Admiring Arkansas

Hello world.  Sorry for the utter betrayal of my blog by leaving many epic tales and adventures unaccounted for.  Maybe perhaps in the future I will make an effort to convey them with as much enthusiasm as I lived them.

For now I shall neglect travels in Eastern Europe, New Years in Spain, the Obama road trip to Chicago, blizzards in Boston, and gentleman on Broadway to convey my fervor for Spring in Arkansas.

I returned to visit my grandparents and to help them recuperate from some previous tragedies and I've recollected such fond memories from this state that I realized I have actually never written a blog in the US about the US. Therefore, today I will abolish my unpatriotic practice and share a few highlights from the good ol' south and embrace the American within. 

I think Arkansas might be the most underrated state in the US. For some reason, it's a state with hidden gems - literally, it's the diamond state, but also such awesome things like the Little Rock 9, the dawn of segregation, Hattie Caraway, the first female senator (WHAT! - that's pioneering in civil rights and women's rights), and millions of acres of luscious national forest.

It gets it's bad rap for it's hicks & hillbillies, country roads, possums, humidity and walmart. (A significant portion of Arkansans would want to add Bill Clinton to that list…and sometimes getting compared to Mississippi...whose accolade of merit is Elvis...which, yes he's awesome, but Johnny Cash is equally as iconic.) However, Arkansans are just humble and would rather soak up the brilliant sunshine than get involved in a prideful debate.
(clearly, I need to work on my humility...)
Deep down, they are satisfied with life and need to prove it to no one; satisfaction that comes with the colors of Spring. If you have never spent a spring in Arkansas with it's brilliant dogwoods, redbuds, daffodils, and pear trees (although stinky, the beautiful fluffy white mystical awesomeness seems to come straight out of a fairytale), you don't really know what spring is. (or allergies...for that matter)

Today, I will attempt to redeem Arkansas. Or at most explain some of its peculiarities I admired, approved, or embraced whilst an inhabitant of this blessed state. (No, I will not be divulging the secret to moonshining.)

Southern charm and Southern hospitality

I don't think I really need to explain this.
But, something I've always found endearing while trying to maintain composure on the endlessly curvy/hilly roads, everyone that drives by waves and smiles. Just like in the westerns, when you drive your buggy into town.

Arkansans are loyal and true and always full of love!  (okay, I could say the same things about Kansans. There may be more than just tornadoes connecting Kansas to Arkansas and the confusing ’s’ at the end - it’s kindness. People are awesome despite geographical locations...that's really the point here.)

Religion

Usually my faith seems strange for others especially overseas to understand; it's slightly extreme. A majority of my Arkansas friends, though not Mormon, have no qualms with sitting in a church pew a few hours every week; they know the books of the bible, and are faithful followers of their beliefs! I’ve been inspired so many times by the hope and conviction of friends from other faiths.

But, even for all those that don’t really claim a religion, there’s football. Specifically the Razorbacks. If you are an Arkansas resident and not a razorbacks fan, you should probably not admit it. Just go with it. It’s not like the SEC is lacking in excitement.  

On a side note, I went out on a hike last week in the buffalo wilderness and was totally startled by a hog in my path. At first I thought he was cute and my Instagram instincts kicked in, but then I reverted to my brain and my flee instincts actually still work better. Alas, wild baby goats make hiking alone so much more pleasant. (In that regard, Taiwan has you beat, Arkansas.)

Hunting

Arkansans love their dogwoods as much as they love their hunting dogs (admittedly, I don't know anyone who has a hunting dog...but, some cliches just make excellent literary parallels so it stands). Hunting is also a legit sport and I would bet that half of Arkansans own at least one hunting rifle and would secede with Texas if the 2nd amendment was ever revoked. Fishing tournaments, big racks…talking about deer..., rifles, bows, and duck calls. They don’t need a grocery store to have enough meat for winter.

I don’t hunt, but, I have pulled a trigger on some semiautomatics…strictly for zombie apocalypse training, that's all. Honestly, I cry when I run over a squirrel in my car.  Poor squirrel.  :(  But, that doesn’t stop those less faint of heart. Actually, even squirrel hunting is a thing…not that you really hunt squirrels. I remember packing some ice cream in a communal dorm freezer at college only to have to find room amidst a Ziploc of skinned squirrels. Must I say, I chose another freezer for my ice-cream. 

I'm not attesting that Arkansas is perfect. No state ever is (unless you are a chemist that likes working with gases…or Alaska). BUT, I have brilliant friends, kind friends, happy friends, thoughtful, hilarious, strong, beautiful, loving, charming, caring, hard-working, patient, sympathetic, courageous, courteous, passionate, phenomenal, philosophical friends who all live in the state of Arkansas. Sure, it's not so metropolitan, but for Arkansans, it's unnecessary. Simple can be better: enjoying the budding trees, long friendships, sense of community, and majestic thunderstorms.

Thanks to the many kind-hearted friends in Arkansas that love me no matter how far away I go and have open arms whenever I do make it back!  And mostly, thanks for the memories!!

It can also get quite muddy...

I will say...if you can't stand snakes, chiggers, mosquitoes, and intense humidity...you might not make it.  I deal with it, because it's just natural.

White-water rafting adventure - the Asian way.

My life keeps on evolving (technically, I guess everything is).  I use this phrase, because I don't like to say that 'this adventure is ending' or 'I'm moving on' because no adventure ever ends but rather proceeds forward as if a passage that opens into a vast foyer with an endless array of enchanting corridors to explore.  I never know which hall I'll wander through next and maybe eventually I'll find a secret door that opens up to preceding scenes with the opportunity for a fresh exploration.

Since I'll be leaving Taiwan, I decided I needed to glory in the lusciousness of the island with one final hoo-rah.  I had a few options, and although my original plan fell through (no it wasn't swimming with sharks...that was Plan F), plan B was just as amiable.

Friday night I made arrangements to go white-water rafting down the Xiuguluan (in case you are like me and have no idea how to pronounce it, you can just say: the ChickityChinatheChineseChickLaun) river.  (they understand...)  Anyways, I enjoy white-water rafting.  I wouldn't say I'm an expert by any means.  But, I did grow up in Arkansas, the natural state, (said like you should actually know what that means) famous for the white-river, buffalo river, Arkanas river, and et al. (humor me. It's been a year since I finished grad school and haven't written an academic paper since).  The best experience rafting was in CA down the Truckee river with 4+ rapids and awesome guides that taught us how to paddle through or duck inside, while they made balancing on a raft seem like reading a book in a hammock.  (Only a really skilled person can claim mastery of the hammock). (Side note: I bought a hammock in Cambodia!)

 Okay, so back in Taiwan, I caught a bus and found a lovely group of people from Hong Kong heading to the river with me.  They helped translate for me, although they technically don't speak Mandarin.  Let's get this cultural lesson over with: In Hong Kong, people speak Cantonese.  But, since it's almost technically China (as of the 70s with fulfillment in 2040s) many of them can understand Mandarin.  However, Taiwan (also in a territorial dispute with China) speaks traditional Mandarin which is slightly different than simplified Chinese spoken in China China (and possibly by the Chinese ChickLaun).  SO, basically really none of us understood what was going on.  (and really, world? I think just trying to figure out this crazy planet is more difficult than maneuvering a category 5 rapid.)

After a lovely drive down the coast of Taiwan, we made it to the river where we would embark on a raft ending at the mouth of the Pacific. (Although, once I saw the wide mouth of the river opening into the Pacific, I thought paddling that would be more fun. I just heard about a group of girls kayaking around Taiwan that just passed Hualien. Seriously, why don't I ever get ideas like this?)  My Hong Kong friends and I decided to share a raft and went through the necessary training, which consisted of us not listening to a word that was said to us in Mandarin whilst speaking in English about Saturday Night Live and Obama Care.

I would also like to mention that by this time I started to realize that I was the only Caucasian among hundreds of Asians.  Yes, I'm living in Asia. And that's usual.  But, normally when I do something touristy, there are at least a handful of Indo-European folks that help minimize the awkward stares. But, no. Today, it was just me.  That should also have been a warning sign for what would soon ensue.

Alright, so we finally are waved to a raft.  We were basically the last ones, because we never knew what was going on and just followed the people in front of us.  WHICH HAPPENED TO BE HALF OF CHINA! Pretty sure China isn't just making up population statistics to win the 'most humans' award.  Thankfully they had visual demonstrations to show us how to sit ON and STRADDLE the boat. Yeah, one of our legs dangles over the side of the raft.  (warning sign #2.  I just assumed there was a standard way to raft since every time I've rafted, it's been the same (even in Thailand...so, it's international.))

No. Nothing was standard about this.

I'll give my reasoning first: So many people want to raft down this river, and there aren't enough guides to fill every boat.  Most Asians, bless their hearts, love adventure...but, not extreme.  So, in order to accommodate the thousands that go down the river during the course of one day, they simplify it as best they can.

Observation: although this was a rafting trip, I'm pretty sure I was the only one wearing a swimsuit.  Okay, there were a few overly prepared people in wet suits.  But, I was surprised with the number of people wearing jeans.  Not shorts.  I'm talking to the ankle jeans.  (Asians also have a fear of the sun and extreme trust issues with sunscreen.) 

Exhibit A:

Maybe about an inch of skin is visible on everyone in that raft.

Next, we pick-up the rafts and carry it into the river and despite the scorching hot seats, we sit.  But, there is no guide. (Bummer, because they were dark and attractive...and the last guide in Thailand wanted me to kiss him...which I regretted not doing. ;) YOLO!) Warning sign #3. 

I was about to discover the Asian version of White-Water rafting...

I quickly realized that my cohorts in the raft with me had no idea how to paddle.  Maybe that was something that they mentioned during the instructional portion so, understandable. But, looking around, it was obvious that the message didn't get through...or maybe they weren't speaking Mandarin at all.  Most rafts were basically playing paddle war, clanking paddles together which then progressed quickly into a splash war.  It was a wonder that we were all still going the same direction albeit, we should probably thank the current for that.  I proceeded to give my friends the basics about paddling in a rhythm and about to explain how to paddle when we were literally ramped by a raft.  Literally. ...and you still have no idea what I'm describing.  Remember the guides that are mysteriously missing from our boats?  Well, they are now in rafts all of their own...with motors.  They are speeding all around us, splashing the hundreds of Asians and one Caucasian as we aimlessly paddle wherever the current leads us.  AND, when we get to close to a tricky spot, shore, canyon, rocks, a 'guide' will yank up his boat full throttle and slam right into our rafts.  It's hilarious.  We're just floating along and then we have seconds to duck inside our boat as the boat ramps and lodges itself over our boat to push us into the path with the others. 

This is how we rafted-down the ChicketyCherryCola River.  Oh, it was also a constant splash fest since we really didn't have to use our paddles to actually paddle.  Raft retaliated against raft in the battle of the splash.  Alliances were made and those who didn't fall in because they were caught off guard from splashing and missed the side swipe of the guide's rafts were considered victors.  And new battles commenced.  I felt like I was in 6th grade at the community swimming pool in Flippin, Arkansas (YES, it's a real place) with splash wars where the girls teamed up against the guys and inevitably lost.  I totally redeemed myself today.  Asians were desperately searching for the English words of mercy that they knew...and all quickly learned, that I still don't speak Chinese!

So, yeah.  White-water rafting in Taiwan - a cross between bumper cars, cattle herding, and that epic water fight everyone has when they finish their first year of middle school.

Loved every minute of it.

Taiwan, you are my soul-mate!