Bringing Taiwan Back

It rarely feels like we are living on an island these days. The city life is bustling and full of opportunities for exploration and other cultural experiences.

Teaching school keeps us busy and our students rarely give us time to be bored. Most are inquisitive and somewhat comical. Chris has done well researching and planning projects for his students. He definitely enjoys keeping them on their toes and giving them a hard time. I have been thoroughly inducted into the school of education from the "other side" of the classroom. We've had some good opportunities for bonding with the kids both in the classroom and out. Chris and I are the Senior Class Sponsors, and I am a Basketball Coach for the TAPA girls team.

Chris and I live about one mile from the school where we teach as well as the closest hub for public transportation (MRT and buses). We walk to and from school every day as well as to/from transportation if we decide to do any extra exploring. We also live across the street from the largest night market in Taipei, Shihlin Night Market. If you were to visit Taipei, this place would be on you list of places to visit. It is one of the most intense bonding experiences you will ever have with thousands of strangers. We are lucky enough to experience this every night on the way home from work (sarcasm noted?? ha ha). Shihlin Night Market also provides a plethora of "interesting" smells, the queen of which is endearingly named "Sticky Tofu." Stinky Tofu is literally tofu that has been fermented in its own juice for several days/weeks and has obtained a smell that cannot be ignored. This can only be described as a combination of milk that is about 3 months past its expiration combined with death itself. I am told that you either love it or hate it. I can't pull my nose out of the latter category to see if my taste buds are genetically capable of fitting into the first category. :)

At first, we struggled to find food that we really liked. We weren't starving or anything, but everything is obviously packaged differently here... like with Chinese writing instead of English. :) It just takes a while to get into a niche of meals and restaurants that are "safe". We are finally getting there! We are fortunate enough to have a "neighborhood" Costco and a huge French grocery store called "Carrefour." Between the two we can usually find most things that we want, although they don't always carry our favorite American items or brands. I never have missed Kraft Macaroni and Cheese this much in my life! (The funniest thing is I never even ate it that much when I was in states!!)

Overall, Taipei is similar to a pretty typical American city- well, except I don't see any white OR black people for weeks at a time. OH! And when we go to Starbucks, I order my Tall Toffee Nut Latte by pointing like a 5 year-old.

The Grand Reopening!

From that fateful day when stinking bits of slime first crawled from the sea and shouted to the cold stars, "I am man!", our greatest dread has always been the knowledge of our mortality. But tonight, we shall hurl the gauntlet of science into the frightful face of death itself. Tonight, we shall ascend into the heavens. We shall mock the earthquake. We shall command the thunders, and penetrate into the very womb of impervious nature herself... My grandfather's work was doo-doo!

Gene Wilder, Young Frankenstein.

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Lisa who completely distracted her husband from writing in the blog that she encouraged him to write about their impending adventures around the world.

Yada yada yada, we totally failed.

However, today is a new day. Consider it a resurrection, nay, a reanimation of a previously dead web site. From what was previously an unmoving mass of dead tissue non-updated bloggage, now stands a man, a monster, a horrible thing.

IT'S ALIVE*!

*Again. Many apologies for the delays. We'll be back-posting repeatedly in the next few days (hopefully). If not, even more apologies.

Phoenix was when it happened.

Preparing to go to Taiwan was a long process, from packing to repacking, to buying needed items to the more extensive emotional preparing for the separation from friends and family. Many times it felt like we were spinning our wheels, and anxious to go, but the time ticked by so slowly that we thought it would never come. The day of our long trek arrived on Monday, July 27, 2009. It was wonderful because we had an almost complete day to finish our goodbyes, run errands, weigh our suitcases “one more time,” and get on the plane by 6:15 p.m.

That day felt almost strangely anti-climactic even with all of the “last American meals” and the “last-last American meals” that we had eaten earlier that day and week. It was bizarre to watch my sister Holly drive away with my beloved Dalia in tow, wondering if Dalia would even miss me, wondering if she would ever be the same dog without me, and how I had become so attached to an animal that had been such an ornery pup and had caused me so much grief during the first year or so of her existence.

It still didn’t feel real, like “we-are-really-going-to-Taiwan” real, even when Chris and I were sitting at the airport with my parents and the unspoken “goodbye” elephant in the bustling airport lobby. I am not sure what I was expecting, but I know it still hadn’t sunk in at that point. After teary goodbye hugs, Chris and I walked down the corridor and through the hyper vigilant airport security into our unknown future. It felt like any other flight, on any other day, but in our hearts we knew this would be a defining moment for our futures and what lay beyond the next 24-hour series of flights would change us forever.

We landed in Phoenix, Arizona a short three hours later, and were met with heat that could only be compared to the blast of air that hits your face when you open an oven door. The pilot said it was “a mere 111 degrees,” which I believe was an attempt to make us feel fortunate that it wasn’t hotter. It didn’t work.

In our melancholy states we exited into the corridor to look for our flight to Las Angeles airport. We quickly became frustrated with the utter lack of organization in the Phoenix airport. We chalked it up to the heat frying any resident’s ability to think clearly and logically when planning this unnecessarily massive airport system. After wandering for what seemed like ages, asking for directions approximately four times we were finally directed to leave airport security. We dragged our extensive carryon baggage to the corner and waited for the ghetto airport bus shuttle to drive us the twentyminutes to the correct corridor where we were to be subjected to another hyper-vigilant airport security system.

Although there were no Mandarin characters, and everyone spoke something similar to English, Chris and I finally felt like we were heading out of the country. The first trying traveling experience was the last drop in the “is this really happening” bucket. It was too late to turn back. This was it. The sacrifice was real. We were and would continue to be far from home. We called our parents for the last time from the convenience of our Sprint cell phones, and taxied down the runway. We made it through Phoenix, and together we could make it through anywhere. Funny how it hit so soon, but it still took so long. I can’t explain why it was Phoenix, but that moment will continue to be a reminder. We are sacrificing for this experience, and we resolve to do everything in our power to make this worth it. We will live these two years to the fullest potential.

The Wonderful World of Taiwan's Eggs

If this article (on another Taiwan Expat's blog I often frequent) doesn't make you salivate, you, sir, are not human:

Last, but certainly not least are the Thousand Year Eggs (皮蛋). Mmmm. These eggs are a traditional Chinese snack that are (traditionally by burying them in clay). They're cured for so long that the cured for about three monthsegg white becomes a clear, brown jelly-like substance and the yellow becomes green and creamy (or slimy, depending on who you ask). It's a bit like the egg family's version of blue-cheese.

Mmmmm, sign me up.

The Razzel Berry: The Wonderful World of Taiwan's Eggs

Back in the saddle again (or "How I learned to stop worrying and love the guacamole.")

INDIANAPOLIS—So... we're married. That just happened.

It's been a long time since we wrote, and for that, we apologize. The thing is, with all the cross-country moving, wedding coordinating, and Mexican honeymooning, we just didn't have a lot of time to write in our blog. Our bad.

However, we are about to start picking up again with where we left off—literally. In the next few days, some back-posts will appear on this site, informing you of what had happened in the last few weeks, so there's that to look forward to.

Additionally, Lisa and I are pleased to announce our new address for where we're living in Taiwan, so feel free to forward gifts, offerings, and general well-wishes to this address:

Chris and Lisa Webb
10f, No. 198, Jihe Rd
Shihlin District, Taipei City 111, Taiwan

Other important information includes our newly formed Skype account. If you have it, you can go ahead and click on that little icon to the left and, magically, you will hear our happy voices and see our bring-and-shiny faces. If you don't know what that is or don't care to, it's ok; the technologically-challenged can simply dial (317) 215-0870 and reach us in Taiwan. It won't cost you any more than a regular call within the United States, so don't worry about being charged out the wazoo for dialing Thailand Toyko* wherever we are.

In less than a week, we'll be perusing the streets of Taipei, looking for clean bathrooms, tasty treats, and amazing tales to pass back to all you good people. Thank you so much for all your love and prayers, and keep visiting Wasabi Kneesocks to find out more about Lisa and my adventures.

*Yes, I am fully aware that this Japanese city is misspelled. The question is, though, are you?

"Baby if you're good to go, we'll go down to Mexico..."

Awww, look at them cute little honeymooners...

An Idiots Guide to becoming a Gypsy

USAir 3802, 31,000 FEET IN THE SKY—On Friday, my Mom called me to say hello. She asked how things were going, as far as moving and everything, and how the weather was going. As the conversation started to wane, she asked me if Lisa was around. “Nah, still at work,” I replied.

“Oh, ok, well I just wanted to ask her what it’s like to be unemployed!”

I laughed, but I hadn’t even thought about that yet—Lisa’s last day at work was Friday, so she was technically unemployed now.* Friday night and Saturday morning would be spent packing and cleaning for the move out of Lincoln; once we left the apartment and turned in the key, though, we’d be jobless and homeless. Yay for security!

It took us, realistically, the entire week to prepare for this move. I spent one or two days cleaning out my closet, throwing away trash, packing clothes, repacking them (in those vacuum-seal packing bags), and shuffling around different items to keep my two allotted suitcases to 50 pounds or less. Another day was spent just returning items to the store and running different errands around town. By the time Friday rolled around, I’d had more than enough of this moving business.

Things were really bad for Lisa, with her spending most of the week battling the chest cold that I happily shared with her. Being that she was working the 9-5 every day, her evenings were spent coming home and packing up all her possessions in preparation for this weekend. Even though I think we both wished we had more time to prepare to leave Lincoln, it was a complete and utter blessing when we rolled out of town in our packed-to-the-brim Accord and drove off into our futures.

Ah yes, the car—how could I leave that out? Mostly, I’d guess, because I’ve spent the last 12 hours trying to block it out of my mind. Even with the trip home last weekend to get rid of a lot of our stuff, there were still so many items that Lisa and I pined to take with us. Many of the items we gladly gave up: 2 huge cardboard boxes of clothes, Vadalia’s dog crate (which we lovingly filled with no less than 200 clothes hangers), the trusty microwave I had toted along with me no less than 5 different “homes” in 2 years. Other items were more difficult, and even after friends stopped by to take many of our possessions (thanks Wael and Sarah!), there were lamps and sports equipment and tons of other things that we would have loved to keep if not for space and logistical constraints. Saturday morning, then, we lined up everything that we’d decided we would to attempt to bring with us in the living room and began the process of packing the car.

I recognize that I am prone to be hyperbolic at times. Perhaps it’s the self-conscious cynic inside me, but almost any time I say “It was the heaviest thing I’ve ever carried!” or “I was starving!”, I feel a bit silly for being so dramatic. Really? That 20-pound backpack is the heaviest thing you’ve ever held? Were you really starving? Really? With that being said, let me report this:

Had we brought attempted to squeeze one more item—a plastic Wal-Mart bag, a small shoe box, a sweater—into that vehicle, I can say with all certainty that it would have exploded. Seriously.

[Side story: two summers ago, when we moved Lisa from Chattanooga, Tennessee, to Lincoln, Nebraska, I was bewildered by the way this woman was able to squeeze force an endless number of items into her Accord. Furniture, clothes, a dog crate: you name it, Lisa had packed it. All she had left in Chattanooga was one box of food she “kinda wanted to take” with her; everything else was in (including her puppy, who sat on the floorboard of the passenger’s seat). While it wasn’t comfortable at all, I was simply amazed by how Lisa was able to cram her entire life into that vehicle. Now flash forward to yesterday: This makes that look like a casual stroll through the woods.]

Between the back seat, the trunk, and the floorboards, Lisa again proved to be a greater packer than Bart Starr. But how full was it? Thanks for asking. My driver’s seat to the car was at its most upright position, scooted as close to the steering wheel as possible. Not only was leg space impossible, I had to steer the wheel with my elbows. Let’s do a little experiment:

1. Put your hands on your chest.
2. Move them two inches away from your body, keeping your elbows as close to your torso as possible.
3. Make fists like your holding a steering wheel.
4. Bring your knees up as close to your hands as possible.
5. Stop breathing regularly.
6. Pretend like you can't feel your legs.
7. Stay like that for 10 hours.
   

I promise you with every bit of my soul that this is not an exaggeration at all.

However, after nearly 13 hours, 5 states, and 2 time zones, a guy, a girl, and a 50-pound peeved-off puppy rolled into Indianapolis, exhausted, cramped, and ready for a good night of sleep. For Lisa, it was the beginning of her last fortnight at home as a single girl; for me, it was the day before I flew home to officially complete my reign as the Webb family dungeon (read: basement) master (read: borrower).

So here I am, sitting in an airplane, just a few days away from the end of an era. Often times, you hear about "the next chapter" (from people who don't themselves read, let alone write, books). In a way, I feel like this transformation is even greater; it's the end of one book and the beginning of another. I'm single, living at home, unemployed, and poor; soon, I'll be married, living on my own (in a foreign country, no less), teaching, and completely loaded comfortable.

The thing is, I'm psyched. I'm not worried. I'm thrilled. This week at home will be fun and relaxing, but it'll just be a layover. In just a matter of days, Lisa and I will set sail on our greatest adventure yet.

*I can’t say anything on that—I hadn’t been employed since the last week of May. Furthermore, I had no car, meaning that I would technically be referred to as a "drifter".

Barrelin’ along—A story of a torn bungee cord, a broken tailgate, and a nearly-disastrous furniture move

LINCOLN, NEBRASKA—One of the side effects of moving across the world is the inability to take all your possessions with you. Most airlines limit you to the amount of luggage you can take internationally to 2 full bags, one carry-on, and one “personal item” (a purse, murse, backpack, satchel, laptop case, diaper bag, duty-free sack, or fanny-pack). Nowhere, to my knowledge, does USAir allow one to take 2 wood dressers, 1 nightstand, and 3 giant cardboard boxes of “treasure” acquired over the last two years.

This rather unfortunate detail has forced Lisa and I to make a few decisions over what items we wanted to bring with us to Taiwan. Many items we sold via Craigslist; others we gave to friends and family. But what would be the fate of some of the larger purchases that we had bought intending to keep for a significant amount of time? Luckily, my family came through and offered a spot in their storage unit in Kansas to store a few of our larger furniture items, provided we could find a way to get all the stuff down there. One quick phone call to Enterprise Rent-a-Car (or in our case, Enterprise Rent-a-big-wed-twuck) solved our problem.

However, the day was not without flaws and… challenges. Here’s a run-down of what the 24 26 hours of hell looked like:

June 20th, 9:30pm—After spending most of the day discussing the packing that we should be doing, Lisa and I drove up to the airport to pick up the vehicle. Lisa, being 25, has to sign for the truck. On the drive back home, Lisa calls me to inform me that “This thing is AWESOME.” Jealous, I drive the not-quite-as-interesting Honda Accord aggressively to a song by someone named Lady GaGa.

10:00pm—We officially begin packing for the next day. Recognizing the task before me, I become volatile and start shoving clothes into plastic sacks at a breakneck pace.

June 21, 1:00am—Lisa and I call a truce and decide to go to bed then and wake up at 6:00 on the dot to finish our job.

6:24am—Packing resumes; the official plan is to be rolling by 9:00am.

7:01am—I declare to Lisa that it’s pointless to even try packing everything up (being that we have to much left to do) for the 3rd time. She insists that because we have already paid for the truck, we would be driving down to Kansas come hell or high water. I am reminded why I love her.

7:23am—Finally done with the packing. Now, all we have left to do is load 78 items onto the truck bed. Lisa, not being very good at math or logic puzzles, doesn’t seem to fret that there is approximately 4 times as many things to get into and onto the vehicle than there is space for. Again, she insists it will be no problem. Moving to the truck begins.

7:24am—First beads of sweat begin to roll down my back and nest on my booty. It’s going to be a long day.

7:27am—Colossal-sized dresser loaded onto truck in the lying down position.

7:36am—Nightstand and smaller dresser loaded onto truck in the lying position. It is now we realize that if everything is to fit onto the truck, it can’t be lyng down. The emergency plan is to stand up all items nearest to the cab and fill up the bed with as many things as possible to prevent the furniture from falling over. Foolproof.

7:40am—I remember a quote: “Nothing is foolproof to a sufficiently-talented fool.” Uh oh.

7:53am—Boxes upon boxes are stood up behind the dressers. I declare that there is no more possible space in the truck bed to fit even an envelope. Moving continues to the back seat of the cab.

8:14am—Mostly finished, I inform Lisa of my nervousness about the grey clouds hovering above us. Lisa argues that it will not rain (“How do you know that?” “It’s just not gonna!”). We compromise by agreeing to get a tarp and bungee cords for me; Lisa will get a grande Frappucino. Everyone is happy.

8:36am—Travels commence. First stop is Lincoln’s Super Target.

8:40am—We reach our target (wah wah). Acquiring the tarp and bungee cords proves to be easier for us than the brewing of our beverages by our talented, 16-year-old barista. There should be a college degree requirement for these employees. Perhaps unemployed English majors should be drafted into the $5 coffee beverage army.

8:52am—John Madden stops by to describe my complete dominance over the 8’x6’ plastic tarp and $15 bungee cord set: “You see what he did there, he pulled the tarp out and just covered the heck out of that bed. I mean, you think it’s gonna ride up or something, maybe fly off the bed, and BOOM, there he is, bungee cord. I’m looking at this kid, thinking, hey, he’s like the young Brett Farve of the truck/plastic-covering industry. Pat, pass me some more of that tur-duck-en…”

8:57am—Everything’s strapped down and ready to roll. Liftoff in 5, 4, 3…

8:58am—I look out the driver’s side mirror to see the tarp catching in the wind like a hot air balloon. One of the bungees has even partially ripped in half. So much for the “We can protect this stuff against the wind, rain and bug splatters” effort. Off with the tarp, but some bungees can stay on to secure the precious cargo.

9:01am—Everything secured again. Take 2.

9:04am—Lisa’s eyes don’t leave the dresser in the back. She expresses her nervousness about how the dresser is learning a wee bit backwards, collapsing the cardboard box of clothes behind it. On my rearview mirror evaluation, it can’t possibly be leaning back more than 5°.

9:05am— Ok, maybe 10°.

9:06am—30°.

9:06:30am—45°. Ok, Lisa, we’ll find a spot to pull over. However, there’s not really anywhere to do any kind of extensive rearranging, so we have to hop off Highway 77 to some abandoned parking lot.

9:12am—4 or 5 boxes are pulled out of the truck so the big dresser can lie down. All is good, except now we have to get all that stuff back in. Lisa, a master packer, get all but one colossal cardboard box back in the truck bed. She shoves it into a far-too-small spot and slams the tailgate closed. It responds by popping off its hinge.

9:31am—Lisa tinkers with the tailgate, trying to figure out how to just snap it back into its place. I still haven’t moved since Lisa broke the truck.

9:33am—I finally get my bearings and help her try to jam the piece back into its (now-broken) hinge. Running through my mind is not how we’re going to get all this stuff to Kansas, but how we’d even be able to get it back the 10 miles to Lincoln without a tailgate.

9:37am—A lot of really angry grunting.

9:40am—We finally get it set just right so we can close the back. Finally loaded up, we get back on the road. Lisa sits in the passenger’s seat and giggles.

9:53am—I end my angry speaking-strike against Lisa.

9:54am—She’s cute, so I guess I have to forgive her. Danget. At least now we’re going to safely make it home.

12:13pm—My last drive from Lincoln to Junction City comes to a close. The only casualty is my sanity.

12:32pm—My parents lead us to their storage facility, where we unload all of our loot. All is safe. Now off to Manhattan for some food and shopping.

6:13pm—Leave for the return trip to Lincoln. At some point on this drive, I realize that my throat is getting sore. By the time we hit Nebraska, I’ve almost completely lost my voice.

9:47pm—We return the truck to Enterprise Car Rental with just minutes to spare. Whew. With everything safe and secure, we drive home to get some decent rest after an exhausting day.

Direct your wedding queries here

We put this address on the invitations (and the re-invitations), so for some of you, it might not be new information. However, just in case, we do have a wedding web site we put up with information pertinent to the ceremony:

http://ewedding.com/sites/ChrisLisaWebb

Take a peek at it!

Battery acid doesn't taste very good, does it Dalia?

LINCOLN, NEBRASKA—Dalia added another item to the long and growing list of inedible things that she has ingested. This one wasn't as soft as the down comforter, towels, bath mats, or the couch pillows, and it may not have been as clean as the shampoo and soap bottles, or as expensive as Chris's laptop "Z" key, but it was definitely just as memorable! Dalia, being the all-too-intelligent creature that she is, intentionally demands attention when she wants or needs something. From bringing me her dish when she is hungry or thirsty to flicking my hand with her intrusive little nose when she wants to be petted, Dalia has figured out how to get what she wants. Most recently, Dalia has been honing her persistence in getting attention by bringing me one, two, and three objects that she knows that are "off-limits" so that I am forced into action in meeting her demands. A typical morning transaction occurs something like this. Dalia brings me her dish. She waits patiently for a generous 5 seconds. She begins pacing. And whining. Then pushing her snout into my lap. The frustration builds and "positively" seeking my attention hasn't cut it so she goes for the "naughty" items. Dalia grabs a shoe and prances through the living room. She drops this at my feet and goes for the next item, usually trash that she can shred or anything else mouth sized.

This morning, unbeknownst to me, as a part of her traditional "feed me" dance, Dalia grabbed a D battery. And bit clean through it. Although distracted, I caught on that something was wrong after the hacking/choking sound that ensued. After prying her mouth open to find nothing visible, it took me a few minutes to find the leaking battery in the corner of the living room in order to figure out what happened. She had gotted battery acid all over her tongue and in her throat. One $100.00 + emergency veterinary visit and three expensive medications later, Dalia is now on a plush diet of blended canned dog food three times a day. Poor dog is miserable. I would like to think this will cure her from her desire to eat random objects, but if so... I am sure only until she regains her "taste for rebellion." (ha ha, get it... she singed her tastebuds with the battery acid... )