HAPPY HALLOWEEN


Elvis was waiting to get the show on.












We headed out to watch our friends, Sky Burial, perform at the Living Room.
Members of Sky Burial were also dressed up: (from left to right)
lead singer Lance, bass player John, guitar player Brian, and drummer Paul.
http://sky-burial.com/punishment/








Elvis was very busy during the show. He was invited up stage, and he had to take care of his fans.











Roberto dressed up as a samurai. I borrowed a sword from him for the night. A geisha never travels without a weapon.










After midnight, we ventured out to Vibe, where we met more famous people.
We saw the bishop at the entrance and he immediately wanted to have a chat with Elvis about the way he lives his life.
I found Monroe and insisted us two gals had to have a photo taken.
Meanwhile, Waldo found a chick pirate who could double as the female Waldo.


Right before the break of dawn.........








A Taiwanese police officer kindly asked me to stop swinging my sword around.
Roberto was snuggling with a kitty cat (purrrrr).
Waldo found us.


Oh, I almost forgot about Harry.

SCENT

Many of my memories were stored by scent.

My first awareness of scent was my aunt’s closet. Right after my parents’ divorce, my mom took me back to her parents’ house to live for a while. Mavis, my older cousin, and I were happy to be in each other’s company. Mavis’ mom worked as a secretary in a foreign company. It was very unusual and prestigious in the late 1970’s Taiwan ‘cause not that many people finished high school; not to mention she was a university graduate who spoke fluent English. I was three, too young to understand the significance of her occupation in that time and space. All I obsessed about was the fact that my aunt always smelt soft and beautiful; and I wondered how she made all her clothes smell like her.

To this day, whenever I speak or think of my kindergarten, I can recall the smell so vividly as if I never left: the sweetness of cookies and milk, and the smell of hot metal fireman poles and dry wooden teeter-totter under the blazing sun. Memories of my elementary school are mostly filled with the smell of sweat: from the people on the bus during my hour-long commute to school and from spending every recess in the school yard that didn't offer any shading.

High school was more of a blur, and it kind of makes sense. After all, who would have the time and energy to notice smells when she was so wrapped up in the drama of adolescence? The only thing involving scent that I remember was the day I experimented with my mother’s perfume. My mom has never been a perfume wearer, but she did have a few bottles in her drawer. I thought it would make me sophisticated like Mavis' mom so I dabbed a few drops behind my ears and between my nipples. It was winter and the buses were packed during rush hours. The pungent and unfamiliar smell made me so self-conscious and paranoid I was convinced that everyone on the bus was struggling to stay alive by catching a few breathes of fresh air when the doors opened. I ran straight for a sink as soon as I got to school. Despite the cold, I scrubbed behind my ears and washed my neck. The smell lingered around me like a ghost that day. The embarrassment burnt a fragrant imprint in my memory. I can smell it as I’m telling you the story today.

It was one of those lazy Sundays in the summertime that you wish you could skip your part-time job and spend the day lying spread eagle in the sun. I was 16, studying Electrical Engineering at a lousy college. I had been working at McDonald’s for about 5 weeks. It had been so dreadful that I didn’t feel the joy (or pride) when they finally moved me up from cleaning the floors to working in the kitchen. I was in charge of the deep-fryer that day and I hated the fact that I smelt like one. I watched the air bubbles struggling to get out of the boiling oil and wondered how, or if, I could ever escape from this boring meaningless life. Then the manager thundered into the kitchen. “Who speaks English?” he shouted. I looked around the kitchen. Everyone looked away. The manager’s chest was filled with panic and frustration. “No one?” he squeezed these words through his teeth. I was afraid that he might snap. “Why d’you ask?” I heard a small voice without realizing it was my own. “You! Come with me.” The manager dragged me by my wrist to the front counter where there stood a tall foreign man with hair blinding like the sun. “You get him what he wants,” the manager dropped his command on the floor and left. I don't remember much of what happened except the fact that the foreigner smelt like sandalwood. I remember wondering why he would want to smell like incense.

I never worked a day in the kitchen at McDonald’s after that Sunday. In fact, I quit two weeks later and started working as an assistant teacher at a children’s English school. The smell of grease was replaced by the smell of sharpened pencils. Two years later, I was the coordinator of Frontier Children’s English School and was in charge of all 5 schools in Taipei. Alice and Janet, the two strict and wicked managers who saw something in this college dropout on the interview day, bought a bottle of perfume as a gift for my 18^th birthday. My first bottle of perfume: Tresor by Lancome. Armed with this sensual elegant fragrance, I became a woman: a woman who was given a taste of power and success much greater than she had ever imagined.

I wore Tresor for about 4 years until I realized, underneath all the glamour and lush, it really wasn’t worth my while to stay on this power ride. I was suffering from numbing migraines that sent colorful flashing stars to my vision. I couldn't sleep at night, but my doctor warned against increasing the dosage on sleeping pills. On some days, my head would hurt so much that it made me vomit. I knew I had to stop and I had to change my life. So when Alice and Janet quit, I turned down the offer to be the manager and followed their footsteps. As far as I was concerned, my loyalty was exclusive to those two women who gave me a chance to see what I was capable of.

Memories of my first impressions of Canada smell like the freezer. Many of the tangled flashes of memory were cold, distant, and pale gray. For the most of the first couple of years, I barely had enough money for school and grocery. My sense of smell was aroused again when I worked part-time at VanWest College while trying to finish the last 3 semesters of university. I had smelt it on Heather, an Asian Canadian woman who had just gotten married, and the fragrance was friendly, airy, gentle, and calming. I thought that ought to be what stability smells like. It was on the last day Heather worked as an ESL teacher when I asked her the name of her perfume. I don’t know if she continued to wear it in her new job as a customs officer, but Treasure by Estee Lauder has been my scent for the past 10 years.

The last ten years changed my life and fossilized parts of who I am today. All the successes and failures, love bites and heart breaks, were wrapped in this fragrance. It has become a part of my identity. It makes some people think of me when they smell it. Though I might not have established the kind of stability I desired, I was certainly settled and content in my own being. New doors were opened and boundaries were broken. I discovered and perfected new abilities and skills, and I did it all in this fragrance that sooths me. No wonder I got so upset last night when Bill confessed that he hadn’t been a fan of my perfume. And he waited three years to tell me.

Who knows?! Perhaps it’s time for me to change my scent. Bill thinks I should try something spicier. The idea of changing the perfume sounds intriguing, but for the most part, I find myself unwilling to let go of what has been familiar and terrified that some important parts of my past will fade away with this scent.

Shopping Therapy

It's been almost a year since my initial surgery and I recently discovered that I no longer fit into some, well most, of my winter clothes (especially pants). It was an unpleasant discovery and I fought to make peace with it.
Another discovery, and this one is rather curious, is that I had thrown away all my winter shoes. I kept only one pair of boots. I seem to vaguely remember throwing shoes away, but I can't remember why I did it.
Anyway, after wearing the only pair of pants that I feel good in and the only pair of boots I've got every single day for the past week, I finally decided to go shopping... and I went all out.

I've always been more of a buyer than a shopper. I don't have the patience to browse all the shops on one side of a street and hit every store on the way back as well. I'm certainly not interested in fighting with other women for things we cover our bodies with. I'm the efficient (some might say 'boring') kind of customer: I go in, find what I need/want, make sure it's the right size, pay, and get out.

Today, however, I gave myself a mission to "shop". I had a comfortable budget and didn't hold back. I bought 1 hat, 2 pairs of boots, 2 pairs of jeans, 2 sweaters (one long, one short), 2 skirts, 3 pairs of socks and 3 pairs of stockings. Everything fits and I feel gooooooooooooood.

Lust Caution

Go see it.
And remember to go to the bathroom before the movie starts. The movie's almost 3 hours long.

Typhoon Krosa






We started feeling the wind and the rain late Friday night. Early Saturday morning, it started raining hard but Bill was still about to go out to rescue Dorion's plants. After he came back 'round noon, however, Krosa really hit and this is what we saw and heard all day yesterday.




Some trees and sign posts were broken, and a number of people were injured on the road (makes one wonder what they were doing out and about on a typhoon day). Ben's place had a small flood and the electricity went out. A stream of water came in from the patio ('cause the drain was clogged), but it wasn't a big deal. Bill and I are very experienced and skillful now, thanks to what we had to deal with in our previous apartment.

It's Sunday here today and everything had calmed down. We're about to venture out for some brunch and to see what the city looks like after a big storm.

Pictures from Kyoto

I was quite happy with what we had already, but nooooo............. Mr. Bill I'm-a-comp-nerd Martin wanted me to try this "new thing" -- rolling my eyes as I'm typing this and he's tickling me. Anyway, what do we do now?

Oh, you gotta click for the next picture.



Oooo.... it does look a lot better than the one we had before. Thank you, Mr. Martin.

Five Things I Will not Forget from the Trip

#1: A Canadian Passport Leads to More Fun Adventures.
7:25pm Kansai Airport

The customs officer took a look at my passport. Without moving a muscle on his face, he said coldly, "Canadian..... Open your bag." While I was opening my bright red Roots bag up, he put a laminated sheet of paper next to me and asked, "Anything forbidden in your bag?" -- he was pointing at a picture of marijuana. I seriously contemplated whether I should direct his attention to the occupation box on the customs declaration form. After all, teaching is a noble job in Japan, isn't it? Oh wait, since I wasn't sure what the general impressions of English teachers were, I thought I'd better keep my mouth shut.

The way he checked my bag was the same as if he was doing a quick inventory of my belongings. He didn't even open the small pockets. "Okay. Body search. Please go to the back." WHAT?!
While I stood there not knowing whether to cry or laugh at the ridiculousness of the whole thing, a female officer led me to behind some cheap OA dividers. She apologized and asked me to extend my arms. Then she gave me a thorough pat down, and I mean THOROUGH. Though blushing a bit, I was more curious to see how she did it. I mean, this (hopefully) is the one and only patting down I may ever get to experience in my life and I wanted to make the most of it! Her right hand brushed by my catheter and, like a hound dog, it went to a halt and returned to the bulge.

"Please take off (your shirt)." I felt a bit embarrassed 'cause I was all sweaty (and probably stinky) from having been on the road in the heat all day. "What happened?" she asked when she saw the bulge (I still find that a very interesting question). I answered truthfully. "Cancer?" she nearly screamed. The drama in her voice and body language was so stereotypically Japanese I had to bite my lower lip to stop myself from laughing out loud. However, her heavy accent made me wonder if she was saying "cancer" or "concert", so I thought it was best not to answer until I was absolutely sure. "Chemo." I said while gesturing the needle insertion. Her eyes nearly popped out. She took in a big breath of air and acknowledged, "Cancer." I nodded. She lowered her eye lids and let out a sympathetic sigh. "Please put back and sit," she pointed at the chair. She asked me to take my shoes off. Now I felt really sorry for her 'cause no one should be near my red sneakers at the end of a day. She picked up the right one, looked in, and put it down (I bet she was holding her breath). Then she picked up the left one, looked in and went, "EHHH?!?!?!?!"
"What's in it?" I asked plainly.
She looked up and smiled, "Joking."

I didn't get the joke.

#2: The Japanese are Punctual...and apologetic
8:45pm Airport Bus

They are ..... and they are!
All the buses and trains leave and depart on time in Japan. The bus from the airport to Kyoto station, however, didn't leave on time because of three elderly passengers. The bus was scheduled to leave Kansai Airport at 8:45, but at 8:45, the three elderlies were still running, well, trying to run, to the bus. When they finally got on the bus, each one of the three elderlies apologized to each row of passengers. At 8:47, the driver closed the door. Before he got into his seat, he too apologized to everyone on the bus for the delay and gave a 90 degree bow.

#3: The Japanese Can be Straightforward
On the Airport Bus

Did I hear it right? Someone just said, "Urusai ne. Chotto." (It's a bit noisy) to the lady who'd been nagging her husband since we got on the bus. I thought the Japanese were oppressed and they never expressed their opinions/emotions in public. Maybe I heard wrong.

Ah! I didn't hear wrong. The lady behind me just told the nagging wife off! No one looked directly at anybody, yet the scolding was accomplished. Obviously shame was brought on to the wife 'cause she shut up and stayed quiet the rest of the way.

Wow!

#4: Sorry I've Failed You, Ms. Leduc
The Department of Linguistics required all students to learn a foreign language, so I chose Japanese. That was 10 years ago. I'm not communicative but I have basic survival Japanese. I was excited about using some Japanese on this trip.

I was lost. I needed to find Gojo station. Language wise, it was a piece of cake, or so I thought. Though I was confident, I ran the sentence through in my head one more time before I approached the two bell boys in front of Hotel Keihan Kyoto. "Sumimasen. (they responded and came to my aid. That boosted my confidence) Gojo station wa ikura desu ka?" (Oooo... it felt good to be able to use Japanese again).

One of them simply burst out laughing while the other was visibly struggling to keep himself together. That wasn't the reaction I anticipated. I started doing a quick error analysis in my head but I couldn't identify the mistake. I felt compiled to join them for a laugh, so I asked, "What's so funny?"
"It's no for sale ne," one of them replied while his shoulders shook uncontrollably. Turned out, I had asked them how much Gojo station was.

It wasn't that funny if you ask me.

#5: Always be Prepared
It is official. Kyoto is my favorite place in Japan.

Though it was pouring rain out, I would've preferred to spend another day in Kyoto despite the rain. Instead, I had to head out to Osaka and a series of errors began.

On the night I arrived in Japan, I bought a 3-day Kansai Thru Pass. It gave me access to the trains and buses in the entire Kansai area except the JR (Japan Rail) lines. It was a wonderful money-saving pass to have. However, and it was my fault for not double checking, the girl who sold me the pass counted the day I arrived as one day (but I arrived at 8pm). This meant that I had to pay out of my own pocket for the most experience trip out of Kyoto. I wasn't impressed, and it was a bad start.

I didn't like Osaka at all. It was just another crowded modern city. Like Shinjuku station, Osaka station was a gigantic mouse trap. It took me almost an hour to find a travel information place for the directions to my hotel, which was more like a closet.

I arrived at the hotel at noon but check in was at 3, so I ventured out to Osaka Castle.... once again, paying my own way. At the ticket counter of the Castle, the lady asked if I had any kind of travel passes because I'd get a discount on the admission ticket. Well, I didn't get the discount 'cause my pass had already expired. I enjoyed the Castle and the views.

On the train ride to a famous shopping mall, it dawned on me that I was a bit short of cash (from paying for all the train tickets). I tried using my credit card an international ATM at the mall but my card got spat out several times. It was the only credit card I brought (what was I thinking?!) and there was a huge scratch on the stripe on the back. I had some Taiwanese dollars with me but I couldn't go to a bank to exchange money because it was a Sunday.... a bloody Sunday!
I had exactly 840 yen of cash in my pocket. I went into panic mode and started doing crazy calculations:
I would have to take the train to Namba station tomorrow morning to take the airport bus. It costs 200 yen to go to Namba and I wouldn't have enough cash to pay for the airport bus which costs 880 yen. I wouldn't be able to hit the bank tomorrow morning 'cause I had to head to the airport early in the morning. I need to get some cash today. I must get some cash today.

I tried every ATM on the way back to and near the hotel, but none would take my card. What added to the frustration was that it took half an hour for the front desk staff to understand what my problem was, at which point they cheerfully suggested that I try all the ATMs near the hotel. I asked if I'd be able to pay for the bus ticket with my credit card and the answer was, "Um.... maybe no." It took another 15 minutes to persuade them to call the bus company and ask for a definite answer and another 10 minutes to finally get the answer ('cause the girl had called the wrong numbers, twice).

"Yes, you can. But only at 6:30." she informed me.
"6:30 in the morning?"
"6:30 AM." What's the difference?
"You mean I could only pay with my credit card at 6:30 or after 6:30?" It didn't make sense to me that a bus company would make credit card payment available only at one time in a day.
"........." she obviously didn't think that would be a problem. "At 6:30 AM. They told me." she decided to blame it on the bus company people.
"Would you mind calling them again just to make sure?" I started to get annoyed at her incompetence.
"Um okay...." she tilted her head. "But they're closed now." What did you say 'Okay' for then?

So I spent my one night in Osaka paying Nintendo games in my tiny hotel room. I didn't have dinner 'cause I didn't want to spend any money. Who knows? With that big scratch on the stripe, my credit card might not work at the bus terminal. In which case, that would put me at 240 yen short of cash to buy a ticket. I was prepared to panhandle for spare change at the bus terminal. I couldn't fall asleep that night 'cause I was worried I might oversleep. I had to be at the bus terminal before 6:30, which meant I had to get up at 5:30.

Luckily, my credit card worked and I had the entire row to myself on the plane. I slept my way back to Taipei....... with my mouth open.