It's complicated.

Information Desk Man (pointing back and forth between the two of us): Unintelligible Chinese mumbles, ma?

Me: I think he's asking if we're sisters.

Maddie (to the man): Unintelligible Chinese mumble.

Information Desk Man (confused expression): Hao (ok).

Maddie (to me): I told him you weren't my little sister.

Me: I thought 'little sister' was mei-mei.

Maddie: Huh.  Ok.  Then I told him you weren't my grandmother.

Operation: Post-Taiwan

I know it's been a while, but I'm just going to leave these nuggets of information:

• I have, in my passport, one entry visa to China
• Trans-Siberian railway tickets have been reserved
• stops in: Yekaterinburg, Moscow and St. Petersburg
• There is a plane ticket from St. Petersburg to Berlin with my name on it

Yes, I know there are many more steps to take before our September 4th departure.  However, if all goes wrong the game becomes, "Get to St. Petersburg by October 4th using any means necessary."  And, hey, that might be fun, too.

Word travels fast in Yeliu.

Somewhere out there a middle-aged Taiwanese couple has photographic evidence of the ocean, cool rocks and me falling on my ass.

There is a geopark in Yeliu, and though they don't allow you to climb the rocks (an orange vest with a whistle comes out of nowhere to yell at those who try), there is a little region in which to wade into the water.  When the sun is out, with minimal cloud coverage, it may seem like a refreshing idea to remove your flip-flops and splash about in the knee-deep water.  It will be, but that is as far as you should go.  Whilst splashing about, laughing at how you are the oldest person enjoying said water (the rest are children), you'll notice that still within the knee-deep region there are a few rocks that look like fun to stand on.

Don't do it.

Heed my warning--they are too slippery.  You will fall into the water.  You will be laughing so hard that you can't get up, allowing your purse to soak in the (once delightful) water.  You will need your friend (who is also laughing hysterically at your stupidity) to drag you (still laughing) from the water.  There will be a middle-aged Taiwanese couple watching with an equal mixture of horror and amusement, using their giant camera to take flip-book worthy photos of this ridiculous sequence of events; they won't stop until you retreat to the most inconspicuous picnic table location to salvage what is left of your belongings.  And for the rest of your time in said geopark you will receive the tickled glances of other visitors who recognize you (and your wet clothes) from the (fast-traveling) description as "that white girl who ate it in the water".

The orange vest, and its whistle, will not be close in your moment of need.

Oh, yeah.  And you will need to replace your camera and iPod; they won't think too highly of your impromptu swim.  But on the bright side, you'll see some cool rocks.

Kindergarten humor.

INT--SCHOOL (DAY): The Elephant class waits in line outside the bathroom.  The teacher, a radiant, personable, young American woman (ahem), inspects the line to make sure that each student is standing on his, or her, respective footprint outlines.  Satisfied, she takes a seat on the stairs and holds out her arms for each student to step forward.  "May I go to the bathroom, please?"  They ask one by one--receiving high-fives before entering the bathroom.  The last child, an energetic boy, walks over to the (dazzling) teacher with the swagger that has become his trademark, and the typical (and adorable) smile on his face.

Teacher: Alright, Fernando.  What do you say?

Fernando: (raising his hands in anticipation of the high-five)  Fernando is ready for his milk.

Teacher: Whoa, King Fernando!  What do you really say?

Fernando: (aware he's being mocked, but not sure why) Fernando is ready for his juice.

Teacher: Interesting.  But do you have to go to the bathroom?

Fernando: (nodding with enthusiasm) May I go to the bathroom, please?

The student completes the exchange by slapping a high-five on the teacher's palms with much enthusiasm.  As he continues his swagger into the bathroom the teacher does her best to control the laughter that has overcome her.

SCENE.

The conclusion of English time (and other tales)

The lack of writing can be attributed to a variety of reasons that all boil down to one main concern--there's only so many times one can write about getting lost without sounding pathetic.  That having been said I will share a rare story of success.

This past Wednesday we were given a holiday in honor of "Children's Day" and sure, I had to make it up on Saturday morning, but Green Island adventure time!  Maddie and I headed to the small island of Ludao, or Green Island, about twenty miles off of Taiwan's eastern coast;  we read that a six hour train ride, half hour's bus ride (listed on the website as the 'DingDong' bus) and an hour on the ferry should get us there.  Knowing (and embracing) full-well our less than stellar history with planned trips (please see previous posts) we did the research and headed to the train station the night before to purchase tickets for a 6 o'clock train ride (though our primary concern was finding breakfast so early in the morning).

"No seats.  Too crazy."  Really, not one seat?  It's a six hour train ride, and we're twelve hours early!  "Come back in the morning."  I don't want to sound too paranoid about the Songshan's ticket counter intentionally sabotaging our plans, but it felt like they were intentionally sabotaging our plans.  Nevertheless, we decided to heed the advice and try for seats in the morning.

Wednesday morning didn't feel any different than other days, but in retrospect I now realize that the sun did shine a little brighter, and the birds seemed to sing with more passion than usual.  We were granted tickets with seats, the cafe inside the station was open (coffee and doughnuts were obtained, easing our breakfast concerns), and the train conductor reopened the doors for us when we took too long picking out said coffee and doughnuts resulting in a mad dash for the train.  We were on our way.  And we were winning.

Cut to eight hours later: We made it to Green Island.  The hostel owner picked us up at the ferry, "You want scooters?"  Yes, yes we do.  She points to two scooters and hops on a third, "Follow me."  We must have hesitated too long--she could tell.  "How many times have you ridden?"  We smiled sheepishly; Maddie held up one finger, while I just shook my head.  "Oh, um, you need an international license.  Sorry."  As if the admission of our inexperience wasn't enough, we had to ride on the back of her scooter--for everyone to see.  A long explanation via translator informed us that she would not rent to us if we didn't know how to drive (logical enough), so we wandered down the street to find another place from which to rent.  Four shops later (we were convinced she was warning everyone via text that we were coming for them) we were given a driving test.  Maddie passed, while I (promptly) failed.  The man was very sensitive to my misgivings, and felt bad about denying me the transportation--I hopped onto the back of our lone scooter, and we were on our way.

NOTE TO READER: I did, in fact, master the art of scooter driving once the initial testing nerves abated.

The rest of our day and a half on the island was filled with cruising around, taking a million pictures of the same beautiful rocks, snorkeling (where fish ate bread out of our hands) and enjoying an early morning visit to the hot springs.

And the goats.  There were so many mountain goats!

Mid-week adventure: success.  It's hard to pretend like Taiwan didn't owe us one.

***

The following is a Friday afternoon conversation I had with a kindergarten student (whose name I cannot remember) that is not in my class:

Kid: Goodbye, Teacher Lindsay.
Me: Are you going home?

Kid: It's Chinese time.  No more English time.

Scene.

***

And now a story with kids who are actually in my kindergarten class.  Edward was pushing in the bathroom line, so I pulled him out to the "Crazy People Line":

Me: Is pushing ok, Edward?

Edward: (silence)

Me: Is it ok to push your friends?

Peter: (barreling out of the bathroom, with his pants around his ankles) No pushing!  Dangerous!

Me: So is running with your pants down; go wash your hands.

And scene.

Love truffles and train station agents.

The train station agents of Songshan station have taken the top slot of people I'd like to punch in the face.

This past weekend, armed with a plan of action involving an old street and a giant buddha statue, we set out for Changhua.  Securing breakfast(s) and milk tea, we headed to the information booth of Songshan station to double check our travel plans and what train to take.  Using the map on the counter and the few Chinese words we know that were applicable to the situation, we confirmed the 10:30 train as our means of travel; off to the ticket booth to ensure seating.  The 10:30 train had no available seats, and instead of standing or getting moved from chair to chair for three hours we opted for the later train to Dounan at 10:48.  It is important to note that in confirming this train as our means of transportation we checked to be sure we'd have seats, we pointed to Changhua on the map, we located Dounan was on the map and we, again, pointed to Changhua on the map.  The elderly agent confirmed that this was the train for us.

It was not the train for us.

An hour an half into the journey (and far too long after enjoying our breakfast(s)) we were asked to move from the seats of a new passenger.  Showing our tickets to prove that we were authorized to sit there, the woman informed us that we had missed our stop--the train was just beginning to pull away from our station.  The timing seemed off, but we had faith that we had stated our needs clearly to the agent--he wouldn't fail us.

He failed us.

The station that he had given us tickets for was only half of the distance we wanted.  Bottom line: We got handled...again.

We got off at Miaoli and began to wander, reflecting upon our luck during planned explorations in Taiwan--our poor, poor luck.  A co-worker, acting as spontaneous tour guide via phone, read that Miaoli was home to the art of wood-carving, and there was a museum to commemorate the work.  We couldn't find the museum (though we weren't looking too hard) and instead walked up and down the main drag of Miaoli--correction, the deserted-what we assumed to be main-drag of Miaoli.

The only establishment that has come through for us consistently in the last six months has been Carrefour, and its presence in this city was no different.  We took a jaunt through said establishment where we made friends with a man dressed as an Easter bunny.

 
 Beyond this photo, exploration Changhua was deemed a failure.

***

Note: 'Linsanity' may have puttered out in the U.S. (or so the grapevine/internet has informed me), but Taiwan hasn't gotten the message.  There remains to be a great competition among the students for whose team name gets to be the 'Knicks' or 'Team Lin' in classes.

In case you are unable to see it clearly, that's Spike Lee on the bottom left.

***

On a different note: I have an admirer in my level two class.  Last Friday night I received a box of truffles, for no particular reason.  Innocently assuming that these truffles were to commemorate the end of level two (the following week), or a teacher appreciation of some kind, I accepted with enthusiasm.  It wasn't until after the lesson that my co-teacher informed me that Wayne likes me.

I'm hoping to get more chocolate out of the kid before I have to break the news to him gently.

***

Random photo:

It's so much more than just a latte; it's a life message.  Thanks for the reminder, Hi-Life.

And our reward was a sandwich.

The sunshine was hard to deny, so we rented bikes.  The ride lasted forever (I estimate about twenty miles) but the end result was sandwiches, and thus, totally worth it.

This was the sunset on our way back: