The Sheltering Sky

"How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that's so deeply a part of your being that you can't even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more. Perhaps not even that. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless."
– Paul Bowles, The Sheltering Sky

A-Gong’s room at the hospice overlooks a lush green hill with a little road through it that is frequented by bicycles. Post-typhoon weather is still a little windy but the sun is pretty much always out and in the last 10 years, the pollution in Taipei has dramatically reduced so the sky can be very clear on a breezy summer’s day like this.

I’ve been coming the hospice every single day since I got in last Monday night. A-Gong is basically asleep most of the time, and is pretty much too weak to get up by himself and can now hardly talk or eat solid food. He is often wearing an oxygen mask and he has several tubes stuck inside him, every move seems so hard and painful, and we feed him mashed fruit and vegetables through a syringe. He laps in and out of consciousness, but every time he sees me or my sister or one of my cousins he always squeeze us a huge warm smile. On a good day he’d say something cheeky or pull a funny face, and make fun of things. Despite being bed ridden, I think he is generally in a really good spirit, and has an incredible amount of will to keep going and hold on. Although sometimes I wish he didn’t have to put up with all the physical discomforts he is in, who is to tell me that he isn’t in a fit mental condition to embrace what he still see as being beautiful in this world? We all know that nothing is limitless.

Though we don’t get to interact much in terms of chatting very much any more, I feel that its given me so much relief and comfort just being here with him and keeping him company. My family will never be the same again, but I feel that I am really happy with the way things went in the last two weeks. Its been a mostly happy and quality time I’ve spent here. I’ve had so much time to remember and reflect and think about the values and legacies he’s passed onto me and my family. If there is anything called closure, this may be it.

I leave in two days time, flying all the way back to London to the rat race again, carrying on the way it was, as if time just froze for 13 days. Back to the alternative universe that I live in when I am surrounded by ‘Western’ people and where I continue to carve out a path on my own that just seems so strange and lonely to my family who are always just so ready to offer me love and protection. I don’t know what it is about me that just can’t keep still.

Anyway I’ve had some time to update the blog: if you’re interested there are photos etc from the camping weekend in Wiltshire, a mystery weekend along the Kennet-Avon canal & Bath, my One-Woman invasion of Normandy, hiking in Somerset and Cheddar Gorge, and a wild Roller Disco night out in Vauxhall.

See you back in London.

The Trip I've Dreaded All My Life To Take

So here I am, on a tarmak in Bangkok Airport, on my way back to Taipei. Ah Gong (my Grandfather)’s illness had gotten gradually worse and it is time for me to go home and be with him.

Death is a taboo in my culture, and especially in my family. It is only talked about by being implied, in euphemisms, hypotheses, analogies. I wish it was different but I don’t know any other way. So I have a problem confronting it, I feel immense pressure thinking about it, and I will have problems dealing with it. This is a difficult journey for me, every part of me hurts.

I’ve spent the last month or so being distressed as well as disengaged and displaced, there’s just been way too many distractions coming from different directions. I haven’t had time or the space to think ahead or think clearly. Although it was hard to pull myself away from London, at the same time, it will do me good, just some time with my family, some time away from the bustle, and stop procrastinating on dealing with the knots in my head. I am due back in two weeks, though I wish I could have more – I just hope I will get something out of it.

Spending half of my net worth on a plane ticket and it still isn’t even a direct flight. Fuck it! Battling my way through the chaos and bureaucratic incompetence that is Heathrow, I realised that I have picked up the unattractive English traits of grumpiness, impatience and sheer irreverence. But I haven’t felt the urge of taking it out on the strangers sitting next to me or those that are ‘just doing their job’ – so it looks like I still have self control.

The closer to home I get the more gloomy it feels. Bangkok is humid, dusty and grey and brown on this airy summer’s day, clouds are so low it feels like they are choking me. There is no space between earth and sky, thinking about the rest of my journey, I just can’t breath right now. Taipei is in fact in the middle of a massive typhoon and I don’t even know if I’ll be able to get in at all today. I don’t have an appetite for a pina colada, a prawn curry in lemon grass or a packet of individually wrapped durian candies. I just want to get home, be with people I should be with when they need me, and stop procrastinating from looking at my challenges in the eye.

Festivities in Taipei

A very cosy Mad Ratter's Tea party outside the Mitsugoshi

The MTR arrives at Taipei Central.

Hellooooooooooo!

Its been a pretty good week in Taipei despite not coping well with the sudden contrast in temperatures. Its still the lunar new years festive season so although most people have gone back to work the parties just keep going. So I've kinda been party hopping and consuming copious amount of food. Otherwise I've been spending time with Ah Gong who is feeling much much better after that bad bout and he's pretty much on top of everything and back to his mischief self which is very comforting.

(This is Uncle Joh and Ah Gong whos is dressed like he's going to a meeting in Moscow)

The Parties

This is the revered shua-shua-guo, a modern day personalised version of the hotpot, where you get a whole bunch of stuff and cook it in your own little cordron, so the party control freak doesn't dictate everything that goes into your dinner, and you certainly don't have to share spit with any one that you don't want to share it with. All for under 10 AUD.

拜天公 Bai Tien Gong

The birthday of Tien Gong, who is the God of the Sky (some might know him as the Jade Emperor), the chief god of all gods (there's a god for everything, eg. God of Earth, Goddess of Compassion, God of Money - are some of the better known ones, but there's also Goddess of Beds, God of the Oven, Goddess for Peace at the Sea, Goddess for Getting You Pregnant, God of War, God of Honesty etc etc you get the picture) in Taiwanese folk religion, falls on the 9th day of the year. This is an extremely important date in the lunar calendar as every household must prepare a humungus feast for God of the Sky, who is the god of all gods as well as all their warrior helpers who run around and does stuff for the gods.

Food prepared for the ritual is extremely important. God of the Sky is vegetarian, but his warriors eat meat because they run around a lot and requires lots of protein and carbs. So you will see in this picture that the top table is prepared with vegetarian food for the God of the Sky and the bottom table is prepared with meat and cakes. Every year the best/luckiest time to make this ritual will differ and this year thankfully is at 11pm and not at 3am like one of the other years. There are a lot more things like having to bath and clense before hand, the position of the table, the table cloth under the candles (a beautifully embroidered art work which my Great Grandfather brought when he was a young man which is now a treasured heirloom). Its a fascinating tradition that's been practiced for thousands of years and there is still so much more I don't know about it.

Concert & Belly Dancing

On my first day I went belly dancing with my sister and I thought I was actually really really good at it. Then I went to a Concert by the Evergreeb Orchestra which was just beautifull...

元宵節 Lantern Festival

Then it was Yuan Xiao, or known as Lantern Festival in the West (only half right cos Lanterns are only one part of the festival or the Pyromaniac Festival for others), which is on the 15th day/first full moon of the year. Food of the festival is Sticky Rice balls of all sorts of amazing flavours - except you get a year older with every one you eat, and I have lost count... opps. Brrp. This one is a black sticky rice ball with sweet sesami filling. YYUUUUUMMMMM!!

and politics.

Meanwhile, its a month till the presidential elections and the UN referendum, but politics seem to be depressing and unusually uninpiring - if not for the following people - who definitely have my vote:

逆風行腳團 - a group of young people (mostly pan-green) who are walking around Taiwan 'upside down'/against the tide to raise awareness about reconnecting to this land and its people.

http://taiwanwalklog.blogspot.com/ or try the very brief & DPP sponsored English version.

Stephen Spielberg & Mia Farrow for using their profile to stand up for peace & justice in Darfur and to draw some appropriate attention to China's atrocious behaviour in the international arena and the compromises on both human rights and the environment China has made to keep its thin face stuck on for the Beijing Olympics. Politics has absolutely everything to do with the Olympic Games.

Miss Tibet - usually I cringe at beauty pagents cos its sexist consumerist anti-women tripe, but I think this young woman has gumption. She pulled out of the race last year because, surprise surprise, the Chinese delegation asked her to call herself "Miss Tibet-China" or quit. So she quit and made a great fuss about it - good on her. She's on tour in Taiwan and one of the very few beauty queens I'd want to be seen drinking tea with.

Kosovo - again - gumption & inspiration against adversities. See an editorial from Taiwan News here.

Tot

I found me, some time around 1981, in the front yard of my grandpa's factory.

Merlin the Mighty Tiger

>>>>> Its been a hot summer and the farm is experiencing an adjitating rat and rabbit infestation. Those little mites bounce around the place as if they run it and relentlessly chew away at the garden, the compost heap and anything plastic.... Given that its the
Year of the Rat in less than a month (you may access the soundtrack here http://www.badlydrawnboy.co.uk/tracklisting/07.html) and then the Year of the Rabbit will soon follow in 1211, all the signs point to the fact that a CAT, a very boisterous, scheming, ruthless CAT at that, must come to our rescue >>>>>

I have no doubt that this sweet little guy will grow up to be the Roaring Rat Ripper that we hope for him to be one day.
Merlin the Mighty Tiger - why such a name? Merlin is my favourite Big Brother 04 Australia character. Inspiring, courageous, passionate, artistic, deep, sensitive, thinking, and true to his mind. He is undoubtedly a champion of my generation and I'd like our cat to remind all GenY'ers and Z'ers that life is much more than just 'me-me-me', even though it might be the only thing the cat says all day. Expectedly Dad insisted as well that our tiny little boy needs a very loud name to shock the rodents, and hence a larger than life kind of branding has been crowned to him. But all this is getting way too mouthful, so its just Tiggy for the time being.



















(Watch the space for Tiggy's first meeting with Billy the Bulimic Goat, and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours of fun with paperball)

Nineteen Ninety Plus Eighteen

Time for another schpiel. ahem.

Today is sort of special for my family, but really just another day in our lives. We got up, had our nori rolls for breakfast, went to work, drove on the left side of the road, watered the garden, breathed fresh air, and looked at the sun set before we went to bed. But it is special in that way because every day still sends something refreshingly brilliant, so much so that that it has become less and less significant to mark the day that our lives changed forever - because it is still changing, and it is still good. Today is the 18th anniversary of our family's arrival in New Zealand.

We have lost count of the days and months we have lived, loved, learned, suffered, enjoyed, agonised, rejoiced, and survived in this wild little land at the bottom of the world. There isn't a large piece of log in the backyard with knife marks counting the days we have come thus far, or yet to have to go - just something in the back of my mind that ticks on January the Tenth of every year - another day of not looking back, just forwards and onwards.

I admire my parents for their amazing courage and fortitude - packing everything up and go. Two little girls in tow. Crazy Taiwanese New Age Hippies clonking their car along the road looking for a place to live. How could the sun be setting at 9.30pm? What on earth is Margerine? Why is the bed so soft? Why is the oven so big? Why are the neighbours so damn friendly? Why do they love BBQs so much? From having next to nothing to the mini empires they respectively have now. They gambled with their future and they have come out on top and they continue to be happy. They have taught me that nothing is impossible, and that there is nothing daunting in seeking out new horizons. Hold your ground, stand by your principles, be honest, integral, be yourself.

This isn't an essay about how hard it is being an immigrant or being teased at school for sounding different and doing weird things, or (still) being fobbed off by people I meet for the first time simply for the way that I look - its about saying how proud I am to be standing here today, saying to the world that I am a more competent person, a wiser person and a stronger person because I've had to try much harder and fight with much more, and because I have a unique heritage from two very unique cultures and histories. Both of which I strongly identify with - and is even more significant for me to realise this because once upon a time I couldn't identify with either. Most importantly, a very special, unique and strong family as my backbone, my big unstoppable rock. All this has shaped the person that I am today. Nineteen Ninety Plus Eighteen. Counting but not counting.

Three Very Special Cats

There is the sound of pitter-patters of some very tiny fluffy paws - and before the new possible addition to the family arrives I should take some time to remember the ones that have touched my life so splendidly in the not so distant past, as at the time around their deaths, it was very difficult for me to articulate just how much I felt for these wonderful creatures.

Cupes: c 1989 - 22 August 2006 (Hamilton New Zealand)

She arrived in a cardboard box at the back door - a tiny little black and white kitten with a spot on her nose and four white socks and a black toe, and deep blue eyes that looked like she'd been crying for days. She occupied my heart for the first year of school in New Zealand (apart from this dude called Gregory), and every story I would write would be about her - so much so that my teacher got sick of it and told me to change the subject. She really was every child's dream - a cat that creates so much mayhem to write stories about, and a cat that is so pretty, beautiful and easy to draw.

She was small and very affectionate, quite the connoisseur for food (being Taiwanese we had all sorts of left over offle and bits, you see), and in her young days she would terrorise the neighbourhood birds and rats, and on occasions, baby ducks from the river. She did have the bad habit of leaving her catches half eaten though, selecting to chew the softer parts like ears and tials. I remember finding a bird's wing she'd left me in the backdoor step once, and I taped the whole thing inside my exercise book for a science assignment. The teacher (different one) wasn't impressed either. Oh, and she turned orange one year. It was weird. But really funny. Her fur just got lighter and lighter and then all of a sudden she was orange. And then a couple of months later she went back to being black on the back again. Yeah I still can't explain that, especially because it has never happened since, either.

Cupes was very loyal, almost like a dog in many ways - like the fact that she answered to whistle calls, followed me and my sister out to walks on the streets, sits patiently by the food bowl till we allowed her to eat her meal, and sat firmly at the front or backdoor guarding it with her life. She was a keen gardener too, would you believe. Mum would dig holes in the flower beds for her new seedlings, and Cupes would go around pissing in them all, creating little mini ponds just to help with the nutrience for the plants before they get in the ground.

The most pleasurable thing about having Cupes is that she enjoyed life and life as a cat - she loved sleeping away in high places, in fact she loved sleeping. She loved being loved and admired by everyone, and she purred like an old car when she's happy. She loved her food, a bit of a food slut I have to say, she goes around getting feeds from neighbours at every end, and still come back home for more in the evenings. Most of all though, she loved being able to boss around her territory and she loved being our boss.

Cupes was sixteen when she died on a winters night when I was in Australia. I had last seen her six months earlier, having very firm confidence that she would live till she was at least twenty because she was still very robust and active. But these things are never predictable and I am really glad it happened fairly quickly for her rather than a prolonged illness.

Milly: c1989 - 22 August 2006 (Canberra Australia)

Milly and Shiner belonged to Templeton's family, and so while I only knew them and became one of their carers in the last few years of their lives, the way they have touched mine was very significant and beautiful.

When I first met Mills she was stretched out on the wooden floor in the sunniest spot in the lounge with her unruly hair all teased out and ready for a big comfortable sun bathe. Her big fluffy tail was crazy, her tabby fur was unkemptly grunge, the hair around her paws were dark black and it wasn't hard to fall in love with her. Every pose she'd made she was cute. She was extremely shy though, and have hardly allowed anyone to pick her up. I was told that she grew up in a marina having partial feral heritage, hence being a little weary of people. T's brother used to say that if she was a person she would be a big tart in pink cycle pants. But that's a bit cruel! Milly's just simply an independent and carefree child who is slightly selfish and pushy when it comes to things that she cares about and won't give a shit to things that doesn't matter to her. And why not?

Milly was already really ill when I moved in, and it was hard seeing her waste away with her kidney disease. She was atrociously attacked by the neighbour's dog which shouldn't have been there - it still angers me today - but miraculously survived. But a month later she really went down hill and T & I decided to ask the vet to come in to put her to sleep. It was the first time I have seen someone/something close to me die. She was really in a bad way but still aware and conscious right till the end. It was relief and sadness all rolled into one when I saw her life slip away. She looked like a little angel with her eyes closed. I couldn't believe that I will never see her again. We buried her next to her favourite spot in the backyard with petals from the spring flowers that was blooming outside. It was a fine, beautiful sunny day. I am glad that was the last thing she saw.

T & I went up to the hill behind the house that night and drank a bottle of cheap wine in her honour. And yes it was a really big shock to the system to find out the next morning that Cupes had died the same day. That surreal week was a really big blow to me.

Shiner: c1987 - c July 2007 (Canberra Australia)

Shiner. What can I say? The most human like cat I have met in a long time. He was emotional, intelligent, demanding, grotesque, vocal, physical, vulnerable, fanatical, poised, snobby, charming, seductive all rolled into one. He was born to a burmese mother and a street cat father, and hence inherited a unique physique of an elongated and graceful figure with a very strong and solid stocky build, without an inch of fat. He would have weighed a good 12 or 13 Kgs in his hey days. In fact, I'd say he looked a bit like a kangaroo. His back and tail are grey and his tummy and feet are white, and his face is half grey and half white, hence 'Shiner' - the slang for a fist-inflicted eye injury.

He loved people as he loved himself. He imposes his affections upon pretty much every visitor by nudging himself onto their lap at the soonest opportunity, and promptly falls into uncontrollable purring and deep sleep that our poor guests would be too embarrassed to push him off. He liked girls more than boys too. That was his big trick.

His not-so secret weapon was his ripping howl. Something he developed later in life as I was told. The vet had mentioned that it was to do with age. Its a really rounded, deep and extended howl that almost sound like a bird's cry. And that would be his way of telling us he wants to be cuddled and loved. He would often do this in the mornings at weekends until we let him out of his bed (in the laundry), and as soon as he gets the chance he would find a way of getting under the doona with us and overtly chooses a spot to park himself for the rest of the morning, often with his paws on my legs and not letting me get up cos he's slobbered all over me. His overwhelming and childlike affection is absolutely addictive.

I was in Paris when I found out that Shiner hadn't come home one really cold evening. He was never found again. He would have been nearing 20 years old. It was hard for me receiving the news from afar, but I was also glad in the sense that he didn't have it dragged out like Milly's illness. I went up to the Sacre Coeur Basilica up in Montmarte the next day. I lit a candle for Shiner and sat in the prayer's area looking at the giant beautifully painted dome with Jesus and all the local people that had helped build the church. It was the first time I prayed in a basilica, I didn't think it would ever happen in my life. But it did and it felt strangely right at the time. I let myself cry in there and the tears lasted for a long time. Till I felt something was released inside me and it went off with the bells.

between black and white there are many shades of grey

Billy the Bulimic Goat

Coco my cuz has gone back to Taipei for the summer holidays and I am babysitting her goat Billy Billson for her. He's a nice boy, got a bit of an attitude but is generally cute and adorable enough to get away with being a bastard. Watch him tell me to 'fuck off' in the videos.

Billy had a mate (probably same sex lover) called Brown who recently died. Billy got a bit inconsolable and stopped eating, wouldn't move, and lost a bit of weight and got a bit scruffy, we thought he was going to die too. But now it seems like he's completely picked up again and eating like mad, as you can see. I hope it lasts. His favourite food at the moment is banana peels, but everything, anything goes.

I trimmed his hooves the other day all by myself, thought I was quite clever really. You can say hello to some of the other bovine friends I've met in the past here and here.

Back on the Pumpkin Patch

To my surprise I am actually really loving being back at my parents' place. The beautiful New Zealand weather, space, healthy food, having my own things back like books and clothes and computer, the chance to sit on the lawn and think about where I should be heading next without too much pressure. And free food & rent... of course.

The best thing is that I am getting along with my parents really well. Finally we are relating to each other like adults. None of that nagging, interrogation and advising anymore. I think having young kids (my four young cousins) around here really helped them to realise that I am a responsible and independent adult in comparison - the stark difference between a 27 yo and 13 yos. Its sad that its what it had to take, but its good that they are breaking through that barrier in their head. I love spending time with my cousins too, very sweet and lively kids, each all blossoming into their own unique person. (Well, apart from the hiccup this week... if you read on to the bottom.) I have no qualms about continuing a strong and supportive relationship with them for the rest of my life. At the end, when everyone else is gone, they'll be my family.

It was great spending a week in Canberra. Seeing all my mates again and doing all the things I used to love to do, tying up loose ends and all that. It basically made me feel so much more comfortable about leaving things where it should be left and moving on. For good. Closure, if you know what I mean. I just left in too much haste last time, not enough time to figure out whether it was the right thing to do. But this time I think I feel much more happier with my decisions. It did confirm to me though, what a great place Australia is to live. Lively, pulsing, excitement, art, ideas and colour... I really think I still need a good stint in Sydney or Melbourne in a few more years I think.

Good old Hamiltronn. I went into town today, to a temping agency to get the ball rolling to gets some part time money coming in. I can type 72 words per minute, would you believe. I could even print two pages out of ten on reverse order and draw a border around a table. It does amaze me how a town can change so little in the space of eighteen years. Its just that I hardly recognise anyone here anymore. Except for this girl from school who now has two toddlers. I used to be able to call every second person by their second name on this street - that was ten years ago. I know this cos that was when Sway by Bic Runga came out, and they were still playing it in Max today. How I survived that long in this town is still beyond me. I did still find some adequate stimulations I guess, but perhaps my time was so suffocating that it still acts as my excuse to lead such a gypsiesque life style.

There is no doubt that my parent's place is kick-arse though. I wish they'd lived here when I was younger and not lost in suburban gossip. I love this farm. I love the river, how deeply green it is in the gully, the fluffy carves poking their pink noses at you, the abandoned duck nests on the bank, the lilac and white fox-tails looking so buttery in the late evening setting sun, having a beer and smelling the thick earthy air, watching a plane land, wearing a T-shirt...

The Gin Chair

I have a confession to make. I really really really want to bundle mum and dad off to the Bay of Islands to a batch when they are ready to retire and take over this place. I'm going to make it into a cafe-gallery on the first floor and a Bed & Breakfast on the second. Pump off the concrete slab out the back and put in a huge wooden deck, extend the kitchen (but keep the vintage fire stove), make the girls' room into an ensuite, add a few more carparks, hire a proper gardening advisor, computerised watering system... Serve coffee that's actually worth drinking and cakes that are actually worth six bucks a pop; sushi from Cambridge; and have lots of weird-shit type art exhibits; invite the town for openings serving the best champagnes and cheeses in the world; a $5 surcharge to sit on the Gin-chair under the lemon tree; a biannual music festival down by the river with the Finn brothers; Cats, peacocks and monarch butterflies running amok in the garden. Definitely no dogs. If they want, people can get married here. That kinda thing.

And bringing out banana smoothies to German backpackers sunbathing nude in the backyard.

Great Things This Week

• Howard's gone - woo hoo
• Driving
• Rediscovering trampoline
  

Shit Things This Week

• My 15 yo cousin running away from home and having to be on the "Picking-up-the-pieces Committee". Little shit.
• Ink on my insurance claim receipts completely faded
• Still feeling bloody upset about Cupes
• Lost a set of photos I thought I had downloaded two years ago.... eeeeeek!!!
  

Rally in Taipei - Gumbade Taiwan

Aunt Jean, my sister and I went to this huge UN for Taiwan rally/concert in Taipei on Saturday - marking the end of a successful round-the island marathon type thing trying to get around 3 million signatures on the petition to hold the UN for Taiwan referendum in March 2008. The atmosphere was superb and music was really fun, but the great speeches by President Ah-Bian and Frank Hsieh (DPP Presidential Candidate) was the cream on the icing. And hello stardom - the three of us got on TV a few times head banging to the rap (can you believe that this guy is the Minister of the Government Information Office??) what a blast, though Cindy and I had to make sure Aunt Jean didn't have a heart attack, she was pretty wild. Unfortunately camera played up so borrowed a few pics from http://www.socialforce.tw/people/ for the moment.

A-Gong is out of hospital and doing really well. He can pretty much do all the daily things by himself now and eating well. So I'm heading back to NZ via Australia (for sure this time) early Wednesday morning. Its hard to leave when there's so much excitement going on here, but unemployment and lack of green space & alcohol is catching up on me, so going home to regroup is the best plan for now.

Taiwanese Banquet

Aunt Jean's Bank Manager (guy singining on the right) took the family out for a banquet the other night, slice of life for you. And yes without fail I did smash Sinatra once again.

Taiwan Photo Roll

(1) Breast cancer awareness week at Taipei 101; (2) Me and Dad on the metro (he's back to fix some IP rights to his invention); (3) Cuzzies (Mum's youngest half brother's sons); (4) A shrine for Mobile phones; (5) A lunch feast in Shin-Wu at relos; (6) UN for Taiwan campaign banner at Taipei Main Station; (7) Clockwise - Nono (Grand Aunty's Oldest daughter's second son); My sister, Grand Aunt (Grandfather's sister), Cuzzie Gina (Grand aunt's third daugh

ter), Gina's new adopted baby;

Sticking around for a bit...

I decided to delay returning to Australia for a week, as my grand father has been hospitalized.

I was meant to fly out on Monday afternoon, but on Sunday night just before dinner my Grandfather (A-Gong) developed some pretty severe shakes and had high temperatures. We took him to ER at the local hospital and he was put on drips. He spent the night in ER and was transferred to an ordinary ward the next day. He’d had long term kidney problems and it turns out that he has a bad chest and kidney infection, so he’s here just to get rid of the infection and get some more tests.

So given every one else is at work I am spending time with him in the ward during the day, while my Dad, who's also in Taiwan briefly to sort out IP rights for his invention is doing night shifts. I really like spending time with AG – he has a really odd sense of humour and has so many fascinating stories from a "lost time". At the same time he's hard work in the sense that he's stubborn and won't take other people's advice, and it gets worse as he gets older. He basically won't admit that he's seriously ill and tells everyone he's ready to go home when he's got a 40c temperature and pissing orange urine. I guess I can understand how hard it is having had a long life of achievements, raising a family, holding a career and being a respected member of community, then having to be wheeled around like a child by doctors younger than his grandkids – it is a challenge to one's basic dignity, but its also damn hard even just trying to get him to drink more water!!

Its sad looking at how old he’s become. As a child he always seemed like such a big solid man, and would take me for rides on his bike (he swears against driving). He had so many friends and talked and laughed and drank like a fish (yep he gave me those genes) and seemed to know so much about the world. His father, my Great-grandfather, was alive till I was ten. AG looked so much like my GGF now, all skinny and his silver hair thinned out, sit around reading old books all day peering through a pair of glasses, talking very little except an occasional quip about something quite random and out of the blue. AG looked after GGF till GGF passed away, and looked after my Grandmother till she died too. He was always there being the strong hold and the decision maker. GGF stayed at this very same hospital on and off in his last year of life. There seemed to be a bit of irony about this all. That was 1989 and I remember coming here with AG and navigating through this maze like hospital, buying the newspaper and lunch at the underground mall of the hospital. We all each have our turn at playing the role of the patient and the nurse. It must be hard for him to be the one that’s being carted around now.

Being in the hospital environment seems to be reminding AG a lot about his experience as a medic in the Japanese army during WWII in Taipei. (Taiwan was a Japanese colony between 1895 and 1945). Taiwan wasn’t a war front but a military base, and was bombed by the Allies constantly. Most of the local Taiwanese soldiers did housekeeping stuff like civil evacuations, post-bombing rebuilding, and looking after a few POWs. AG was just out of high school and his job was to tape up injured soldiers that rummage through ruined buildings all day and recover shot down bomber planes. He claims he became an alcoholic by mixing meths from the first aid room with water, and the reason why he doesn’t eat barbequed food is a legacy from his experience. He seems to think the medical staff here has no idea of what they are doing, and would rather "treat his own cold" (by staying up late and reading the paper and playing with his drip needle). When the doctor gets here he first mistook her as the nurse just cos she’s a woman, and then launches into a rant about how he bet he’s amputated more legs than she has. But he’s always so polite to the nurses when they come and get his temperature and tells me that’s a rule of thumb. He complains that the hospital ward Pajamas they give him are Japanese POW uniforms and wants his own PJs brought in.

How am I going to make him go to sleep?

What I've been up to 1

I can't believe that I only have three more days left in Taiwan. Time just flies. It always does even though I don't think I've done very much. I am heading back to Australia on Monday, and then New Zealand in early November for my third summer this year. Basically this is the home run leg of my 07 trip.

Its funny thinking about this home run. Taiwan, Australia, then New Zealand - after a whirlwind tour of Europe, Indian subcontinent and China. The contrast of being back on a land you are familiar with, identify with, and slip in so easily. How can someone have three homes? each of them deeply embedded like a mole or a scar, and riles me with both happiness and hurt every time when I think of them? And how could I tear myself away from home like this time and again thinking that I'll be a different person tomorrow when I wake up on the other side of the world?

While my blog entries especially for China and Bangladesh are very very far behind and continuing to worry me because the mental notes in my head are slowly fading, I am distracted by procrastination as well as some really important things that wasn't there when I was travelling - family and familiarity.

I've been spending a lot of time basically picking up where I left it with a lot of my family members since I saw them last - not so much redeveloping a relationship with them but more like ensuring a continuity. Same thing that I do with my Taiwanese identity and culture. When I am back here I get a crash course and update myself a little bit as Taiwan moves ahead with time. Culture moves with time, and I want to be part of it. Everything here seems to always be exciting, whether it be politics, religion or pop music and gossip.

Family relationships are my least favourite subject because its intensely emotional, and it takes a lot of confrontation(courage) and acceptance(honesty). And talking about it on the WWW is even harder because it is at the end of the day really quite personal and however I try and interpret it it never sounds right. I can never do it as well as my little cousin Ann's blog, which is extremely inspiring. She's only just turned 15, but her blog is a truly inspiring piece of work where she lays everything out for the world, the honesty about life, love, emotions and her confrontations. Its raw, beautiful, and a lot more meaningful than my stupid rants about missing the plane. Maybe I could try harder. One thing I am trying hard though lately is really sitting down and spending some time with people I love. The details will bore you, but the rewards have truly been great for me.

Although they would ferociously deny this, my immediate and extended family is definitely quite weird compared to my contemporaries' (both Asian and European). Up till I was ten I lived with my parents, sister, my Dad's parents and his five brothers and sisters till we moved to New Zealand, and my sister and I were pretty much co-parented by my aunts and uncles (who hadn't had kids of their own then) as well, so the kind of relationship that we have is more than your regular extended family. When I come back for visits year after year it feels as if I go back into a time capsule of being that eternal primary school kid under the wings of people who are so similar to me and understand me without requiring any explanation, who will always stand by me no matter how much I would disappoint them. But in reality I've grown apart from them too, in the sense that my values and attitudes and world view is so different to them, and while it really doesn't matter at the end of the day who I've become, the distance there is huge - its not just a generation gap but a cultural gap as well.

Re Weird: Now half of my original family is in Taiwan and half of them are in New Zealand, its like we're torn apart. My aunts and uncles kids are living with my parents in New Zealand, and my sister is living in Taiwan with my aunts and uncles and my grandfather - she has a new job in Taipei which is fantastic for her. Unfortunately at the moment a number of my family members are ill or recovering from an illness of various extents. Without going into too much details, it is all making me really anxious and uneasy, and quite guilty that I am away so much, on a seemingly selfish soul-searching project moving from town to town, flat to flat and country to country. The little time I have with them every year or so is always so precious, but always so hard because I need to tear myself away again. I know that I can never satisfy my longing for Independence with them, but when I'd be alone and on my own there's that emptiness and the sense of not belonging where ever I would be.

Apart from spending time with them and reconnecting, there are other further afield relos that I haven't seen for a while that I've made time for because I want to continue to be part of their lives, simply because they are good people. And meeting two new fourth cousins for the first time, a boy and a girl who was recently adopted into the family was truly special. I probably have over 50 or so cousins but one more is never daunting. Its a pleasure to think that I could have such unique connections with people that I would otherwise never know. I could never make up for the missed birthdays and the Lunar new years, but I am here now, and want to continue to be here even though it might be through a computer screen or a phone wire. It really is a healing process for me, because I feel like all this time away is a way of running away from confronting and receiving the sometimes really intense love and attention they try to give me, and paving out a way of being myself independently. Its a give-take thing. I think I'm old enough and seen enough to give now.

And I visited my grandmother's grave for the first time in eight years. I am the sort of person that doesn't blink an eye hunting out other people's grave yards in hillside Wellington, rural New South Wales, suburban Berlin, and industrial Vienna, but stresses out for two days about the thought of visiting my own grandmother's grave 15 minutes drive away. If it wasn't for my Dad who put the finger down I wouldn't have gone this time either. I just like to procrastinate on these things as much as possible, simply because I never got over her death, nor really had the chance to really grieve, and never brave enough to confront it. That's a weakness of mine, something that I fear of within myself. But quite simply, it wasn't as bad as I thought, and to my surprise I didn't cry, and was only a little bit upset. I don't know whether I have actually healed without really knowing it, or that I can hide anger and resentment and sadness much better than I thought. I can't guarantee what it would be like when I go next time, whenever that would be, but visiting this time has lowered a big chip on my shoulder. Time and age has diluted and overlapped some of those things I can never quite capture. And so it goes.

Views From a Farm House

Waikato, North Island, New Zealand. Beautifully lit sky, glowing grass, flickering river water. Every day I think, this is a bloody fantastic place.


My cousin Joey - I've only ever heard of him but never met him till last friday. Its his 7th month living in New Zealand with his mum (my mum's sister) at my parent's place. He's a pretty straigh forward city kid who's never really seen a cow before. Now he's caught a cricket. (Dad helped). But he let it go after about half an hour in the nest he built for it. He says he'll probably not have enough time to spend with it. It'll be too emotionally demanding, cost him too much, throw a tanty when he doesn't call or just feels like rolling over and sleep.

My sister - grower, pruner, carer, office manager, boss, tyrant, sweepest, quality controller, over qualified, little girl that likes to throw tanties. More capable than anyone could ever think. Former capsicum addict. Now she wants out. Mad at the first place. Still mad now.

Our cat Cupes - she is sweet sixteen, has the silkiest, flirtiest meow on the planet. Sleeps a lot, like all old cats, purring insanely as she goes. She kills a lot of plants by sleeping on them. Still takes down a bird or two and goes hobbit hunting when she can be bo-vv-ered. She looooooves sardines but salmon's a grade better. She tolerates rabbits that flaunts around the lawn as if they run the place. particularly that black fluffy one with the blinky eye. grrrr. But she's just too cool to care.

Mum's Moving On

Mum tells me she had just hit menopause. Hot flushes, uncontrollable tempers, emotional eating. Surprising to me really, she's just so controlled and lives in such routine, can't think of her like that. Dad and sis has been at the brunt of the hormones, and she does use menopause as an excuse. I think its funny. She doesn't like saying good bye to her old friend. It used to remind her of her body, puts her in a good frame of mind, that she is in sync with her seasons. More excuse to drink carrot juice. So shamelessly new age. But then again periods were easy for mum. Relatively painless and brief. Not like my aunty whom spends days on end in bed. During university I used to turn blue on the first day, stretching out under the library table, having to leave a lecture. Mum is also clinical about periods, getting it down to an art in her calendar. Like her shopping lists and her plants and the alarm clock on her bedside. She says she's going to go to the doctors toremove her IUD. She chuckles at our conversation. I can't believe a piece of wire has been in there for that many years, exactly the same place where I used to be. Where she grew me from two cells to a jelly bean to a pink furball and popped me out. She tells me that the holiday she and dad have been planning for ever is finally going to take place. Leaving her diary and phone behind. No more procrastinating.

A woman is born to bleed. She is to nurture the world and to feed it, but only does it well if she is nurtured in return. She renews and she recharges. She learns and she teaches. She's really born to give and receive like all people, but she always ends up giving too much. Mum's given so much all her life. I hope now her body will tell her that its time to stop just giving, but sit back and take a bit of love in and time off.

A Cheezy Post to say How Much I Love You All

I'll never remember where I put the keys; I'll never forget who found them for me
I'll never remember which cousin ate my chips; I'll never forget which one found some more for me
I'll never remember what we sang at Kareoke; I'll never forget the hangover
I'll never remember the pin to my bank account; I'll never forget who wrote it down for me
I'll never remember their birthdays; I'll never forget the first time I met them - in the baby room at the hospital; at that bloody birthday party
I'll never remember when my plane leaves; I'll never forget who came to wave me good bye
I'll never remember to call; I'll never forget to love - every single one of them

At It Again

at it again, but never would have done it without the unique heritage and the support of my devout fans. From left: Uncle Joh, Uncle Cory, Aunty Mei Fong, Aunty Lily, Aunty Vicky

A Bite of Taiwan

On Sunday we celebrated "Bwei Ye", which is one of the smaller lead up festivals to the Lunar New Year. Traditionally Taiwanese ppl make offerings (food and prayers) on the 2st and 16th of every month to the Earth God who protects things like your house, land, crops, businesses. Sunday was the last 16th of the year (ie. December) and the last offering of the year, therefore its a pretty huge feed. In pre 20th century poor agrarian Taiwanese society, people used to only eat meat and better food when they make offerings to the Earth God, so the 2nd and 16th are big days.

On Bwei Ye we eat Lun Bian - which is a version of spring rolls - the wrapping is a lot larger and bread like than the Cantonese spring rolls that we get in NZ. Its made by "pasting" or "throwing" a big lump of wet dough onto a hot hot-plate leaving a thin layer to cook for about 3 seconds before removing as quickly as possible. I had the pleasure of watching this done at the ShiLin Night Markets on saturday - it really is an art. You serve Lun Bian with peanut powder, coriander and sweet chilli sauce (smooth paste not lumpy like the Singaporean version) , and then roast pork or roast firm tofu for the vegos, any kind of veges that's handy, and off you go with your roll. Similar fillings is used for Gua Bao, another food you eat at Bwei Ye - its like a white chinese bun and its pretty much like a sandwich version of Lun Bian.

YUM!!

Not Excited About Pandas, either.

To my surprise I have very little interest in Taiwanese politics at the moment, except for yelling at a few particularly insatiable politicians when they turn up on the telly.

I told you I was in a vegetating state. I arrived in Taiwan between President Chen making a full on speech on New Years Day re "China is for real, lets buy more missiles to get back at them" and the pending decision on the naming of these pandas that the Chinese want to give to Taiwan. If I had enough energy I'd say, fuck pandas, even if I was five. But I don't. (What's in a name? Just read the Chinese version of the story. Fuck Pandas.)

But I did find a cool picture of my Dad at the anti-sucession law protest he went to last time he was back visiting Grandpa. Go Dad.