The Land Where It's Already Tomorrow, Chapter 10: Into Every Teacher's Life a Little Rain Must Fall

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Highway 193 to Hualien goes through, not in front of, the hills. I had a really nice little spin today, (Saturday the 9th) into town for lunch then down to the beach then home along the East Coast Scenic Area.

A few months back, Lao-puo Suzanne fired up the Internet to look at the questions for a Chinese Learner’s Motorcycle Licence. One of the questions was, “What to do if you come upon a flock of geese blocking the road?” I thought “what a stupid question”, especially since “honk at them’ wasn’t even one of the multiple choice options. I came upon that very scenario this morning, and the procedure that seems to work is just to slow down and give them a chance to get out of your road. The speed limit in the villages is only 40 km/h anyway. I passed only two cars the entire 45 minutes of the trip, before I hooked up with the main highway for my run into town. It was a glorious scenic journey, (I must be careful not to overuse the word ‘glorious’), and I’ll be sure to make it one of the first trips Lao-puo and I will make on Esmerelda.

I finally memorized how the ignition switch can unlock the little trunk under the seat, unlock and open the gas cap, unlock and open the helmet clip, and unlock the front steering assembly—depending where in the keyhole you push and/or turn the key. Scooters are a wonderfully efficient urban design, away better than a regular motorcycle. I predict they will make inroads as gas prices at home continue to climb. Modern fabrics allow the riders to overcome cold and wet. I’m as snug as a bug in my “tasteful” mauve and pink raincoat that glows in the dark. Yeah right. My raincoat is about as “tasteful” as my trademark joke about the mousetrap and the patent officer. Ply me with strong drink and I’ll tell you that joke.

I also learned that the little trunk gets hot, from the heat thrown off the engine. It took me an hour to chill my ration of 2 cans of Saturday beer back down. I didn’t want to go to the 7-11 to buy more, because as sure as gun’s iron a gaggle of my students will be loafing about the place. I can just hear it now—Teacher Doug, the Biafran who swallowed a basketball—bought beer!!! I saw him!!!

The beach south of Hualien City is interesting because of its stark contrast. On the one side of the road is the incredible beauty of the near-infinite Pacific stretching all that distance to home, and a beach where the surf has polished the marble stones most beautifully. The mist-shrouded green hills, to the right and left, stand guard in the foreground and in the distance. On the other side of the road, however, is an ROCAF base. There is a concrete wall topped with razor concertina wire, and on the other side of the wall are grass-topped concrete hangers, under which the combat-ready Mirages sit between patrols over Taiwan Strait. The outcome of an invasion would be decided within hours of the Mirages getting airborne against the mainlanders, but I do admire the never-say-die attitude of this place.

The afternoon rain stopped by supper- time on Saturday. The choice for cuisine is nowhere near (of course) as wide as what Taipei has to offer, but one thing was certain. I went out for Chinese.

Sunday was a raining-like-Hell, park Esmerelda, do e-mail, kind of day. I did all of the above. Just to show you that my Sundays are not entirely boring, I did laundry as well. Supper was chicken noodle soup, but nothing like at home. Chinese chicken noodle soup has seaweed, little dried fish, cilantro, and basil. One bowl and one Canadian dollar later, I was full.

Monday I went into town for my medical exam. This is a bit backwards, because I understand that my resident visa has already been approved and is as we speak on its way from Taipei to Guangfu. Subject to confirmation from the lab work that I do not have HIV, syphilis, or leprosy, I got through the tests. I know that one teacher suffers from amoebic dysentery, and sought to conceal the evidence by switching the required sample with a colleague who was not afflicted in that manner. I know who they are, but I’m not telling. I’m no stool pigeon.

My documents are falling into place. I now have my resident visa, and next Monday I will go in to Hualien City to get my Alien Resident Card. It is a kind of last hurdle to be ARC’d up, and it gives one a feeling of having arrived.

This time, I think, an ARC (ROC Green Card) is not a document I will be in any hurry to relinquish.

I finally figured out Skype on my computer, so now I can phone home inexpensively. It only costs 7 NT per minute. That’s about 23 cents. I phoned my mother and dad yesterday morning, and I will do so frequently now. I talk to Lao-puo every day on MSN—better yet because it is a video link.

Speaking of Suzanne, I rejoice that she has booked her flight, arriving on Sunday November 5. China Airlines direct from Seattle to Taipei is a good way to go. I will head into Taipei on Saturday sometime, loaf about until the late evening, and then get a bus out to the airport. A book and a gallon of coffee at the snack place, or a quiet place to zizz down, will see me through until the morning. She should be through Customs and Immigration by 0700, but I will be outside the doors at 0630 in case she’s early. It will take at least an hour on the bus to Taipei Main Station from there, plus however long the wait will be for our train, then at least five hours by rail from Taipei to Guangfu.

I debated renting a car to pick her up, but I don’t really think there would be much of a time saving. Driving at night when I can’t read (even though a lot of the signs are in English) on unfamiliar roads is not an appealing concept. I thought about her flying for the last leg, but the domestic airport is right in Taipei so she’d still have to take the bus into town. She’d have to struggle from CKS to Songshan Airport with her two heavy suitcases without me, and then I’d still have to pick her up from Hualien Airport and consequently have to rent a car anyway. Even then, I would still have go back to Hualien to return the rental car, and then whip home on Esmerelda. In Canada we are accustomed to having cars at our disposal, and things seem to be difficult if we still think in those terms. We’ll take the train instead.

I had lunch today (Wednesday) with Stephen, the Academic Director of the place. Lunch was smashing by the way, tofu and spinach and noodles and tea eggs, and soup with peppers and sausage. Chinese people dislike food piping hot, but other than that lunch was good. Lunch reminded me to introduce the slang words “growlies’ to the Chinese teachers of English as part of our weekly lesson, in addition to the difference between “pig”, “pork”, and “hog” that we have already talked about. “Hog” is a noun and a verb. “Pork” is a phrasal verb, as in “pork up” and “pork down”. “Pig” and “hog” are metaphors with entirely different meanings in English. I forgot about “swine”. Blast! Next Wednesday.

I have said this in previous articles and journals, but I will repeat it. “Paying me to talk is like paying a fish to go swimming.”

I digress. Stephen felt that it was his duty to remind me that I cannot “punish” the students. He meant that I cannot hit them. I assured him that I already knew that, and a situation had not arisen where I would be tempted anyway.

Later that afternoon, I understood his question. Joe, the school clerk who is now my friend, brought me a “reenlistment form” with my location choices for next year.

Teachers who work on the MOE program of which I availed myself are entitled to priority placement in their second year. Hitting kids, and preaching, are grounds for dismissal, and Stephen wanted to make sure I had read the contract. They want me back, already. I must be doing something right. I gave Hualien County as my first choice, and wrote in that Guangfu JHS was my specified priority location.

Out of the 500-some kids that I teach, only one has openly defied me. Rain. That’s his name. You know the type—spiked hair and an “Effe Ewe” saunter. He was late for class, and spoke Chinese with a smirk as he waltzed in like he owned the joint. Yeah Yeah Yeah. Been there done that. I inserted mental tape #165, and gave him (privately, with the Chinese teacher interpreting):

1. I am entitled to your respect, but not just because I am your teacher. I am a guest in your country, and you have no right to be so disrespectful of me as to be late for my class.
2. You bring shame to your nation, your school, your family, and yourself by your behaviour.
3. You speak Chinese, when you know full well that I cannot understand you. It is so rude to exclude me that you should be ashamed of yourself.

He apologized, as part of the ritual of being a kid at the mercy of a teacher. Yeah Yeah Yeah. Been there done that. I have worked for the Government of the Province of British Columbia long enough to recognize bullshit when I hear it. I was in that position myself as a kid, often enough to know that his rationale is “The sooner I say I’m sorry, the sooner this blowhard will get off my case.”

“Rain” is my job of work for this semester. So is his aptly-named pal “Dud”. I’m not kidding, that’s the kid’s English name. Dud is such a sad sack that his name amuses me. As my late brother Robert used to say, “If you shoved a firecracker up his ass he’d jump tomorrow”.

The work is hard, but I love it. And they pay me to do this.

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Photos

All Dressed Up, and Nowhere to Go...
...except to school on a rainy morning.

Saturday Morning Routine...
...a run to the big city (Hualien, pop. 175,000).

The rice Crop is Ready for Harvest...
...it seems to me that rice-growing is very labour-intensive-relative to the yield. Agriculture is a big employer around here.