Spicy is as spicy does

Let me start out by saying that this post is being written under adverse conditions – I am currently shaking from the caffeine content of my Taiwanese iced coffee.  Which I ordered in CHINESE!  Yes, that’s right gentle readers, I can almost say a sentence in Chinese.  Up until now my Chinese vocabulary has consisted of “hello”, “thank you”, and “spicy”.  Mind you, I never actually said these correctly.  Half the time when I tried to say “hello” I really said “your mother was a hamster”, and “thank you” usually came out as “go and boil your bottoms, you sons of silly persons” (there’s a strange correlation between Mandarin and Monty Python.  Must investigate further).  In fact, my only reliable word was “spicy”.  Luckily it works in a variety of circumstances:

“What’s your name?”

“Spicy”

“Where do you live?”

“Um….Spicy”

“May I sell you into white slavery?”

“oooo…..Spicy!”

Unfortunately I found out yesterday that I am in fact mangling that word as well.  Instead of “spicy” I’ve been reliably saying “pull”.  All because I can’t tell the difference between la and la.  So perhaps instead of ordering iced coffee I actually ordered a trough of liquid crack.  It would explain the twitchy-ness.

But I will soldier on!  The blog post will be written!  I just make no promises as to its coherence.  So sit back and prepare yourselves for disjointed sentences about apartments, food, and jug bands.  Let’s start with the apartment.  Remember when I was frantically trying to find an NYC subletter?  And I took comfort in the fact that it would so incredibly easy to find an apartment in Taipei for around $3 a month?  I was, how shall I put this, completely out of my fucking mind.  It is not easy to find an apartment in Taipei.  No one wants to rent to some random, gigantic, hairy foreigner for three months.  And they all want deposits that amount to more than the total summer’s rent.  Also, it’s kind of cut-throat.  I had a line on a great place in Da An, my neighborhood of choice, but when I arrived to meet the rest of the roommates and hopefully pay the deposit there was another woman there.  And the roommates thought she was me.  And she didn’t correct them.  Because finding an apartment is so crazy that people resort to subletter impersonation.  What’s a girl to do?  I was seriously thinking of staying at a Hostel for summer – but then the Universe stepped in and said, “Gigantic, pasty, white foreign girl, I bequeath to you an apartment in a great part of the city for $200 a month.  And you shall go forth and drag along your coworker Linnea.”

I realize I’ve been referencing the Universe quite a bit these past few months.  Please do not think this speaks to some kind of religious conversion.  As I explained in my mission statement, this is not Eat, Pray, Love (also, I truly wonder now if the events of that book unfolded as depicted.  For example, the love part.  I’ve spent my time here sweating aggressively.  I mean, I am foul.  I offend myself.  I put stinky tofu to shame.  Elizabeth Gilbert was in Indonesia.  Does this woman not sweat?  Or did she quickly master the Asian art of sweating attractively?  Because somehow she snags Javier Bardem.  It’s suspicious.  I’m just saying.)  So anyway, I have not found Jesus, but I have come to treasure the power of coincidence.  For example, the apartment hunt: Had my hostel not been full on my first Friday here I never would have gone to the back-up hostel.  And had I not gone to the back-up hostel I never would have met Vanessa the Magical Hostel Owner who just happened to have an apartment available, not just for me, but for my coworker Linnea as well, for $200 a month, utilities included, with no deposit.  And this apartment is in Da An.  Next to a night market.  And down the road from afforementioned hostel, so we can stop over whenever we need, well, anything.  (The only drawback is that later this summer two more people will be moving in and Linnea and I will have to share a room, so we effectively will be living in a hostel-esque situation.  Universe, I expect you to arrange for an “unfortunate change of plans” for these future roommates.  I’ll be patiently waiting.)

So here I am, blogging from the coffee shop on the first floor of my building.  Not only does this coffee shop serve a high octane brew, it also features two Chihuahuas and gentle, Chinese Muzak.  With housing out of the way I’ve been able to devote myself to exploring the city as much as possible before I start working like a test-prep fiend.  Of course when I say “exploring” I really mean “consuming vast quantities of food”.  Because I hear that Javier Bardem likes his women sweaty and rotund. 

Some photos of my recent adventures:

The Dr. Sun Yat-Sen Memorial Hall, an example of classic Chinese architecture...from the 1970's.  Here we are instructed to feel "an awe-inspiring righteousness flooding in our chests and emerge out of a sentiment to model ourselves on martyrs and past sages spirits to share themselves with the life of all creatures, carrying forward the cause and forging ahead into the future, so as to set an immortal foundation for the countryand establish a peacrful world for all ages."  Did you guys get all that?

My feeble attempt at artistry while at the Taipei Botanic Garden.  This lotus represents my sweaty, inner serenity. Fuck you, Elizabeth gilbert.

The TPR people are seriously classy.  They take us to beautiful places like Watami, where the sushi makes me want to wear fancy hats and gloves and carry parasoles. 

This is Taipei - you will dip your hot pot items in raw egg and like it, dammit!  (Actually it's incredibly good.  The egg coating makes hot pot even more cozy and deliciously comforting, if such a thing is possible.)

Praying at the holy shrine of tourism.  The humid air was fragrant with orchids and incense.  This city is a sensory overload. 

Taipei's answer to the cornish pasty - pepper bake cake.  These savory pockets of pork goodness are placed on the walls of a drum-like oven and scraped out at the appropriate time.  This was so good, I shared it with my shirt.

Late-night drunk food from our neighborhood night market!  Soooooooo tasty.  And extra la, which lead directly to drunken hiccups.  Luckily Linnea is a heavy sleeper, so this did not wake her.  And apparently I am becoming a heavy sleeper as well, becuase the 6.0 magnitude earthquake this morning only slightly roused me from my slumber.  Ah, Taiwan.  I can't wait to experience your myriad of natural disasters.

On tap for next time - my musical stalking saga. Yes, I am the stalker.  And I will follow these Gypsy Jazz Band Swing Dancers until they love me!  Because I'm a huge, hairy, foreign paparazzi!

(If you crave more Taipei blogging, may I suggest my co-workers' pages?  They are both fabulous writers, and will give you an opportunity to uncover all the dirty lies I've posted here.  Their pages are: http://nihaocorinne.blogspot.tw/ and http://girlloosed.wordpress.com/ .  Enjoy!)