to whomever posted a comment regarding the dull and syrupy content of my blogs: i am interested in getting further feedback. email me, if you are so incined?

kh

i wore flip flops to the coup

i spent the morning listening to music and thinking. around one when the sun finally broke through the rain pregnant clouds, the i met zach for a trip to the coup. roads leading to the government buildings were blocked off with barricades and soldiers whose AK47s were lashed with yellow ribbons. tourists and locals alike milled around two impotent tanks, strewn with flowers and yellow strips of cloth. lame news channels moved around, anchor tethered to video camera, trying to frame the tanks, soldiers and Buddhist wat backdropping the sight. soldiers dressed in fatigues attempted stoicism, but were soon wooed by the luxury of quick fame. a few snapshots, nothing to indicate history’s thumbprint just yet, and after a few minutes the coup lost its appeal. driving away, the traffic lined up to be turned away by policemen. a young mother on a scooter indulged her son, who was dressed in camouflage.

i met my friends at the coffeshop, and we joked about sex and bad American movies, the word “tossel” as a euphemism for penis, and the number of converse shoes owned by one of our group (60). late in the afternoon, i accompanied Patrick to the train station, bewildered at the tenderness i feel for a friend i barely know.

the city today was crossed by dusty-heeled men and women in cuffed jeans and tshirts. lepers begged on the sidewalks, and the stench of street cart food choked my path. prostitutes teetered down Soi 11 in miniskirts and stiletto heels; i passed the same one three times, from early morning into the late afternoon. tall and slender, she wore a tight white miniskirt and white spandex top, and she looked utterly lost. the workers are still operating their crane in the building site next door, and the painters have painted an entire side of the hotel. nothing at all suggests there has been military law enacted, save the headlines 6 inches tall screaming COUP! rather, it’s become a buzzword for us: Would you like some coffee? How about a coup? and, Did you know there’s been a coup?

As the sun sets on my first coup day, I’m drinking Chang soda water and wondering where to go for dinner. Tomorrow may very well be back to normal, even more than the “abnormal” day today.

would you like some coffee? how about a coup?

i woke up this morning to a grey rainy day and a bloodless military coup. there had been talk of it at dinner, a heads up from a journalist friend, and i received late night texts from home asking about the situation. when i woke at 5 am to a peaceful bangkok, i only remembered the conversation after my shower. turning on the television, i found all channels blocked except Bloomberg, where their discussion of the dropping Baht was my indication of the goings on of the evening. having no word from the school, i dressed and met my colleague in the lobby, where we were met by an elderly asian woman who explained everything was closed down. i phoned the school’s administrator, and the closing was confirmed. my first coup day! after calling home and reassuring everyone i was fine, i was able to chat with my brother for a minute online and give him the all clear, as well. i took a cappuccino and some fruit for breakfast, and then, in defiance of chicken little’s warning to stay indoors, we ventured a few soi’s over to the atm machine and grocery store. the streets were exceptionally quiet, with only trains, busses and very few cars moving along. street vendors sold breakfast for the service men and women on their way to work, and a steady drizzle pissed on my head. heading back to the hotel, i ran into mark and Patrick, and joined them with their friend at breakfast.

7:30 Sunday morning in Bangkok. The sky is a comforting shade of blue, my air conditioning has been humming all night so I am pleasantly insulated from the heat and humidity, and I have fixed a cup of instant coffee, sugar and milk powder and all. I stand on the 4^th floor, a change from Taiwan, where the hotel skipped the number four in its numbering, and in gazing out the window, I stopped at a stream of water cascading out of a hose in the unfinished building next door. There were on crane operators or foremen present, so I initially pegged it for an accidental leak. Then, mid-conversation on my mobile, I stopped and exclaimed, “Oh! They’re bathing!” And indeed, three or four wet brown bodies were using the abandoned flow for their personal hygiene, in view of anyone who happened by their window, although I, too, would think this a relatively safe hour for public bathing, as anyone awake now may well deserve such a sight for the insolence of early rising.

our last night in Taiwan

our last night in Taipei, we took a taxi to the night market. row after row of neon-lit stores and booths, rain-soaked shopkeepers and shoppers alike. pastries filled the windows of carts, and a young man rolled and stretched balls of dough before throwing them onto a dome-shaped griddle, where the nan bubbled and browned. i bought a round of the fresh bread, along with a vegetable roll, and my colleagues and i retreated down the side streets in search of a place to sit and eat. we ducked into a dessert shop, and after ordering some drinks and sweet ice, we all quietly tucked into our foods: us with our tandori rolls, him with his Taiwanese fried chicken. everywhere we go, the women swoon over roger. just as our bowls of sweet ice arrived, he started to wave at a young couple on the other wall. they laughed and graciously ignored his teasing, but his quick movements caught the eye of a mass of uniformed schoolgirls, seated in throngs in the middle of the shop. raising a spoonful of plum ice to my lips, the air was pierced with the collective shriek of a dozen thirteen year old girls in love. immediately they descended on our table, each one throwing herself at him, posing with a big grin and a peace sign, nearly oblivious to his reaction while friends snapped picture after picture. like a single-minded school of fish, the girls suddenly turned in unison and saw us, wherein they emitted another shriek and thrust digital cameras at each other to capture the moment. connie and i fumbled for our own camera phones to record the excitement, and then took turns posing with the group en masse. glenn, who had gone searching for louis vuitton knock-offs while we sat down, saw us enfolded in a gang of white and blue uniforms and the cries of “One more! One more!” and rushed into the shop, thinking we were being jumped. when the excitement subsided, we settled back into our dishes, residual chuckles escaping our lips and reviewing the snapshots we’d taken just a moment before. when the girls left, it was again a production of “Welcome to Taiwan!” and “Bye!” “Bye!” It took them another few minutes to leave the shop, and the last stragglers waved for one more picture before disappearing into the rainy night.



clinking my spoon on the side of my coffee cup brings back the spring, when i was alone and excited and in the throes of an adventure. the swell in my heart of chinag mai, i love it.

away from home

forgetting the onset of a certain function of the female anatomy at home is stressful enough, let alone waking at 4 in the morning  in a hotel on the other side of the world to the realization that i don’t know how to say “tampon” in mandarin. after embarrassingly motioning to the front desk clerk the nature of my ills, i marched to the Hi Life convenience store down the block. i stared at the available products for a few minutes, hoping to go unnoticed, when i was approached by the young woman clerk. while i quietly tried to explain to her what i was looking for, the tall young man working with her lumbered over and, in a fit of misplaced kindness, started translating from English into mandarin the characteristics of the product i sought. i walked away from the store empty-handed, sorely embarrassed, and still under caffeinated. halfway through the day, i was pointed to the western import grocery store, where a box of tampons cost NT$380, or about $12USD. not to be left unnoticed by the Angry Menstrual Gods, I didn’t have enough Taiwanese cash on me, and Wellman’s didn’t take card. mercifully, the clerk offered to take American dollars, whereupon i nearly cried for gratitude before teetering back to the hotel as quickly as i could on my towering platform sandals.

wednesday politics

the politics of Taiwan are in a very interesting place this week. with two years left in his term, the president, along with several members of his family, is being accused with massive corruption charges. beginning last saturday, the opposition party has been hosting huge rallies in the street in front of the presidential palace. i went tonight with a few friends familiar with the cause, and stepping off the mrt train onto the platform, even before we ascended to the street, the number of red shirts walking around was visually overwhelming. in an interesting display of Taiwanese protocol, however, every person climbing the escalator stood calmly to the right, in single file, even if no hurrying passengers were present.

at street level, tens of thousands of demonstrators in red shirts, caps and bandannas peacefully crowded the streets and sidewalks. at the intersection, we approached an area cordoned off by armed policemen and seven foot tall mobile iron fencing, about a hundred meters in front of the palace. directly across from this sight, more red shirted demonstrators stood at police barricades, chanting for the president’s resignation. we pushed through the crowd, listening to the speakers on stage rally the crowd, followed by a trumpet player and soprano singer. in an act of penance for having voted for the president, one man has set up a little wooden shack under the scaffolding, with his 8 month old baby. under red awnings and trees tied with red strips of cloth, volunteers gave out free food to participants, and stickers emblazoned with the big thumbs down sign were handed to all passers by.  

the city’s largest hospital lay at the other end of the demonstration, and it required quiet all around from 10 pm on; i would have been interested to watch the festivities shut down exactly at 10, out of respect for the infirm.

we walked through downtown Taipei to wang’s beef noodle shop, a small nondescript restaurant with no menu and only one option: beef noodle soup. even without the beef, mine was exceptionally delicious. thick, chewy noodles in a spicy broth, every inhale left my in a coughing fit from the chilis. delicious, though, and a sight to behold the young man carrying four bowls of soup at a time, three in one hand and one in the other.

back to the hotel, another call home, as it’s now morning on the east coast, before i iron tomorrow’s clothes and fall out, with visions of true democracy in action dancing through my head.

tien mu run

i went running this afternoon, up tienmu road about 10 blocks to the river, down some hidden stairs, along a two feet wide strip of concrete above rushing brown water, out through some bushes into a park with wide tiled pathways encircling some playground equipment, across the street to the other side, where i stretched near a polished granite table etched with a chess board, and back down tienmu road, where the sidewalk gave no more than 6 inches to my pounding sneakers. listening to really, really bad American pop music, sweating through my wife beater. not surprisingly, i was the only runner on the road. i passed a withered old man wearing a worn hang ten surf shop tshirt, which made me burst out laughing.

tuesday night

this evening, in the pouring rain, the four of us piled into a cab and gave instructions to the grand hotel, the most formidable example of proper feng shui at work in Taiwan. i had been given instructions to take the group there, have a dinner at the buffet, and then catch the night market. unfortunately, our driver took us to the hyatt downtown, which was a modern marble wonder. the lobby was filled with people milling around a huge fountain topped with a purple flower arrangement; matching staircases at either end reflected the waterfalls flowing beneath them. we took our seats in the great dining room, and tucked into a fabulous dinner. the best coriander-marinated tofu, shrimp and noodles, finished with mango pudding and plum-almond cake and a coffee. the pudding felt like a first kiss; my heart was beating steadily, as it had just before dinner when i was confronted with an elegantly carved jade leaf, at the end of an intricately knotted cord.

the hyatt rests in the shadow of the Taipei 101 building, the tallest building in the world, which stacks like a thick piece of bamboo, and shimmers a deep green.

another cab ride to a night market, where vendors sold every imaginable part of the chicken, prepared in every imaginable way. if i smelled what that market smelled like every day, i’d never have quit smoking. period.

a cheap pair of aviators (who can resist? not me.) and a giddy cab ride home, a few calls to the states, and the day is done.

i had a moment between classes this morning to sit in an outside corridor and read some of my book, underwater to get out of the rain, and despite the occasional cluster of students walking by, chatting in mandarin, it was really difficult for me to tell that i was sitting on the other side of the world. perhaps that’s what traveling is all about: being comfortable wherever one finds oneself. in fact, i’m more comfortable here than i was in Knoxville last week. perhaps it’s my affinity for the asian culture, or my dislike of basement apartments, but i sleep well here, am looking forward to an afternoon run, and feel light-hearted and calm. i know my days are well balanced when i have time and desire to read a little at the end of the day, write a little bit throughout, keep my eyes open for little details.

i vividly remember weeping in chiang mai airport and in airplane bathrooms from Bangkok to san Francisco, out of sheer terror that i would lose whatever i had found in Thailand. and i have, to an extent. whatever one fears losing, is already lost, really. however, the disparity of east/west is not so vast these days. calm and good are the norm.

in an homage to Hornsby, i looked at the ledge outside my hotel window and wondered what it would be like to jump. then, later on the trail, i was thinking of the irony of the concept “popular suicide spots,” and it struck me as the last vestige of the desperately lonely. it makes brilliant sense: to touch, even briefly, a feeling of solidarity, when one’s isolation has pushed the bounds of desperation into suicide. one may live alone, but can one have, for a moment, the dignity of like-mindedness, if even with the ghosts of others?

last night, i was watching an interesting program on discovery about a diver who films white sharks without a shark cage. i flipped back to cnn for some desperately melodramatic 9/11 coverage, then pressed what i though to be the number of the discovery channel. instead, i dialed in the channel of the. um. “popular adult programming.” which was decidedly NOT white shark footage. but equally terrifying.

post scriptum: the suicide paragraph is merely the result of reading a long way down, and in no way reflects how i feel. if you do, however, i urge you to talk to someone.

Taipei, Day One

It’s been raining in Taipei for the past two days, we were told upon our arrival to this small island. the language is mandarin, and the subject of Taiwan’s sovereignty or its attachment to the Republic of China is a touchy one. NT$32= $1 USD. the president is up for several corruption charges, which have led hundreds of thousands of angry Taiwanese to take to the streets in protest. our hotel is one built almost exclusively for adult companionship, a knocking shop, of sorts, but very clean and tastefully furnished. i have not yet, nor do i think i will check out the reportedly vast collection of free porn on tv.

I didn’t want to come here. I cried in Sarasota airport. And Atlanta, though not as much. I wept walking through LAX’s Tom Bradley International terminal, and on the plane, in the fluorescent washroom. The irony is not lost on me that, last time, I was weeping for coming home from Asia, not heading toward it. Rather, it was leaving home that broke my heart. There are few feelings I believe I will ever grow accustomed to, one being the physical sensation of heartbreak when I leave someone I love, the other walking down a narrow corridor between rows of seats, at some unknowable time and some unknown compass point 35,000 feet over the Pacific Ocean.

Once China Airways flight 005 took off for Taipei, however, I immediately calmed down. My heartbreak comes, in part, from the dingy swirl of what-ifs, those nasty heathen occurrences that could pop up and destroy my life. It was important for me to take stock of the ways I have been taken care of this far: safe flights, a man I love and who loves me in return, good food, a great job, opportunity of a lifetime after opportunity of a lifetime. So once I prayed fervently and took a few deep breaths, I switched Nacho Libre on the mini screen and, close to 13 hours later, arrived in hot, rainy Taiwan.

Stepping through the hotel door, I instinctively looked for a keyring slot, but the electricity was already on. Tubular packets of instant coffee were lined on a shelf above a water heater, something straight out of Star Wars. To my delight, the bathroom had no shower curtain, and the shower head hung from a clip on the wall. Showering without a curtain fulfills every childhood urge I had to douse the bathroom top to bottom, watch the water swirl down the drain, neatly centered in the tile floor. I relish using a plug adapter, I love fresh coconut yogurt from the convenience store, I’m salivating to get to Bangkok next week. My beloved’s voice on the other end of a calling card call eased my head, and his blue oxford, doused in cologne, is equally soothing. I’ll be home to him son enough.

I love Asia. When my feet are black from a short walk up the street and back, and Buddhist temples blend in with skyscrapers and neon-lighted signs.

knoxville walk

i walked this evening through the affluent neighborhood of kinsington in Knoxville, Tennessee, under a pregnant, saffron moon. walking fills me with humility; i get to feel the grand scale of life as it exists outside the car. the familiar slap-slap of my worn flip-flops, the occasional bark of purebred dogs. the faint snap crackle pop of electrical wires grew the closer i drew to the imposing, steel structures. standing under them, in the dip of two hills, the buzz was fairly terrifying. the night was beautiful and fresh.