The Epic Fail (Mostly) Which Is My Scooter

Lim-Lim, my Darling 1994 Blue Sankuang Scooter

Some general scooter facts for you:

- If you're riding a 50 cc in Taiwan, you don't need a motorcycle license. You do, however, still need a license.

- To make left turns, you do so in two steps: you go straight, then stop in the little box on the right hand side of the road, turning so that you are effectively facing the correct direction.

- they produce a hell of a lot of pollution, but do not use a lot of gas.

- some are two stroke engines, some are four stroke, and if you have the first one, then you definitely have to add oil to your scooter or it won't go very far or fast.

- the amount of stuff you can carry on your scooter is limited only by your imagination and ability to balance. This can include a family of four, plus a dog balancing on people's shoulders. And no, that is not an exaggeration.

Kristen, demonstrating Scooter Fashion Techniques

So. I bought myself a scooter. It is a 1994, and it cost me, plus insurance, about 250$ total. I bought it, I drove it home, everything was wonderful, and I took it out to the bar for the first time a few days later for Halloween. Oh sure, all of the various guages were broken, and the fuel tank was set permanently on low, but it was all good, because it ran (albeit loudly) and was easy enough to drive.

And then, at the bar, at two in the morning, it would not start. I tried kicking the little engine lever, and cooing, and promising many many presents of baths and expensive gasoline, and the little bastard just sort of coughed feebly at me. So we asked a random taiwanese man for assistance. He'd spent most of the night telling us how he lied to people for a living and was apparently some sort of really lame con artist. I kept a careful eye on my keys and purse.

He hummed a bit and fondled my poor, reluctant vehicle. He tried to kick start it. He wiggled various portions, and then finally declared somberly, "you have a fuel problem."

"Oh no!" I exclaimed, words like 'fuel line blockage' jumping through my head. I promptly began imagining how exactly one managed to fix such a thing, when he clarified.

"Yes," he said, pushing his glasses onto his nose, "you need more gas."

"Oh," I said, pushing my own glasses onto my nose (I was a librarian), "well then."

We did not get gasoline that night, as it was two in the morning, but instead headed home, angel wings and all, in two trips on poor Allie's scooter. The next day, Marvis took me to the gas station, where we filled up an empty water bottle with gas, and then gave it to my poor scooter. It gulped down the green liquid (don't ask me why it was green, but it was) and with a hiccuping shudder and a litle encouragement from myself, Marvis, and a random Taiwanese waitress at the bar, purred back to life.

The summary of my various guages

At this point, I gave my scooter its name: Lim-lim, short for "Lim lo key" which means "chug it" in Taiwanese.

I thought my scooter troubles were over. Two weeks later, it decided not to start again, so we walked it to the mechanics with a note in Chinese from one of my students. They poked and prodded at it, and much to my embarrassment, got it to start. And I drove it home, and the next day? It wouldn't start again.

So yesterday, Marvis fetched a mechanic from the original store. He followed us home and got out his screwdriver. He hemmed and hawed, poked and prodded, and eventually declared that there was something stuck inside my scooter. The possibility that it was a tiny mythical creature was not directly mentioned, but I felt, in my Dane-Cook-infested mind, that it was implied.

He told me it would be too dangerous to fix at night and on the street, so he came back a little later with a friend, who climbed onto my scooter and pulled it into the street. The mechanic turned on his own scooter, and then, with one of his feet behind my Lim-Lim, started pushing my scooter to the store.

Two hours later, they called Marvis. The problem was, my scooter had a broken heart and needed a new one and some new veins. I'm sure there were probably more technical names than that, but that was the gist of it. So Lim-Lim got a heart transplant, and all for under 20 bucks.

Now, Lim-Lim works. Sort of. Most of the time. She gets cold feet about the whole thing, but if I kick her up on her scooter stand and kick-start her engine, she usually goes alone with it. But I have to let her warm up before I give her gas... and then I have to give her gas the whole time I'm driving, even when stopped at lights, or she'll give up the ghost like a pouty two-year-old who wants the candy you've refused.

And that is the Epic Fail (well, mostly) of my scooter.

Japanese Beetle Leisure Farm, My Ass!

That Frankie. He's a squirmer.

So, we went to the Japanese Beetle Leisure Farm with our kindergarten classes on a field trip this fall. Naturally, the name was completely deceptive. Well. Partly deceptive. It was a farm. There just weren't any beetles. There were rabbits, goats, cows, horses, more goats, doves, and some extremely diseased looking ostriches, though. So that's like, at least 50% deceptive. Maybe 75% - I didn't quite feel there was much leisure going on. More chasing children and being attacked by animals, really. Anyway.

The cows were babies, all crowded together in a metal pen with their heads stuck through the fence and over the trough. There was an impromptu barn, decorated with the skins of a thousand slaughtered piñatas. It swayed festively in the wind, and also made some pretty lame swooshy noises. Upon our arrival at the barn, our tour guide babbled at us a little in chinese. This elicited honest laughter from the students and Taiwanese teachers. Allie, Megan and myself let out a few nervous, delayed giggles. I'm getting pretty good at those.

Then we got down to the business of feeding cows. We were equipped with bottles and directions in chinese that the children didn't pay attention to and that nobody bothered to translate for us. I'm pretty positive they were along the lines of "Hold on tight!" but they could have been something vital like "these are zombie cows. Watch their eyes, that's how you know they're going to go for you!" Fortunately, I am naturally suspicious of bovines, so none of them managed to infest me with their dirty undead diseases. Unfortunately, the kindergartners were not so good at holding onto the bottles when they became slippery with cow spit, and thus we learned the true use of the trough: to contain all the stolen and then dropped bottles.

Frankie feeding the cows!

I became the unofficial bottle collector. If you know me, you know my feelings on being anywhere in the same 4 mile radius as a cow, and I'm sure you can guess my reaction to this appointment. I managed to keep the vomit contained, however.

Luke feeding a rabbit. This is how we get bit by them, kids.

During the course of the day, there were multiple casualties: Claire got bit by a bunny, I got bit by a horse, and everyone got some serious evil eye from the ostriches. Serious evil-eye - I was a little worried I was going to spontaneously combust, and also concerned I was facing Satan in the form of a lanky-limbed, super-sized chicken.

Ponies! Also, note the awesome flayed-pinata decorations above...

I also got licked by a cow. Survey says: NOT COOL, BUT THE REST OF IT WAS RELATIVELY ACCEPTABLE. (Yes, surveys are now presented in all capitals for dramatic effect)

OH NOES, DOVES!

And Finally, Halloween.

So, for Halloween I was a beetle. I took a week and a half to sew my own costume, and it was awesome even if everyone sort of thought I was a bat.

For our school celebration we got to spend most of the day operating these little stations that the kids came around to. I manned the face painting station, and had my arm covered with examples of what I could do. Unfortunately, during this whole Halloween Debacle, we had one CD playing on loop. Some of the songs were classic and entertaining, like Ghost busters and the Harry Potter Theme Song. Others were... interesting. Amusing the first time, even, but after four hours of loop and finding myself singing to them... well. I think I came out of the whole ordeal with my soul largely intact, but there is a significant portion of it that was eaten away by song lyrics like: "I'm a mean old witch with my hat!" and "which witch, is which?"
It made me wonder what sort of sadists go into the business of making children's Halloween music. Don't they know that parents and teachers will be subjected to their songs on repeat? Are they trying to turn people into serial murders?

Fuckers.

Anyway, here are some delightful photos of the day:

Marvis, Ally and Megan in their Taiwanese School Girl outfits, complete with stolen backpacks.

She broke the hand.

Eddie with a beetle on his face... and a pout.

Samantha was an Indian Princess. Megan told her she was Native American. Samantha disagreed.

Hippo class outfits!

Jeter as a depressed Cupid

The tattoos I could offer

Raffie as Nemo, Gaby as a princess

Spiderman!

BEETLE!

The Grand Photo Catch-Up

Don't tell anyone I said this, but she's cute when she's not screaming.

Wu Bai concert!

Kristen, Ally and Marvis hiking it old school. Is old school associated with peace? Maybe new school, then.

Some sort of anguid lizard

Kenting at sunset

711 food! Tea Eggs and what I refer to as Taiwanese Corn Dogs. I haven't eaten either - they both smell pretty funny.

The streets filled with people after the 10/10 fireworks

What happened to our fire alarm. Basically, it went off due to a short, so I wrapped a towel around it and taped it so it was muted until the guard could turn it off. Then Ally attempted to take the towel off. A month later, it still is hanging from cords...

Ally and Me, me in my mute-the-fire-alarm gear (trying to protect my ears)

Fireworks on 10/10 over Chiayi that look sort of apocalyptic

Adventures in Kenting (AKA, getting around Taiwan without Marvis)

Sometime in Early October

Ahh, Kenting. The sweet smell of Tea-Eggs and Salt Brine on the wind, the chatter of a thousand Taiwanese and Foreign tourists debating the merits of various crappily-made shirts... truly, this is paradise.

So. We talked about going to Kenting for... a while. And then eventually we ran out of excuses, because Typhoon season was over. So we took a train down to Kaohsiung, where the last train stop was. We stepped out of the train and within five minutes were approached by a taxi driver who know about five words of English: "Kenting? You, four hundred each. Fast!" Yeah, that's five, because Kenting isn't really English now is it?

We said we'd think about it, as we'd had every intention of taking a bus, and wandered out into the street. Another woman approached us, her wide brimmed hat bobbing wildly in her enthusiastic yet limited sales pitch. "Kenting? We take, 342 each!" We waved her away, watching the brim of her hat flop down in her sorrow and walked, I kid you not, another ten steps before: "Excuse me! Excuse me, you go to Kenting? We take, only one and half hour, three hundred each. Bus take 2 hours, four hundred. You want?"

Now in theory, we could have walked another ten steps and met a magical pegasus who spoke perfect english, offered a 3-minute trip and also gave us complimentary milk tea all for the price of a good pirate joke, but we decided to settle on a human instead and were rapidly shuffled into a van. If I had been by myself, I would have been a little wary of the route - through parking garages and under an overpass into the far back cornor, but I was with Ally and Kristen, and I was not afraid. I should have been; they're preparing for marathons so it's unlikely I could have outrun them in an emergency, but I wasn't.

It didn't matter as they weren't going to steal our collective 4,000 NT and leave us in the ditch. Instead we spent a pleasant trip and arrived in the early afternoon. As it turned out, their stop was very close to our hostel, and our guide helped us find it and also told us that they could take us back the next day... and that we could leave our stuff with them after the hostel closed.

Fabulous!

We stayed at a catholic hostel that was very clean but had no more rooms, and so we stayed in dormitory housing which was not nearly as awkward as I was thinking it would be. Of course, I also claimed windowside of the six connected beds, but that put me directly over the snorer so I'm not thinking I came out with anything really resembling bed-claiming triumph.

We wandered around the town a little bit, got some delicious mexican food, and then meandered down to the beach. We spent some time writing, drawing, and talking, and just chilled until after dark, when we wandered the street markets. I bought a bunch of useless, random knicknacks, all of which I have now successfully pawned off on others as "presents." Haha, suckers!

Allison sitting pretty

I found it interesting that not only did each of the tourist shops have exactly the same thing, they also had the same things (in some case, IDENTICALLY) that I saw in tourist shops in Greece when I was 13. I saw a necklace in one of the stores that I actually bought in Greece. It's been 10 years, and I still think those little shell dolphins are a tiny piece of awesome.

We ended up spending the night drinking wine and cranberry juice on the beach, talking and giggling and listening to other people play music. On the way out, my nature-fu failed me but Allison took over, and spotted this awesome, fist-sized hermit crab:

I like to pretend it's clinging for dear life, struggling to keep from falling into the abyss

The next day we lounged about on the beach a lot, and then eventually caught a taxi home. Unfortunately, we caught an overcrowded taxi, which left me with one ass-cheek half off the seat, and we got stuck in traffic. 2 and a half hours after we left Kenting, I couldn't feel most of my right side from the hips down.

Then we caught a train, and a quick detour into the public restroom showed me exactly how sunburnt I was. I put sunscreen on three times, faithful reader, and I still looked like I'd been in a wrestling match with a can of red paint.

The train was also overcrowded, and between the three of us we managed to rope only one seat. It was also very slow. And so, between sunburnt, general lower-body numbness, and sheer exhaustion, I slowly became hysterical. I leave you this conversation with Allison as evidence:

The door magically opens of its own accord.
Me: "This one time, my sister's friend played a trick on her. He had a garage door opener in his pocket and pressed it whenever she walked too close, and convinced her it was her cell phone that was interfering with the signal. Good times."
Allison: "Maybe your cell phone is opening this door.
Me: "I left it at home."
Allison: "I remember our baby moniter used to pick up our neighbor's baby noises. Maybe it's a baby monitor."
Me: "...I had forgotten I left that in my purse."
Allison: "Yes, you often carry baby monitors around."
Me: "Well, I use them to fight crime."
Allison: "You do?"
Me: "Yes. That's my superhero name, the Baby Monitor. I rescue babies, and use the screams of many babies through the monitor to defeat criminals. Sometimes I bring the sender and the receiver together and use the feedback to bring criminals to their knees."
Allison: "I can be your sidekick, the Pacifier!"
Me: "Pretty positive that's a superhero name already."
Allison: "Really?"
Me: "Yeah. It's the evil guy in Sky High. They turn people into babies."
Allison: "Oh."
Me: "You can be Binkie, instead."
Allison: "Ok. I have to go to the bathroom."
There is a moment in which I examine the door, and discover a sensor responsible for the magical openings.
Allison: (returns) "Ok."
Me: "Allison, I have discovered that I have the Force." (discreetly swings hand in front of sensor.) "You see."
Allison: "Wow. You do indeed have the force. Do you use it to rescue babies?"
Me: "And sometimes open doors."
An old man triggers the sensor.
Me: "Umm. He also has the force?"

"Look! It's foreigners, and they're eating!"

Welcome gentle viewers. Please, sit down, have a look around, I've hidden interesting medications in the bathroom cabinet to further spark your imaginations and drastically alter your impression of me. Can I get you something to drink? Some chemical-laced tap water, or formaldehyde-based Taiwan beer, perhaps? No? Well then. Sit back in these lovely green pleather couches and relax as I take you on a magical journey through time, to approximately one week ago, when I went and did some stuff and felt like telling you about it...

Alishan Scenic Wilderness Area

It was a bright and sunny morning when I pulled my hungover self out of bed, greeting the  dawn with mumbled curses and epithets. Which, now that I've just googled it, doesn't actually mean what I think it does, and yet works regardless. Anyway. I travelled by foot to the bathroom where I killed several cockroaches, armed only with raid and a broken mop handle, keeping my war cries hushed lest I wake my roommates. Victory was mine, and I enjoyed an alternatingly hot and cold shower in celebration, as someone downstairs was doing the same thing and the water couldn't decide whose apartment it wanted to hang out at more. 

It was a half an hour later when I was informed that, in actuality, we weren't leaving until 8:00.  Allison had forgotten to inform me of this fact. 

I'll get her for that.

Regardless, I was conscious and soon Marvis came in her solid hyundai and picked us up for an afternoon of adventures. We stopped in what she referred to as "her territory" where we met many many people who her father knew. We purchased their food and peed in their bathrooms, and were about to depart when a man came to the window and knocked upon it. Marvis rolled it down and engaged in several minutes of conversation before turning to me and telling me to say thank you in Taiwanese. Which I did, because I am awesome like that and possibly was a parrot in another life - though really, I'd expect to have more dreams about flitting through the trees and eating nuts and stuff if this were the case. Maybe I was a maimed parrot, only good for repetition and begging from strangers, and I don't want to remember it even in my dreams. There could be any number of explanations for this phenomenon, really, and perhaps at a later date I will explore these possibilities further.

Or not. We'll see. Anyways, my duty complete, and the man satisfied (as he'd been advising Marvis quite sternly to teach us Taiwanese and Chinese while we were in town) we drove off into the mountains. We took a rather hair raising shortcut, which was so tight I was certain the side of the car was going to be torn off by an aggressive mob of bamboo. Bamboo, or at least its inhabitants, can be quite sharp and nasty, as you will later see.

We made it out alive, and eventually made it to a hiking area that Marvis and her family tend to take. It was right next to a bunch of lovely tea farms and a lovely temple with some lovely old men talking about us in Taiwanese. Marvis took great delight in telling them dirty lies about us and relaying their strange impressions, for in this area there are few if any foreigners. (Apparently, we were Russians?)

Getting to the actual trail was quite an ordeal, because there was some active construction going on, on the trail. What I mean is, they decided to put a building directly on the trail. I don't know why. They just did. So we had to crawl over a set of treacherous metal beams as the construction workers laughed at our crazy russian antics. 

Climbing over metal beams, risking life and limb and definitely losing dignity

But once this metal jungle of death was traversed, we made our way unhindered for at least another 30 feet or so where the tea farming ladies greeted our presence with joy and surprise. "Look, it's foreigners!" Marvis said. Obviously, she was translating (hopefully, or perhaps she had a random bout of amnesia and was startled by our presence, and for some reason spoke her surprise in english. Unlikely, yet possible!) Because of their intrigue, we were able to coax them into giving us a tea-cutting lesson. You have to take the top three leaves, and you have to cut up (which, actually, I still don't know what that really means). The tea ladies have little knives on their fingers (LIKE WOLVERINE OMG) to make the whole process easier. 

Kristen picking tea like a ninja (one which has the unusual hobby of picking tea and is pretty good at it despite a distinct lack of training and support)

After cutting the tea we decided (as there were tons of signs blocking the way for some reason) to take the other trail that Marvis knew of. We went back over the metal grating and down onto the road where we met some bikers (who came back for a picture with us), took some gorgeous pictures of scenery and contemplated a couple of misdemeanors. We did not, in the end, steal anyone elses dragonfruit... but it was a close thing.

It looked so delicious, this strange cactus fruit. Oh dragonfruit. You bring out the felon in me.

When we made it back to the temple, Marvis cooked us a delicious lunch and taught me a couple more things in taiwanese and chinese. Of course, since these were mostly polite sayings I've completely forgotten them, but we won't tell her that - even though I have a sneaky suspicion she reads this blog. (Perhaps not such an unusual suspicion, since she told me she did once.)

Then I rescued a butterfly from imminent death-via-tire by scaring it into limping its own way out of the road, waved to the tea ladies as they went home for the day, and had Marvis translate the conversation we were eavesdropping on. When we decided that we'd had enough of this last thing (the ladies started talking in English and as we hadn't been very quiet we thought perhaps the less awkward route would be to leave as quickly as possible) we went to wash our bowls. We came back to Kristen nursing an injured hand and saying, "guys, I wish you were here, the funniest thing just happened, it hurts a lot!"

Turns out, she'd been tapping on hollow bamboo shoots (I told you this was going to come up again, don't forget the extremely unsubtle foreshadowing) and decided to pick one up. And it had a bunch of ants living inside it! And they didn't like being all Wizard-of-Oz-ed and stung her! Huh. I really didn't see that sort of thing happening to anyone other than me.

They weren't really farming tea on a cliff, but we'll pretend for dramatic effect. "Oh no, tea farming ladies, watch out - you're close to the edge, and it's sort of a little muddy and precarious!!!"

I leave you now with this quote:

Me: "Ok. To clear this up: if you say you hit someone, it means to punch. If you say hit on, it means you want to kiss them."

Child: "So, I hit Eric, but I hit on he mom?"

Catch Up Time With Pictures

Todd, Marvis, and Tofu's cousin

Jeter looking longingly at Jolie and Maddy's pimpin' ride.

Jolie doing Teacher Meaghan's hair with a hand air pump. She brought it every week for show and tell for a month straight, and spent 20 minutes doing this.

The awesome payphones at the dinosaur restaurant.

Green Peanuts and Me

Kindergartners at play

Some strange suction cup therapy Marvis had. She looks like she made really bad tattoo choices. Apparently if they bruises are brown, you are healthy, but if they are purple, you are stressed out. I figure, there are giant suction cups giving you hickeys on your back... why wouldn't you be stressed out?

Painting hands in Kindergarten to do handprints for their parents. "TEACHER, IS ITCHY!"

I know. It's another lizard. Same type, even: Swinhoe's Japalura. But hey, this is a good picture of it, ok?

Allison, Marvis and I at the Belgian Bar. Stephen and the others allowed us to shoot their BB guns in the bar which was awesome, and then as we drove away, they shot at us with them, which was considerably less awesome.