Derailed

I decided I should say something about today's train accident. (Click on the title of this post for the story.) I wasn't in it, thankfully, though I do take that train sometimes. The accident happened very near where I live. I am hoping that no one I know was involved. So far I haven't heard anything to that effect, but I can't seem to get my mind around it. I want to do something to help, but I feel helpless. In the meantime everyone seems to be going on with life, as they should I suppose, in the normal fashion. That is to say that they keep smiling and laughing and complaining about their jobs and watching game shows and going shopping. They are aware of what happened and they aren't happy about it, but they don't seem any different, really. I think that is probably the normal and healthy response, but it is still hard for me to accept it, I guess. I feel like I need some time to just think about the whole thing. It is like the feeling of mourning for a loved one, actually. When someone near you dies you don't feel right about the trivial things in your life, because something so profound has just happened, something so painful and mysterious and personal. In time we can laugh again, but not without a period where to do so feels awkward. This may be one of those times when my friends would tell me, and perhaps some of you will, "Hack, you think too much." But it is very easy for me to identify with the victims of this particular tragedy because I could have easily been one.

I think of the family of the young man who was driving the train. And the college students on their way to classes. And the children. And the businessmen and women who work 80-hour weeks and have mastered the art of catching a nap on the train to the office. And the elderly people who, thanks to the great transportation system in Japan, have the freedom to move about with relative ease.

At the time of this writing, 57 people are dead, over 400 injured. But the other trains keep running and people still sit in the front cars. Soon it will be for most like it never happened. But for many of those who were directly affected, life will never be the same. If nothing else may it be a reminder to us all that we are indeed very mortal. Life is precious and fragile. May we take that knowledge and live and love well. May the pain and death motivate us to goodness, that it may be said that this tragedy wasn't meaningless. May we honor those who suffered by allowing our lives to be affected by their deaths. None of them were expecting to meet the end when they woke up this morning. Neither are we when we go about our own daily routines. But a time is coming for each of us, maybe soon, maybe not. May we be ready when it does.

Not only do I appreciate the reminder of my own mortality, but I want to keep remembering that the people I interact with won't always be here either, and thus I should treat them each with kindness, even if I may not feel they deserve it. If someone dies, it is too late to apologize, too late to make that phone call or write that thank you note, too late to tell her you love her or give him some help with his homework.

Why is it so hard to live lives that reflect our knowledge that our time is limited and unknown? Do we simply prefer not to think about it because it is unpleasant? The very existence of death should move us to celebrate and cherish life, and each other. But whenever we refuse to reflect on that truth, we miss an opportunity to become a little bit better, a little bit deeper, a little bit wiser, a little more compassionate and forgiving and understanding, a little more human.

What you talkin' 'bout Willis?

This morning, after a total of over two and a half years in Japan, I finally took the written part of my driving test for the first time. I think due to the fact that I already have an American license, I only had to answer ten true or false questions. I got 8 out of 10 correct, as I couldn't quite understand the English of two of the questions, or the corresponding sections in the driver's manual. But then, come to think of it, I felt the same way when I took the test in the U.S.

Bow Wow Ni Hao

Last night, as I was sitting on a bench in a shopping mall eating some chocolate, a dog came up to me. I don't remember if it had a collar, but I think it did as it was well groomed and not at all "mangy". It sat down in front of me, displaying intense interest in my tender morsel. As I was telling the dog that I wouldn't oblige because chocolate is bad for dogs, it very gently and thoughtfully lifted one paw and placed it on my knee, as if it were saying please. I was struck by the way this dog moved so gracefully, so I talked to it some more but steered the subject away from the chocolate which I had just finished eating. The dog seemed to be losing interest since I no longer had anything yummy on hand, but I wanted to keep talking to it. It seemed to be mingling among the patrons, trying to charm food from them. Oh, and it was a male dog, so I will now change pronouns.

I wasn't desperate, but I was curious enough to attempt to maintain/regain his attention. So I asked where he was from. He was from China. So I started speaking Chinese to him. That seemed to perk his ears up. I started telling him what to do in Chinese, "Come," "Sit," "Not in the chair, on the ground!", "Don't do that!" He was obeying. As this was all going on, I felt a strange mix of emotions concerning the people around me. Partly I felt pride that I was able to communicate with this dog, and in Chinese. Also I felt a bit self-conscious, though, following a dog through a mall, not in China, a white boy speaking Chinese to a pet. I was aware of more than a few pairs of eyes, but I continued.

Then, abruptly, the dog stopped obeying me when I said "Come," and instead scampered off and shouted back in Chinese, "Just a moment!" I thought I heard this, but I couldn't believe he had just spoken, so I quickly shrugged it off as being only my imagination, and yelled "Good bye!" in Chinese as he rounded a corner and went out of sight.

I was just killing time anyway, so I decided to begin walking in the same direction. Just moments later, I met the dog again. He was coming out of a store, and puttiing on his backpack. He asked me if I could go to his house and play, only now he was speaking English. I told him I had to get back home to the farm, adding that it was very far away. He seemed a little disappointed but understood.

Then the dream got blurry and turned into an adventure where I was helping to save people and boats and all-terrain surfing behind a jeep. The co-stars were friends that I haven't seen since high school. I remember giving one of them money, 1000 Japanese Yen, but referring to it as a "ten spot".

Then the scene shifted to an apartment building. I was on the third floor, and sometimes due to absentmindedness I would stop on the wrong level and open the door to someone else's apartment. (I have done the same before in real life, but never actually got the door opened.) The woman on the first floor seemed to be aurally challenged, if not completely deaf, so when I opened her door, walked into her apartment and yelled "Hello!" (I have no idea why I did this), she didn't look up. I realized I was an intruder before she realized she had one, and made a swift escape back to the stairway.

I had friends, I think, on the second floor, a middle-aged woman with a cat and her temporary boarder, a middle-aged man with a small dog. I don't remember many details, but I do recall that one day the woman was getting ready to go power walking and she had dressed the cat in athletic gear, including yellow sunglasses. I commented that it was amazing that the cat put up with that and the woman said, "Oh, well, you know they have the elastic band, and besides, she likes the puppies!" The cat looked up as if to give assent.

And then some other stuff may have happened, I am not really sure. And I woke up.

So in real life, last night I went to a Chinese restaurant. Should I be concerned that I dreamt about a Chinese dog???

Groove is in the Heart

Last night's karaoke playlist:

Mr. Roboto (STYX)
酒よ　（吉幾三）
Ring of Fire (JOHNNY CASH)
I Don't Wanna Miss a Thing (AEROSMITH)
Hello Mary Lou (RICKY NELSON)
It's My Life (BON JOVI)
Somewhere I Belong (LINKIN PARK)
More Than Words (EXTREME)
Without You (MARIAH CAREY)
Enter Sandman (METALLICA)
さよなら大好きな人　（花＊花）

These pretzels are making me thirsty!

With the warming weather, I have finally resumed a jogging regimen after an embarrassingly long hiatus. The first day I ran along the seaside and watched cherry blossoms gently falling as the sun was setting in the background. I kept thinking to myself, "Self, look what you've been missing!" Today as I ran by the water there were so many fish jumping that I was tempted to stop and watch them. Instead, though, I just ran without watching where I was going. I guess you could say I was being a rubbernecker. Anyway, spring has sprung and I am trying to take advantage of it. Hopefully hayfever and medicine that makes me sleep won't hamper my efforts.

In other news, the softball "season" resumed yesterday. Our team lost 13-8, I think. My streak of games with at least one home run came to a halt and I committed, mm, about 73 errors in the field. Glad I am on a team where no one practices and losing is not a big deal. In fact yesterday we may not have been able to continue in the tournament even if we had won. I blame my sub-par performance on the very long line at the restroom, due to which I had to wait not only most of the game, but another 15 minutes in the queue to find relief. I didn't check but it looked as if someone had given up on the line and gone straight to the sink. I kept trying to imagine how one would perform such a feat, but never seriously considered an attempt myself. The wait was literally painful, as I stood with my legs meaningfully crossed and struggled to think of anything but that about which I could not help but think. The long anticipated payoff, though, was nothing short of blissful as a result. I was actually dizzy afterward.

Why am I telling you this?

The Squeaky Wheel Gets the Grease

Or, "ごみやげーうるさい！"

Click here to read the true tale of a voluntary(?) naked and televised prisoner named Eggplant. Another fascinating site brought to you by Gomeiyage.

Fly the Flag!

Sounds like "Fry the Frog!" in a Japanese TV commercial I saw last night about a rock concert. I think "Fry the Frog!" is a much cooler name for a show anyway. Perhaps it was not the pronunciation but rather the spelling that was erroneous....

A Fool Such As I

So I finally made it to the kung fu massage place I have already mentioned. It was after 1 in the morning when my friend and I got there, which is actually pretty typical. I go every time I visit Taiwan, so they remember me. The master is in his 50's or 60's, a bit rotund, and not the most hygienic person you could hope to meet. The emphasis at this establishment is on the healing powers of properly administered massage, not on comfort or atmosphere. To put it more bluntly, it is dirty and unrefined. But that, too, is part of its charm... for me at least.

On this night the master was in top form. As we walked in he was unashamedly picking his nose. He was really working on a big nasal blockage removal project, and kept at it while he talked with us and gave orders to his staff. He said hello to me and then started speaking very gruffly in Taiwanese, as usual. I can understand a fair amount of Chinese, but I am nearly useless in Taiwanese. I know a few words, but otherwise I just have to pay attention to body language and tone of voice. So all I could make out was that he said something about me being 'really big' and about teaching someone something. He was looking right at me and by his tone it felt like he was mocking me. Was he calling me fat? Whatever. I was pretty sure he was callilng me fat. But I just wanted a massage, not a Taiwanese lesson. So I tried to ignore him.

About 10 minutes into my massage, as I was beginning to feel more relaxed, the nose picking master crouched down next to me, so we were face to face, and said with harsh tones and gestures, "Taiwan blah blah blah delicious blah blah blah? Ha ha ha!" So now what? Was he saying I eat too much delicious food when in Taiwan? Was he actually mocking me to my face in front of everyone? I felt like a starfleet member on a Klingon Warbird being openly challenged. To let it go would mean dishonor--it must be answered.... But then, what if I were wrong? Anyway, I didn't want to deal with it, or him. But I was surprised at this new low. Like the great doctor who never learned bedside manner. Totally unprofessional, I thought, regardless of what he actually said.

Put it this way: If the way he said what he said were translated into English, or Japanese, it would be something like, "You are worthless scum and so is your family and you don't deserve to breathe the same air as me or the fleas on that dog which I later plan to eat!"

Then he asked my Taiwanese friend to get an answer from me. So friend translated: "He want to know if everytime you come here I take you to very delicious place, you know my mean?" Already annoyed and sick of the the master, I told him I just want to sleep. I was very angry at this point, and I can't explain it well enough other than to refer you to the above paragraph. The way he spoke was so animated and felt to me to be so disrespectful that I was doing all I could not to just get up and leave. I wanted my massage, after all.

At the end of our time, my Taiwanese friend asked if i would like to soak my feet before leaving and I said no, I really have to go right now. I couldn't take another minute in that place with the self-righteous racist nose picking jerk. I physically bit my tongue as I paid my bill and walked out of the door slowly and carefullly. I didn't reckon it would be worth it to say anything. After all, these people study kung fu! Once to the car I let my frustrations fly. And my Taiwanese friend agreed that in fact the master had spoken very harshly and carelessly and he understood my anger.

When we got home, though, I found out that the way he spoke and the words he spoke were quite different. That is to say content did not at all match delivery. It turns out that actually this master always asks about me when my friend goes for a massage alone, and he is genuinely interested in a foreigner's thoughts about Taiwan and his massage shop. So he was actually glad to see me. What he said first was that I am a big guy, but I don't need a really hard massage, so the person administering said massage need not worry. Later, he was just asking if my friend had shown me some good places to eat, because it would be a shame to miss out on Taiwan's great food.

I completely and utterly misunderstood. After over three and a half years in Asia I am still learning that I really have a lot to learn. I felt so ashamed when I realized how far off I was. My Taiwanese friend made me feel a little better when he said that if someone were to speak to him in that way in a language he did not understand, he would assume they wanted to fight. Still, I should know better. I lived in Taiwan for nearly a year, after all. The language has 8 tones and tends to sound harsh anyway. When spoken by some people even words of sincere kindness can sound threatening and disrespectful to the untrained ear.

And besides, what if he had been mocking me? That would have been his problem, not mine. "But I say to those who hear: love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. ... And just as you want people to treat you, treat them in the same way." (Luke 27-28, 31 NASB)

Tough not to be drawn in by such things; even harder to rise above.

Besides, I could stand to shed a few pounds. :)

Home is where the electric bills are

I just got home after an exceptionally irritating 12 hours of travel to find that I left one of my lights on for a week. Grr.

The lights are still off, though, when it comes to my Japanese. I noticed immediately after returning. After only a week in Taiwan of practicing my Chinese, I had trouble coming up with the Japanese just to tell the taxi guy where I was.... I am having to form sentences in my mind and rehearse them before actually speaking, so anything sudden is bad news, at least for the next few hours. Example: I think I really startled the bus man when he mistakenly began to reload my very large piece of luggage. Rather than simply saying "Excuse me, that's mine," which would have been very easy to do, I did the more primitive thing and pulled on my bag in the opposite direction. Oh what a look he gave me. Better watch some NHK or something quick.

Aside from the fact that Japanese and Chinese do not coexist readily in the front of my mind, I am reminded that I haven't slept but about 3 hours in the past two days. I should sleep. Yeah....

But first allow me to inventory some of the very culturally significant items I purchased while in Taiwan:

2 Mr. Bean Pez Dispensers
$1, $2 and $3 (authentic) DVDs and VCDs
Ovaltine Malted Milk Mix
Gilette Aftershave
Fancy Tea (a must)
Some XL shirts that are actually XL
The newest CD from Yan-zi, a Singapore singer I have a big crush on

In other words, not that much... where does the money go? And why do I always have so much luggage? One would think I would have learned how to pack efficiently by now. Clearly not the case.

Doh! I just realized I left my remaining 4 cans of Mountain Dew in the refrigerator in Taiwan. I guess there are worse things I could have forgotten. I wonder if I did...?