Mid-Life School Crisis

Any celebrations that end with 0s or 5s always get noticed, they're plain better for whatever reason. Personally, I think the aesthetic features of the numerals give an appearance of success of achievement. Take Don Gorske of Fond du Lac, Wisconsin. This model American has become oddly famous for eating his 25,000th Big Mac from McDonald's, appearing on late night TV shows and popping into your news aggregator from CNN or the AP - an amazing testament to the power of the human body to withstand such an assault! I'm the press will be uninterested until the 30,000 mark, the power of zeroes. Heading back to Taiwan, it was with great rejoice that the local Tianmu Elementary School in the neighborhood where I work recognized their 30th year of service. Responsible for the educational advancement of thousands of Taiwanese youth, the school is a landmark in this northern community. A tremendous party was in order, full of fun, excitement, reflection, food, merriment, and games for the families to come and enjoy. Since Giraffe is directly across the street, it was absolutely essential to make our presence known, reminding parents that our school is cracker-jack. It was also absolutely essential that I get to the school at 7:30AM on a Saturday. 'Just out of curiosity, what would happen if I showed up at...' Blah, too bad I don't live here, then I could have skipped and promised to make it to the 35th. Or 40th.

Not much can be said about the Soviet-style design, you could easily swap the sign for a textile mill and nobody would think otherwise, besides the clown-colored inflatable gate. The immediate facing facade is dreary; no hanging window flower boxes, no pastel drawings on widows of children holding hands from around the world, not a hint of kids are work or play. Thankfully the administrators decided to spruce up the deco immediately through the gate to remind parents that this building is not a prison, even though it wouldn't be hard to make it one. Under red tents inside the school's drop-off circle, community organizations and businesses tout their messages, hand out literature, and entice groups of children to play their ring toss or darts game for a small fee. Between and past the main structure on the left and on the right (the library) is the school's track and blacktop.

Well would you look at that? A couple hundred mostly cute kids singing and dancing the school's song. The first grade children donned their class shirts and headbands, pink and blue for their designated genders. Scattered around the track, the tinny speakers broadcasted an allegro moderato march highlighted by a motivated brass section. While the parents clapped along and toe-tapped to the continuous bum-bum-bum of the tubas, the kids flailed pompoms and sang along with the lively music. Some of the performers were enjoying it far less than others, the former moving like Japanese robots through the dance steps which had been programmed into their systems. Still early in the morning, a few had the morning daze looking absentmindedly into the camera of an enthusiastic parent. Obviously, the idea of replacing Saturday morning's Sponge Bob viewing with this mandatory jollification did not sit well some. Sacrifices must be made! Fortunately for them, their efforts to glorify Tianmu Elementary school was the first event during a lengthy program and the exhibition lasted a few songs. Relieved, the children marched in straight lines off the track, free to roam the campus without needing to hear that lame song for a very long time.

Excellent candid photo #1! 'This cotton candy makes my throat itch, waaaaaaah!'

In one of the main courtyards, tents were set up to house games, snacks, and sweet treats. To give you an idea of the school's size, this courtyard was one of four with just as much square footage. One of them had not been paved over, wide ferns and small palms remain. Families filtered in and out to take a break from the the ongoing spectacles near the track. Refueling on ice tea and corn dogs, the attendees were also eager to test their skill on a variety of carnival games. Interested in my neighbors offering, it appeared some of them were outrageously rigged. Like two tents down, trying to bounce a ping pong ball into the opening of a glass vase with a $1000 bill inside ($30 USD) or into a hole the size of an M&M. The vendor wisely provided contestants with maybe twenty shots giving a little bit of confidence and probably saying '...no, no, no - you are stealing MY money! Look how many times you can go!' Clever, shrewd but clever.

Against my strong advice, Giraffe's game had to be completely 'legit' and without any trickery, too bad. Our tent had two games; the game on the right side was your classic throw-something-knock-it-down variety. Twenty dollars gets you three tosses and thirty gets you five. With each number knocked down, you get a certain prize and an adrenaline rush similar to rock climbing or para-sailing.

On the left side was our shooting gallery; our AK-47 was a wood pistol with a waistband elastic to create tension. Place the elastic band on the barrel and the hammer, release the tension handle and voila! Thirty dollars gets you ten shots and fifty gets you twenty. Like the toss game, the more Taliban you blast the sweeter the prize. And just so you know, children, shooting Teacher Andrew does not award you a higher score or a better prize. My classes might be Taliban-esque with all the homework I assign but I assure you, it would take a lot of rubber bands to eliminate this dictator.

And so it went - rubber bands whizzing by, clanking of wooden pegs hitting the metal targets, laughter, endless exchanges of paper-scissor-stone, excitement, meats on a stick, and personally a lot of sweatiness. At the end of the day, we had collected thousands of dollars or about...

* 983 pegs thrown at targets

* 2,360 rubber bands shot

Making money wasn't the idea, covering our costs and advertising was our goal and was achieved. During this whole time, Giraffe's owners and one-part timer were out on the street handing out flyers and talking up our fantastic branch. Thousands of promotional flyers were handed out describing our approach and why parents should give us their dollars instead of our rivals. The afternoon culminated in a school-wide relay race, each grade competing against one another. Some of the teams looked like Olympic superstars, timing their start off the blocks to match up with the baton passer and handing it off effortlessly. Other teams, did not. I will say it was quite exciting, a coworker and I began casual bets based on the looks and demeanor of the teams lining up for a race. I could tell when the blue or the teal shirts would absolutely crush the yellow team - 'seriously, one of the kids is wearing loafers, there is no way he is going to keep up.' When it got down to the wire, the parents jumped up screaming 'jiao yio, jiao yio!!' ('Keep going! Keep going! And if you bring disgrace to this family you aren't going to have dinner for the rest of the weekend...'). Trophies awarded to the victors, hugs and encouragement to the runners-up, and a few promises of candy and snacks for me from the spoils of my gambling.

Here are a few more spectacular photos....

'Ughhhhhhhh, why did I eat that?'

Super Taiwanese Mullet, he's got your back.

'I want to play games too. I like corn dogs. Please let me out...

Please.'

'Take that you extremist S.O.B.!'

'She will not talk to you, or any other members of the press until this matter is resolved in a court of law.'

#3 - What The Hell Is This?

If you thought I was moving to Taipei and not going to eat a lot of weird treats for your enjoyment, you are dead wrong my friend. Today's post is brought to you by Rolaids. Easing your discomfort after mowing down a bucket of ox gall bladders with a side of eel farts has never been easier. Just grab a few tablets, chew, and wash it down with a tall glass of fish pee and you should be feeling better right away. Let's check out today's mystery...

The Item: I was casually loitering at my local 7Eleven, browsing as usual, and I found this unusual item. In a resealable, pink plastic bag, there isn't much to explore by simple means of observation. The foreground features a lovely pile of purpley-brown nuggets frosted in a powder, sugar I'm thinking, but possibly anthrax. In the background is a glass of an orange liquid accented by green stems or leaves, like Tang with decorated with grass clippings. The only English is a little bit helpful, on the dark pink banner mentioning 'It tastes sour and sweet.' Helpful, I really like the ambiguous 'It' suggestion.

The other side has a viewing area; you may observe your snacks at rest before their demise. Again, not a whole lot going on. The picture on the front is a little bit off - instead of the smooth, snowy appearance, my goodies are wrinkled tidbits covered in white fungal spores. Has this thing been sealed properly? Where did these come from anyways?

I pay for my merchandise and scurry back to my apartment like a mouse with his cheese. Tearing open the package, the aroma of artificial sweet fruit fills my room. The scent is what I imagine Lady Speed Stick to smell like, perfumey and strong enough for a man but meant for a woman. Before tasting, some guesses I have are figs, cherries, tiny plums, dates, or rabbit droppings. Yes dear friends, I had to go there, and explore the uncomfortable option that maybe, just maybe, this rare Taiwanese delicacy has found its way into the mass markets of the public. As an outsider, I find it absolutely essential to separate myself, abstain from any ethnocentric assumptions, and consider ALL the options. More research is necessary...

It is my mouth, I have the right to know. To the right is a strangely detailed and accurate picture of the droppings from oryctolagus cuniculus, commonly referred to as a European Rabbit. Wikipedia has not installed scratch-and-sniff webpages, I am unable to determine a match in smell. The size, original color, and shape are remarkably similar, my tongue begins to curl in disgust. Using the latest photographic technology used by the CIA to track criminals who change their appearance, here is a computer-generated image with the effect of 'powdered sugar' turned on to match my culprit...

Oh...

my...

God!

These resemblance is dead on! The system tells me it is 90% positive that my picture is a positive match. Knowing this evil, maddening fact, the experiment must continue.

The Guess: The Taiwanese population seem to have their act together, I don't think a whole society walking around popping rabbit nuggets into their mouthes could be so hospitable or friendly. Against the strong, compelling photographic evidence, I'm going to say it is a cherry.

The Result: Ow. These niblets are 75% pit, 25% flesh - in my excitement, I noshed a little bit too hard and maybe loosened a filling. Immediate taste is sweet, followed by a sourness so intense, my tongue twists into a question mark, making it impossible to talk. Tart is an understatement, like lemon concentrate, I can barely open my eyes. A few seconds later, the rush subsides leaving my mouth tired, palette exhausted. The pit is oval, similar to an olive, but the results are still unknown. I visit Google Translate, punch in a few guesses of what I think it is, and the symbols for 'plum' are very similar. But technology fooled me once already today, I can rest easy knowing that no rabbits were harmed in the making and packaging of my experiment.

Conclusion: Inconclusive

The Exploder

If it ain't broke, don't fix it. Allow me to introduce the Exploder, a miracle of Japanese craftsmanship and engineering. During my trip to Spring Scream in Kenting, the Exploder was my ride and this scooter has seen kilometers. The positive, it was loaned to me for zero dollars. The negative, as explained by the lender, "..just don't go too fast or else..." Right. I didn't even hear that part, all I focused on was the zero dollars. Instead of a scooter, I received a bicycle with an engine as strong as a food processor, safety features similar to a see-saw, and a ride as comfortable as a cactus-tobaggon. Perfect! Scooter-jackers would be made fun of by their posse if they stole this. On idle, it sounds like a chainsaw fart combined with a dryer full of quarters running on tumble cycle. Don't care, at all. Take a blender, throw in 100 pennies, a jar of pickles, hit 'liquify' and you've got the noise at what I think to be around 50kph. Am I embarrassed? Please. You wish your ride could last this long. Let's take a look at the features...

The Exploder has supported so many butts, it is actually starting to shed. The foam underneath is cracked, hardened, and worn. Not sure if I'm sitting on a cushion or a bag of crushed asphalt. Rear-ends of all shapes and sizes have smooshed this once luxurious foam support in different areas resulting in a texture of a rubber blanket on a coral reef. The vibrations sure didn't help the ride; if I had any kidney stones tucked away in the deepest regions of my guts, surely they were rattled out. The glossy accent paint on the steel mounts has long since departed, leaving a poo-poo brown rust thick with grit and tetanus. Rear passengers should avoid this support at all cost, instead wrap your soft, smooth and comforting arms around my boyish physique and hold on tight.

You want LCD display? Nice try, this baby was conceived before TVs turned color. How about LED? Maybe once upon a time. But the speedometer doesn't work, neither does the tachometer, or the any-other-kind-ometer. Please also note the lack of side mirrors, they were causing too much drag. Just take your eyes off the road, turn your head around, turn back, hope nothing is about to be under your front tire, and keep cruising. The pewter matte finish of the handlebar casing has a texture similar to sand paper or a goat's horn. Like a roll of pink fiberglass, too much poking, pressing, or prodding could result in microscopic slivers. Then you have an itch in your armpit, which you touch and now you have them there. Then you sneeze, cover your mouth and get them in your gums. Now, you alternate your scratching hand between your mouth and your armpit giving yourself a full-on B.O. mouth rinse.

The lights work, but they are desperately trying to escape from the frame. One cover remains, the left blinker and he's hanging on for dear life. How thoughtful of the Exploder's owner to use clear tape, not duct tape, to remedy this malfunction. As you can see, it is a Yamaha and they make damn fine products. Carbon gray fenders accent the navy blue body punctuated by stripped, rusted nuts and bolts holding it together. Custom stickers adorn the front of my chariot letting other riders know that even though I don't value my life enough to make this vehicle safe, I still want to look good.

Normally the underside of any kind of vehicle is covered to prevent exposure to dirt, water, roadkill, etc. Not the Exploder! What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. The Exploder also disposes of superfluous pieces of undercarriage automatically. While you ride to the local Grease Bucket Fatty Man's Chicken Shack to pack on the calories, the Exploder is dropping pounds like nothing. What you see are the bare essentials it takes to run an internal combustion engine. If it isn't important, get rid of it - like the automatic starter. Typically scooters have a button you push and presto, machine on. That feature has been removed, for your convenience. Today's model features a kick start lever; just stand off to the side, jump off a curb, friend, concrete barrier, or bush with a massive amount of downward force, and bingo! If you hear chainsaw farts, you know you did it right.

Any false move by my right leg could result in a IQ-changing shock from the exposed wires. Is it a bad sign that I can clearly see the other side of the road through most of the parts? If you had a car and could see through it while you standing beside it, you'd be like 'oh @#!$$^#, maybe I should get on that.' And if you were driving a horse, you'd be like 'oh damn, where'd you get that pony at?' The muffler with sharpened edges at the bottom of picture was used to determine the standards of acceptable emissions. Anything worse than the Exploder should be seized, dismantled, and melted down into useful widgets.

Of course, it is easy to take cheap shots at something that looks shoddy, beat up, or worn down. You may think that because it looks like a piece of slow moving rubbish, it is a piece of slow moving rubbish. And that is true, it is exactly that. But, looking past the disfigurement and covering your ears from the deafening noise pollution, the Exploder and many others like that get you to where you want to go. Looks aren't the most important thing, only if you want to pay more. In three days of riding, it started the first time every time, used $2 worth of gasoline for a couple hours of driving, and never crapped out. Suckers were lining up to pay an unreasonably high price for shiny, brand-new wheels for the holiday weekend; the shops there triple the rate during the Spring Spring festivities. I paid nothing and still got to the same places as everybody else. In this battle between the Young Studs and Old Faithful, it was a tie - score one for the good guys. Don't touch the Exploder, it is absolutely perfect the way it is; if it ain't broke, don't fix it.

I'm 100% sure the next person who uses it will die.

Derp.

In Soviet Russia, scooter drives you.