Incidental Guilt Trip

Nothing motivates me to learn Chinese quite like an incidental, introspection-prompting guilt trip. I'll explain.

Recently, my coworker invited me to his house. His newborn baby turned one month old, and in Taiwan they have a swanky feast for family and friends. I felt all warm and tingly having received an invite - the other foreign teachers didn't. And, it was just a good time (Christmas-ish) to be around a family, albeit not my family.

The party itself was impressive. The food was all catered and the spread was vast and incredible. Giant prawns, a myriad of crabs, mussels, oysters, steamed fish, braised fish, calamari, oysters, I could go on. And my coworker encouraged my consumption: "Tim, eat food. I see you eat like a beast at school." Amen.

During the meal, there were many toasts, cheers, and jollity. I was at the main table with my coworker, Jason, and his family. By default, I was included in everything. I vaguely knew what was going on only because raising a glass and taking a drink is a good clue.

Anyhow, Jason was busy so I mostly talked to his dad. Dad talked my ear off, and I felt like we were constantly raising our glasses - my sparkling apple juice (I had to return to work) to his red wine. I don't know what he said, but he's wicked cool for sure. And funny. Probably. I misrepresented my comprehension using my most adorable student's strategy: nodding, smiling, and saying "yeah" to everything.

I even thought I understood a little. I didn't. Jason confirmed that his dad did not have an apple fruit orchard in a nearby city.

All the while, I'm noticing fleeting glances from another table, mostly family from Jason's side. His brothers, uncles, and of course a crazy aunt are all interested in what the white dude was doing at the party. Jason introduced me and I wanted to field questions, but couldn't. My introduction is short and scripted:
1. My name is Tim
2. I'm american
3. English Teacher
4. My house is in Donggang
5. Taiwan good
My brief Q&A unsatisfactorily ends with number 6.
6. Sorry, I don't speak much Chinese.

I left the party with a fat sack of some really tasty fried rice and seafood.

Again:

Most Thursdays, I'll go to the riverside park and practicing controlling my paraglider. The paraglider is just a giant kite big enough to suspend me in the sky. Big enough to violently drag me around on the ground, too, hence the practice part. Anyhow, the whole process looks pretty cool, and not many people have seen this before. My kiting practice usually draws a curious crowd, mostly transient onlookers, but I don't feel any obligation to indulge them with my attention.

*Really, the paraglider just exacerbates a common occurrence - people approach me, generally interested because I look different and speak English. All too often, I'm propositioned to be friends, become e-mail pals, exchange phone numbers, etc. Most are after free English lessons. I teach English because it pays for my awesome life here. That's all. Thanks but no-thanks middle-aged whomever I have little in common with nor want to sacrifice text messages for. I'll say that at the risk of sounding like a dick. Yes, it's nice making friends, but the crux is selectivity and mutual benefit.*

The farmer across the road is different. Whenever I take a break to hydrate and he isn't working in his field, the farmer will flag me over and pour me a glass of beer. Or sometimes this stuff called "Paolyta" - I'm not exactly sure what that is. More importantly, I think anyone who waves me over and pours me a beer is a cool dude. Also, I've said this before: coolness transcends cultural borders.

That coolness makes all the difference. If people are interested enough to invest in me: fried rice, a glass of beer, climbing lessons, whatever; I don't want to let them down with a shitty shrug and far too few words.