The Wit of Language Teachers

When confronted with the common question, “Teacher, how I can improve my vocabularies?” most of us language teachers would patiently explain the distinction between “knowing” a word and “using” a word. What we ask of our students is that, when they learn a new word, either intentionally or incidentally, they don’t stop at merely learning the meaning of the word but try to make a sentence with it. This is professionally known as “vocabulary learning strategies” – strategies for knowing as well as using a word.

And we're not only saying it either; we actually practice what we preach in our daily lives. I'm not sure if it's because language teachers are a unique group of people who just love playing with words; or if it's because we’ve been trained so well to use different ways to explain something that it has become a habit for most of us. What I do know is that, even if something doesn’t make sense, we language teachers elaborate to make something useful out of it anyhow -- just for a laugh.

A student in LS’s writing class produced this sentence: “Be on time. Everyone likes a punctuated person.” LS penciled the sentence in the Fox Paws – a collection of funny mistakes students made in the office. Later that day, the sentence generated some discussion.

BK: “A punctuated person….. that’s priceless.”
BC: “One must punctuate oneself to be liked.”
BK: “No, one must BE punctuated to be liked.”
BC: “….. ‘He was punctuated.’…… ‘Watch out! Don’t get punctuated!’…. It sounds painful somehow.”
BK: “How could one be punctuated?......... What can you punctuate on a person?....... Ha! a colon.”
BC: “Wouldn’t that make it a semicolon?”

************************************************************************************
LS: “Would you say the word ‘Internet’ should always be capitalized?”
BK: “Yeah. I just corrected my students a couple of days ago.”
KC: “It’s capitalized ‘cause it’s treated as a proper noun, right?!”
BC: “Yeah, but nowadays I think it’s not so strict anymore, especially as the word becomes more of a every day word.”
BK: “Tell me about it. Those computer words are changing so quickly nowadays. It’s difficult to know what the rules are anymore.”
TW: “Like the word ‘email’ used to be hyphenated. Now I think it’s acceptable to use it as one word.”
KC: “Words like ‘google’ and ‘blog’ are used as verbs now, too.”
LS: “Yeah….. like ‘I googled myself.’”
BK: “Can one google oneself?”
At this point, TW was shaking uncontrollably with his head down to his chest. After a short moment of silence, we all burst out laughing. It sounded dirty somehow.

************************************************************************************

Language teachers also have to practice extreme self-discipline similar to those guards outside of Buckingham Palace or at Chiang Kai-Shek Memorial Hall. Try as you may, they’re not gonna crack and start laughing. Though our students don’t deliberately try to crack us up (we wish they would), we have to try not to laugh at the mistakes they make in the classroom. The following are some examples of moments that leave teachers speechless.

T: What kind of job would you be good at doing?
S1: I think I’d be good at doing a soldier.
S2: Really? I think doing a soldier might be dangerous.

T: What are you going to do after this English course is finished?
S: I’m going to keep touching my classmates.

T: How is your best friend similar to you?
S: We’re both tempermental. Because we can’t control our temperature.

T: Did you have a good Moon Festival?
S: No.
T: Why not?
S: I hate the moon.

T: What have you been doing recently?
S: I’ve been doing teacher.
T: Really?
S: Yes.

T: Do you work out?
S: No. I work in.

T: Tell me about your house.
S: There’s only one thing I don’t like about my house. However I think my house is good and I also like to live.

I was told that they started shortly after 10PM.

I got a text message from Karen shortly after midnight. The message read, “The neighbors have been fighting. Be careful when you come out of the elevator.” I was having a chat with Brian C. over a pot of tea at Vino Vino, so I didn't pay too much attention to the message.

At about 1:20AM, I picked up the phone while the cab driver was racing through the tunnel. Karen's tired voice was on the other end, “They’re still fighting…very loudly…people are running up and down the stairs…. I don’t know who........ I don't want you to accidentally get bumped or something…so be careful when you come out of the elevator.”

I came into the building. Nothing was going on. The elevator was parked on the 6^th floor. For no particular reason, I kind of half-expected to see the neighbor dad when the elevator doors opened in front of me, but no one was there. Maybe it's because he's the only person iI've met in that family. Bill and I saw him once in the elevator. Chatty guy..... very well-mannered. He had just come back from jogging that day and he was telling Bill where to jog. I found it hard to imagine him fighting loudly with his wife. It doesn't seem like something he'd do. He should know better.

Meanwhile, things were unexpectedly quiet, which added suspense to the whole thing. I had my index finger on the “open” button before we reached the 6th floor. When the doors opened, instead of an angry couple, what greeted me was a pile of clothes scattered on the floor. I was trying to avoid stepping on any of them when I noticed a police uniform in the middle and a white female blouse in the upper right hand corner of the pile. “Which one is a cop?” I wondered as I turned the key.

Poor Karen looked exhausted in front of the TV. She was half-watching some horror movie. “What’s going on? They stopped fighting finally?” She rolled her eyes at me, “They’re taking a bathroom break. Pretty soon, you’ll see….it’d be like DingDingDingDing! Round Three!” I scuffed at her sarcastic comment and took a look at the clock. No one would continue fighting this late at night. After all, it was a bit after 1:30 in the morning already! Well guess what?! It really didn’t take long until I heard a faint female voice surfacing from afar. The volume and speed increased as she talked, and she didn’t stop talking for the next 3 hours.

So the story was that the husband went out drinking and the wife accused him for cheating on her. During the first 3 hours of the argument, she kept on taunting him to hit her and he kept telling her to back off. Eventually, he gave her what she had been asking for before I came home. Between 1 and 4AM, Karen and I finished watching a horrible vampire movie, the dad left, the daughter freaked out and started fighting with her mom, and the wife called some people crying about how she was abused by her cheating husband. You can imagine how loud she must have been in order for us to piece the story together so perfectly. At one point, the grandpa came to talk to his daughter and to get the keys for his son-in-law (we guessed the husband went to his in-laws after hitting his wife). Then the police came.

The wife wanted to file for domestic abuse as soon as the cops showed up. The cops told her bluntly that they didn’t come for her. In fact, they were here because neighbors called about the noise she was making. Then the husband came back. The wife immediately started shouting, “What kind of a father are you?” hyterically. The cops shushed her and lazily asked if she’d like to file for domestic abuse. They explained to her the necessary procedures like going to the hospital for a doctor’s note and going down to the station for an official file etc. We guessed the wife shook her head ‘cause a cop mocked her, “Okay…now you don't. I thought this was what you wanted. Oh! Do you think you might want to file for domestic abuse after we leave?” The cops took down their names and made sure everything was alright before leaving. The husband went inside with the wife. He closed the door carefully and quietly behind me.

Karen stood up from the couch. She held out her pinky, “Wanna bet if she’d start fighting again?”
“I bet she’d stop for the night. She’s been at it for at least 5 hours. She’s gotta be exhausted.”

The truth was, Karen and I were exhausted and we just wanted it to stop. We turned off the lights in the living room and each started getting ready for bed. I heard a faint female voice from afar when I walked into the bathroom. After I took off my contact lenses, brushed my teeth, changed into my PJs, and crawled into bed with my laptop, I heard the elevator was on its way up. The elevator doors opened and someone closed the neighbor’s door very carefully and quietly. It was finally quiet.

I’ve been trying to find a way to describe the discomfort I feel.
Not to make you feel bad or sorry for me, but more for my own sake in making peace with the whole thing.
I thought if I could put it in words, maybe it’d be out of my mind.
But I learned that it’s very difficult to think while fighting the side effects of chemo.
Brain cells are also under attack, I guess.
I suppose I should find comfort in knowing that mine are still fast-growing.

Now imagine someone has lifted you off the ground with his hand on your throat.
The grip is not strong enough to snap your head off yet it’s enough to make you squirm like a worm.
Your heart’s pounding so loudly that all you hear is the sound of your own fear.
Your face burns and turns red while the rest of your body is damped by cold sweat.
Your airway narrows and your tongue protrudes.
Your stomach rumbles,
Your senses heighten.
Every thread in your muscles is tired and sore from holding you up,
and they soundly protest against overworking while you’re trying to sleep.
You’re tired but you can’t sleep.
You’re asleep but you get tired from being asleep.
Your body becomes this malfunctioning mess that gets way out of hand,
a sensory overload,
an orgy of discomfort.

So your mind takes over.
All the worries and concerns are sorted through,
All the ambitions and dreams get put aside.
All the energy is focused on one seemingly simple thought:
Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in, Breathe out…….

1.19.07 HSING-HUA

Hsing-hua is my Chinese name. The character “hsing” (pronounced xing) means heart, and “hua” means China. According to our family book, girls in my generation are the “hsing” generation, so I’m Hsing-hua and my cousin in New Hampshire is Hsing-yi. Growing up, I was under the impression that my name was unusual. Well, for starters, I had never met anyone with the same name. Also, people often guessed the wrong characters when they tried to write my name, which led me to believe that the combination of these two characters must be unique. It tends to be easy for people to remember my Chinese name, thanks to its uniqueness, I guess.

“Where are you going, Hsing-hua?” Nurse Crackyvoice poked her head up from behind the counter.
“Getting some lunch.” I felt guilty somehow.
“Where are you going to get some lunch? The cafeteria down in the basement?”
“Yeah….” It’s not like I’m going to run away from the hospital.
“How long do you think it’ll take? Half an hour?” What’s with all these questions?
I reconfirmed, “We’re not gonna start chemo treatment until….like, 2 or 3pm, right?”
“We’re going to do it this afternoon, so come back…in half an hour?”
“Okay!”

“Hey! Hsing-Hua! You’re here!” Nurse Mommy greeted me in the hallway leading to the elevators. She had already gone pass me when she suddenly turned around, “Where are you going?” Why do they all ask me the same question? “I’m going to the cafeteria in the basement to get some lunch. I’ll be back in half an hour.” Here! Every piece of information you might want in two sentences. Nurse Mommy smiled, “You’re always running around when you’re here. That's why I asked where you were going. Be back in half an hour, okay?! We’re gonna prep you for your chemo.” She's such a mom.

I took my time getting a vegetarian lunch box and a grande Hazelnut Latte. After that, I strolled into the bookstore, mindlessly browsing through the book shelves and art supplies. “Hsing-hua! What are you doing here?” Who could it be this time? I impatiently swung my body around. My resident was looking right at me with a box of blank CDs in one hand and his cell phone in the other. We had just met for the first time yesterday and he remembered my name already? What's his name again? “I came to get some lunch.” I raised the lunch box in my hand and waved it in front of him. Oh, no! This is the bookstore! I added, “I wanted to get a book for this afternoon. You know… once chemo starts, I have to stay in the room and all.” I showed him my teeth (a dry smile). He didn’t look amused. “Well, you should get back to your room. I was just on my way there to insert the catheter.” You were just on your way there, huh?! Nice try, young doctor.

Before heading back to my room as the doctor ordered, I made a detour to the convenience store for some snacks and drinks. Chocolate worked wonders last time I was here, and I might get a magazine as well. I was checking out some tabloids when I saw the resident heading toward the store. “Oh! Shit!” I made a beeline to the cashier counter. “I’ll see you upstairs, Ms. Chang.” The resident’s voice came from behind me. I nodded like a bobhead doll on a bumpy road.

Back on the 5^th floor by the nurses’ station, Nurse Mommy called out “Hsing-hua!” as soon as she saw me. “I know! I know!” I said as I picked up the pace, “I’m going to my room now.”

I’ve been in my room like a good girl for over an hour. The saline is here, but my resident is nowhere to be found. Nurse Crackyvoice and Nurse Mommy have both poked their heads in to see if the catheter was inserted (or to see if I’m here). He’s in so much trouble he doesn’t even know it.

1.19.07 LEAVING MS. SADNESS

An intern stayed behind after my doctor had left. She had a form in her hand, “Ms. Chang, Do you know why you’re in the hospital?” How bizarre! “No. Please tell me.”

Okay! Before you tilt your head, roll your eyes, shift your weight to one leg, put your hands on your waist, and give me that “Bad girl, Kate! Bad Girl!” look, you have to admit you understand my astonishment at a question like this. Plus, I was merely taking the piss. No harm intended.
To my surprise, she answered with all seriousness, “Okay. You had your initial surgery because of a cancerous tumor found in your right ovary. The doctor suggested subsequent chemo therapy….”
“I was just kidding.” I interrupted her. “I know why I’m here.”
She stared at me in such a way that I felt the need to brace myself for a blow on the side of my head with the clipboard in her hand. Instead, she said without moving a muscle on her face, “Please tell me why. “
Okay, now I feel bad. “I’m here for my third chemo treatment,” I said it like a kid in kindergarten reciting a poem. “and someone is about to pick me up for an X-Ray and EKG.”
She wasn’t impressed, “Are you aware of the side effects?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Please sign here.” She pushed the form in front of my face.
“What is this?” I’ve never seen this in my last 4 visits to the hospital.
“It’s a form indicating that we have explained to the patients what they are in the hospital for.”
This time, I stared at her. She finally caved and said, “I KNOW (it’s hard to believe)! But you’d be surprised how many patients really have no clue.”
Wow!

*********************************************************************

Just when I was obsessing over the possibility of anyone not knowing what they’re in the hospital for, a volunteer came to pick me up. A woman in the blue surgical scrubs was behind him. She had the saddest look on her face. She looked exhausted and frightened. I smiled at her. She didn’t smile back.

We went down to the EKG room but it wasn’t open yet. While waiting, the woman’s weak voice floated by my ears, “Are you having surgery today too?” I turned toward her, directly into a mist of sadness. “No. I’ve had my surgery already. What are you having done today?” She stared at me with immense emptiness. Her mouth moved, “They found some cysts in my uterus.” Ah! Good! Only cysts. “So they’re giving you a hysterectomy today?” “What?” “I mean, are they taking everything out today?” She smiled weakly, “Yes!” “So they’ll probably use endoscope.” There was that emptiness. “They poke three small holes in your tummy.” Nope! Nothing was registering. “Anyway, you’ll be fine.” I concluded.
“Is that what you had?” She wanted to know.
“No. I had an abdominal surgery.”
“Oh! And did you know that was what they’d do before the surgery?”
“Yeah, I did.” Doh! I said it in an “Of course!” kind of tone.
“And how did you know?” I had this feeling that she knew the answer but she decided to ask anyway.
“I asked my doctor.”
She turned away, but soon turned back with a flash of light across her face, “What’s wrong with you now?” She seemed eager.
“I’m in for my third chemo treatment.” Déjà vu.
Sadness sank into her dark eyes. “Why do you have to do chemo after the surgery?”
(Oh, no! You’ve scared her, Kate.) “They found a tumor in my ovary.” (Shut up now.) The pathology test found it to be cancerous (Shut your mouth, Kate! Right now!), so my doctor recommended a round of chemo therapy (You idiot, Kate! She didn’t need to be scared before her surgery).
The EKG technician called her name. She jumped and replied, “HERE!”

THE BATTLE OF THE TWINS

I feel horrible!
But she needs to know.
Not from you, Kate.
You heard her. She didn’t and isn’t going to ask her doctor.
You remember how scared and uncertain you were before the surgery.
I do, but I also asked my doctor as many questions as I could think of at the time.
So she didn’t. That still doesn’t justify opening your big mouth and freaking her out.
She asked about my surgery in the first place. What was I supposed to do?
All I'm saying is that she doesn't deserve to be freaked out on the day of her surgery.

On the way back to our rooms, I started chatting with the volunteer as a way to talk to her. You know, about how each individual case is different, mine was not only a cyst, and blah blah blah. Though she didn’t look my way the whole time, I knew she was listening.

We came back to Ward 55. Dr Liu (my doctor) merged, “Where’s your boyfriend?” He looked sleepy…. Oh! Friday. Surgery day. “He’s back home visiting.” He opened his eyes more and said sleepily, “See? I told you you can do it on your own. You’re a big girl.” Sigh~ doctor, doctor! What we’re capable of doing is very different from what we’d rather do. “Are you alright? Chemo starts this afternoon?” he said softly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.” Dr. Liu turned into the nurses’ station. “You’ll be fine” was the last thing he said before we parted.

“How did you know your doctor?” Oh! Ms. Sadness. You’re still here. What was your question again? How did I know my doctor? Ur….. same way you did yours, I think.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t understand your question.” I was trying to be polite.
“You were talking like friends.” The mist of sadness approached, which made me want to run away from her this instant.
“Oh~” I tried to be funny, “It’s because I’ve been in and out of the hospital so many times. Ha!” She didn’t laugh. “So,” she continued. “My doctor’s name is Chen Chih-Hua. That wasn’t him, was it?!” You’ve got to be kidding me, right? Lady! How could you not know whose hands are going to be opening you up on the day of the surgery?

“Hsing-Hua! Where have you been? Come on! I gotta take your temperature and blood pressure.” Nurse Crackyvoice was yelling at me from my room.
“Cut her some slack,” the cleaning lady came in front of me. “She’s here for her third chemo treatment. She knows how things work here.” She turned toward me, “Three more times and you graduate from Ward 55. Hang in there!!” She rubbed my arm as she said it. It felt warm.

A weak voice drifted by, “Everyone knows you here.” My patience had officially run out at this point. I turned toward my room, “I’m coming now. It wasn’t my fault, you know?! They came to get me to go downstairs…….”, leaving Ms. Sadness behind.

01.18.07 Kate's Chinese Lessons

On my way to the hospital, the cab driver started chatting with me.

“Nice hat,” he said, “It suits you.”
“Thanks.” I scratched the back of my right ear…. A bit flattered.
“Where did you get it? It’s unique, like you.” I could tell that he was smiling from his eyes in the rearview mirror. He looked a bit creepy.
“At a night market.” I looked out the window to signal that I was losing interest in this conversation.
“What’s your sign?” he asked cheerfully, with a child-like innocence in his voice.
“Excuse me?”
“Your horoscope sign. What is it?”

Okay…. This is a bit weird. I glanced at the license and made an imprint of his name, which I have absolutely no clue what it was now, in my mind.

“Why do you want to know?” I challenged.
“I’d say you’re either Gemini or Libra.” He was very sure of himself and totally oblivion of my confusion.
I had to know why.
“You seem fun-loving. Hey, how old are you?”
Guess the questions are getting more and more personal.

“34.” I was honest. What happened to talking about my horoscope sign?
His eyes widened in the rearview mirror.
“30?”
“34.” I emphasized the 4, but realized these two numbers sound very similar in Chinese.
"thir.....ty?” he gestured with his right hand, making an “OK” sign. It took me a few seconds to realize the circle he made with his index finger and thumb was supposed to be the zero.
"You’re too kind,” I smiled, “I’m turning 35 this year.”
Looking almost defeated, he smacked his right hand back on the steering wheels in a very dramatic way. His eyebrows slowly narrowed into a knot, contemplating.
“Do you use Oil of Olay regularly?”
I couldn’t believe how he managed to look so dead serious as he said that.
Ladies and Gentlemen, Mr. Funnyman is in the house.

The questioning continued.
“Do you have children?” “No!”
“Are you married?” “No!”
He paused, gave me a quick doubtful look, “Then you MUST have a boyfriend.” It was almost comical how he said it in a frustrated “Oh! Come on!” kind of way.
“Why?” I teased.
“Yeah…” he sounded relieved. “A girl like you can't be completely single. Ah! I know. It must be that you’re too picky, right? Haven’t found the person you think you will be willing to spend the rest of your life with?”
I wasn’t in the mood to get into it. “What about you?” I turned the table.
“My oldest son is turning 16 this year. Guess how old I am.”
Uh-Oh! The game in on.

He looks older than me, but he can’t be that much older. Logically, he could be my age, but that would mean that he had his son when he was 18. Culturally, it’d be highly unlikely because Taiwan back then was still quite close-minded and sex was severely repressed, unless he grew up in the south of course. Okay, so by saying that he looks the same age as me, I might flatter him for being younger but imply that he’s an uneducated country folk at the same time! I gotta come up with an acceptable answer, QUICK!

“When in doubt, be as vague as you can.” My years of Chinese education paid off in the face of a potential social crisis!
“I’d say you’re probably in your 30’s, like me!”
He was visibly satisfied. “Phew!” I sank back into the backseat. He raised one eyebrow (and a corner of his mouth, I presumed) and proudly announced, “I was in Grade Five, Class Three! Now you know exactly how old I am.”
No, I don’t. What the hell is “Grade Five, Class Three”? Think, Kate. Think fast.

Grade Five, Class Three. That’s five and three. Fifty-three?! He can’t be that old.
Okay, what about 1953. That would make him……. 54! Impossible!
It’s gotta be ROC year 53 then, which would be 1964. That would make him…..43!

“Wow! You look much younger than 43.” I was sincere.
“I, too, use Oil of Olay ........ out-of-date ones.”
Strike two from Mr. Funnyman!

“Yeah… my son is at the age of ‘cool’, you know what I mean? He doesn’t like it that I drive the cab for 12 hours a day, but he doesn’t tell me either. He gives me the cold shoulder treatment. My wife, on the other hand, is very understanding. Sometimes when I get home late, she’d tell me that I don’t have to do homework. You know what THAT means, right?”
Huh? What? You lost me at homework. Wait! Why do you have to do homework, or do you have to do your son’s homework? It’s impossible that your son has to do your homework. What’s going on?

“No, I’m sorry. I don’t get it.” [yeahhh, ‘I wasn’t listening.’ is more like it]
He took a quick look at me, “I do homework and my wife marks my homework.” He gave me a second look from the mirror, “Now do you understand?”
I had to try hard not to laugh. Guess I have to brush up on my Chinese slang.

How interesting that the newly evolved Chinese slang has such a strong reference to school life. Well, it’s understandable ‘cause education is a way out or a way up. The significance and emphasis placed on education has not changed since the time of the Great Teacher, Confucius. How well people study, though, is another story.
What I find more interesting is women being in the role of “homework makers”, which implies women having authority over men in the bedroom. For a culture that has granted the male population dominance and superiority at birth for over 5,000 years, it’s revolutionary that the changes in gender roles have slipped into the use of language. Let’s just hope that it doesn’t stop at being a slightly off-color joke and that the empowerment of womanhood isn’t limited to behind the bedroom door only. That would be awfully wrong.

Bill called at 12:00 Taipei time. He called as soon as he could..... at a pay phone in front of a 7-11. Poor thing.

6 am – Woke up to Nue’s meowing and the sound of rain…… It’s raining…… Hard to believe yesterday was sunny and warm at 22 C.

6:23 – Fell back asleep for a bit. I wonder if Bill was able to sleep at all on the plane. When we go on trips, I’m usually the one that hurries out to Sleepy Town first (but then again, it’s no surprise ‘cause I have this special talent that enables me to fall asleep under any condition). It’s about 3 hours til landing.

7:48 – Don’t wanna go back to sleep so I’ve been browsing the web. Checked out the Golden Globe winners and was happily surprised to learn that Grey’s Anatomy won Best Series. Went on ABC to read all I could read about the show, the actors, and the scoops. Clicked on “Watch it for Free” and was faced with a message: Only Residents of the United States can View These Episodes for Free. Boo~~~~~ (of course, "boo" is not a part of the message)

8:36 – Just finished catching up on e-mails and stuff. Iain sent a, at first glance, very disturbing website (http://www.forgetmenotpanties.com) for me to check out. I know! Doesn’t the name itself trigger curiosity yet make you feel sheepish/creeped out wanting to check it out at the same time? Well, my curiosity won (as usual) so I checked out the entire site. Now I’m left with conflicting feelings about the initial motive and the message the people hope(d) to send with the construction of the website. Well, simply put, I understand why one might want to construct a site like this, but I can't agree that this is the best way to “send a message”.

I wonder how Iain came across this website in the first place though..... hmmm.....

9:40 – For a change of mood, I spent the last hour or so on Martha’s website browsing for arts & crafts ideas and recipes. I can’t remember where Bill bought Martha’s magazine before Christmas, but the bookstores that usually carry English mags don’t have it and it’s really very annoying. Back in Canada, I used to pick one up at Safeway every month and watch her shows religiously! I’d plan daily menus for the upcoming week and write it in colored chalk on the black board in the kitchen. Sort of a “Kate’s Kitchen” thing. Then again, that was when I only worked til 4pm and I had a proper oven that helped make thing a lot easier.

Just noticed the time! Bill should’ve landed in Seattle by now.

9:48 – Yep, yep, yep….. according to “flight Info” on EVA Air website, Bill’s flight landed at 5:24pm Seattle time. Just a sec...... I don’t think I’ve flown into Seattle. I’ve driven, trained, and took the bus there (oh the horrible stinky bus), but never took the plane. How odd…. especially considering my best friend from childhood lives there.

10:27 – Security must be crazy at the airport in Seattle. It took Bill quite a while waiting in line to get through security inspection when he was leaving last night. He had to throw away his water bottle because, in addition to nail clippers and other sharp objects, no liquid or aerosol containers are allowed on the plane. Bill had to go through two security check points just to get out of Taiwan. Imagine what it must be like getting into the United States.

10:35 – I wanna organize a private “get-together-before-Chinese-new-year” thing at this new Japanese restaurant Bill and I went to the other night. Gotta pitch the idea and set a date for it so that we can make reservations. Oh, gotta remember to tell Francis where I left off last night.

For those of you who are interested, this year Chinese New Year starts on the eve of Feb 17^th. This is the year of the boar. Say "Oink! Oink!"

11:08 – Bill still hasn’t called……

SNOW

Growing up in the sub-tropics, I used to imagine what it must be like being in the snow by sticking my head in the freezer. Back then, there was always a layer of soft ice frozen on the top of our freezer and I’d scrape it off with my fingers and stuff it in my mouth. I’d also make “snow balls” and throw them at my cat. Too bad I’d never tried to stick my tongue in the freezer. It would’ve made another awesome story.

In November, 1994, I saw real snow for the first time in my life at the old Vancouver International Airport (the current domestic terminal). I remember we were waiting for Chris Roworth (spelling?) to come pick us up when I excitedly ran outside into the cold. It felt nothing like sticking my head in the freezer. The snow was slushy and dirty and the air was so cold that it hurt my nose. I was disappointed. Everything I had heard and dreamt about snow melted in the car exhaust on the sidewalks of the old YVR.

One month later, I had what seemed to be a full on experience with snow in Toronto. I remember mistakenly thinking that a sweater and jacket would be sufficient for winter in Ontario because it was really sunny out. Boy, did I learn my lesson the hard way! I also remember throwing a fit on the street after walking along the somewhat deserted and seemingly endless Young Street in a cold December night. It wasn’t snowing but the air seemed frozen and the night seemed darker. My toes were cold in my brand new Dr. Martens, and I was cranky.

I wasn’t scared the first time I went skiing though. I didn’t think it’d be any more difficult than ice-skating (I did it for 3 years in high school). I got really bored and couldn’t concentrate on the bunny hill. It wasn’t so much that I was dying to feel the breeze in my hair skiing down the hill as I just wanted to get on the lift ‘cause it looked fun. So I did. I got on the lift, swayed my feet in the air for fun, admired the fantastic view, took in the fresh mountain air, looked down and got scared. It wasn’t long until I realized "what goes up must come down" and "I DON'T KNOW HOW TO SKI". Long story short, I went down the hill no problem when no one was watching but panicked last minute when I saw my friends waiting and cheering at the foot of the mountain. I lost my cool, tumbled down, and twisted my right knee. A curious crowd had gathered by the time they escorted me to First Aid on the back of a snow mobile.

My memory of skiing may be painful, but tobogganing was nothing less than a riot! Though we were never able to toboggan down the hill without turning over, though a couple of times I was crushed and my face was buried in the snow, I laughed and giggled and headed back up for more.

A few more winters came and went, my excitement about snow never ceased. I loved going for walks in Kitsilano on cold winter nights. The soft yellow lights and laughter coming out of the windows offer a perfectly dreamy picture of family warmth and comfort. My personal definition of Christmas is the white smoke and the smell of burning wood in the air. It was always fun telling secrets with girl friends over a bottle of wine in the blinking orange glow of a fire place. Nothing cheered me up more than pulling a sheet of freshly baked cookies out of the oven while it’s snowing out.

13 years after I saw snow for the first time, I’m back in the sub-tropics sitting in front of the TV nostalgic over images of snow-covered Canada on CNN Asia. The indoor thermometer reads 22 degrees Celsius. No snow.

This is not Canada.

KATE CAN'T GO OUT AND PLAY

Bill's running around preparing for his visit back home. His flight leaves tomorrow night, and he's doing some last-minute shopping this evening. I so wish I could go too, but I'm going to the hospital for my third chemo treatment in two days. Oh yeah, and I have to work as well.

The school I work at arranges free trips for employees every year. In 2004, we went to a small island called Peng-hu just outside of Taiwan. In 2005, we went to Okinawa, Japan. This year, we can choose between Ankorwat, Cambodia and Kansai (Kyoto, Nara, Osaka), Japan. I've been to Cambodia with Bill and have always wanted to go to Kansai to visit the temples and ancient monuments. Naturally, I was all excited 'cause everything is paid-for. Unfortunately, the trip is in the last week of March, right before my last chemo treatment. I won't be able to travel quite just yet then.

This is going to be the longest period of time that I stay in Taipei since 2004. I chose this job because I get to travel every 3 months and I have done so. Since the surgery, I've missed out opportunities to travel during the last term break and the school trip. I'm going to pick up short-term classes this coming term break to make some more dough, so no traveling for Kate in April either. I'll have to wait until the term break in June to go anywhere. Sigh~~~

Two Junkies in the House

It's 6am. Nuage is whimpering for food. He knows if he is persistent, mommy will eventually give in and get out of bed. Bill grunted and murmured some unintelligible words in his sleep. "lbnjh hjui bj bjvbnjuinj j n" => Nuage wanted to write on my blog, and this is what he 'typed'. I let out a big sigh and shuffled my feet toward to kitchen. Fed the cat, cleaned his box, and went back to bed.

But I couldn't go back to sleep. I still have to open the chest box in the basement of the dungeon. Before falling asleep last night, I figured out a way to move statues onto a switch that reveals the location of the chest box, but I wasn't able to get to the other side, where the key hole was. I think there might be another way to do it, but I have to get back onto the ground level first. Princess Zelda is waiting for me to save her. I must get back into the Nintendo.

I turned the volume down so Bill would not know that I'm playing a game as soon as I wake up, nor could he tease me about it later. My plan worked. I opened the chest, got a key, and opened another door that leads to a different place in the game. I was deep in the action of killing some gummy green monster when I heard: "Keep running and slash him on the legs." We exchanged a look, the kind that allies at war give to one another, and went back to killing the green whobbly beast.

It's now 10:30am. We just finished breakfast, and Bill said he had to memorize his lines for the TV show. I came to sit beside him planning to catch up on some e-mailing when I noticed the black controller of the XBox conveniently landed onto his lap. "What's that for?" I asked. "What?" Nice try! Buddy.

He's now a British soldier deep in the action of killing some Germans during WWII while reciting his lines (repeatedly, I might add). Periodically, he inserts groans or screams into the sentences because he just got shot in the game. With the computer monitor in front of my eyes, this is what I'm hearing:

Dadaadaadaaddadadada (The constant sound from multiple machine guns in the background)
"Look for cover!"
"Thanks again, Jane, for inviting me for lunch."
"Ah~~~ I need ammo."
Ka-Boom! (A truck got blown up)
"Are you kidding? I love Turkish food."
Phewwwwww~ (The enemy just threw a grenade over here)
Ka-Boom! (Men groaning)
"I can hardly wait."
Dadaaadadadadadadaddada ( More machine guns, more killing)
"Thanks again, Nuenue, for inviting me for lunch."

Nuenue? I thought it was Jane.

The Perks of Chemo Therapy

1. the money saved on hair cuts and products
2. the time saved on not doing hair
3. no split-ends
4. no need to shave (armpits & legs)
5. free Brazilian wax
6. unrestrained diets
7. legitamate kitty naps throughout the day
8. "You've put on some weight." becomes music to the ear
9. an extended collection of hats
10.

I need one more to complete 10 perks. Any ideas?

Busy, busy, busy!
Went out and saw five apartments yesterday, and only one was worth considering. The one with potential is a townhouse up on a hill near the mountains. It's the last house on that road, so there's not much traffic. It's on the third floor (the neighbor downstairs has the 1st and 2nd floors). As soon as you walk in, the living room, kitchen, dining room, and a small bathroom are on the first level. A large study with a small balcony and a small bathroom are on the second level. On the third level are two master bedrooms, and a storage room and rooftop patio are on the top level. Yes. There are 4 floors in the apartment. It is old and dirty, but it's unique and spacious. The price is more than reasonable for an apartment this size. I was so excited that I dragged Bill out of his errand-running to come see it right away.
After viewing the apartment, we took a walk around the neighborhood. There's a small park next to the apartment and a supermarket just down the hill a bit. The air is clean and the neighborhood is quiet. We were talking about how we could bargain the rent down when we noticed a construction site right behind the apartment (!!!!!). The information board on the fence didn't list the scheduled date for construction, so I called the contractor and builder. Turned out, there was some modification of interior design that needs to be done and they have to apply for a different license. Unfortunately, no one was able to tell me exactly when they're going to start building it.
************************************************************************************
I woke up this morning with a light bulb above my head: I can call the government agency that issue building licenses to see if they would have any idea about that site. I adopted the top-to-bottom. Luckily, I got an answer from a very nice lady at Taipei City Government. What I need to do is to go back to the site and get the license number so that she can look it up for me. She also told me that even if she is unable to see the progress of application on her computer, she can refer me to someone in the town hall who might have an idea. Anyway, I'm determined to get to the bottom of this before I give up the apartment.
************************************************************************************
Meanwhile, the search for apartments continues.

I woke up to the thought and jumped out of bed immediately. It’s still early….too early….but I can’t stay still. Like a kid who gets up too early on the day of a field trip, I puttered around the house trying to conceal my excitement. Then…

Bill (with his morning low voice): “How’re you feeling today?”
Kate (looking a bit like Krustee in the beginning of his show): “I’m going back to work today! Hehehe..Heeeeheeee~”

You know what’s even more exciting?
I’m actually teaching today (can you say….. giddiUP)!!

I know…I know…. I can hear my colleagues, especially those who just came back from their fabulous trips in different parts of the world, gasp and exclaim in unison, “You’re crazy (or sick, mad, psychotic, outta-yer-mind, or see thesaurus for more)!!” But then again, I’m confident that they know me well enough to see where I’m coming from. I haven't set foot in a classroom or engaged in friendly bantering in 8 weeks! Watch out! Kate's back~~~.

Hee hee hee…. I get to meet a group of new students today. How exciting! I love that deer-in-headlights look in the beginning of the term. Oh! Oh! I know what I'll do. I'm not gonna tell them anything (and I think they'll be guessing whether I have hair). The first one working up the nerve to ask gets........ I donno. I'll get some chocolate or something as prize.