5/30/2008

Whatever You Want (Part 1 of X)

When Sean got home that evening, Carol was in the laundry nook taking the laundry out of the washer and transferring them into the dryer. She had already finished washing and drying the clothes for the day, but she decided that it was about time to change Molly’s sheets, pillow cases, and duvet cover to match the upcoming spring season.

Without saying a word, Sean took off his suit jacket and tossed it on the black leather couch in the living room. Looking around, it was a sight that he’s only slowly becoming familiar with: the black leather couch, of course, hand made and shipped from France; the creamy smooth off-white walls; the vaulted ceiling, and the large skylight that actually forms much of that ceiling; the stairs to the left leading up to the second floor, where Molly’s room and the master bedroom are located; the track lighting with adjustable ambient switches that line the entire apartment, exclusively from Oxford Lighting Systems; the open kitchen with a large island installed with pure white marble working surfaces, polished dark maple cabinets, and a commercial grade high-BTU quad-burner range from Viking; behind the kitchen is the pantry and the laundry, where Carol just closed the front door of the Kenmore Capacity Plus dryer with a satisfying thump, like shutting a vault when a bank closes at the end of the business day.

“You’re home early.” Carol said as she walked into the cooking area, and turned up the lighting.

“I suppose,” Sean said.

A slight smile formed on Carol’s thin lips. “Did something good happen?”

“We just closed a deal for one of our Chinese clients and everything got sent out just now. It’ll be the biggest cross-border capital raises for this year yet.”

“Shouldn’t you be celebrating with the other partners on your team, or take the associates out somewhere fancy and get them trashed?” Carol said. “You have been working on this deal for months.”

“Well, actually Bob is taking the associates out as we speak. You remember Bob right? We went to his house in East Hampton last summer for his annual barbecue party.”

Carol nodded.

Sean sat down at a stool next to the kitchen island, plopped his elbows on the marble surface, and rested his chin on his hands. Carol walked around to the other side of the island, and leaned against it.

“I remember I had to keep an eye on the chicken in the deep fryer while Bob played chef on the grill. You were out in the courtyard too I think, if my memory serves me right.” Sean said.

“I was sitting by the lap pool having a gin martini by myself.”

“I see. I thought you would be talking to the women at the party.”

“I wasn’t that comfortable with them...after all, I didn’t know any of them, and I am much younger than most of them anyway. I think they were comparing notes on hiring maids and drivers, that sort of thing. Maybe also private boarding schools.”

“Isn’t that something you would want to know? I mean, it was the perfect chance to get some first hand information on this kind of stuff. So I just think we need to take advantage of these networking opportunities. It’s not like every day you get invited by a senior partner to his private beach house, and it’s not like you can just call these people up anytime you want, you know?”

Carol leaned closer to Sean, smiled, and lightly pressed his nose with her right index finger. “But you know, you really can,” she said.

Sean looked away briefly, and stood up. “Do you still have any tomato juice around?”

“I’ll bring you some. Why don’t you get changed? Just make sure you don’t wake Molly up. It was really hard putting her to bed.”

“She’s already asleep?”

“It’s almost midnight, Sean.”

“Wow, I didn’t realize. I thought it was still early. I came straight home from work too.”

“You must be tired then. Go take a shower, and I’ll fix you something quick to eat. Would you like that?”

“That sounds good, sure. What do you have?”

“Whatever you want,” Carol said.

As Sean was standing in the shower, he was thinking about his day. It was the first time in months he came home early; in fact, it was the first time he came home before midnight since they moved into the current penthouse apartment on Madison Avenue near 88th Street. The apartment was brighter than he remembered, because whenever he got home the lights would have already been dimmed, and Carol and Molly asleep. He would usually go straight to the fridge to pour himself a glass of tomato juice, or if he had a particularly bad day, he would opt for a sip of bourbon instead. After that, he would go upstairs to the master suite, which was always empty because Carol had moved into Molly’s room so she wouldn’t be woken up by Sean when he gets home. He would take every piece of clothing off, shower quickly with scalding hot water, and then fall into the California king-sized bed, naked. If he was lucky, he would be in bed by 1:30 A.M.

Something just doesn’t feel right, Sean thought, as he leaned his head against the granite wall of the shower stall. Carol is probably heating up my chicken noodle soup downstairs. It’s been a while since I’ve actually seen her in person. Or had chicken noodle soup. Her cooking isn’t anything to boast about, but I really have no real complaints, either. Then again that’s not why I came home early. So why did I come home so early? Why am I not at the party? I could have been getting to know some of the junior associates better. Who knows, maybe I can find someone brilliant to mentor. It’s not easy to find someone good to work with these days; they just don’t work as hard as we did. I could have also been talking with Bob, who really champions me at the firm. I couldn’t have made partner without his lobbying and cajoling some of the other senior partners. What’ll he think of me now? Antisocial? But I can’t possibly go to every party and every dinner right? The thing is, after all, I was the real leader of the deal team. I called all the shots. Everyone reported to me. I was on top of things. I am on top of things. Bob’s got to be impressed with me this time around. What an old geezer he is sometimes. I’m going to use him, stay under his wings for a bit longer, and then take his place in the firm when the timing is right. It’ll be perfect.

There was a knock on the door. “Your soup is ready,” Carol’s voice seeped through the door and sounded as if they were softened by the steam that filled the bathroom. Sean got out of the shower, dried himself off, slipped on his navy blue bathrobe, and went downstairs.

(To be continued)

1/22/2008

Taiwan Journal Ep. 4: 是非題 / True or False

禮拜一下午離開了立法院, 我們一行人像行軍的從南京東路站走到位在敦化北路的理律事務所. 下午的天空還是灰色的.

路上, 我跟 Ripple 聊到兩岸關係的問題. 兩岸問題, 說穿了, 就是台灣統一還是獨立的問題--至少一般人應該是這樣想的. 如果是這樣的模式的話, 這個問題是一個選擇題, 甚至就是是非題.

是非題,是考試裡學生最喜歡的題目,因為非常好作答。會的同學,不用半秒鐘就可以寫完,甚至連問題都可以不用全部仔細看完。不會的同學,也可以瞎猜;反正有一半的機率會答對。把兩岸關係看成問答題的人,我想應該也是以同樣的心態來看待這個嚴肅的課題。有人會覺得他是專家或有權威對兩岸關係出意見,因為他覺得他就是會;不用把問題看完就可以作答。

不管專家學者怎麼去吵吧。不管政客怎麼去鬧吧。兩岸關係,就是一場關係,一段戀情。一道作文題。

作文題是要好好想過之後才寫的出來的吧。最重要的是,真正好的作文題是沒有正確答案的。而且,你今天覺得是對的答案,明天想過之後可能就又不一樣了。它就是一個問題,一個激發我們思考的東西;而思考的態度,才是問問題的目的。

台灣現在面對中國,是以什麼樣的態度呢? 中國又是以什麼樣的態度面對台灣呢? 大家應該自己有點想法。或許你覺得,中國蠻橫霸道,阻擋台灣加入世界衛生組織,連大地震人家要送台灣救人命的東西都要要求先通過北京的同意。或許你覺得,台灣人為了獨立分裂而連中國文化歷史都要否認,本來可以好好當一家人的感情都可以泯滅。或許你覺得,台灣幾百年來受外來的政權統治,只想要有一個揚眉吐氣的機會,為什麼就一定要接受一個中國原則,連這個都不能好好談嗎? 或許你覺得,中國已經釋出太多的善意,台灣理都不理,憑什麼要無條件的忍受這種不講理的孩子?

這些態度反應的都是︰我有理講不清,我受委屈,我被你欺負。我們很少去想到對方吧。

我認為,大家如果可以好好想想,其實兩岸關係可以跳出統ㄧ或是獨立的框架的。兩岸關係可以是台南長大的女生在北京留學,認識了上進的男生的初戀。可以是中國的登山家到了台灣才發現原來爬到山頂可以看到太平洋的美。可以是雙方的工程師一起發明出下一代的電腦處理晶片,變成全世界通用的規格。可以是在香港上班的律師早上到上海股票市場會面客戶,晚上回宜蘭的家跟孩子吃火鍋跟紅豆湯。

這樣的兩岸時代,真的一定就是要一個或兩個政府才能達成的嗎? 那我們對統一或是台獨的堅持,是不是跟吵翻天的情侶一樣,情緒上的怨氣大於雙方實際上的分歧?

走著走著,台灣突然感覺很不一樣。民生東路跟敦化北路交叉口一帶,是台北商業辦公重鎮。可是一邊看著無止盡的車輛在大樓玻璃窗上的倒影,一邊又感覺好像看到台灣的未來。這個未來,有讓人覺得可愛的地方,更有讓人憂心的地方。

8/28/2007

Taiwan Journal Ep. 3: Dreaming / 作夢

The first morning was a hazy one.

It was as if the air in Taiwan was so dense with moisture that it just seeps out into droplets of rain, or sweat. I was on the MRT (Taipei’s Mass Rapid Transit, otherwise known as the metro). It’s always interesting for me to be a part of the commute, because personally, I hate commuting. I had a long commute from home to my high school, a long one hour and a half trek through New York’s subways and buses and mean streets. Of course, I’ve also had very short commutes in college, a two minute walk across Harvard Yard to the Science Center.

Be it two minutes or ninety minutes or three hours, commuting always seemed like a chore to me. It’s really a waste of life. People do it because they have to; the only reason people do it is because they would rather not live around where they work (for a variety of difference reasons of course). I haven’t met a single person who loves to commute. Because commuting is such a waste of life, people try to figure out all sorts of ways to deal with this problem, and that’s why I love watching people commute.

For the most part, people had a grim expression on their faces. I assumed most of the people who shared that train car with me are going somewhere to work. Some are sleeping. Some are reading newspapers, with giant block characters denouncing the latest government policy. Hardly anyone talked, except for the occasional cell phone conversation. Watching people commute to work really hit home that point about being in an exotic place: for these people, Taiwan is not an exotic place, but a routine that cannot be easily escaped, moisture and all.

***

The first stop for us is National Taiwan University. Our delegation, all 15 of us, crowded the Xindian-bound MRT, all dressed up in black suits and shiny, fancy ties. We probably looked like a cluster of crows that somehow got stuck inside the train. Dave was talking about trying to find an oil baron’s daughter to marry.

“You know, there aren’t any oil barons in Taiwan.” I explained. “There are electronics barons though, but I think their daughters are taken.” I briefly imagined a waiting list one has to sign up to court one of these electronics barons’ daughters. You’ll have to put down a deposit to hold a spot on the waiting list. The first 10 or 20 names on that list are probably politicians’ sons who are in fact idiots.

We were greeted at Gongguan Station by a bunch of beautiful ladies from NTU, and Danny. Somehow I got stuck talking to Danny, and as it turned out we went to the same high school when Danny was living in New York. He had been studying finance (I hope my memory serves me right, Danny if you’re reading this please let me know!), and later on he would go on to do a bike tour across Taiwan, similar to what former KMT Chairman Ma Ying-jeou did some time ago, but without the supporters or protestors on the sidelines.

The actual meeting we had that morning with the NTU President was actually quite boring. However, we did discover that Alonzo was featured in a pamphlet for NTU’s language exchange program, which was pretty cool. I must have been daydreaming during the meeting…I honestly don’t remember much. What I could tell though, was that I could feel NTU’s desire to reach out internationally, and I applaud that. Taiwanese students will learn a lot about themselves from foreigners, and I’ve certainly learned a lot about myself on this trip being with my new NTU friends. More on this later as we meet them again…

After our meeting with the President, our NTU friends took us on a tour. Outside the day was still hazy, but that didn’t stop a couple from taking wedding photos near the building we were in. I wondered if the NTU campus was a popular backdrop choice for wedding photo shoots. Personally, having Pound Hall or the Hark in the same picture as my wife in her gown just doesn’t seem right to me.

The NTU main library looms in the background like a giant battleship. This battleship had gone through some real battles, but she’s now mediating quietly in the center of campus, black streaks of mold hinting at her age. We entered. On the left there was a reading area for periodicals. A couple of students had put their faces down on the table for a nap. Ahead of us were rows of computers, and some students were hunkered down typing away. Were they writing an email to ask someone out to dinner that night? Were they checking the latest news? Posting on PTT?

Continuing our tour, we bumped into a small stand next to a cluster of classroom buildings. A bunch of students were selling snacks.

“They’re visiting from HARVARD,” our hosts said to the students manning the stand.

The students explained that they were a club of students from Hsinchu promoting local specialties and local culture, and they were selling some traditional Hsinchu snacks as a fundraiser. “OH, here, try some of the food we have! No charge, everything’s free for you guys, here, try some. Go ahead, it’s totally cool, take as much as you want. Come on, don’t be shy!” Eventually we took some food and it was chewy, sweet, savory all at the same time. We thanked them, and moved on.

Walking in NTU’s campus, I felt a strange feeling. There were students dosing off inside air conditioned classrooms and libraries, but also students hard at work fundraising for their club, not to mention our hosts who took time out to entertain us and made sure everything we desired was taken care of. At first, I had a lot of respect for the latter group, and I also wanted to smack the first group of students as hard as I could. But now as I thought about it, the feeling was deeper. It was a pervasive thing from the commute that morning, but also throughout the entire week.

Uneasiness.

Everyone that morning was dreaming in some way. The commuters were going to work dreaming of a better life for their families, or dreaming about breaking away from the grind, maybe. The kids who fell asleep were probably dreaming of making it big one day, or whatever their computers are download as we speak. I briefly spoke with Maggie, who planned to work at a public relations firm after she graduates, with dreams of graduate studies one day. The couple near the palm trees taking wedding photos were probably dreaming about something else, but the more I thought about it the more I wasn’t sure.

We are dreamers. But for the people in Taiwan, you are afraid to dream. What you see in your dreams are too out of line with reality. You dream of becoming an Olympic swimmer, but you are stuck in a inflatable pool. You dream of a fresh air and unlimited opportunities, but you are chained down to an island---finite, enclosed, isolated. Dreams of possibilities, with an ever uncertain future, as individuals and as a society, in the face of China and global competition. It was an uneasiness about dreaming too much.

The sky was still hazy when we went to lunch.

8/24/2007

No Superstitions Girl (Part 3 of X)

I met Rita back in August. It was through her father, Mr. Guo, who was a client for my law firm in New York. I was assigned to him a past couple of months ago and I had been working on an acquisition deal for one of his companies called “The NS Group,” which is by far the largest manufacturer of digital products and components in Taiwan and East Asia.

Mr. Guo invited me to go to Taipei and tour his offices, and then on to Shenzhen and Hangzhou to see his factories. At the end of the weeklong tour, he took me to a traditional Japanese hot springs ryokan in western Ito peninsula. The ryokan had no name.

We flew direct from Shanghai to Narita, where a chauffer picked us up in a black Mercedes Benz S600 a drove us to Ito. We arrived at the ryokan around 5:30 in the afternoon. Stepping off the car, I took a deep breath. The air was a combination of saltiness from the sea, pine trees, pebbles, and a slight savory/smoky aroma coming from the back of the ryokan. This was quite a welcoming change from the slightly sour and grayish air in Shenzhen and Shanghai.

Mr. Guo and I walked on the narrow gravel paths that wind through the ryokan grounds, through a small, un-manicured bamboo forest to reach a small wooden cottage behind the main building. The cottage had three separate rooms, two on the first floor and one larger one on the second floor. There was also a small living room area on the first floor. Outside the cottage there was our own private outdoors hot spring, which was located on a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. This was the only suite that had a private hot spring, and it was always reserved for Mr. Guo’s family at this time of the year. Personal connections, he said.

After dinner I took some time to soak in the hot spring, changed into the robe I found in my room, and wandered around the grounds. There was the sound of waves gently splashing against the rocky coastline, and lots of cicadas chirping. As I came nearer to the cottage, I saw someone standing in the entryway with her back towards me. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. Everything around her seemed to be there only to mark her existence. The door posts acted as a frame as she leaned on them, their deep, maroon lacquered wood contrasting with the deep blue yukata and orange sash she wore. The lamp by the door outlined the shape of her body. Her hair fell loosely down to the small of her back. I had a very intense urge to talk to her. Not the kind of talking that’s designed (one hopes anyway) with a certain endgame in mind, but more like unwrapping a birthday gift: carefully pull on the ribbon, and watch the entire package slowly unfold, that kind of talking.

“So…Ms. Guo?”

She turned around. “Just call me Rita. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“And I’ve heard a lot about you too.” We both smiled.

“Where’s your father” I asked.

“Asleep I think. He likes to go to bed early when he’s on vacation.” She walked towards me. “How was your evening?”

“Not bad. I was out for a walk.”

“How did you like the path along the beach?”

“Fabulous.”

She took a step closer in my direction. “Heading to bed?”

“I’m not sure yet. That depends on what you want to do.”

“I see how it is. Why don’t you come up to my room then? I made some tea.”

***

We sat by the veranda outside her suite, on the wooden floor, facing the ocean. There were a few palm trees just below the veranda. The moon was out, but it had a slightly orange glow, like the color of egg yolks. Rita had left the lights off, so the orange glow was the only source of light. As clouds floated by, shadows of different shapes formed and disappeared on her face, which I can only say was quite beautiful.

I told her the story of how I went to Vegas, how we had wild sex for days and then having breakfast at Arby’s. “I guess you didn’t find that story funny,” I said, a bit disappointed. “You know, most people I’ve told the story to thought it was funny.”

“It’s a good icebreaker. It shows that you were immature once, and it lets people see you right now and go, wow, this guy is quite introspective. But I wouldn’t say it was funny. I mean, everyone’s been through similar things in college.”

“That’s not necessarily true. Sure, a lot of people go to Vegas and get into all sorts of crazy situations, but not everyone has the same sensitivity to how events affect themselves like I do. Also, even if I do concede that your point about people being through similar things in college is correct, you still don’t hear people being frank about it and able to laugh at themselves for it.”

She quickly looked down, and sighed. “Ok. No need to be defensive, you know? I just don’t like to tell people what they want to hear, just to be polite. Why waste time being polite when we can just get down to knowing each other, right?”

“Fair enough.”

We talked a bit more about my attitudes towards women, and her attitudes towards men. Just the sort of things a guy and a girl talk about when they first meet. Exchange opinions on something just slightly controversial but not too confrontational, something people can actually be open minded about.

One thing I’ve learned throughout the years is this. Everyone knows that girls know more about girls than guys know about girls. It would be stupid to tell a girl something like, “I understand girls,” even if you really do, like me. But the wiser man knows something else: it’s better to let the girl feel like she understands you better than you understand yourself. Why? Because it’s true. Guys will do very well if they remember this.

“So you haven’t dated anyone since your Vegas trip, yeah?”

“That’s right.”

“No one you liked at Harvard Law School?”

“Well, no. Somehow I felt like I had to concentrate on studying. I almost lost interest in girls completely. All of a sudden dating felt pretty frivolous to me.”

“Was it only dating that felt frivolous to you after your Vegas trip?”

“Hmm. Actually…everything seemed pretty frivolous for me. While I was in law school I felt like, you know, I should finally sit down and get serious. I just wanted to work, nothing else but work. I wanted to be the best. I want to rule them all.”

“I like that.” She smiled and ran her fingers through her hair, pushing a few strands behind her right ear. “To rule them all. Sounds very much like my father.”

She looked away and lowered her voice. “You know, you’re the first person he’s brought to this place besides me and my mom. I was quite surprised when my father told me you were coming.”

“Hmm. And why didn’t your mom come with us this year?”

“She died several years ago.”

I paused. “Sorry to hear that.”

“That’s ok. It was a while ago.” She picked up her tea on the floor and took a sip. “We were quite close when I was little. Back then every year around this time my father would take us here and we would catch up on some family time. But that was a while ago. Honestly, this is my first time here since she died.”

I stopped myself from asking her what I had wanted to ask, and stared at the moon. A patch of cloud began to cover up parts of the moon, and the room darkened. The room I’m staying at right now---was it the room she would stay when she came here? I wondered.

“Forget it. Let’s talk about something else.” She said, lifting herself forward and hugging her knees close to her. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“Sure.”

“What’s your favorite food?”

“Hmm. That’s a hard one. I love everything.”

“Don’t tell me it’s Arby’s.”

“Hey, at the end it’s just fast food, you know? It’s not real food. Fast food is like, engineered feed for humans. Like how we engineer feed for chicken and cows. They engineer ‘taste profiles’ in labs, find out what different human palates respond to, and then disguise that into foods that we are familiar with like burgers or pizza. It’s the same process for everything--- fried chicken, tacos, donuts, even mass produced coffee. So no, nothing mass produced.”

“Sort of a form of food snobbery, no?”

“Definitely. So the best meal I’ve had…it would have to be this one time in Taiwan, when I was very little. We were in the countryside in the south…and there was this damp little alleyway where there’s hardly any sun no matter what time of day it is. At the end of the alleyway, there was this little makeshift kitchen. You know, the stove was attached to these huge gas tanks, that kind of a kitchen.”

“What did they sell?”

“Chicken rice. Actually, it’s turkey meat and rice, but I didn’t know that until later. I didn’t even know there were turkeys in Taiwan.”

“I know what you’re talking about. I like it too. The key is the balance between the turkey fat and the rice; it can’t be too dry but it can’t be too greasy either.”

“That’s right. But what made it really special is that I went with my dad. It’s the same place that his father took him when he graduated from elementary school. My grandfather was a poor tenant farmer, and they couldn’t afford to eat the very rice they grew. My dad told me my grandfather used to take him there, and told him ‘小孩子長大, 要吃白米飯才有力氣讀書’ He was rubbing his eyes as he told me this. It was the first time I saw my dad with tears. It’s a strange thing…realizing that your father can be emotionally weak too, you know?”

She shook her head. “Were you born in Taiwan?” she asked.

“Yup. I grew up in Taiwan until I was fourth grade. But you know, now I think of it, I seem to remember very little about that time of my life. It’s like, if that chunk of my life simply disappeared. I don’t remember much at all. All I remember is…the food, and my parents talking about Taiwan a lot, all the time, but they really never told me about it. It always feels like they’re trying to hide something from me.”

“I see.” She nodded. “Anyway, want to hear about the best meal I’ve had?”

“Of course. Tell me.”

“I was in a little village on the shore of Lake Lucerne in Switzerland visiting a friend from college, who’s working there as a model. It was about two years ago, maybe. I was there for about a week. I stayed in her tiny little apartment overlooking the lake.

“She left the apartment around seven or eight at night to go to work. I’m not sure exactly where she went or exactly what kind of modeling she did, but I never thought to ask. It just didn’t feel right to me to ask. Well, she would leave about 7 or 8 at night, come home around 4 in the morning, and sleep until 2 or 3 in the afternoon. Meanwhile, I would go out to the street market around seven and buy whatever I felt like buying that day, bring it home, and then head out to the shore and walk around or just find a place to sit down and think. Then I would come home around 4, and find my friend cooking dinner, out of whatever I bought that morning. No matter what I brought back from the market, she could make a gourmet meal.

“She was an amazing chef. I say chef, because I believe no other professional chef matched her level of creativity and skill. Especially with her knife. Her knife was one of a kind. She kept it in an ebony velvet case and sharpened it on a white whetstone. On the base of the handle there was a small engraved emblem that looked like a circle with four horizontal lines inside the circle.

“The last night I was there, she woke up and said she had a strange headache. Couldn’t cook, cuz she felt nauseous thinking about the smoke and the grease. Why don’t you cook, she said. I looked at the pile of fresh red mullet, and they looked at me back. I said, I don’t think I can do this. I get squeamish at the thought of swatting cockroaches. There was no way I could kill a fish, gut it, filet it, cook it, and then eat it. Go on, just try it. No, I can’t. Don’t worry, it’s going to be fine. I promise. Just…let me guide you. Let me walk you through this. Trust me. Take out the knife, and let me show you.

“There was something strange in her voice as she urged me on, like she was trying to sell me heroine. She seemed completely out of it. Her eyes were wide open, and she was sweating. You know what, just go back to bed, I’ll figure something out, I told her. No, the ritual must be completed. You must fulfill your destiny. Draw your sword! No more darkness, and transform us into a new society! You must save all of us from ourselves!

“She was really scaring me at this point. So...I dragged her back to her room and pushed her into bed. I ran some cold water over a face towel and splashed it on her face. She calmed down a bit and her voice trailed off a bit. I gave her some water to drink, and put her back into bed. I made sure she was asleep, and then went out to the train station. I got a couple of Big Macs, a Filet-o-fish, and Super-sized fries from the McDonalds at the station, and brought it back. I ate everything on my friend’s kitchen counter, while she was sleeping.

“So that’s the best meal I’ve had. Strange, isn’t it? That’s the first thing I thought of, anyway.”

“Hmm. We seem to have something in common.” I said. “Fast food is comfort food for us.”

“Exactly. In a time when we travel all over the place so much, it might just be the only sense of belonging we can hold onto.”

“I suppose.” I said. “What happened to her work that night?”

“That’s the other thing. Towards around 11:30 at night her cell phone rang. I was about to go to sleep, and I hate it when something wakes me up when I’m about to fall asleep. So her phone rings, and not wanting to disturb her sleep, I went into her room and picked up. A man’s voice said: ‘Ms. Guo, don’t worry about your friend, just let her rest. She can take as long as she needs to recover, and it’s fine to come back to work only after that. Thanks for taking care of her all this time.’ And then he hung up.”

“That’s odd. How did he know who you are?”

“That’s what I was thinking too, you know? But I never found out because my friend never got back to work before I left. I wasn’t about to call her employers back and bother them with questions.”

“I suppose.”

“By the way, when I was about to leave she gave me her chef’s knife as a gift. I couldn’t take something like this, I told her, but she insisted that I have it for taking care of her while she was sick. Don’t know when’s the next time she’ll see me again, she said, so it’s something to remember her by. I couldn’t refuse when she puts it that way, you know? So yeah.”

She sighed slightly and looked at me for a moment without saying a word. “You know, it feels like you’re from another world. It’s a eerie feeling.”

“Exactly what I was thinking about you too.”

She shuffled closer and very gently placed her head on my shoulder. Her hair had a natural smell that reminded me of fresh snow.

8/09/2007

巷-a 公路

Hey everyone, I am going to start another section that includes some of the poems I've written. All of my poems, so far at least, have been written first in Taiwanese, and translated specifically for posting here.

A word about Taiwanese: I use the Taiwan Romanization system, which is based on the original church romanization but slightly modified. I'll talk more about the Taiwanese language(s) issue some other day.


Hang-a Kong-loo

Jin-sing bo hong-hiong e si-tsun
Tsiok ai kiann hang-a loo
Toh-ping
Tsiann-ping
Tak-kang e hong-king long bo kang
Ban-ban-a kiann
Khuann tioh e mih-kiann pian tso gua e sim-tsing

Tshue tioh hong-hiong liau-au
Toh ai kiann ko-sok kong-loo
Tih-tih-tih
Kan-na khuann tioh thau-tsing
Sai hiah kin
Iah-bue khuann tioh sannh
Toh long kue-khi a


巷-a 公路

人生無方向 e 時陣
Tsiok 愛行巷-a 路
Toh-旁
Tsiann-旁
Tak-kang e 風景攏無 kang
慢慢-a 行
看 tioh e 物件變做我 e 心情

找 tioh 方向了後
Toh ai 行高速公路
直直直
Kan-na 看 tioh 頭前
駛 hiah 緊
Iah-bue 看 tioh sannh
Toh 攏過去 a


巷子公路

人生沒有方向的時候
很喜歡走巷子裡
左邊
右邊
每天風景都不一樣
慢慢走著
看到的東西變成我的心情

找到方向以後
我必須走高速公路
直直的
只看得到前方
開那麼快
什麼都還沒看到
就已經超過了


Alleyways and Freeways

When I didn't have a goal in life
I love to walk down alleyways
Left turn
Right turn
The scene is different every day
Take a stroll
Things I see become part of my soul

After I found a direction
I have to take the freeway
Straight on
All I see is what's ahead
Drive faster
Before I see anything
It becomes part of the past

8/07/2007

Intermission 1

I just want to apologize for the slow progress of the Taiwan Journals. It’s now August, and I’m still writing about stuff that happened in March. I hope I can still remember enough to convey my thoughts accurately.

It’s been slightly difficult to sort out what to write first and what to write later; also difficult to guage how serious of a discussion I should have. My goal is to look away at the mainstream political struggles in Taiwan, while wondering about Taiwan’s society and my place in it. How can I make it interesting, yet not pretentious; thought-provoking, yet human?

I’ve been lazy, as always, to really figure out how to balance those questions, and so I’m stuck on the Taiwan Journals. I don’t want to give up writing them though. There are still a lot on my mind, and I want to get them down. So hopefully I can have a bit more to post very soon.

8/05/2007

No Superstitions Girl (Part 2 of X)

I’m still not sure if I’m really “dating” Rita. She is the only girl I have really liked since senior year in college.

As those who know me back in college will tell you, all of my relationships were either nonexistent, imaginary, or ambiguous at best. It wasn’t really all that bad; actually I kind of liked it that way. Why commit yourself when you don't have to? We can have some fun when we both feel like it, and then when things get sour there are no hard feelings. I did truly wish the best for most of these girls, but I didn't really care how much they cared about me.

Some of my friends, especially the platonic female ones, criticized me for this. "You're just too full of yourself," they said. “It's not all about you, and my emotional and physical needs. You can’t just use them like this.” No, I don’t think I was using them. I'm just more forgiving of the volatile and effervescent nature of human mutual attraction. I don't expect you to always stay committed to me, and I don't expect myself to be always committed to you. So I don't have long term relationships.

I've been with a lot of girls in high school and college. I believe I had a knack, a six sense if you will, about what a particular girl liked. It wasn't hard back then. All I had to do, was observe her for a bit, and then I could formulate a game plan in my head very quickly. I have picked up conversations with girls in Barnes and Nobles, Loews Theaters, Walgreens, and Exxon gas stations (there was one who drove a Porsche Boxster and wore a short PVC leather skirt, but looked like she was still in 9th grade), and so on and so forth. My favorite place though, had to be Marine Air Terminal at La Guardia Airport. This was during freshmen year, and I usually took the Delta Shuttle between home in New York and school in Boston. Before 9/11, there was a student deal for Shuttle flights that costs $50 per flight. This was when the Chinatown bus was $35 one way. A lot of college kids in Boston took it, and on holidays the entire terminal would be jammed packed with people waiting to get on the plane. This was the best time to approach a girl. When you don't know how much longer you have to wait by yourself, it's nice to have someone to talk to. This trick worked for me every time. I have even spent the entire cruising altitude on a Shuttle flight in the lavatory with someone I just met.

It would be unfair, and lying, to say that I've never felt an emptiness inside. How clichéd, but it was kind of true. That girl from the airport never contacted me after she picked up her bag from carousel 1 at Logan Terminal A. I never bothered to contact her either. Would things have worked out? I think they would have, actually. We would have made a good couple. I could imagine her making coffee for me in the morning, and folding my clothes for me in the afternoon. I could imagine taking her out to Aujourd'hui in Boston and all the older men in the restaurant looking at her in her tight little white ruffled dress. But somehow I didn't want to. There was always the next girl on the next flight, and she might just be better.

Somehow during senior year I got tired of these random sexual encounters. This is how it happened, sort of. It was around December, right before Christmas break. I was planning to go to California and Las Vegas to meet up with some friends. We were spending a week at TheHotel at Mandalay Bay, leading up to New Years Eve. My buddy James sent me this email:

Hey, just want to remind you, you promised to show us some of your moves. Shit, all these years we have heard about these stories at the airport and bookstores, but you would never come out clubbing with us. You better get us some chicks over there. The Hotel is super nice and we don't want it to go to waste, you know? We're counting on you! We're gonna have so much fun! Yay! –Best, James. BTW don't forget to bring cash. We ain't lending you money.

James was already working at Goldman Sachs, and he was sparing no expense. He was paying for my trip, so I guess I had to pay him back somehow. I took it as a challenge.

The night before I took off, I received a call from Harvard Law School. The caller introduced himself as Toby Stock, someone who worked at the admissions office.

"I just want to call and touch base with you, and ask you a couple of questions to get to know you better. Don't be nervous, this is not an interview. Do you have a couple of minutes?"

"Sure, I don't mind."

"So what are you doing right now?"

"Me? I'm packing my suitcase to go to Vegas."

"Oh is that right? That's exciting! Um…actually I meant, what are you doing these days."

"I see. Just finishing up my last year in college, doing a bit of traveling, that kind of thing."

"Besides Vegas, where else are you thinking of going?"

"Let's see…I'm planning on going to Taiwan in the summer to visit some family."

"I see that you've done a lot of work with the Intercollegiate Taiwanese American Students Association (ITASA)…can you tell me more about that?"

"Well my parents are from Taiwan and when I was little, my parents talked about Taiwan a lot. At least I remember them talking about it a lot. But somehow neither of them said anything about Taiwan to me. So…I guess I wanted to learn more about Taiwan when I went to college. That's basically it. I didn't spend that much time on it though. Most of my time was spent on organizing moot courts and running the debate team, and…"

"Hmm. Interesting." He cut me off. "Well, so how do you see this play out in the future? "

"Um…I don't really understanding what you're asking…"

He chuckled. "Never mind then. Well, that's about all the questions I have. Do you have any for me?"

"I suppose not."

"All right. Thanks for your time. Hopefully we can make a decision on your application sometime in January. We'll be on vacation too from tomorrow, and since your last name starts with a letter so far towards to the end of the alphabet you're actually the last call I'm doing before taking off. Jus want to wish you happy holidays and thanks again."


* * *

James booked an enormous suite for us. It had a large living room with a veneer bookcase and 54 inch plasma screen TV. There was also a desk in another alcove, also made of dark wood. Behind it are large windows overlooking the Vegas Strip, including the beacon on top of the Luxor. The bedroom was even bigger: two king sized beds with eight pillows on each bed, three layers of linens and blankets, and another 54 inch plasma TV. The bathroom was all lined in cream-colored marble, with a bathtub that could fit four people at a time.

For the first three nights we had a lot of fun. I'm sure the housekeeper must have seen worse, but I'm also sure we were up there. Every night we filled trash cans with condoms, sheets were torn apart, pillows soaked in the bathtub, pieces of fabric and lace everywhere on the floor. There were empty wine bottles, half empty wine bottles, wine soaked sheets, wine soaked sofa cushions, and wine stains on the shower tiles (James refused to drink beer; it was too proletarian, he said). To James's credit, he did tip the housekeeper generously, even though he's lost almost a thousand dollars playing poker by Day 2. For those three nights we've had so many different kinds of people pass through our room I couldn't keep count. I've picked up three tourists girls from Japan, and then a bunch of accountants and lawyers from by the Wave Pool; we've had this exclusive group of call girls that James's boss recommended; then there were the college freshmen from LA we met in the clubs in downtown Vegas. Every single night the most unbelievable things would happen. The three Japanese girls had nurse uniforms in their backpacks but they absolutely did not feel like nurses to me. The accountants and lawyers paid us $2000.00 each after we've had a three and a half hour orgy in our suite. "Expense account," they explained, winked, and left without their bikinis.

As for the college girls, it was one experience I never wish I had and never wish to have ever again. So on the third night we were in Vegas, we went to the Ghost Bar at the Palms. The bar was crowded with tourists as I had guessed, but James pressed on anyway. He spotted a group of girls sitting in the corner quietly talking to each other.

"Alright. Those." He signaled with his chin.

"Oh come on, James. Look at what they're drinking." I said. "Long Island Iced Tea. They're probably underage. They look pretty shy too. Let me tell you, they're not going to be as fun. "

"Dude, just do it alright? I'm sure we can teach them how to have a good time."

At this point I obliged. One of them looked kind of cute, and maybe this time around things wouldn't be so crazy and living la vida loca. I was sort of looking for a more mellow experience after 48 hours of being constantly tossed around, I suppose, so maybe things aren't going to be so bad.

Getting them to come with us wasn't hard. It didn't even require effort. I slowly walked up to them. One of the girls spotted me and asked, "Did you guys come in that white stretch Hummer?" I nodded. They shot each other a quick glance, got up, and followed us out of the club.

We waited for the elevator outside the club. "Hey, you guys should come to our room, it's just a couple of floors downstairs." The cute one wondered out loud, but I felt she was shooting a sideways glance at me.

"Hell yeah, let's do it!" James said.

We took the elevator down to their floor, and followed them through the corridors of the hotel. There were quite a few room service trays scattered on the floor. Once we were in their room, the cute girl (who clearly was their leader) motioned us to sit down on their beds. Then all four of them climbed in bed with us, and gently pushed us down onto the bed. They ran their fingers all over our bodies, and planted little kisses down our necks. They were quite clumsy, but it was heartwarming as well.

Soon they managed to unbutton our shirts and pulled out pants off, and all the guys were naked lying on their bed.

"Hey, it's not fair that we're the only ones naked, you know?" James protested.

"Aww, don't be so impatient. We've got some things we want to try, is that ok with you guys?" The cute one said. Her voice reminded me of synthetic maple syrup.

Before we know it, we were each handcuffed to the bed posts and to each other. Our feet were cuffed too. The girls worked extremely fast, but it wasn't until much later that I realized they were too fast to be doing this the first time. After they're done, the four girls looked at their handiwork, and giggled to each other for a long time.

"Thanks for playing along boys, but we've got to get going. I hope you guys don't mind!" They fished through our pants and pulled out all of the cash we had in our wallets. "So long!"

After they left, the room all of a sudden had a weird feel to it, as if the molecules in the air had all stopped moving. I stared at the ceiling, trying to avoid eye contact with my friends. Even then, it was impossible to not hear their breaths and feel their body heat pressed on top of me. James's leg was wrapped over mine and our ankles were cuffed together. We stayed like that for what felt like an eternity.

Finally, "Um," James began.

"It's alright, James. I don't blame you. We all make mistakes. Come on, no need to be hard on yourself, ok?" I said.

"No…I think, um, I had a little bit too much to drink tonight…"

"Good. I hope you have a strong bladder."

It wasn't until around noon the next day that the housekeeping found us, a whole bunch of guys, handcuffed on top of each other, and soiled sheets. When they saw us, they immediately went back to their carts and pulled out a large metal clipper, and clipped our handcuffs. Without a word, and without rolling their eyes. I was quite impressed with their professionalism. We would've tipped them. Needless to say, our Hummer was nowhere to be seen. At least the girls were nice enough to leave us our clothes.

We hailed a cab and went back to our hotels. No one said a word to each other. It was the first time I was enjoying the Las Vegas skyline, and taking in the bustling of the Strip, and the fact that Las Vegas was in the middle of a big desert. Everything was blindingly bright.

After taking turns showering in our room, I walked all the way from Mandalay Bay along the Strip down to Arby's, and ordered a triple roast beef meal with bacon. Just the thing to hit the spot after being handcuffed to your buddies naked for a night. As I was eating my meal in the corner booth facing the restaurant, I spotted a little girl, maybe about five years old, running into the restaurant. Her hair was tied in a neat little ponytail. Right after that, two people whom I assume were her parents walked in.

Instinctively, I knew she was Taiwanese.

I watched them as they ordered. They had some trouble with communicating with the cashier in English, but after some pointing I think they were fine. I think they were speaking in Chinese but I couldn’t hear them very well. The little girl was very quiet for her age. I would have been crying for this or that when I was her age, I thought. Instead, she stood there behind her dad, her little hands clenched onto his pants, and was looking around the restaurant with her big eyes.

Then suddenly the little girl turned around and started running towards me. She propped herself onto the seat across the table from me.

“Hi there,” I said in Chinese, and put on a somewhat strained smile.

She didn’t respond, but instead clumsily untied her hair and put her scrunchie on my tray next to my fries. It was a much smaller scrunchie than I’ve seen before, but otherwise it was just as ordinary as any other scrunchie. Except, it was blindingly white, almost as if it had just came out of the factory, bleached and packaged.

“For you,” she said.

“For me?”

“Yup.”

At this point her mother came over to fetch her. “Hey I’m sorry, I hope she didn’t bother you.”

“Not at all,” I said.

“Mommy I am giving this to him. He’ll need it later!”

“Sweetie I don’t think this nice young man needs to have his hair scrunched up, no?”

“No mommy I’m talking about something else!”

Somehow all this seemed a bit too surreal for me. I was quite confused. But then again, I suppose little girls have their reasons that were meant to be mysteries to everyone else. At this point, she was about to cry.

“Alright, alright.” The mother turned to me. “I’m really sorry but would it be ok if you take it? My daughter has been quite upset since we got off the plane and if you take it, it just might cheer her up…”

“Sure, I don’t see why not.” I smiled at the little girl again. “Thanks for the gift.”

“Yay!” The little girl smiled back at me. “Take good care of it, like mommy always says!”

I sat in my seat and watched the family as they ate. Just a regular family having a meal at a fast food restaurant. The little girl looked really happy, especially when she cradled her small cup of soda. I sincerely hoped she didn’t have any worries in life.

I looked at the scrunchie again. It was still just as white. I gently scooped it up with both of my hands, touching it as little as I could. Why would I need this, I thought; yet the more I looked at it the more I realized its beauty. Somehow it just doesn’t feel like it belongs in my hands.

* * *

In any case, since that day I’ve lost my interest in random encounters with random girls. I couldn’t really put a finger on it, but it was probably a combination of a lot of things leading up to that moment, as with most things in life. Even then, I was pretty sure that it was specifically the combination of the call from Harvard Law School, the experience at the Palms, and the scrunchie, that changed something inside of me. Perhaps I realized that it was time to grow out of my old life. Life was no longer a big party for me, but a challenge for me to take up new responsibilities.

Since then I’ve kept the scrunchie. I don’t really have a good reason for it, except to look at it once in a while. For some reason it has always been just as white and pure as the first time I held it in my hands.

6/22/2007

No Superstitions Girl (Part 1 of X)

Her name was Rita, but I call her the No Superstitions Girl. It’s a name that we came up with together. I don’t remember if there was one particular reason why we called her that, but that was the name we had for her.

It sounds like a name for a comic book character, a superhero of some sort, or at least that was how she thought of it. She could fly, but she rarely did. Too masculine and too crass, she said.

“What about a fancy car?” I suggested.

“Too cliché. I mean, I’ve always wondered where people would park that thing.” She said as she lit up another cigarette. “Actually, a motorcycle would be very nice. A lightning fast crotch rocket. I like that. Also, I don’t need all the machine guns and little gimmicks. They kind of bother me. It’s almost like...relying on something else other than my powers, you know? That’s cowardly. Besides, they add a lot of weight to the bike I’m sure. I want something sleek, fast, and beautiful.”

Speaking of beautiful, it was a beautiful Sunday morning. We were in her apartment in the Lower East Side on the 22nd floor, in her spacious bedroom that had floor to ceiling windows with the Williamsburg Bridge right outside, in her Swedish king-sized bed, underneath her white silk comforters. I was completely naked, and she was wearing a pair of brilliant lime-green panties and nothing else.

It was gray outside in the typical New York-in-late-November kind of way: everything is dry, and there’s a cold freshness to the air. We’ve turned on the lamp on the night table to our right hand side. It had a shape that resembled a orchid petal. She said it was handmade somewhere outside of Barcelona by a Spanish designer, shipped directly to her apartment, but all picked out by her father.

We were lying on our left side. She pressed her back against my chest and I draped my right arm around her, grazing her belly button stud with my right middle finger.

“But you still want to be able to fly?”

“Of course. In case the bike breaks down. It’s always good to have a contingency plan, wouldn’t you say?”

“That’s smart.”

“Alright. A nice bike. What else...”

“Secret hideout.”

“Ah, that’s a great question. I would need a really nice secret hideout either. In fact I don’t know if it’s really necessary to have one. Besides, who’s going to take care of it and wipe everything down once in a while? Don’t tell me you want to do it.”

I hadn’t thought of that.

“Yeah.” She gave a little sigh through her nostrils. “Let’s scrap that idea. I’d be happy with a very small house somewhere in the countryside, or near the ocean on the eastern coast in Taiwan.”

“You know, once you get used to living in this ridiculously nice apartment it’ll be hard to be happy with anything less.”

She turned her neck back towards me, in slow motion. “You promised never to bring that up.” Her voice dropped a couple of pitches. “We have an understanding. Don’t forget.”

“I’m sorry. But...”

“Uh-huh. No.”

I buried my face into her shoulder and kissed her there. A faint savory-ness.

“Alright. No secret hideout. Retirement home in eastern Taiwan.”

“Sure.”

“So and there’s costume. What are you going to wear?”

“Hmm. No cape. Let’s see...lots of leather. A leather corset of some sort...over a body suit made of stretched lycra. White. And some sort of gloves... I think those arm-length gloves are super sexy, you know?”

“I would be up for that.”

“You know, maybe that’s a bit too much. That’s more like something I would wear if I were a stripper.”

“That’s not so bad either.”

“You’re just a perverted kid.” She lowered her voice a bit.

“Well, I suppose that’s true, and I suppose that’s why you’re
totally head over heels for me”

She chuckled. “In your dreams.”

I released her from my embrace and propped myself up with my back leaning against the pillow. When was the last time I had so much free time on my hands? When I say free time, what I really mean is a free Sunday morning. A free Sunday morning to just sit around, and stare into space.

Rita rolled over and snuffed out her cigarette on an square ashtray made of light oak. I looked at the curvature of her back and the little line of a shadow her spine made. Somehow I couldn’t pull my eyes away as she moved. She stayed like that with her back to me for sometime, just looking out the window.

“You know, thanks for last night.”

“Well, it’s my job to deal with your father.”

“Still, you deserve to be thanked. Somehow you have a way of talking to him that calms him down. He listens to you. I don’t know how you do it.”

I laughed. “It’s nothing. Really. He’s my client, so of course he has to listen to me.”

“I guess you just don’t know him well enough. Of all the years I’ve been watching my father, he’s never really listened to anyone. He just doesn’t think he needs to. And you know what? I think he’s been right about that.”

“So then? I’m sure he’s realized that he needs to listen to me this time around. After all, I am his attorney.”

“Part of his legal team,” she corrected.

“Exactly. I am his attorneys. One of them.”

“Whatever. But I have a hunch that, if his attorney were someone else, he would not have cared. He’s obviously had to deal with lawyers in the past. What’s more, even if you weren’t his attorney, he would be willing to pay attention to you. Did you not see the look on his face when you were explaining the deal to him?”

“What look on his face?”

“My God, you are one dense little boy. Didn’t you notice how he would squint his eyes and bunch his eyebrows up every so often while you were talking?”

“Nope.”

“That means he’s taking his time to process whatever you’re saying. Otherwise, he usually stares you down to try to pretend he’s listening when he’s really not. Anyway, I just think it’s quite impressive. You have some sort of talent there. But you have to be careful. Don’t get too close to him.”

I wasn’t sure what she’s saying, but I figured it wasn't worth getting into at this point. I had something else on my mind. I reached down into the sheets and ran my right index finger down the small of her back until I reached the waistband of her panties. I pulled on it slightly and released it, making a faint sound of the fabric hitting her skin.

She turned around and shuffled towards me, pushing herself higher up until my face was pressed on her between her neck and where her breasts began. She reached over and lightly cradled my head while I took a deep breath, savoring the faint odor of her sweat.

5/29/2007

Somewhere Only We Know (Part 3 of 3)

Two days had passed since Violet and I had dinner together at the Thai restaurant. I had been at the clinic, staying late into the evening to clean things up and organize my files.

That evening I shredded old documents and records while my receptionist wiped down the counters. She was a fifty year old woman with a permed gray hair and a rather round physique. She also had an extra wide smile and an amazing chicken soup recipe.

“Doc, I think this is everything. I can’t believe this is really our office, you know? I can actually see my desk for a change---now that’s exciting.”

“Yeah. This place is immaculate. Thanks so much.” I poured a cup of coffee from the coffeemaker and offered it to her. She thanked me and cradled the cup with two hands.

“Nah, don’t mention it. Glad to help.” She had a sip of the coffee. “Ah, this is good. By the way, is something going on? You have this look on your face, like something’s bothering you.”

“Really? I suppose I am a bit preoccupied lately.”

“Just as I thought! I can tell just by looking at you go about your things around the office. Part of having two kids in high school, you know what I mean?”

I smiled. “Of course. Just a bit of personal business, that’s all.”

“You know, if we’re open tomorrow I’d bring some soup for you. That seems to always make your day.”

“Thanks for the thought though. That would’ve been great.”

“Well, since you’re off tomorrow, why don’t you go out to do something? That’d make you feel better I bet, getting away from the office and all.”

“That sounds like a good idea. But I think it has more to do with the stuff on my mind.”

She chuckled. “I’m not sure what that really means, but sometimes you’ve just got to make up your mind, you know?” She gathered her purse on her desk. “Anyway, I should probably get going. Gotta bring some dinner home for the kids.”

“I’ll give you a ride.”

“Nah don’t worry about it. My husband should be picking me up soon.”

“I see.”

“Thanks for the coffee! Good night, doc.”

“Thanks. You too.”

After she left I did a final walkthrough around the clinic and went into my office. It’s a bit past six, and with the lights off, everything was a navy blue silhouette from the little bit of light coming from the window. I left the lights off, sat down on my swivel chair, and looked at the faint reflection of my face on the mahogany desk. I felt suffocated.

I pulled out Violet’s card from my pocket and placed it on the desk. What the hell, maybe I should go out and do something. I picked up the phone on my desk, and dialed the number on the card.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me. Let’s do something tomorrow.” I said. “Well, if you’re free, that is.”

There was a pause at her end. “I’m definitely up for something. They’re taking us to dinner, so how about take me somewhere afterwards?”

“Hmm...let’s go downtown then. I’ll meet you in front of your office at eight.”

“Sounds good! I’ll see you then. Bye.”

“See you then.”

When we met up the next evening, I suggested that we go to a used bookstore around NYU. I used to go to this bookstore a lot when I did my residency at the NYU Hospital.

“It’s got that really nice old book smell.” Violet said as we strolled through the aisles.

“I would come here and spend three or four hours reading. It’s a really nice place.”

“I remember you didn’t read much in college though.”

“I suppose...I started reading a lot more after college. After college all of a sudden I have a lot of time by myself, so I filled my time with reading. There were a lot of standby time during residency.”

We stopped in front of the shelf against the rear wall. Violet pulled a book out and started thumbing through it nonchalantly. “Hey, I’ve been thinking of asking you something.”

“Hmm. What is it?”

“Well, why did it take so long for us to see each other again?

She stopped flipping the book but kept her gaze on the page. I looked away.

“Well?”

“I’m not sure.” I said. “Honestly.”

She looked up. “Just...I hope it’s not about Jeremy still. You know we’re divorced.”

“You said in your last letter.”

“Right...so, I hope it’s not about that. I’ve always thought you were
still upset over the whole thing.”

“Hmm.”

“Well, you seemed to have taken it pretty hard.”

I thought about it for a while. “I did.”

“I’m really sorry. I was immature and insensitive back then.”

“It’s alright. It was a long time ago.”

“So...that’s not why you really haven’t talked to me all these years...?”

“Not all of it.”

“So there’s some of it.”

“Not all of it, but yes that was part of it.” I leaned in a little closer. “Violet, I’m just being honest. I don’t think it’s something people can just forget and then start over clean. At least it’s been hard for me. But I really don’t think that’s why I haven’t kept in touch with you.”

“Then...what is it? I really would like to know.”

They were not completely clear to me still, the reasons why I just dropped Violet from my life after college and medical school. Maybe it was because I felt betrayed but realized that I was merely deceived by my own fantasies? Or that the whole Jeremy thing left these indescribable aftertastes, in more ways than one? Or that I really had tried to move on as I thought I should, and thus wanted to remove even those little trace of her like her emails and letters?

“I was busy.”

“Oh, don’t give me that bullshit. We’re all busy. You’re only too busy for things you don’t want to do.”

“Med school and residency took up a lot of time.”

“You just said that you had a lot of free time then, didn’t you?”

“I was psychologically and emotionally preoccupied.”

“That’s a pretty lame excuse.”

“Why do you want to know so badly anyway? Am I not seeing you now?”

“I want to know because, well,” she stopped herself, and sighed. “You know what? I just don’t understand you. I really don’t.”

She returned the book to the shelf. Without saying anything, I put my hands in my pockets and looked away.

The store manager came and told us that the store was closing soon. We left the store and took the subway together back to her hotel, without saying anything to each other the entire time. As we walked up the steps from the subway station, I felt the cold summer air hitting me. I took a long, deep breath.

I walked her up to the front of the hotel.

“See you.” She said and started for the door.

I placed a hand on her arm. “Hey. About tonight...just want you to know, it’s complicated.”

“Maybe you should actually figure it out first, yeah?” She said without looking at me, and walked into the hotel.


For the next couple of days I tried calling Violet many times, but she never picked up. In the meantime, I relegated myself to menial manual tasks such as developing x-rays and routine checkups for some old patients at the clinic. I stayed in late every night, ate cup noodles for dinner in my office by myself, and stared out of my window.

In the quietness of my own office, I thought about Violet. I seemed to remember all too well those very fragile moments when she went away from me. In my dreams, she’d always had her back to me. Ever since I’ve met her, it felt as if fragments of myself had been melting and dripping away, but seeing Violet again after all these years somehow convinced me that I can recover these missing fragments. Something grinded inside of me, pushing me, edging me, prodding me, to the point of madness.

I closed my eyes and my thoughts went to the painting. I was drawn into the thin spaces in between the orange stripes---there had to be a message buried in there somewhere.


One night I was at the office looking outside my window. The afternoon thunderstorm had slowed into a lazy drizzle, and there weren’t too many people on the street.

Suddenly my doorbell rang. I went to open the door, and found Violet standing outside, all of her clothing soaked.

“Hey.” Her voice was coarse.

“Gosh. What are you doing here? Come inside. Let me find you something to change into.”

I rummaged through my office, but couldn’t find anything but a couple of pairs of surgical scrubs. “Sorry, these are the only things I have,”

“That’s alright. I suppose they’ll do.”

After she changed, she sat down on the couch in my office. I sat down next to her.

“I looked you up in the phone book and saw your ad. Sorry for barging in on you like this, but I wanted to talk to you.”

I thought about it for a bit. “You could have answered my calls.”

“I’m sorry. I only wanted to talk to you when I’m ready.”

I felt the air stiffen around us. “So...are you ready now?”

“I’m still not sure, to be honest. But if I don’t do this now, I don’t think I ever will. I guess we’ll never be ready.”

“We’ll never be ready.” I repeated after her. “So why don’t we start now?”

She sighed, and leaned on me, resting her head on my shoulder. Her hair fell naturally over her face, but she made no attempt to brush it off. Her index and middle fingers traced a path along my cheekbone, from the lobe of my ear to the tip of my chin. I could feel her warm and damp breath on my face.

“You know, life’s just strange. We think we can make all these decisions, be the master of where we’ll go...but I realized that, there are these strings attached to our actions, ever so gently tugging at us, until we reach where we were meant to go in the first place.” She whispered into the air, like wisps of incense smoke.

I didn’t say anything.

“Hey,” Violet said. “Are things still complicated for you?”

“I think so.”

“I see.”

“Although I think I’ve come to a...determination of sorts.”

She didn’t say anything. Instead, she turned to me and kissed me on my cheek. Like that first time at the balcony of the dining hall, but softer, and it seemed like it would go on forever. I slipped my arm behind her and wrapped it around her. She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing.

We stayed like that for a long time.

Later that night I sat in the receptionist room couch, in complete darkness, next to Violet, who had fallen asleep. I had placed a thin blanket over her small body. Her legs were curled up towards her chest, pressing against me.

I had a glass of water in my right hand. I looked at its silhouette in the dark.


Several mornings later, I was sitting in the passenger’s seat next to my receptionist. She woke up at around five that morning just so she could drive me to the airport.

On the way out, she handed me a small plastic bag. “When you get hungry on the plane,” she said.

“Thanks.”

“You’ll be back,” she paused, “right?”

“I will. I promise.”

I walked into the plane, found my seat, and settled in for the long flight to Kyoto.

(The end)

5/24/2007

Taiwan Journal Ep. 2: 無聊的台北城 / Taipei, City of Boredom

“做事情不能對不起子孫.”

坐在計程車上, 司機跟我說的. 現在其實也記不太起來怎麼會講到這個事情, 可是就是這句話讓我印象很深刻.

剛到台灣的深夜, 台北異常的安靜, 一點都沒有不夜城的氣息. 可能是因為是禮拜天晚上的關係吧, 忠孝西路只有稀少的幾台車, 一個人也沒有. 台北車站發出淡淡的光, 等著目送最後一批出城的旅客. 只有我是剛到的, 至少我希望是這樣. 明天開始要進行一個禮拜的台北體驗, 今天晚上看可不可以好好的先睡一覺. 我希望台北城是安靜的, 是平靜的, 甚至是無聊的.

我所謂無聊是指我有點希望這次來台北或是台灣, 我已經沒有新的東西可以學了. 一方面, 我是很懶惰的人, 所以沒有新事物我也省了用腦力去處理那些東西; 另一方面, 沒有新的資訊也就代表從我上次回來台灣到現在, 沒有什麼改變的地方.

想一想, 不希望改變換句話說, 就是認為改變是不好的. 至少我那時候是覺得台灣要是改變了, 一定是變的更壞. 怎麼說呢? 為什麼會變的更壞而不是更好呢? 我想是一種直覺吧. 當然政治環境是很大的因素, 經濟也當然還可以更好, 兩岸關係更一直是讓人很不怎麼樂觀起來, 可是總覺得台灣好像會越變越壞的樣子---像一個被退學了的小孩一樣. 應該還有更深一層的原因吧. 會不會是因為我已經對台灣的人沒有太大的期望了? 你們再怎麼搞(我現在變成是以一個外國人的身分看台灣)也沒有辦法再進步, 因為我印象中的台灣好像不是一個很有深度跟智慧的地方. 我想到的台灣是: 華麗卻沒有什麼思考性的偶像劇, 連劇本都要抄別人的; 只會互相指責卻不懂得溝通也懶得解決問題的政客; 蘋果日報的3D模擬示意圖; 永遠長不大永遠都要爸爸媽媽接送的大小孩; 迷失了方向的人群. 這樣的社會...要我怎麼樂觀的起來呢?

不知道什麼時候我也曾經幻想過理想中的台灣(怎麼現在我又變成了台灣的一份子了?) 我記得有一次做夢, 夢到我小時候住的桃園大溪員樹林附近. 大溪是淡水河上游分叉出來的大漢溪的更上游, 石門水庫附近. 蔣介石還是先總統的時候很喜歡大溪這個地方, 也在河邊的台地上蓋了行館. 員樹林就是行館看出去河的對岸的台地上面. 夢裡面的女主角是某大外交官的孫女, 跟退休之後的阿公一起搬到比台北寧靜的員樹林, 也在台地的邊緣蓋了小小又典雅的房子. 房子是全白的, 用成本不高的人工素材建造的, 全家只有一層樓. 從院子看出去, 可以看得到大漢溪的藍藍的溪水, 裡面有人划著船; 河邊的公園種滿了樹, 雪山山脈的輪廓就在大溪台地更遠一點的地方. 醒來之後, 有一種蠻感慨的感覺. 到底有沒有可能, 台灣, 我的老家, 可以變得像夢裡面一樣, 是一個仙境的地方?

時空拉回禮拜天晚上. 台北終究沒有變多少. 跟去年不一樣的地方有捷運機場線的施工廣告, 那是我去年沒有看到的. 小時候很喜歡交通建設, 可是現在已經知道大大小小的硬體設備不一定就象徵著進步. 除了這個之外, 台北看起來差不多. 沒有改變也好吧. 那時候的我沒有想要在學新的東西了. 至少明天再說吧.

就是硬是跟司機聊了起來. 他說, 現在的人做事都只顧自己, 可是沒想想這些事情的後果, 都是子孫要承擔. 所以以後你要是做大事, 一定不能對不起子孫啦.

我想, 對得起子孫, 不是跟他們說, 爸爸媽媽希望你們不要比我們差, 也不是把我們現在的爛攤子丟給他們說, 孩子呀你看, 我們沒有把你們阿公阿媽留下來的東西搞的更爛喔! 而是說, 現在因為有我們, 我們的孩子可以活的更好. 也就是, 為了我們的孩子, 我們不得不進步, 不得不改變, 每天都要變的更好. 當然, 什麼是變的更好的定義, 大家意見可以不同, 也可以討論甚至衝突, 可是我們還是有責任留一個更好的世界給他們, 因為畢竟他們是我們創造出來的.

一個還沒生孩子的年輕小夥子大談對子孫的責任好像奇怪了點. 等我真的生了小孩, 可能那時候的感受又會變吧. 對一群我根本不認識, 還不存在的人負責任, 其實也是很妄想的事情. 幹嘛想那麼多呢? 自己都沒時間給自己了, 還要犧牲自己給一群很有可能是很讓我討厭的人? 好像也說不太過去. 有了才能就追求財力, 有了財力就追求權力, 有了權力就追求名留青史. 現代的人好像就是這樣吧.

前人種樹後人乘涼, 我們是種樹的還是乘涼的?

台北城, 變的不無聊了. 還有很多地方等著很多的人做很多的事.

5/21/2007

Somewhere Only We Know (Part 2 of 3)

I spent that summer working in lab and volunteering at the regional hospital downtown. I worked hard. I would wake up at seven in the morning, swim for an entire hour, and go to lab; after dinner in the evening I would go over to the hospital and help out at radiation oncology until around nine, and then go back to lab until around two in the morning.

Senior year was pretty much the same. Hard work, and more hard work. My efforts in lab eventually became a prize-winning thesis paper and I was the second author of an article in a prestigious scientific journal that later became a benchmark in the field. I had gotten into most of the top ranking medical schools. Meanwhile, I spent less and less time with other people.

I saw Violet only twice during this time. Once was in March, right in the middle of thesis induced craziness. I sat through an entire weekend in front of the computer, and by five-thirty Monday morning I was immobilized by an overpowering hunger. I finally managed to go to the dining hall, only to find that it wasn’t open yet.

Right after I sat down on the steps outside of the dining hall, I saw Violet walking towards me, her pale yellow spring dress hanging loosely over her. She was with a short, skinny guy wearing a red Nautica jacket. They were holding hands.

We exchanged greetings and commented on how we haven’t seen each other in a while. There wasn’t the awkwardness that I had expected; neither of us showed any hint of emotions to each other. We were simply two people who happened to bump into each other.

“Ah, sorry. This is my boyfriend Jeremy.” She said.

“I know.” I shook his hand.

Violet turned slightly. “Jeremy, I think we should probably find somewhere else to get food. Your have to go to class soon.”

“Yeah. Let’s go then.” Jeremy said, and then turned to me. “Nice meeting you.” I waved bye to them both, sat back down and waited until the dining hall opened.

The second time I saw Violet was at the exhibition of her fine arts thesis work. It was held at a downtown gallery by the harbor, on a Thursday night. I got out early from lab and took the bus downtown by myself.

The gallery was crowded with students and professors, each holding a cup of wine and a plate of cheese and crackers. I skipped the refreshment table and wondered through various pieces of artwork, trying to find Violet’s exhibition.

Suddenly she was right beside me. “I’m glad you came,”

I turned around. “Hey. Congratulations.” I said. “Shouldn’t...”

“Jeremy? He has something to do at the med school. Come on, you haven’t seen my work yet right? Let me show you.”

Her work was this large canvas that took up one entire wall of the alcove at the end of the gallery. The entire canvas was covered with a dark indigo that was almost black, and three bright orange vertical stripes dominated the middle. Upon closer inspection, the stripes had very jagged edges, and the paint itself was very unevenly applied. Even shades of color on adjacent strokes were different throughout the entire painting. It reminded me of the ocean at night---all vast, all dark, filled with mysterious possibilities.

“It’s titled ‘Somewhere Only We Know.”

“Like the song?”

“That’s right.”

“Is there supposed to be a meaning?”

“Nothing. It doesn’t come with an explanation.”

“I suppose.”

“It took me a long time just to come up with the concept. At first I had no idea what I wanted...but when it came to me, I knew this was the one.”

“I see.”

We stood side by side looking at the painting for a while.

“The award ceremony is about to start. I’m supposed to get the second place prize. I’m going to have to go for a bit before it starts, but please stay for the ceremony, ok?”

“All right.”

“Well...let’s keep in touch.”

“Right.”

After she headed off towards the atrium, I quietly exited through the back door and boarded the bus back to campus. That was the last time I saw Violet until we met up again in New York, almost fifteen years later.

Eventually I ended up at a certain top medical school in another state and graduated with high honors; but, I can no longer detail anything that transpired during those four years. Like a machine, I shut my mind off and dutifully performed the tasks that I was assigned. I never stood out; I was always in the middle, and got along with people without making any real friends.

Even so, I did get involved with this one girl named Ann. She was a dental student that one of my roommates had introduced me to. She was younger than I was by two years, wore rimless glasses, and didn’t express much opinion on anything. We saw each other a couple of times a month. She would come to my room and make pasta with store-bought tomato sauce. We would eat the pasta while watching Jet Li movies on VHS, during which she would put on this blank expression that reminded me of wax statues. I didn’t quite consider those pasta dinners as dates, but apparently my classmates thought otherwise; they referred to her as my Pasta Bitch.

One day I found sitting in the mailbox the invitation to Violet’s wedding, along with a two page handwritten letter. My parents had forwarded the letter to me a week after they received it at home. I tore open the envelope and scanned the letter. Things had been going very steady with Jeremy, Violet wrote, and that he simply asked her to marry him over cannolis and cappuccino. She wasn’t exactly ecstatic since they both had expected it to happen for some time, but she was still very content; they’d be moving somewhere else after they get married, but they hadn’t decided on where; and that she wanted very, very much to see me again.

I stuffed the letter back into the envelope, took out the RSVP card, and placed the card on my desk. Then, I poured some of my roommate’s whiskey into a red plastic cup, downed it, and filled out the RSVP card.

The night before the wedding, however, I didn’t go to the airport. Instead, I called Ann for her to come over and drank several cans of beer while I waited for her. When she stepped through my door I grabbed her hand and pulled her towards me. I embraced her tightly, and buried my face into the cove formed by her neck and shoulder. She wrapped her arms around my collar without saying a word.

I had her lie in my bed, and I pulled her clothes off while she stared at me. As soon as we went through just enough of the obligatory foreplay, we had sex with her on top of me. She moaned rhythmically, her expression while she moved more blank than that during the Jet Li movies. Having had the beers made me dizzy throughout the entire episode, and all I could remember was concentrating on ending it as if I were running in a hundred-meter dash, as if the answers to my confusion were there at the finish line.

Of course, at the end if it all---nothing came to me, as much as I had naïvely believed that by screwing Ann everything would change. Still I was just the same person, with the same paradoxes haunting my life. If anything, I was more confused, as if something important to me had vaporized into the air, leaving me searching in vain. I realized this was what people referred to as maturing.

A couple of weeks later I told Ann that I regretted doing what I did to her, to which she simply said, “I can’t trust you anymore.” We stopped seeing each other, but when she faded from my life I didn’t feel much pain. Life went on as usual.

Med school, residency, another two years at NYU Downtown Hospital, and then my own clinic by the time I was thirty-five. All this time I put the deep thoughts about my life aside, locked away in a little jar. Once out of a blue moon these thoughts would resurface, always when I was alone, but for the most part I settled into a comfortable routine. I made a good living, and I was quite accepting of the way my career had turned out. There’s not much more I could want, right?

And then a month ago the a crack appeared on the jar when Violet told me about her divorce and that she was coming to New York.

(To be continued)

5/17/2007

Taiwan Journal Ep. 1: Scallion Pancake with Egg and Soy Milk / 蛋餅加豆漿

This is a series of journals about Taiwan.

The journal will be mostly on my trip this March during spring break with the Harvard Asia Law Society, but many things that I felt was affected by my previous experiences with Taiwan, of course. I had thought about this for a little bit before writing the first words, because I don’t want to sound like a foreigner writing about an exotic place. Taiwan is not an exotic place. There are real people living there with real lives and real big problems. I want to do more than talk about how I was pleasantly surprised because of my ignorance.

So where to start? Let’s start with breakfast then, since I’m always thinking about eating and it’s probably the first thing on my mind after I wake up. So let’s talk about breakfast.

Speaking of breakfast, nothing is more Taiwanese to me than scallion pancake with egg and soy milk (I’m going to write 蛋餅加豆漿, since it just doesn’t sound right in English.) What is so “Taiwanese” about it, I am not too sure. I am pretty sure it’s not something indigenous or unique to Taiwan. Not too many things are, at least the things you can buy. I can get something like that in the U.S. too, in frozen form. They even sell that stuff in Yenching (across the street from Harvard Yard), but none of them speaks to me in the same way. The connection, then, must be on a more personal level.

On the very last morning before we took off for Boston, I had an encounter with 蛋餅加豆漿. We were supposed to meet at the lobby at around 7:00, so I took some time beforehand to get some food. At 6 in the morning on Sunday, Zhonghua Road was pretty much deserted, except for the occasional cab and scooter. I walked into the Ximen area and soon I heard the sound of metal spatulas clinking with sizzling hot griddles. I approached one street corner and there were two breakfast shops right next to each other.

I call them shops but they are really small makeshift kitchens along the sidewalk. The one on the right was bigger, brighter, and staffed with three or four women busy frying things in the griddle, and someone else handling the money. There was a small line of people, mostly wearing very casual clothing. On the left hand side there was one woman older than the others, handing off a small cup of soy milk to a customer wearing flip flops and a white t-shirt. I was looking at her as she turned around. As soon as she realized I was there, she motioned me over.

“What would you like?” She asked me in Chinese.

“蛋餅加豆漿,” I told her in Taiwanese.

“Sure.” She replied in Taiwanese. “You’re not from here right? Your Taiwanese does not have a Taipei accent.”

“My family’s from Chiayi (嘉義), but I actually go to school in the U.S.” I said. “And where are you from?”

“I’ve lived around here for a long time now, but I’m from Tainan. So we’re both from the south, yeah? Let me tell you something. Taipei is so different from the south.” She slapped the scallion pancakes onto the griddle.

“How so?”

“You know, people in the south (she used the word “下港人”, literally “lower port people”) are much nicer. They’ll help you out when you need them. Everyone help everyone, you know? Everyone You here only cares about themselves. They don’t give a damn about you. They’ll step all over you to get ahead. It just makes me mad. Look over there. A decade ago I came up here and opened this little place, and then those people over there decided to do exactly the same thing just to compete with me. See those girls working for her? They’re from Indonesia and God knows how much they’re getting paid. They’re just here to take our money.”

I looked over, and somehow I felt one of the women looking at me. I had a feeling she was more just curious as to what we’re talking about. She quickly went back to work.

Just then the customer that I saw before came back. “Hey let me have another cup of soy milk...I tripped on something and spilled the last cup.” The old woman ladled out another cup and ran it through the sealing machine. The customer fished out some change, cupped them in his left hand, and extended it to the old woman.

“No no no, no charge.” She said, and tossed the change back into the guy’s bag along with the cup of soy milk. The customer nodded, stuffed the change back into his pocket, and slowly walked away.

“So what are you doing here in Taipei? Vacationing?” The woman said as she turned her eyes back on the griddle.

“Something like that,” I said. “I’m here with some friends from school just doing some sightseeing and meeting some people.”

She stuffed my food in a little plastic bag, and added some soy sauce. “That’s good...that’s good. I hope you guys had a good stay.”

“Thank you. Well, so long.” I said as I paid her. She waved goodbye and returned to organizing her frozen meats in the small fridge she has next to the gas tank that was attached to the griddle.

I suppose it’s ironic that the first in the series about Taiwan actually turned out to be the very last meal I had in Taiwan since then. Or, put another way, the very last VIP I had a meeting with, among the many VIPs we met that week. I feel that I learned just as much about Taiwan and myself from her, as I did in any of our meetings or dinners. I learned that Taiwan isn’t just another exotic place or a topic of discussion in an international relations case study. This woman was living her life out in Taiwan, from the south to the north, from the past to the present. Seeing and getting in touch with that was more the point of my trip, I think.

But we knew that, even a week before that morning when we landed in Taipei. We were excited about being absorbed by Taiwan, loving it, hating it, not knowing what to think of it, feeling totally overwhelmed by it. We would have had foot massages, drank beer out of an ice bucket, stuffed our face with pork shabu shabu, and wondered about Taiwan’s future with the best and brightest and most passionate minds. But that’s for the next entry. For now, let’s just enjoy some breakfast.