Sticky Icky

It's 4:50 p.m. on a Monday. A Tuesday. Any day, really. My TreeHouse students, despite their youth, are visibly exhausted. 8 straight hours of learning have clearly taken its toll on these youngsters. At this point learning English is just about last on their list of priorities, somewhere behind playing computer games, taking a nap, and living the life of a normal kid. Yet here they are, heads beginning to bob and eyelids looking heavier and drooping more as each second passes. They've already endured the first 20 minutes, which included the oh-so-exciting spelling quiz and patterns review (and especially on lessons 5 and 6 of the current unit, when they've been practicing the same patterns for over a week, it can be difficult to keep them interested. They could practically recite that stuff in their sleep, which they just about do). They're still a painful half hour away from break time and freedom. Something needs to happen quick. Otherwise these students are going to be out for the count.

"Game?" I ask perfunctorily. I already know their answer.

"Ya. Game. Game." The slight rise in their intonation indicating an elevated interest.

And then I bust out the big guns....

"Hmmm...sticky ball game?"

"YES!! Sticky ball!!" As my ear drums just about explode.

And there it is. Call me David Blaine, because I just worked some magic. In a mere matter of seconds I transformed a group of certifiably bored kids into dangerously excited and talkative ones. Of course this sudden change in spirits didn't have as much to do with me as it did my with my little circular friend, Sir Sticky Ball.

In the words of the great Austin Ghiossi, kids go "ape shit" for this thing

Few objects allure as much and demand as much attention as that tiny ball of suckers does (ranks somewhere behind Frodo's Ring and the Sword of 1000 Truths). For a ridiculously cheap price of 10 NT (approximately 30 US cents), it is easily the wisest investment a NST teaching in Taipei can make. Whenever boredom or monotony begins to infect the young ones, the sticky ball provides the ultimate bailout. Especially at times where class participation is lacking, this asset can be huge in terms of getting kids to break out of their shells. It seems the mere opportunity to throw this thing at the whiteboard gives them enough motivation to practice their language skills in front of their peers. For them, at that moment the number one fear in life is not speaking publicly. It's missing the chance to throw the sticky ball. It's truly amazing the amount of joy these kids from such a simple pleasure. And what's best about the sticky ball is its versatility. You can literally use the thing with any game you play. There's almost as many possibilities as there are stickers. Phonics Tic Tac Toe, Snakes and Ladders, the "fishy" game, Bingo, Snowball Fight, and the list goes on and on.

Of course there's inevitably some collateral damage you incur when you use the sticky ball as often as I do. It's safe to say I've taken my fair share of shots from the sticky ball as a result of errant throws. At this point I'm basically the Craig Biggio of the classroom. And then of course sometimes you have to play referee and stop the kids from throwing the ball at each other when things start to get a little too East Coast-West Coast. Then there's kids who almost take down the whiteboard in vain efforts to retrieve a sticky ball throw that was aimed just a little too high. And I can't even count the number of stickers that have come flying off the sticky ball, like shrapnel from an exploding grenade, from kids throwing the thing way too damn hard. Sure, these things are cheap. But when you're buying 2-3 a week, ish adds up.

All in all though I'm extremely grateful for this simple toy. It keeps my kids excited, and it gives me the utmost pleasure in seeing them so happy. Especially when the SuperMoney economy is still in recession, the sticky ball has proven to be a great alternative in keeping motivation and interest high. After all, (Super)Money can't buy the kind of happiness the sticky ball provides.

Split Personas

The date was March 30th, 1987. In the wee hours of the morning, a boy was about to come into the world. Getting to the hospital? Check. Doctor ready to go? Check. Everything was in order--except of course a name. When the boy was finally delivered around 3 a.m., a nameless life force sat there--waiting to be labeled.

"Is it going to be Andrew Richard or Jordan Richard?" My parents debated. Somehow the 9 months they had while I was still chilling in the womb hadn't been enough time to answer this one question. I guess now I understand it, knowing my parents like I do. After all it almost took them an eternity to decide on the tiles for our kitchen remodel. Understandably, naming their third child was a more serious commitment. Perhaps my mom was holding out hope that, despite all the initial reports, I would actually come out a girl, like she had been hoping for. But nope. Finally, unable to decide between the two, my parents turned to an unlikely hero for advice--Dr. David Bennett. Out of the blue, Dr. Bennett suggested "how about Andrew Jordan?" Apparently my parents fell in love with it on the spot, because they immediately dropped the other names. My poor dad (whose name is Richard) had somehow been eliminated from the equation, but yet everyone was satisfied.

I believe somehow that the initial indecision on what to name me still affects me today. For truthfully I don't even know what to call myself. For as long as I can remember, I've basically gone by 2 names. Some people call me Andrew; some people call me A.J. You'd think at some point that I'd have simply abolished one and embraced the other, but the truth is I haven't. I'm just as comfortable being called one as I am being called the other. What you call me probably depends more on how you met me or how long you've known me more than my own preference, since I don't really have one.

When I was just a younging as part of the Montemar Way neighborhood gang, I was unmistakably A.J. During middle school I flip-flopped between my 2 names--still OK with being called A.J. but considering a switch to Andrew to avoid being associated with that one Backstreet Boys dude (perhaps this was to hide the fact that I actually liked the Backstreet Boys back then?) In high school I was primarily A.J., and my best friends from this time in my life still elect to call me by that name. My family, on the other hand, usually calls me Andrew. Or they complicate the matter further by calling names like Drew, Ja-Je, Hurrrayyyy-J, Dage (still can't explain this one), Droop-a-loop, and the like.

If you knew me well enough at Cal Poly, you probably knew me as A.J. But of course if you knew me as a work associate, whether it be at Wolf, the SJSRC, IntelliDx, or Spencer's (the grocery store, not the immature joke shop at the mall), you'd call me Andrew. And if you really really knew me in college, you may have even called me the Ghiossi Grill, which is my personal favorite nickname.

And wouldn't you know, this problem has become even more complicated since I shipped out to Taiwan. It is no longer just A.J. and Andrew dueling it out for supremacy of the self. This self-inflicted Dissociative Identity Disorder has worsened. A third persona has entered into the mix--one that goes by two names: Teacher. Andrew. When I walk through the doors at Hess to begin my workday, the switch flips. A.J./Andrew puts away his Ipod that was just seconds ago blazing Living Legends, puts on his "intellectual" pair of bifocals, and suddenly becomes Teacher Andrew.

Teacher Andrew is an interesting fellow. He is similar to A.J. and Andrew, but differs in the fact that he spends the majority of his time with people about half his age. And in no small part, this affects how Teacher Andrew behaves. Because of his seniority over his students, T.A. is pretty confident and sure of himself. Most classes he will construct examples to demonstrate grammar patterns that have something to do with how smart or handsome he is. And the kids love this, only adding to his confidence. T.A. also loves games. He gets supreme enjoyment out of watching his students throw the sticky ball or roll the dice. When students mispronounce a word or speak using incorrect grammar, T.A. doesn't yell or scream at them. Instead he just grimaces in pain like their words have just thrust a dagger into his abdomen. Understanding this cue to mean they screwed up, the students quickly correct themselves, making T.A. transform that grimace into a beaming smile. In his Step Ahead classes with the older students, when topics for the day range from video games to sports to music to movies to literature, T.A. will often share personal information with his students about his favorites in each of those categories. He's been known to whistle the Mario theme song, hate on the Red Sox, sing a little Lady Gaga, talk with a Harry Potter accent, or act out some Lord of the Rings.

And at a time when A.J. and Andrew aren't completely sure of themselves; when they've yet to figure out what the hell exactly it is they want to do with the rest of their lives, this Teacher Andrew character is a good guy to have around. He's confident and knows what he's doing. Or at least it appears that way.

Taroko Gorgeous

It is surely a delight when two of my favorite pastimes and pleasures coincide so beautifully like they did at Taroko Gorge on December 26th (and yes, if you're doing the math on this one--this post is long overdue).

History. Needless to say, I'm a fan. After all, I didn't spend 4 years studying it---or abandon Nutrition (though seemingly there are far more employment opportunities in this field)---to end up with something I don't sincerely enjoy. Do I love all history? Of course not---much of it can be boring. BUT the history that does interest me, I could talk about for days on end. I'll read Doris Kearns Goodwin and watch Smithsonian Channel documentaries until my eyes give out.

Nature. Who doesn't love it? It's beautiful, it's refreshing, it's....natural. Truly there's no better way to escape the stress and business of normal city life than to lose yourself in the splendor of nature's greatest treasures. The varying shades of colors, the fresh air, and the mere scale and complexity of it all is both awe-inspiring and humbling.

In their own regards, both of these aspects factored into my decision to come to Taiwan. Throughout college, I was continually educated on the richness and depth of Chinese history. Indeed, Chinese culture does have thousands of years of history under its belt. "5,000 years of history" Dr Morris would say, of course then pointing out that in reality it's more like 3,500 (but who's counting? And plus it's not like they are the only people to ever exaggerate anything...they have "5,000" years of history sort of like America was the "land of the free" when Francis Scott Key busted out into poetry. Anyways, I digress). Their culture is the culture of the great Han, Song, and Tang Dynasties; the man, the myth, the legend, Confucius; and the actual inventor of the movable type (eat your heart out Johannes Gutenberg).

Taiwan's natural scenery speaks for itself. Even when you find yourself completely immersed in the belly of the concrete jungle that is Taipei, the surrounding green mountains are always within sight. To some extent, I'd already indulged in some of this nature by going on various hikes and explorations. But in reality, the "nature" I saw roaming through Dahu Park, Elephant Mountain, or even DaAn Park paled severely in comparison to what I experienced at Taroko Gorge.

Taroko was unlike anything I'd ever seen before. In reality, words do the place injustice. As do pictures. You really have to see this place to have an understanding of just how amazing and spectacular it is. Yet, amidst all the beauty of Taroko Gorge, I couldn't stop pondering about all the history to the place. And this wasn't like the kind of history you'd come across at Chiang Kai Shek Memorial, the National Palace Museum, or the Confucius Temple. No, this wasn't Taipei by any standard, in all its modernity, commerce, and bustle. This was a purer form of history---natural history. It was Taiwan in a more primitive and pristine light. Here was a valley that was formed over millions of years, carved out by the slow and steady process of erosion, making changes that are only barely visible after thousands and thousands of years. The milky white marble deposits that defined many of the lower walls had formed over millions of years, transformed from limestone after the constant combination of heat and pressure. The stream that ran down the middle was such an extraordinary shade of blue, undoubtedly dyed that color by the slow seeping of said marble deposits into the water. The many boulders that spotted and sometimes even dammed this creek had accumulated due to the thousands of earthquakes and typhoons that have rocked this small island. The mountains that soared above our heads had become higher over time as a result of tectonic plates colliding, and will actually continue to do so. Even the various noises I heard along the journey, ranging from the whistling of the birds to the splashing of the creek, were reminders that this same soundtrack has been playing for an unbelievably long time. And the list goes on and on.

I couldn't help but also thinking about how much human history the Gorge had witnessed; how it has likely scoffed at our vain efforts to achieve relative significance in comparison. Surely the Gorge has had its fair share of laughs at foreigners not unlike myself, who inadvertently bumped their heads along the rather shallow rock overhang while walking distracted and dumbstruck by the beauty of the place. It has also felt the force of several dynamite charges that blew holes in the side of the mountains, allowing those same hiking trails with the dangerously low ceilings to emerge. It has understand our vulnerability and fragility all too well as it has seen so many Taiwanese lose their lives constructing projects such as the Tunnel of Nine Turns. The walls of the mountains have absorbed the countless of number of camera flashes that amazed tourists have taken. It's long provided shelter to many native Taiwanese who have made their living selling weaved goods to tourists like myself, and who have been likely oblivious to technological advances like flash photography.

Of course the humbling thing is that no matter how impressive our human history might be, it can't even be mentioned in the same breath as the history of the Gorge.This gorge was just as beautiful and breath-taking a million years ago, long before any human had the ability to appreciate it. The 3,500 years of Chinese history would be a mere blip on the time line of this place. It was here long before we arrived, and it will be here long after we're gone (provided the world doesn't explode or whatever in 2012).

So now that my words have failed to do this place justice, let's let some pictures follow suit.

An Unorthodox Christmas

"We talk a lot about traditions at this time of year. But as much as we love our traditions, sometimes our best memories come from the times that are the most...untraditional"


Christmas 2010 was anything but traditional; anything but orthodox. Apart from the freezing cold, this past Christmas bore absolutely no resemblance to the ones that preceded it. Of course I knew this was going to be the case all along. For the first time in my life, I was spending Christmas away from home and loved ones. But while the holiday celebration was different this year, it was still nevertheless enjoyable and memorable. Naturally I'll be excited to be at home for Christmas 2011, but as for 2010--it got the job done.

Right off the bat on Christmas Eve, I could already feel how this holiday was different. It's tradition on Christmas Eve for the Ghiossi family to go to the evening service at my church, get our holy on, light some candles, and then head home to begin some family festivities. Instead of that, I spent the hours from 7 p.m. until 9 p.m. on the evening of the 24th at Hess of all places. It was the Christmas party for the kids there, and I spent the majority of it downstairs in the "snowball fight arena" where kids happily chucked sticky-balls at a whiteboard for an hour and a half. I'm not going to lie, I think I lucked out here. It's really hard for these kids to be angry when they're throwing those things around, so I think the kids really enjoyed my station. The smiles on some of their faces as they played resembled those you would find on a kid who's opening their first Christmas present. Though ideally I wouldn't have been at work on Christmas Eve, the joy I got from watching those kids compete with one another was well worth it.

Around 8:30 the first set of activities was wrapping up (pun intended), and it was time for the boys and girls to sing "Santa Claus is coming to town" (which failed miserably, as they couldn't actually remember the lyrics). Of course, to add to the Christmas spirit, it was necessary to have Santa Claus himself present in the room for the singing. And that's where I came in---"Teacher Andrew Claus" as my students started started referring to me. After the snowball fight wrapped up, I rushed into the wet and disgusting Hess bathroom, went Clark Kent-in-a-phone booth status, and transformed from Teacher Andrew into Santa Claus. Though I had some wardrobe malfunctions early on (namely, it appears Santa's costume was designed to fit someone with more of a Santa physique a.k.a. my pants kept falling down), with the strategic placement of some safety pins the outfit came together nicely. It's funny to think how at about 9 p.m. on the 24th I'm usually in a religious atmosphere, having just come home from church and about to cut and consume Jesus' birthday cake. In 2010, I was doing just about the least religious/most commercial thing I could possibly do--I was being Santa Claus.

Once I bounced from the Hess party, it was time to rush as I hoped desperately to catch my train to Hualien that evening. It was on this same train that the clock struck midnight and I welcomed Christmas Day, with Malcolm Gladwell being the first one to wish me a Merry Christmas as I sat there somewhere in between Taipei and Hualien on the East coast of Taiwan. Back home at that hour, I'd undoubtedly be sipping on either a gin and tonic or a SoCo and eggnog while playing monopoly or yahtzee with the brothers.

Upon arriving in Hualien around 2 a.m., I briefly thought about how at that hour I'd usually be curled up in a nice warm, comfy bed, relaxed yet excited for the day ahead. However, this was but a fleeting thought. Almost immediately after we got off the train, problems began to arise. Somehow in the midst of booking our hotel, and explaining time and time again what our plans were and when we were arriving, something got lost in translation. For when our taxi driver called our hotel for us to get directions, we were informed that were was no room available for us that night. WTF? Are you serious? Not only would I not be spending this Christmas Eve/early Christmas morning in the comfort of my bed back home, dreaming of sweet cinnamon rolls and apple cider in the morning, I wouldn't be spending it in a bed period. I was homeless.

Luckily, I suppose, we were allowed to "rest" in the lobby of the hotel until the following day when our room would be available. I put "rest" in quotations here because that's hardly what I did. From about 2:30 a.m. until 7:30 a.m. I just stayed there sitting on the lobby sofa, most of the time kicking myself for not anticipating something like that happening; and perhaps intermittently closing my eyes in my best effort to get a few minutes of sleep. On a normal Christmas morning, I would arise at about 8, walk to the kitchen in my PJs, indulge in just about every kind of pastry and sugar cereal possible (my mom used to only allow us to eat sugar cereal on special occasions like Christmas, so now it's just sort of habit to eat a lot of that stuff on Christmas), and sit with my family by our Christmas tree--decorated with the same ornaments we've had for years, ranging from pictures of us boys in little league uniforms to ones we made during grade school. This year I "awoke" to the miniature Christmas tree in the lobby of our hotel--clearly fake and surrounded by empty present boxes. And instead of feasting on pastries and such, I instead hit up the complimentary breakfast buffet for all it was worth. Sure, it wasn't as tasty or fulfilling as my traditional Christmas breakfast. But hey, after a night of not sleeping and getting screwed over by the hotel, I was going to get my money's worth out of that place--even if that meant eating 3 servings of tofu and fried eggs.

Our "bed" the first night. I can't even tell you how many awkward looks we got from people walking by us as we were curled up on this thing...

The Bayview Hotel Christmas Tree...so us foreigners feel at home.

After returning from a post-breakfast walk along the beautiful coastline, we were delighted to hear that our room had opened up early. Around 10 a.m. Christmas morning, we were finally checked in. Normally around noon back home, my family inevitably takes a nap after eating far too many hour'dourves so we can recharge our batteries for the evening. This year a midday nap also took place, though this one had nothing to do with over-eating and everything to do with under-sleeping. Upon waking up, clearly still tired from the previous night's drama, we explored more of the coast, sampled some of the local food, and then went to downtown Hualien to do some more exploring and eating--though admittedly I did far less eating this Christmas than I normally do. Back at the hotel, we opened up a bottle of wine and threw on a little Buddy the Elf to wind down the day. And between the wine and the evening movie, that was about as close as I got to having a conventional Christmas.

But that's OK. Because, like the quote from Modern Family at the beginning of this post, I didn't really care that this Christmas was unfamiliar and different. All those traditions I missed out on this year will surely be there next time around. This Christmas wasn't the most traditional Christmas ever; nor was it the most exciting. But in being completely new, and even a little stressful/chaotic with the whole hotel situation, it was by far the most memorable. Without a doubt, Christmas 2010 will never be forgotten.

Shwa Nien Kwai Lo

With all due respect to back home, last night was the most enjoyable New Years Eve I've had in recent memory.

I think the reason for this was low expectations. After all, if there's been one lesson I've had to repeatedly learn these past few years, it is that the key to my inner happiness and satisfaction is to lower my expectations (hell, it's the reason Denmark of all places is considered the world's happiest place). In the past, I think I built the hype up a little too much in regards to my New Years Eve celebrations. There was always a lot of prepping and planning, and as a result a whole lot of anticipation. So when the time to usher in the new year finally arrived and then suddenly passed, there was always an inevitable letdown.

But this year, expectations were at an all-time low. In fact, until about 4 p.m. on New Years Eve I had no concrete plans whatsoever for the evening. I'd heard friends talking about going to the country club, but I decided an admission fee of 1,000 NT (~$30) was just too rich for my blood. Plus, I'd dressed up and went out to bars/clubs the previous couple of New Years Eves and had come to the conclusion that the whole thing was overrated, not to mention extremely costly. Really the only plan I had at that point was to travel down to the Taipei 101 area, where there was promised to be a supremely cool fireworks show at midnight. And after the disappointment of missing out on the fireworks for Double-Ten Day, I vowed that at the very least I would atone for that mistake.

So when my co-worker Eddie the Aussie approached me at 4 p.m. and invited me to join him and some of his friends at a house party, I figured what the hell. Sure, why not? The plan was to head over straight after work, make a pit-stop at a pub to hydrate, and then watch the fireworks show from the roof of his friend's apartment complex. So I said I'd come, thinking at the very least I'd get to see the fireworks. I would be content with just that.

But the whole night was much more exciting and enjoyable than that. The pub we hung out from about 10 until 11:30 was really sweet with a nice laid-back dive bar atmosphere. Add to that that they had gin and tonic specials for 100 NT each (I had to laugh thinking I'd be dropping somewhere around $7-8 for that kind of a beverage back home) and that when I tried to order food, they fed me with a free meal of minced beef pie, which (perhaps because of the gin and tonics?) actually tasted better far better than it sounded. I left the bar after an hour and a half having ordered 3 drinks for less than $10. It would have cost me at least twice that just to get into the bars I would normally have gone to back home. This night was off to a good start.



Then there was the main event. At 11:40 we joined a group of about 30 other people on the rooftop to watch the Taipei 101 fireworks show. My coworker Lisa handed out grapes to a bunch of us, because apparently it's some kind of Spanish tradition to eat 1 grape per second in the 12 seconds before the new year. Though I failed (still convinced it's an impossible feat), the grapes were delicious. Between the booze, the meat pie, and the sweet grapes, I was totally content when 2011 showed up. But in a matter of moments, I went from merely content to straight giddy. The countdown ended and the real show began. The first few fireworks that went off were at the base of Taipei 101, nothing special. They seemed more just like a teaser to get everyone amped for what was to come. Then a frenzy of fireworks exploded. I honestly can't describe in words exactly what I saw, but it was without a doubt the greatest fireworks performance I'd ever seen. For 100 seconds straight, there was persistent booming and blinding light. I had been working under the impression that the 101 fireworks show would be something like you'd see on the 4th of July back home. I was wrong. This show was far more impressive. It wasn't just fireworks exploding in the sky, it was a synchronized orchestra of lights. It was like watching Fantasia with fireworks. And there were so damn many of them. Firework after firework shot out of 101, actually making it look more like a demolition than a celebration. The result was that sometimes it got so bright that you actually thought your retinas might burn. Not only 101, but all the surrounding areas also shot off fireworks.When the smoke finally cleared from the top of the world's second largest skyscraper, you could see the lights spelling out "100. R♥C" (2011 is the 100th anniversary of the Republic of China).

Perhaps inspired by the show, or perhaps just searching for any way to warm ourselves up in the midst of a bitterly cold 5 degree Celsius night, we then decided to light our own fireworks. Talk about your all time simple pleasures. The fireworks we had weren't much, but boy were they fun. We lit off around 50 of them, throwing them off the building, watching with amazement as the light shot out and waiting with anticipation for the loud crack (I've got to believe we made our fair share of enemies with the poor locals who were trying to sleep at that hour...). Unfortunately (mom don't read this next part) I happened to hold on to one of these fireworks for just a little too long, as the thing actually exploded in my hand, with the flash and the pop rendering me both blind and deaf for a couple of seconds. But after I got over the shock and realized I was OK, I couldn't help but laugh. It's always funny so long as no one loses a limb. Or vision and hearing capabilities for that matter.

Finally, around 3:30, I decided to call it a night and walked home. A night that I figured wouldn't be anything special had turned into one of the better nights I've had here in Taiwan. I got to hang out with some quality and outgoing individuals; some familiar, some new; some local, some expat. I drank some quality alcohol. I played with (and almost got played by) some fireworks. And last but not least, I got to see the spectacular Taipei 101 show. 2011 got off to a better start than I could have imagined. I can't wait to see what the rest of the year has in store.

Note: my one regret is that my camera didn't capture any of last night's festivities. Maybe because of low battery juice, or maybe because of the cold, my camera refused to work. So instead of uploading pictures I've just put up a youtube video showing last night's show. Hope this suffices.