Taiwan: The people, the language, and child abuse – Diary of a Mad Expat, pt. 21

19 July, 2015 – Taichung, Taiwan

There is a yellow one that won’t accept the black one
That won’t accept the red one that won’t accept the white one
And different strokes for different folks
And so on and so on and scooby dooby dooby

“Everyday People”, by Sly and the Family Stone

Well, it’s that time again. I’m sitting here, on our bed, writing out another blog, and it’s finally, blissfully raining outside. Our little friend, Lost Samurai the gecko, is around here, somewhere, napping before he goes out hunting tonight. So, it’s on to our next subject.

The People: The Language

I’m going to break this down between genders, and deal separately with the children, whom I have more experience interacting with, as a result of my teaching job. But first, let me deal with the language. Everyone here speaks Chinese, specifically Mandarin Chinese, not to be confused with the aforementioned Hong Kongers, who predominantly speak Cantonese. Mandarin is the most widely spoken language in China, and the world, with nearly a billion people calling Mandarin their native tongue; that’s over 14% of the world population. To put that into perspective, Spanish is the 2nd most widely spoken language on Earth, and twice as many people speak Mandarin on this planet. Mandarin is, like most Asian languages, very difficult for westerners to get a grasp of. I basically know “hello” and “thank you”, but retaining any more than the most rudimentary parts of this language, for me, requires more time and effort than have at the present moment. Fortunately, about half of the people I’ve met here randomly, know some basic English. Unfortunately, you’d expect them to know more, considering that Taiwan has been a hotbed for foreign teachers for 20 years. I guess like most of us, who took a foreign language in high school, they learned it, stopped using it, then forgot most of it. And if you think about it from the point of view of a Taiwanese person, English may be just as hard to learn as Chinese is for us, if not more so. So, I have patience with them, and from what I’ve seen, they have patience with me. They love it when I speak even a word or two of their language, probably akin to seeing a talking monkey, but hopefully with more endearment behind it.


It can be a beautiful language to hear, but it can also be like nails on a chalkboard, depending on the tone. If it’s whiny, as is often the case amongst the youth, you either want to kill yourself or the person who is speaking like that. When it’s angry, it can be either scary, like when a man does it, or hilarious, when a woman is shouting at her husband for something. You’re not sure exactly what she’s saying, but you can certainly infer from her tone! Sometimes, if you hear it in our stairwell, but you can’t see them, but it’s in conversational tone, it can almost sound like a conversation in English. It’s a remarkable, ancient language, thousands of years older than any form of English spoken today, and I’m quite certain I’ll never be able to completely learn it or understand it. Moving on…

The Men

Men here are generally polite and non-threatening towards myself, and even my wife, which kind of makes sense, considering that most of them are shorter than either of us. Some can be quite tall, well over 6-feet, which makes their fascination with basketball more culturally feasible. They are not lazy, like Vietnamese men tend to be in much greater numbers, though you will constantly see the older men in the park, which are meant for all people here, not just children. Just as often, you’ll see them at the community temple next to the park, smoking or playing Mahjong. Other than that, however, Taiwanese men (and women) seem to have a work ethic similar to that of people from Hong Kong or Japan. Whereas I want to work to live, they live to work.

Taiwanese men are not very aggressive towards women, from what I’ve seen, though as parents they can be, which I will get to. However, for the most part, I’ve found them to be polite and courteous, if not friendly, which often they are.

The Women

By most American male standards, the women here are not as beautiful as Vietnamese women are, which is to say they don’t all look like exotic, unattainable supermodels.

It, like totally rocks to be unattainably beautiful!
It, like totally rocks to be unattainably beautiful!

They come in all shapes, sizes, skin tones, and assorted varieties here, which personally for me, I like. I prefer girls that have, shall we say, more curves on them, so long as I only LOOK, right honey? They can have a sweet and shy charm, with glances that would make most western men think that they want something else, but that’s often not the case. They are genuinely shy, from what I have seen, and much slower to move further in the relationship process than American or western European women. But that’s okay…I think most American women move too fast as it is. Though the women here can come across as quiet and shy, which may be perceived by some as stuck-up, I have heard some be more boisterous (by Taiwanese standards), and can even be friendly and out-going, once you’ve said more than a few words to them. But in any relationship here, platonic or otherwise, it’s best to be patient.

The Children

The children in this country can be very whiny when they don’t get what they want. As a result, the younger generations are much more materialistic than the older ones, which makes this place seem much more like the United States, but with more Chinese people. However, as in most Asian countries, most of the children are adorable looking. They are easily the loudest, and most unruly, segment of the population, but coupled with the duality of how beautiful and charming they can be, it’s hard to stay angry or frustrated with them for very long, even in the classroom setting. Depending on which social strata their family is a part of, however, you can sometimes see scars on them, and with good reason: corporal punishment of children is very common here, which I find disturbing. I’ve had children in my class tell me that they are beaten, often with sticks, when they misbehave at home. I often hear violent tales of child abuse on the news, as that is an issue which still is not being addressed here. Domestic violence isn’t as bad between men and women, because just as often, the women give it right back. However, with children, they cannot, and the level of violence towards SOME of them has even led to death.

Because, of course, when you look into this adorable little face, your first thought is to find a belt.
Because, of course, when you look into this adorable little face, your first thought is to find a belt.

Between their regular school, and the private English language schools that most of them attend, they are up by 6am, in school by 8am, at their school, depending on age, until 2 and as late as 6pm, then to their language schools until 9pm by the time they’re 11 or 12 years old. From my point of view, their childhood is essentially taken away at about the age of six or seven, and they spend their rest of their formative years preparing for work, being tested every day, with little or no breaks during the day, being pushed constantly to excel. Not much time to play, which may explain why they sometimes try to take advantage of the “round eye” teaching English to them. Their young lives have very little respite, nor do they seem to have much of it when they get older. So once they learn to talk, they have about 4 or 5 years to play, imagine, and dream, before that’s taken away from them.

I'd rather sleep at school then go home for my nightly beating.
I’d rather sleep at school then go home for my nightly beating.

The people here are nice, that’s very true. In my first two weeks here, I was trying to order a taxi on this touchscreen at the 7-11, to get home, but it wasn’t working properly. So, one of the guys behind the counter offered to drive me home on his scooter. We’d never met before, but he was nice enough to help. That’s one aspect of a much bigger picture here. They are also workaholics, and push their children in that direction at a very young age. The fear of failure among the children of this country must lead to massive amounts of anxiety, ulcers, and thoughts of suicide here. While the people in this community are very nice indeed, even though I’m a stranger here, with all the bureaucracy I have to deal with to stay here long-term, I’d much rather be an American here than a Taiwanese child.

On that uplifting note, I’ll see you all next time when I cover food and drink, so bring your Imodium!

– For images of our journey, please visit my wife’s Facebook page: Mischa Elaine Johnston

Taiwan: Sights, smells, and sounds-Diary of a Mad Expat, pt. 20

19 July, 2015 – Taichung, Taiwan

Come a little closer, then you’ll see
Come on, come on, come on
Things aren’t always what they seem to be
Come on, come on, come on
Do you understand the things that you’ve been seeing
Come on, come on, come on
Do you understand the things that you’ve been dreaming
Come a little closer, then you’ll see

“Come a Little Closer”, by Cage the Elephant

Welcome back, everyone! Today, I thought I’d go through the sights, sounds, and smells of Taiwan in general, and Taichung specifically. So let’s get started!

The Sights

The sights can often vary from one place to another. Where we stayed at first in Taoyuan, it was definitely more upscale than the neighborhood we live in now. The streets were cleaner, the buildings were nicer and more pristine looking. Our second hotel in Taoyuan, by the airport, was more comforting, because it FELT more like a hotel, which was what we needed at the time. However, the neighborhood was dirtier, and looked older than the neighborhood across town at our first hotel. The area near our hotel in Hsinchu was somewhere in between the two places we stayed at in Taoyuan. So too, was our last hotel, here, in Taichung. Our own neighborhood…well, let’s just say it has character. It’s definitely in a lower working class neighborhood, except that it’s filled with a lot of old people who don’t work much anymore, except for the street vendors. The streets themselves aren’t all that clean, particularly right after the market closes at about 2pm. It’s not at clean as Hong Kong, but it’s certainly cleaner than Hanoi.

The best view we could find in Hsinchu. A lovely post apocalyptic landscape, isn't it?
The best view we could find in Hsinchu. A lovely post apocalyptic landscape, isn’t it?

As I may have mentioned before, our little apartment building is nestled in between other apartment buildings in the area, with very narrow lanes separating them. There’s a park in one direction down the street, and a massive elementary school in the other direction. A word about that: most schools here are massive by American standards. They usually take up a city block, and are anywhere from 2-5 stories high. They will have some outdoor areas for sports, but obviously no football fields. Some have tracks or tennis courts, and nearly ALL have basketball courts, as the NBA may be the most popular sport here now.

A short walk down a small hill past the park, takes us to the main street in our neighborhood, which is lined with 2 different convenience stores, assorted fruit and vegetable stands, and numerous food stands, clothing shops, a bakery stand, pet stores, and a pharmacy, where you can find almost anything, including antibiotics, without a prescription. That’s a big bonus, especially in a country where prostitution is legal; you don’t want to have to explain to your doctor what you need that amoxicillin for, now do you?

woman poster world war ii syphilis gonorrhea.png
Once you make it out to the largest street in our part of the city, Wenxin Rd., the neighborhood improves, with cleaner streets, bigger, nicer shops and housing. They have bigger and nicer temples, indoor restaurants, grocery stores, shops selling more furniture, cars, and bigger luxury items. Everywhere, of course, are signs for these shops in Chinese, something you take for granted at times, but if you refocus and look at all the signs around you, it can leave you in awe, as it is the biggest reminder that you are now on the other side of the world. Some of these signs have pictures or some words in English, which can help expats like myself deduce what’s being sold there, but they are often misspelled or grammatically incorrect. Two examples: Ape Shape Bakery and My Love Chicken. Still, you get the idea.

This sign was in our hotel room in Taoyuan. Made us a little paranoid because you really shouldn't have to point this out.
This sign was in our hotel room in Taoyuan. Made us a little paranoid because you really shouldn’t have to point this out.

From our rooftop, you can see out toward the west, though there’s a small ridge about 10 miles out, blocking any view from the city, of the Taiwan Strait. We do see a lot of birds up here, though nothing as unusual as what we saw or heard in Hong Kong. We’ve even seen some small bats, coming out at twilight. Also from this view, we can see the neighborhoods west of us, in various stages of growth or dilapidation. I find the areas that look like ours to be a little disconcerting, considering that this country is both typhoon-prone and seismically active. Granted, the worst of both occurs more on the east coast of the island, but still, one good 6.0 magnitude tremor, and there could be a lot of damage here.

Is that an 8.0 or did I drink too much coffee again?
Is that an 8.0 or did I drink too much coffee again?

As for our tiny little studio, we have our TV, our AC, our bathroom, which doesn’t look as nice or as clean as the rest of our place. In here, we’ve seen the occasional small spider, very tiny, but very fast ants, which come out anytime there is the smallest crumb left out, and one big-ass cockroach, which I killed…after 3 attempts to drown it in the bathroom, then crush it with my boot. That fucker was longer than my middle finger, and about two inches wide! Freaked both of us out for days! Then there is our latest little friend, a tiny little house gecko, which can be found everywhere in this part of the world. We’d seen them on buildings in every country we’ve been to, but this is the first we’ve seen take up residence with us. He’s tiny, about two inches long, grayish-green, and during the day when he sleeps (they are night hunters), he hangs out above our AC, mostly hidden from us. At night, when we turn the lights off to get ready for bed, he makes his way across the ceiling, usually in the direction of our tall, narrow wardrobe, behind which he seems to find various small bugs to eat. We’ve noticed him here now for almost a week, so we decided to name him. Though he’s small and young, we thought we’d give him a name to make him feel bigger and boost his self-esteem: 失去了武士 , or shīqùle wǔshì (you can get the pronunciation from Google Translate), which translates to Lost Samurai.

Hunt my little minion...hunt!
Hunt my little minion…hunt!

The Smells

Yes, there is the smell of garbage here, though not as bad as Vietnam. It doesn’t permeate every aspect of your existence here, like it did in Hanoi, but you can always sense it lurking somewhere in the background. However, there are also other wonderful smells in the foreground. There is that steaminess, which is constant here, at least at this time of year. There is the smell of all kinds of fruit coming from the markets nearby, both familiar and exotic; apples, oranges, pineapples, lemons, mangoes, papaya, lychee fruit, and dragon fruit. There’s another fruit here called durian, which I fortunately have not smelled yet, at least not to my knowledge. Spread throughout SE Asia, durian is a very popular fruit here, called the “King of Fruits” throughout most of this part of the world. But it is a love/hate thing. Some people love it, some loathe it, predominantly due to its smell and taste. Anthony Bourdain described its taste as being “like pungent, runny French cheese”, and it’s smell as “your breath will smell as if you’ve been french kissing your dead grandmother.” Travel writer Richard Wright was even more succinct, if that’s possible – “ Its odor is best described as pig shit, turpentine and onions garnished with a dirty gym sock.” You understand my reluctance now, don’t you?

Hmmm...smells like ass flavored ass.
Hmmm…smells like ass flavored ass.

You can also smell food, lots of different kinds of food, from the various street vendors, and the restaurants in the area, and it can overwhelm your nose at times. There’s pork, spices, chicken, seafood, everywhere, all seemingly trying to force their way up your nostrils all at the same time. Then, there’s the flowers, all of which seem to put out very strong, almost perfume-like aromas into the air…or maybe that’s just all the women who, regardless of what they may look like, all seem to smell really nice (that didn’t come across as too creepy, did it?). Lastly, there are the fumes from all the trucks, cars, and scooters, intermingling with the aforementioned smells, topped off the with occasional aroma of burning incense, coming from one of the many Buddhist temples, or perhaps from a home or shop owner, praying for good health or good fortune, both of which seem to be needed here. If the sights can be culturally jarring, the smells can be downright overwhelming, bordering on numbness.

The Sounds

One of my favorite, but thus far all too infrequent, sounds here is the sound of rain and thunder. The thunder always sounds so much more gentle here, as opposed to America, where even the SOUND of an approaching thunderstorm seems to have an audible tinge of malice behind it. The sound of the rain here, however, varies greatly, from a gentle (but warm) version of an Oregon rain, to a tropical downpour that comes close to the force put out by a fire hose. Of course, there is the nearly constant sound, any time you go out, of Taiwanese people speaking in a language that makes Spanish seem as comforting as chicken soup on a cold, rainy day. For American ears, virtually every Asian language sounds more foreign to us than any other. They do speak some English though, and they know certain “colorful” words, like “fuck”, which in Chinese is pronounced like “cow”. Many is the time I’ve talked about animals to my students, and invariably the class goes into shock, then laughter, whenever I talk about cows.

Don't cow with f*ck!
Don’t cow with f*ck!

Another interesting thing here is that you can swear, but not at someone. If you do, you risk getting sued. I’m serious! They sue people for everything here, kind of like America in the 90s. We even have, in our rental agreement, a clause that states that if we commit suicide in our apartment, they can sue us or our next of kin! Not that it’ll carry any weight in an American court, but still…I think it’s mainly because of that fear of spirits thing, though.

My condolences to you and your family...I'll see you in court.
My condolences to you and your family…I’ll see you in court.

Even more constant, however, is the sound of traffic. Scooters are everywhere here, and between them, and the cars and trucks, there is a constant din of them anytime we step out of our home, to the streets below. It only dies off a bit, from about 2-4pm, when most small shops are closed. At that time, the streets are virtually deserted, as if it were 2-4am instead. But the sounds return shortly, forcing you to talk in raised voices, at the very least. Which brings me to my final destination on this particular blog…

Traffic and Transportation

I’ve already explained the traffic to you, I suppose, and the various modes of transport, but there are others. Taichung is currently working on its own Mass Rapid Transit system (MRT, for short), similar in nature to those of Hong Kong and Taipei. As a city with a metro population of over 2.5 million, it certainly needs it, but it won’t be completed for at least another 2-3 years. There are taxis, of course, but they cost about $3 for the first mile, and more after that (it’s been awhile since I’ve taken a cab, so I don’t remember the exact prices.). You can buy cards at any convenience store, which you put money on, and can spend at various stores, restaurants, and the local bus system. The good news is that you have to travel at least 8km before you’re ever charged for riding the bus, so most of my bus rides are free. However, bus schedules are, shall we say, inaccurate? The buses start out every morning, according to their respective schedules, but unlike in America, if they get ahead of schedule, they do not slow down or stop. They just keep going, so that by 8 or 9 in the morning, the times that they are supposed to arrive at your stop are off. Sometimes, you have to wait up to 30 minutes for your bus to come around again, so you need to leave yourself plenty of extra time to get to where you want to go, especially if an actual appointment is involved.


As for traffic laws, they do exist, but no one seems to mind them. It’s not quite as bad as in Vietnam, but it was WAY better in Hong Kong. As a result, though they have the ability to form a somewhat functional and stable government, they have not yet established a clear definition of the phrase “right of way”. As a result, vehicular accidents are regular here, and often bloody. And they cover the entire accident spectrum: car-car, car-truck, car-bus, car-scooter, car-pedestrian, truck-scooter, truck-bus, bus-pedestrian…you get the idea.

Just rub some dirt on it and be on your way.
Just rub some dirt on it and be on your way.

The street layout doesn’t help matters any either. Those of you familiar with the layout of the roads in Boston, Washington D.C., or Paris might be a little more equipped to handle the directional layout of the streets here, as I am pretty sure that all of these places, including Taichung, had their streets constructed by the world-renowned French architect, Marquis de Sade.

"Oh, yeah baby! I get off on you being lost"
“Oh, yeah baby! I get off on you being lost”

The city is laid out a in a circular pattern, not a north-south, east-west pattern, known in most American cities after 1800. As a result, if you’re heading north in this city, you can’t take a left, then a right, and expect to still be heading north again. You make that assumption, and before you know it, you’re swimming to mainland China. I thought I had an impressive sense of direction before I came here…and got lost…twice. Thank God for  Google maps!

Well, once again, I’ve made my longest blog yet, and overstayed my welcome. Tune in next time for more adventures from Taiwan. In our next episode, the people! Until then, stay cool out there, and always use sunscreen.

– For images of our journey, please visit my wife’s Facebook page: Mischa Elaine Johnston

HANOI, VIETNAM: Diary of a Mad Expat, pt. 12

9 April – 2 May, pt. 5: Thaison Palace Hotel, Old Quarter, Hanoi

Adrian Cronauer: Mayday! Mayday! Dragon-Lady with incredible figure at 11 o’clock! Stop the car.
Edward Garlick: I can’t do that, sir.
Adrian Cronauer: Aw, Edward, you don’t understand. I’ve been on a small Greek island with a lot of women who look like Zorba, I never thought I’d find women attractive ever again. And now that I do, you won’t even turn the car around? Thanks a lot.
Edward Garlick: You have a very important meeting with the top brass…
Adrian Cronauer: -Oh, there she is again! How did she get ahead of us?
Edward Garlick: That’s another person, sir.
Adrian Cronauer: She’s beautiful and quick. Speed up, check her stamina. Oh my God, they’re quick, they’re fast, and small. Ha, ha, ha, ha! I feel like a fox in a chicken coop!

Robin Williams, as Adrian Cronauer in “Good Morning, Vietnam”

The People and the language of this country are, well, interesting. Let’s get started,

The People
In general terms, the people are friendly, but they have manners that could be construed by westerners, including myself because I never got used to it, as rude or even downright disgusting, especially with the men. Street peddlers can be aggressive and annoying, but some people we met were extremely generous. No one here has apparently ever heard of the term “personal space”. They love to touch you, sometimes inappropriately. They are not aware that from our perspective, there are boundaries. It seems like a blindingly obvious social rule to us, but it doesn’t exist to them! Like every member of the human race, they are judgmental, and they prefer to pass judgment on foreigners in their own language.

The Language
Make up a bunch of words that rhyme with “gong” and “home”. Now, do that while simultaneously imitating the sounds of a cat in heat. That’s what it sounds like to most Americans. We tried learning the language to a certain point, but once we realized we weren’t staying, we kind of gave it up. We found that saying “thank you”, like in Hong Kong, brought smiles to the locals, especially the woman I buy cigarettes from. We also learned to say, “no problem”, “sorry”, “hello”, and “excuse me”. I think we did pretty well most of the time, because we mostly got that smile and a bow back from people. We also found that the younger the people were, the more inclined they were to want to speak and learn English. I even taught some of the hotel staff some of our more “colorful” metaphors.

The Hotel Staff and Guests
We made a lot of friends in this hotel – some fellow guests, but mostly the staff, many of whom my wife became Facebook friends with. The guests were more hit and miss. There was a big ugly man from Austria that had a Vietnamese woman for a wife. She seemed VERY submissive, and he was just a misogynistic prick, blatantly checking out every attractive woman he saw. And he constantly complained, loudly, about what was wrong with this place. I kind of get it, but at some point, just shut up and leave! Then there was the hippie expat who now lived in Baja. He was a very nice guy, but damn, he could not stop talking! He could have you trapped in a conversation for over an hour without getting a word in edge wise!

Almost everyone on the staff was friendly, nice, and generous. The housekeeping staff were shy, but polite for the most part. One of them looked a little like a pissed off Himalayan cat, but when she’d leave after she was done with her shift, having already changed out of her uniform…damn, she had a body on her! The girls at the reception desk were all so sweet to both of us, and just beautiful. One of them could’ve EASILY been a model had she lived in America. Another one felt close enough to me to cry in front of me over a man she loved living in Malaysia, but whom her family didn’t approve of. They are both on Facebook with my wife, as is one of the doormen, who gave my wife a Buddhist beaded bracelet. He was a sweet kid (21 y.o.), as was our closest friend here. His real name is Phu, which in Vietnamese translates to “rich”, hence his Anglicized name, “Richie”. We always spoke at night, smoking, sometimes having a beer or two. If you’ve been on my wife’s Facebook page, you probably saw a video of him and me singing. She also has pictures of him with his girlfriend. Together, they are so adorable, had we had the money, we would’ve adopted them! They look cute enough to be in a commercial for the ASPCA, without the sad Sarah McLachlan song.


But one guy heavily contributed to us hating this place. His name is Joe, the one that greeted us when we checked in here. Picture the stereotypical snake-like brother-in-law, who works as a used car salesman. That was Joe. He was not meant to be a day manager for a hotel. This place also runs tours, and he was more concerned about that, than taking care of the issues in this dilapidated hotel. Hotel staff are supposed to be about customer service, and as someone who has worked in customer service for a long time, I know what that’s supposed to look like…and it doesn’t look like him. He likes money WAY more than he likes people. In fact, I’m not too sure if he cares about his guests at all, unless it’s somehow profitable for him to do so. If you are ever in this part of the world, stay away from this hotel!

The Men
Men here are incredibly lazy, with the exception of those previously mentioned on the hotel staff. I see tons of them, spending the entire day, sitting in front of cafes, drinking tea, coffee, or beer, and smoking with other guys, doing nothing, while their wife works, takes care of the kids, cooks and cleans. They are rude; they love blowing snot-rockets wherever it strikes them, and based on what I saw, they may have invented “man-spreading”. To the few that have jobs, I apologize for this generalization. But to the rest of them, get off your lazy fucking ass and help your wife out for a change! I will give them one thing though. Unlike America, there is NO rape culture here. In the household, and in most businesses, the woman is so in charge, I don’t think it ever crosses their male minds. They know most of their wives could take them in a fight, or belittle them to the point where they’d be rocking back and forth, curled up in the fetal position if they tried. Still they have access to all the money, whether they made it or not, because all laws here still favor the man in terms of divorce and finances. So all the women here need to do is kill their lazy-ass husbands and make it look like an accident!

The Women
Now we’ve seen women, AND men, of all shapes and sizes here. We’ve seen a few bigger girls, even a one or two that were taller than us! But if I could sum up the women here in two words it would be: stunningly beautiful. That’s not just a description of them physically, though. Yes, most of them are 5-feet, 6-inches, or shorter, slender build, but some are just slim all the way down, but most, to put it delicately, have some curves (guys, you hopefully know what I’m alluding to). But their personalities, once to talk to them for any length of time, are beautiful too. Speaking from a platonic perspective, they are sweet, soft-spoken, and very polite. And their manner of dress is stunning, more formal than our own, and meant to accentuate the female form. It is impossible not to be enchanted by them, so long as you only LOOK, if you’re married (like me). If you’re single, though, and you’re patient with them, take things slow and respectfully, and can put up with all the other crap here, in the long run, I’m sure you won’t be sorry.

Well, that brings us up to date. Tomorrow, May 2nd, we check out at noon, not a moment too soon, take a taxi to the airport, and wait for our flight at 5:30, and head to Hong Kong to spend the night in the airport, until our flight to Taiwan the following morning at 9:30. However, despite any difficulties as a result of spending a night in an airport, we’d rather spend a night in an airport in Hong Kong, than spend one more night in this Vietnamese ‘hotel’. And we’re looking very forward to going to cleaner, if not greener, pastures. I already have a lot of options to teach there, so things are looking way more promising than they were here. Still, a couple of things to keep it in perspective for you, and especially for me:
The other day, I was standing outside our hotel, having a smoke, listening to “All Along the Watchtower” by Jimi Hendrix. Think about that for a moment. I was listening to a song that was made at the height of the Vietnam War. Now, here I am, 45+ years after it was recorded, listening to it in what used to be the capital of North Vietnam. We have gone down the rabbit hole!

It’s been only five weeks since we left Oregon, and my wife and I have seen more countries in that time, than we have in our entire lives up to now. In just five weeks, we’ve gone from the United States, to Canada, to Hong Kong, to Vietnam, and now, to Taiwan! Wow.
On that note, thank you, Vietnam. For better or worse, we’ll never forget you.

– For images of our trip, please visit my wife’s Facebook page: Mischa Elaine Johnston

The love and lessons of Vietnam.

My husband and I had the most intense culture shock when we arrived in Vietnam and it never really subsided. The noise and filth of the street, the fog of bugs, the dog spring rolls; everything seemed alien and uncomfortable. Now that we’re leaving for Taiwan, to hopefully teach English, we begin to see that the warmth was in the details and we will miss a great many things. We will miss the Vietnamese moped drivers with their ninja-like reflexes, our hotel manager Richie who lit up every time we clumsily attempted his language, the CoolArab shisha restaurant pumping mind numbing techno through our haze of negativity, the singing housekeeper who hid vodka behind the nearest planter, the ancient cigarette lady with her pirate grin selling us 50 cent packs and then out smoking us both, and a plethora of other little moments containing universal kindness and human beauty. Thank you for the love and the lessons Vietnam. We will never forget you.