Christmas time in Taipei is a little odd for expats. 8-12 time zones away from the family dinners that typify late December and without a common day off for everyone on the 24th, holiday events are typically spread out over a couple of weeks of drinking and general debauchery. I actually had a pretty relaxed December on the whole compared to how it could have turned up. Highlights included homemade eggnog at the Voice, Turkey dinner at Graeme’s house, and being given the frat-esq nickname of “baby jewsas” by the Hash Run. I also co-hosted something of a Hanukah party, where I grated and fried Taiwanese sweet potatoes into latkes.
New Years Eve, on the other hand, was pretty wild. The whole city watches fireworks shot off Taipei 101. My housemate Caroline and her friend Jennifer convinced me to go with them to a party held in the rooftop suite of a big hotel. Hosted by a nightclub and featuring inexpensive booze and a pair of DJ’s the party was a popular destination for young expats. English teachers made up a sizeable portion of the crowd, with the margins filled out by Taiwanese locals and Hispanic students. Taipei’s universities host a surprising number of Latin American students, brought here by the generous scholarships given to citizens of Taiwan-recognizing countries.
At midnight the lights on the world’s tallest building (and much of the city surrounding it) went dark. The fireworks were shot off without a countdown or any related fanfare. The attendees of the party squeezed up on the concrete railing on the roof’s edge, drinking and posing for pictures with chattering teeth.
Taiwanese really do party hardly. When one of my adult students mentioned that she takes a glass of wine before bed, many in the class responded with shock (“You get drunk every day!?!”) Clubs often charge steep cover rates but then have an open or very affordable bar, figuring that many people will only come to dance and socialize, and the booze will be undrank. Many of Taipei’s watering holes therefore go out of there way to cater to foreigners. One local establishment offers four free drinks to the first 400 patrons on Wednesday nights, just to stir up business. There, English (and sometimes Spanish) is more common than Mandarin.
On an unrelated topic, I have begun learning to ride a motorcycle. Though most Taiwanese ride clutch-less scooters, I figured why not jump right into the real thing. Jennifer has agreed to let me wheel around on her bike a couple times, and I am slowly getting the hang on riding. Loads of fun.
I also finally started serious Chinese classes. I am being tutored six hours a week in one-on-ones. Truthfully, I should have started sooner. Many of my stock phrases that I had been leaning on for the past couple months were so mangled that they only occasionally led me to be understood. Chinese grammar and vocabulary are both quite logical, simple, and intuitive. The tones are a different matter entirely. Long story short, I suck pretty hard. But I am getting better.
I usually do my homework in the Mr. Donut near the school. Mr. Donut is the Asian variant of Dunkin Donuts. It sports a varied selection of fried pastries, ranging from traditional Boston crème to Indian curry-stuffed doughnut holes. I’m a fan.
What I am not a fan of, however, is Mr. Donut Radio. You see, many Taiwanese franchise stores feature loudspeaker announced commercials. The “programming” on Mr. Donut Radio is only unique in its brevity. Each cycle is only a minute and 43 seconds, and these friendly infomercials cycle continuously. While picturing this, note that Mr. Donut is not the model of efficiency in service. At best, your average customer is subjected to the pro-donut propaganda four and a half times before they can bite into their bearclaw. Honestly, I spent an hour in there yesterday studying, and last night I had crème-filled nightmares.
Anyway, I will certainly have tones to talk about after Chinese New Year, for which I have a week vacation. Till then...
