Year of the Rat

Thus far, in my Chinese Language apprehension excursion, I have learned how to say "I want a bubble tea," and "I saw the the Wulai Waterfall," (which, incidentally, is pronounced Pooboo, yet I had the most unfortunate experience where I pronounced it Poopoo) and "I would like two very large glasses of Taiwan Beer without ice, thank you," and penultimately important, coming in second only to the preceding phrase, "Happy New Year."

Ah yes, the much anticipated event of the Asian calendar- Chinese New Year. A week long celebration, unabashedly so, where the entire Asian population shuts their business doors and partake in revelry unknown since the time of Chaucer. For dinner, it is customary to have pig's feet and whole chickens, and then, at the stroke of midnight- and preceding up to said stroke- blow off the largest amount of firecrackers and domestic fireworks one can get one's hands on.

Now, it has been raining non-stop here for about four weeks. And when I say non-stop, that is precisely what I mean. Excluding a half-day event when the sun was visible- that day shall not pass too far from our recent memories- it has been cold and rainy for far too long. I was not aware that it could rain this much. But yes, it has been a difficult and stumbling endeavor that could weary even the bravest of hearts.

I can only aliken this somber scene to a memory I have from childhood. When I was younger, I remember great snowstorms that would dwarf my little personage. Sadly, in middle school years, these great northern blizzards dissipated into casual snow flurries. I remember waking up every morning in hopes of arctic scenes. But, alas, I was only greeted with dead, brown, grass. Now, in Taipei, I rise from my bed each morning and draw the curtains with such anticipated exasperation that it is almost too difficult to bear the cold, raining landscape situated before me.

I draw your attention to this because, despite the rain, these crazy Taiwanese folks still go out in the dead of night to set off their fireworks in proud display. I asked someone once about the significance and tradition laden behind these crackling displays. My friend answered that these fireworks are designed to be loud, and they are, in order to scare away monsters. Well, it is now the fifth night straight that these fireworks have been going off, close to midnight might I inform you, resulting in an ear-suffering caustic noise compilation of fiery explosions bombarding one's sweet, surreal images of slumber. "In America," a friend of mine pointed out, "it is only polite to wait until a reasonable hour to mow your lawn or weedwack your garden. I think this principal should also apply to gunpowder."

Well, I believe your mission has been accomplished, brave soldiers. I see no monsters around, so I plead with you, the entire Taiwanese nation, please desist in your nocturnal explosions!!! Let a poor man sleep.

Well, we say goodbye now to the year of the pig and welcome in the year of the rat. Coincidentally, I was born in the year of the rat. Delighted by these turn of events, I asked my Taiwanese friend about the importance of my year coming up while I am teaching here. Expecting a response along the lines of, "well, people have to be nice to you," or "you get more presents on your birthday," I was dismayed to discover that this year in actually working against me. Supposedly, I am supposed to go to the Temple and pray to the Gods asking for help in these turbulent 365 days. My friend also told me it was really just a way for the Temple to make money. Such cynicism.

Well, with that, I look forward to a productive year with great happiness- and in the Taiwanese fashion- a lot of money. From you insomniac prone year of the rat writer, Michael.