with parents who were not born in the States would not hesitate to call themselves American, but this is not necessarily so in other countries.

A third-generation Korean child who was born and raised in Japan, only speaks Japanese and has never been to Korea, might not be able to confidently call herself  "Japanese." Moreover, many others in Japan would not consider her Japanese either, not even those in the government. She, and others like her, get stuck with another name. Which leads to an interesting and possibly tragic discussion: What is it like to be considered a second-class citizen, denied of any ethnic identity, neither that of your parents' home country nor that of the country you identify with --  in a country in which you and your parents were both born and raised? What is it like living in a country when the language you speak, the clothes you wear and the schools you go to are all similar to those of your peers, and yet you are not considered one of them? As someone who received American citizenship the moment I was born, I cannot fathom such a quandary without feeling incredibly fortunate.

In Asia, my assertion of being "American" or even "Chinese-American" is often met with confusion, occasionally disbelief. "Are your parents white?" is a question I'm often asked. If anything, people's faces say it all: surprise, then hesitation. It is difficult to speak baldly of ignorance abroad when mainstream media (ahem, Hollywood) is still predominately filled with one kind of American, namely the Anglo-American (even "white" is not a simple label in America). It is not surprising that Asian-Americans, a slim minority in popular culture (if that), have a hard time explaining themselves in Asia. It is not surprising that I have these questions about where I'm from in nearly every Asian country I've ever visited (but obviously more frequently in the Asian countries where I have lived).

But when I'm in America, hardly anyone bats an eye if I say I'm Chinese-American. Part of this, I believe, is because as inhabitants of a predominantly immigrant nation, Americans are reluctant to be labeled politically incorrect (or risk offending others) by making certain assumptions about other people's race/background. We don't ask, "Are you really American?" but rather, "What kind of American?"

But another reason is because it simply doesn't matter, at least not in the sense that it limits you. In what was once known as a "beautiful country" and "the land of opportunity," anyone can make something of themselves if they try hard enough. Nowadays, with the recession and the passing of certain laws pertaining to immigration, more and more Americans are finding it difficult to proclaim such a statement with the same unflinching resolve, but that does not mean we have stopped believing in it. And that is something I love about America.

Language Exchange

It has been a long week, and tomorrow classes begin again. At first I didn't really mind waking up at 6:30 Mondays-Fridays, but towards the end of the week I got rather tired. We have a quiz every day - sometimes it's vocabulary-driven and other times oral - and tomorrow we have our first test. Unlike the classes I took at UCLA, my teacher makes us write down the traditional characters as well as the pinyin (with the correct tone marks). I'm really bad at remembering the tones...it's like that extra annoying step that makes my brain feel too full.

Obviously my Korean and Japanese classmates have a huge advantage when it comes to writing (having written many of the characters in their own languages), even though they still have to memorize the meanings and pronunciation just like the rest of us. But there's clearly a divide between those of us who can read/write well and those of us who can't. (Guess which camp I belong to.) My reading is definitely improving much faster than my writing. I'm even starting to recognize most of the characters I learned before. But writing them is a different story. I'm trying to be more disciplined and not try to cram everything like I did in college, but it's a tough habit to break and so far I'm still struggling with it.

On the bright side, I had my first language exchange last week! One of my classmates, whom I'll call A-chan, is teaching me Japanese and I'm teaching her English. Her major is international communications geared towards advertising so she wants to practice business as well as conversational English. Her English is much better than my Japanese, but oh well. I'm trying. You might be wondering why I'm not doing exchange in Chinese, the language I came here to learn. I'm planning to do future exchanges in Mandarin as well, but I figure since I'm using this part of my brain anyway, why not maximize its potential? Not going to lie though, I do sometimes mix up Japanese and Chinese in my head and out loud.

I made a posting for the exchange board at school, but then one of my friends told me that his friend wants an exchange partner for English and in return she can help me with Chinese. So I have two potential exchange partners lined up already. I'm not sure if I should do more than 3 exchanges a week...that seems like a bit too much.

I also went running the other day at the track at school and was sore for hours afterwards. I wanted to start slow so I only ran a little under 2 miles. At first things were fine, but then I started getting stitches in my side and had to stop, walk, run, and repeat. I have a little less than two months to prepare for a race I'm running at the end of October (10K - should be doable, I hope). Running long distances is a lot like learning a language; if you don't do it frequently, you start to suck really quickly. (And it's so hard to build up to the point where you feel comfortable doing it.) My i-phone charger broke so I can't even listen to music while I run, it's really sad. My dad said he'd mail me a new one soon, but it'll probably take at least a week to arrive (I buy them online since buying them from the apple store costs way too much.)

Well, time to do a little studying and then go to sleep. Back to the grind tomorrow!

I found out that UCLA and NCCU actually have an exchange agreement! Meaning that there are probably some other UCLA students studying here.

I really liked the picture of the running man above the sitting man at the track.

The exchange board at school, where anyone can post an ad looking for a language partner.

I made this ad before my friend suggested an exchange partner. It kind of felt like writing an online dating profile for some reason (though I've never done it, so I can only imagine this is what it's like).

2020 Olympics Bid

"BUENOS AIRES — Tokyo was selected Saturday to host the 2020 Summer Olympics in what was considered a safe rather than transformative choice in a time of political and economic uncertainty
around the globe."

-from the NYT

I'm happy for Japan and I have no doubt that they can put on a safe, spirited and memorable show, but at the same time, a little disappointed as well (for reasons that mostly don't have much to do with Japan). I do think that the bid might take precedence over national issues such as the Fukushima disaster and the territorial disputes, but perhaps being in the international spotlight will force the Japanese government to address these issues in a more productive, transparent and forthcoming manner. TEPCO has apologized repeatedly for their mistakes and inattention towards the situation at hand, but what concrete measures have they taken? More importantly, what concrete measures will the Japanese government take in order to address the displacement of thousands of residents in Tohoku? Winning the bid might boast morale for Japan at large, but when you don't have a place to live and a home to return to, I doubt that the Olympics is a huge priority.

It would have been interesting had Istanbul gotten the bid - like the Times insinuated, a would-be transformative rather than safe choice. Like the rest of the world, I was shocked when Tokyo governor Naoki Inose badmouthed Istanbul to the IOC by claiming, “Islamic countries, the only thing they share in common is Allah and they are fighting with each other, and they have classes" while asserting that other countries lack “Tokyo’s excellent sense of hospitality." I mean, has this guy even been to Turkey? To make such broad generalizations about a place you know very little about is not only ignorant but not indicative of someone who has true confidence in his own country. If the Olympics has become just a pissing contest among nations, encouraging brash leaders to insult their rivals, then what's the point of having the Games in the first place?

Tokyo is no doubt one of the safest cities in the world, but it is also one of the most homogenous. Hopefully the 2020 bid will encourage it to become more like the cosmopolitan role model it claims to be.

Well this was discouraging.

"How much harder is Chinese? Again, I'll use French as my canonical "easy language". This is a very rough and intuitive estimate, but I would say that it takes about three times as long to reach a level of comfortable fluency in speaking, reading, and writing Chinese as it takes to reach a comparable level in French. An average American could probably become reasonably fluent in two Romance languages in the time it would take them to reach the same level in Chinese."

-David Moser, in his article "Why Chinese Is So Damn Hard"


The gist of what I gleaned from this incredibly long article: As a native English speaker, you have to be pretty determined to study Chinese, for sure. But you also have to be pretty crazy as well.

Radioactive

There is something beautiful about failure and people who able to admit that they've made a mistake. It's almost as though by opening themselves up to vulnerability and scrutiny, they allow others to do so as well.

I often feel like in our culture, we like to project the best images of ourselves, even with close friends and loved ones. Part of this, I believe, is due to the prevalence of social media and the effect of always being "on," or the feeling of being watched, labeled, even judged by others on a regular basis. We want to be seen as successful, happy, and loved. We want others to see the good things in our lives and usually only the good things.

But what is life without challenges? How do we grow as individuals if we don't allow ourselves to make mistakes and openly talk about them? If you think about the most defining moments of your life, the ones that really forced you to look at yourself and your life in a different way, I'm sure that many of those moments involved times of adversity, confusion, anger, and fear. Losing someone, not appreciating blessings before they're gone, failing to go after an opportunity, indulging too much in our own self-worth - these are the moments that really change us.

I have always believed that humanity is as capable of as much beauty as it is ugliness. Some interpret this to mean that I don't believe that humanity will ultimately do good, but that's not true. If I ever truly believed that, I don't think I would choose to stay alive. On the flip side, this means that for every terrible thing out there plaguing the world and its inhabitants (often caused by those very inhabitants themselves), there are also moments of tranquility, kindness and hope. These moments are fleeting, but they exist, and I think as long as humans are alive, they will continue to exist.

But in order for us to truly appreciate them for what they are, we must be willing to look at the darkness as well - and I mean really look at it, not just acknowledge that it's there and brush it aside for another day. It's not an easy thing to do; darkness has always been difficult to swallow, much less let free into the open. We don't always want to acknowledge mistakes, much less share them with people we care about (or don't care about). But failure is and always has been a core part of being human and only when we confront it in ourselves can we live, love and truly be whole.

First Day of School

I had my first Chinese class today, and though I do wish my reading/writing abilities have not deteriorated so rapidly over the past few years, I was really happy with the class and look forward to attending it for the rest of fall quarter. The classes are designed to be small, so I had 6 classmates - and I was the only American, which surprised me. The others are from Malaysia, Korea, Japan, Thailand, and Finland. Quite a variety! Everyone seems really nice so far and I'm glad Day 1 had a good atmosphere to get things started. The teacher also seems pretty nice and personable, and I feel like she's the kind of teacher that I can go to with questions, which is very important. I even wish the class was longer than the 3-hour time slot, but hopefully I can supplement the classes later with other activities.

After getting out of class and attending a small welcome party for all new students, I went to get some paperwork taken care of and ended up bumping into one of my classmates afterwards. She doesn't speak a lot of English, only Korean and Chinese, so it was a good chance to practice some speaking (in Chinese, of course). We got some lunch together, studied a little at the library and finished our homework, and then got some boba. Even though our conversation required the use of an online dictionary and some pictures, I'm glad I got to know her a little bit and that we both branched out of our comfort zones to talk to each other. I'm so used to relying on English to befriend foreigners while abroad that this was a nice change. I stopped feeling self-conscious about speaking in a non-native language, and even though my sentences were far from being grammatically perfect and my vocabulary was seriously lacking, it made me feel happy that I tried. I hope I can get to know my classmates better over the next few weeks using Chinese (though most of them do speak English).

I think studying Chinese can get really discouraging in the beginning (or I guess re-beginning, for me) because there's so much that I don't know, and it takes a long time not to feel overwhelmed, but at the same time I really like the challenge. I'm grateful to have the opportunity to have time solely to focus on these studies, as opposed to before when I was trying to do too many things at once and Chinese kind of got buried in all the hustle and bustle.

Tomorrow I'm going to bring my running shoes and shorts to class so I can find some good running places at the university after. I've put off running ever since I sprained my ankle because I was afraid of re-injuring it, but it's been weeks now and I hope I can resume it on a regular basis. When I went to Japan, my ankle swelled up a bit after a day of intense walking, but a friend pointed out that that meant the sprain hasn't calcified, which is a good thing. NCCU is pretty scenic, so I'm sure I can find someplace nice and safe to run.

I'll start light and go from there! One of my goals during this stint is to balance mental challenges with physical activity.

Museum of Broken Relationships

The exhibit I went to see today, called the Museum of Broken Relationships, originated in Croatia and came to Taiwan in July. I stumbled across it while researching "Free Things to do in Taipei." This exhibit wasn't free, but it only cost $200 NT, which is around 7 U.S. dollars so not a bad price for an exhibit that was written about in the NYT and the BBC (and yes, that is how I determine if something is worth seeing - museums, anyway).

I have a confession to make: I'm not a huge fan of museums. I used to think they were somewhat interesting, but then I went to a bunch of them in Europe and got museum-ed out. I think I went to the Louvre one too many times (yes, it's possible! For me, anyway). I can appreciate the concept of museums, but I don't know - walking around to look at art with lots of other people always makes me feel a little claustrophobic and pretentious, even though I don't really know much about any kinds of art. I think if I really want to enjoy a museum, I need to go with someone who knows a lot about art and who can point out interesting things about each piece to me. Unfortunately, I don't know many people like this.

Anyway, I do like quirky museums, or exhibits that you don't normally think of when you picture museums. The Museum of Broken Relationships definitely belongs in this category.

Basically, it's a museum filled with things left over from relationships that have ended, many of them donated by locals. Since this exhibit was held in Taipei, many objects were given by Taiwanese people who have been in and subsequently gotten out of a relationship, for a myriad of reasons. Each object - whether it was a camera, a necklace, a pair of mannequin's hands (yeah, I found that weird, too) - has a story attached to it, which was helpfully provided by the curators in both Chinese and English. Some of those stories were quirky, some were sad (like the one about someone's mom abandoning them at 3), some were long-winded (here's where I could really appreciate the art of translation) - but all of them represented real people and real relationships.

Like others who have seen this exhibit, I was intrigued by its concept of presenting incredibly sentimental objects on display in order to encourage a kind of collective mourning and recognition - a way to create dialogue about intimacy and heartbreak among strangers.  Because as personal as a break-up is, and as varied as the ways in which it can occur, it's also something that many of us have experienced at one time or another.

In most cultures, or at least the ones that I've been exposed to, break-ups are usually talked about in the private sphere, with trusted family members and friends. But here was a chance for people to share their break-up stories publicly and through something very tangible, via a once-treasured gift from a former love or something that continually reminded them of that special someone. Many of the stories shared mentioned that the owner, despite no longer being with their partner, couldn't bear to throw out something because there was too much emotion attached to it. Donating it to such a museum was the perfect solution.

There were two barriers to me seeing this exhibit. One was the rain. Of course, it rained like mad today and there was no awning outside the museum to prevent people who were waiting to enter the exhibit from getting soaked. Second was the crowd. I waited a little over an hour to get inside the museum; that's how crowded it was. In retrospect, this wasn't surprising since it was the very last day that the exhibit would be on display in Taipei, and I'm glad I caught it, but man, waiting one hour outside in the rain is no picnic. Especially when you're hungry and you already finished that onigiri you bought for breakfast.

Barriers aside, I enjoyed the Museum of Broken Relationships and recommend seeing it if you ever get the chance.

Some pictures:

 

It says that her ex-boyfriend gave her some nasal spray to use on him to stop his snoring. She used to not be able to fall asleep because he snored so loudly. Now she can't fall asleep because she has a broken heart. 

 

At the very end of the exhibit you could write your own letter to an ex-boyfriend or girlfriend to be put on display with everyone else's - a nice touch with the whole life imitates art thing.

Language Incompetence

Having lived in a foreign country where I didn't speak the language before, I knew adjusting again would be challenging. But I didn't realize I would be this incompetent! If you can't read most Chinese characters, it's difficult to do even simple things like using the washing machine or buying food at a restaurant. I can recognize the characters for "meat," "chicken," "fish," and "vegetable" but that's pretty much it. And there are so many characters, and usually no English translations.

Same goes for ordering drinks. For some reason, even when I try to speak Chinese to people, they have a hard time understanding me. Like today I tried to order pearl milk tea from a small tea stand. I told them, in Chinese, "I want a small pearl milk tea, no ice, half sugar." Which is straight-forward enough to say, but the guy taking my order still looked confused. Maybe I'm not getting my tones right, but I don't think my accent is that bad. I can't wait for classes to start so I can see if other people in the class (including the teacher) can actually understand me.

It's been raining non-stop...again. It's really tempting to stay holed up inside (to avoid getting sick and to save money), but if I stayed inside every day it rained, I probably wouldn't ever see sunlight. So tomorrow I'm going to make it a point to go to this exhibit downtown. It'll also be the last day of summer vacation so I better enjoy it!

Simple Travel Tips

When you travel alone, you only have yourself and the kindness of strangers to rely on. Here are some tips to make the trip safer and more enjoyable.

1. Let someone know where you're going. This is a no-brainer. It doesn't take much time or effort to send someone a quick itinerary in the event that if your flight doesn't end up where it's supposed to, someone will know about it. When it comes to appeasing worried parents, I always go with the "treat others as you'd want to be treated" policy; if it were my kid, I'd want to know the flight details.

It's also a good idea to send a quick e-mail or phone call once you've actually arrived at your destination.

2. Check in with your hostel BEFORE leaving your home country. Some hostels have earlier check-in times than others. If the hostel hasn't contacted me before my departure, I like to send a quick e-mail just to make sure my booking actually went through and to double-check if there are any details I need to pay extra attention to. (For example, if the hostel is really hard to find.)

3. Always have a paper set of directions from the airport to the place you're staying, with the full address and phone number written down. Smartphones are great, but they aren't always fully operational right when you get off the plane. It's always good to have something physical to show somebody if the situation arises.

4. Change currencies in the airport of your destination rather than the airport that you're departing from; you get better rates. In my experience, banks tend to give the best rates and the lowest fees.

5.  Try to carry some coins in case you need to use a pay phone. Many pay phones don't accept bills and it saves time not to have to break a bill in an airport you're unfamiliar with.

6. Make photocopies of all important documents/cards (passport, credit card, visa, etc.) and keep them in a safe place. If you lose anything, it's much easier to get a replacement if you have a photocopy with all the necessary info.

*Don't forget to call your bank before leaving and let them know you'll be in ___ for ___ amount of time, in case you need to use your card overseas. 

7. For the plane, always carry a pair of socks (if you're not wearing them already) and a scarf. They will do wonders. Hand sanitizer is also useful.

8. If you don't already know them, learn 5 basic phrases in the language of the country you'll be going to: "Hello," "Excuse me," "Thank you," "Where is the...?", and "Do you speak English?" It doesn't take long to look them up and they can end up being lifesavers. If your memory's bad, write the phrases down and keep the paper in your wallet.

9. Always carry something to write with and something to write on in case someone has to draw you a map.

10. Even if you have a phone with you, carry a watch. You can manually switch the time on your watch once you arrive at the airport, but electronics aren't always so reliable.

11. If you have long hair, carry a spare hair tie. Having sticky hair in your face and on your neck is never a pleasant experience, especially when you have to walk a lot.

12. If you're traveling to an Asian country, wear shoes that can be easily taken off, since you'll probably be taking them off a lot once you arrive. Makes it easier to get through security as well.

13. If you're the worrying type, carry a small lock and key so you can save yourself the cost of buying a locker at the hostel. No one's going to take your suitcase or bag if it has a lock on it. 

14. When going to a third world country or somewhere where the water may not be safe to drink, carry some iodine pills in your bag. 

15. Always carry a small bottle of sunscreen. You never know when you're going to need it.

Tom and the Pond

Once upon a time there was a small, unassuming goldfish named Tom. He lived in a nice pond next to some nice flowers. Occasionally there would be a bird or bigger water creature that would prey on the fish, but for the most part, the pond was a safe and pleasant place to live. Tom had a family he loved, and friends he really enjoyed playing with. His job was to teach the baby fish how to avoid predators. Tom enjoyed his job but wondered if he wasn't destined for more.

One day, another fish from another pond, a much bigger one further away, swam over and asked if there were any fish willing to work and live in the other pond. The new fish, whose name was Stella, was friendly and knowledgeable and Tom very much wanted to go with her. After discussing it with his family and friends, Tom decided that yes, he would try to live in the bigger pond. His family and friends were sad to see him go, but wished him the best and told him they were looking forward to his return, whenever that would be. Tom waved good-bye and swam off with Stella.

The bigger pond was, in many ways, drastically different from the pond Tom had grown up in. It had lots of strange-looking flowers, and the fish there all spoke and swam differently. However, there were elements in the new pond that reminded Tom of home as well, such as the way mold would cling to the rocks at the bottom of the water. The sunlight was the same as well. Tom missed his friends and family, but he enjoyed exploring the new, bigger pond. It opened him up to more possibilities. Tom felt happy about his decision to live in the new pond and set about exploring his environment. Thanks to Stella, he made many new fish friends and even got to talk to a seahorse.

Sometimes, though, Tom would get frustrated. He couldn't communicate with the new fish very well, and some of them were wary of him because he came from a different pond. One day, Tom accidentally stubbed his fin because he couldn't navigate a winding path between some kelp. Some of his neighbors had swam right through but didn't bother to warn him. In his pain and confusion, Tom thought of his family and friends waiting in the other pond. He wondered if they thought of him.

That night, Tom told Stella that his fin was causing him an unpleasant experience and he was unsure if he could stay in the new pond for much longer. Stella asked Tom if he missed living in his old pond. Tom, somewhat abashedly, nodded yes. Stella asked Tom if he found some things about the new pond unfamiliar and therefore confusing; perhaps even a little threatening. Again, Tom nodded yes. Stella laughed and put a fin around Tom. "It's very natural for you to feel this way, Tom," she said, comfortingly. "Whenever I go to a new pond, I feel the exact same way." Tom was reassured. So I'm not the only one? He asked. "Of course not," said Stella. "But don't worry, we have many good things in this pond, too. And just because something is different doesn't make it bad."

Tom felt much better after talking to Stella and realized that he could learn a lot from being in the new pond. He resolved to stop thinking too much of the old pond and focus on all the great experiences available to him.

After some time had passed, Tom decided he would like to return to his old pond, even if it was just for a little while. He knew his family missed him and there were things he was really looking forward to about the old pond, such as his favorite hiding spots and the nice patch of seaweed that no one but him knew about. So Tom said good-bye to Stella and his new friends and began the swim back to his old pond. They wished him well and told him he was always welcome to come back.

When Tom entered his old pond, he was greeted by his family, who all gave him warm pats on the back. "Welcome back Tom," they said, smiling. Tom was happy to be back. He decided to visit his old friends' houses. One of his old friends had installed a new shell in his backyard. Tom thought it was a bit funny-looking, but he was too polite to tell his friend. "It's nice," he said. His new friend was head-over-heels in love with the shell and talked of nothing else. Tom felt a little bit bewildered by this new-found interest but decided not to voice his opinion, for fear of offending his friend.

Some of Tom's other fish friends had moved to a different section of the pond. When Tom visited them, he felt as if the water there was a little darker, the rocks a little bigger. He did not feel so safe in this part of the pond. "What are you talking about, Tom?" His friends asked, flabbergasted, when he mentioned his concern. "This pond is just the same as when you left." But Tom was not so sure. He thought of Stella and his friends from the bigger pond. Stella would understand what I mean, Tom thought to himself. She's been to many different ponds. But Stella was back in the other pond, and Tom wanted to concentrate on his life back in the old pond.

Tom found it difficult sleeping at night in the old pond. The rock he usually lay on had an unpleasant texture he didn't remember from before. It made his fins hurt. And when he swam out to his favorite hiding spots, he found that they weren't as spectacular as he remembered. It's quite silly, isn't it, he thought to himself. Tom swam round and round, trying to get comfortable with the old memories. But the pond felt like a whole different world to him.

Tom decided to ask his best friend, Daryl, what he thought. Hey Daryl, he said. "Hey Tom," Daryl said. "What's wrong?" Daryl always knew when Tom had something on his mind. Since coming back home, I feel like the pond has changed, Tom said. "What do you mean?" Daryl asked. Sometimes it seems smaller, sometimes it seems more dangerous. I don't know how to explain it, I just feel strange being here, Tom replied. "But how could you feel strange? You've lived here all your life." Daryl wore a perplexed expression, or as perplexed as fish can look. "Do you want to move to another pond?"

I don't know, Tom said, frustrated. I just think the pond here is strange now, that's all.

"I think you're the one who's strange, Tom," Daryl replied. He didn't give Tom a chance to respond before swimming away.

Tom lay on his rock that night, thinking. Is it the pond that's changed? He wondered. Or is it me?

The next day, Tom went to his parents and told them the same thing he had told Daryl.

"You always were a strange fish, Tom, " his father said. "Maybe you should have been born a shark. Then you could live in the ocean, instead of this small pond."

But I like the pond, Dad, Tom said. I just don't like it as much as I did before.

Tom's mother gave Tom a sad look. "Is this pond not enough for you, Tom?"

Tom put a fin around his mother. Just because I don't love this pond anymore doesn't mean I don't love you, Mom, he said.

She wiped a tear away with her fin. "This is your home, Tom," she said. "This is where you belong."

After his parents went to sleep (his mother still crying), Tom lay on his rock and thought some more about his predicament. If I leave the pond now, he thought, I might never come back. But if I stay here, I might lose the chance to leave forever. What should I do?

Finally, Tom made a decision. He knew it was the right decision because he felt nervous but not ominous about it. It was like the time he decided to befriend a koi fish: strange but not in a bad way. He and Daryl became best friends afterwards. (Well, maybe not anymore, Tom thought sadly.)

Tom fell asleep on his hard rock, happy with his decision. He would tell everyone tomorrow and hopefully they would understand. He couldn't wait to tell Stella, too.




The next day, there was a tsunami.

Good-Bye Party

我很喜歡我的朋友!