Crazy Couch Hoarders in DC

I don't think I have ever promised to keep people updated, because I don't like breaking promises.  But, if you missed it...I just moved to DC.  Well, technically Alexandria, VA but I am hoping to find a job in DC like dog-sitting - preferably Bo, Obama's Portuguese water dog, and then he'll see what a trustworthy and responsible person I am and will ask me to be his new bodyguard (aren't they hiring?).  Gotta have options, guys (that's my only one right now...but, I'm still working on it).

Dude...I live here...well not there, but kind of close!

Anyways.  Moving is a big deal.  You sometimes need stuff (at least toilet paper) but I only had my car so, I filled it up with other life things, decided to buy/borrow toilet paper as needed, and headed across the country.  It was a splendid trip with a brief stop in Knoxville, Tennessee. (Does anyone else think Mississippi and Tennessee had a competition for who could be most repetitive?).  There was a civil war special exhibit and we totally saw Abe Lincoln!  Apparently he was fond of the south? (hmm, my recollection of history must be a little foggy)

If there was a sexiest man alive back in the 1800s, pretty sure Mr. Abe would win...

But, once I finally arrived in the beautiful state of VA, I decided I should probably actually use the room I was renting and somehow acquire the 'essentials' instead of just sleeping on my roommate's couch.

THANK YOU CRAIGSLIST!!  I wish I could tell you about the exciting people I met whilst on my own adventure and the crazy truck rental and the first time where a lack of elevators caused an existential life crisis making me question the reality of life.  But, then you would miss the story about how my roommates and I ended up with 5 couches.

I will preface this by saying, I adore my roommates!  However, one girl will soon be moving and that's sad for so many reasons, one of which (and this is definitely at the bottom of the list) is that she owns both sets of EXTREMELY COMFY cute and cozy cuddling-worthy couches.  (The only reason why I actually got a bed was because her couches would be gone at the end of the month...)

So, since I had rented a big truck to haul stuff, my roommates and I decided to find a couch as well.  AND we did!! (again...we totally hit up craigslist. And for all of you who are judging, your scorn means nothing to me.) It was perfect and fluffy and classy and would make a nice replacement and It was ours!  Until the day of our scheduled pickup when the girl messaged back replying that a misunderstanding caused her roommate to give it away to a friend.  C'est la vie. 

WELL, thankfully there were about 200 trillion other couches (yes - many of them even free).  AND we got busy (this was already past 9:30 pm).  Mostly because we ONLY had the truck for a limited time, so we messaged every couch owner that seemed to be disease-free hoping that we would get at least one perfect stranger whose schedule was conducive to ours and would gladly let us come even at midnight if we had to so that we would have a couch to call our own.  We probably sounded more desperate than we actually were...but it worked.  By 11:30 pm we had an appointment to pick up a couch at 7:15 am.

By 6:30 the next morning (yes, we woke up at 6 am to acquire said couch) we had two additional invitations to retrieve couches from garages and porches.  They weren't the best options, but we wanted something for our guests to sleep on when they come visit! (AND YOU WILL COME VISIT!)

First couch - we had no picture, so we stopped by at 0650 to stalk couch on front porch.  It was red it wouldn't do, so we left it and went further.

Second couch - we committed to pick up at a comfy cozy couch at 0715, although it wasn't our favorite, when it's Free...you take what you can get.  We met a cute little family preparing for their day as their 2 year old daughter, eating cheerios, watched us carry a couch out her front door.  I think even she could tell we were crazy...just walking off with her couch.

Third couch - the picture actually looked nice, so we thought we have 2 couches to replace, we can get 2 couches.  We arrived at the garage at 0820 and notified a man named Al of our presence.  But, upon inspection of the couch, we realized it was just mediocre...and tried to hide our disdain as Al dug through the trash to find the legs (that's totally normal, our disdain was most likely for the couch).  We felt obliged and decided to load it up as well, hoping we could clean it up and hide it in our basement.  At least it came with what looked like a comfy mattress...and maybe after our fairy godmother graced it with a wave of her magic wand, we could invite even more friends to visit!  (So, When are you coming??)

BAHAHA!! Sorry, just ironic...I do need a job, you know... ;)

It was about this time when we were breaking our backs lifting this sucker into our truck (no, Al did not help us, although he did cut us some slabs of wood to put under the sofa, since his efforts at dumpster diving were in vain), that we received a new notification.

Once loaded and enroute back home, I checked and squealed!  Our dream couch, not the first one that stood us up, but an even fancier, bigger - perfect for collecting popcorn kernels, loose change, and random socks - better couch was available for us to pick-up at our convenience.  Wiping the sweat off our brows, my roommate and I looked at each other and agreed that we had to have it.  Surely there were other couch hunters that could relieve us of our surplus.

don't worry, we did not get this couch...

However, we needed room in our truck especially since, the owner of this perfectly plump couch warned us about 27 times that this was heavy and bulky.  BUT, we were experts by now and cast all concern to Canada, where they could use a few more things to worry about now that winter is over...maybe?

0900 we started unloading the previously acquired cushions and couches into our backyard, hopefully hiding them from our neighbors who complain even if we set the trash out 10 minutes early.

It was also that time where the previous 200 trillion couch owners on craigslist started to reply.  GUYS.  We could start our own couch garden.  We were overwhelmed, but knew we had to focus.

1045 ish we rolled into a gated complex (only people who own awesome couches could live there) and found the 3rd floor apartment (yes we were warned, but we had basically just started our own moving company).  I love stairs.  This was one time, where going up was so much more fun than coming down.  OH MY GOSH, another existential crisis ensued as I imagined I was dating superman so he could carry me on the couch down the stairs. Sigh. That is not my life. (yet...)  Once we got half of the couch down stairs...yeah, we are beasts...or just crazy...admittedly, we started with the lightest pieces, we rolled and dragged and pushed all the others out into the balcony to wait until we felt ambitious enough.  But, we didn't.

We were defeated.  The last 2 sectionals were made out of plutonium.  Thus, we went on a search for superman, although even Gaston would suffice at this point.  No lie.  It was a bustling complex with what seemed like a plethora of burly men out ready to work.  After walking around for a couple minutes, we found such man with beautiful eyes, also struggling to retrieve a ginormous deluxe mattress out from a garage.  We approached and brilliantly offered to exchange help for help!  (at this point, we would have just kissed him for help). He benevolently accepted and instantly became our hero.  We walked him over and up as he courageously took on the challenge.  He shall be praised for his determination because after some intense lifting, dragging, pulling, maybe some swearing, and a lot of sweating we succeeded in loading our 3rd couch into our truck.

We also invited him to join our moving company, but since we only had the truck for a few more hours and he was also becoming a renowned sous chef at the one and only Oyamel in DC, we decided instead to enjoy a wonderful Mexican dinner next week, where we can again thank Kevin for his kindness!

SO, our logic, incase you struggle to interpret crazy: we only needed one couch; but our favorite couch didn't become available until we already had two inferior couches in our possession. We weren't trying to become couch hoarders, it just happened in our attempt to obtain the perfect couch.

Okay.  There were definitely more details excluded, but it was definitely an adventure of epic proportions and couches.  Now, we have a couch for each roommate...and still one to share. Hopefully this week someone will be as desperate as we were and come to claim those we can live without...if we can...
MEANWHILE, who is coming to party on our couches?

This post is brought to you by Lysol, Budget Truck Rental, and a nifty red vacuum cleaner.

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.

Running around Armenia

Running

There really isn’t a running culture in Eastern Europe or Eurasia.  And even more rare are female runners.  That’s a reason I get a lot of weird stares…like they think I’m robbing a bank or a spy chasing after some villain, but maybe I lost him?  (seriously, can I be a spy? Putin, if you are reading this…I’m watching you. and yes. that is a tiger.)



Sometimes I do feel like I’m in some survival training as I try to manage the suicidal sidewalks or lack thereof and instead am confronted with the even more dangerous highways as I feel the impact of the electrons of the cars reaching into my personal forcefield to say hi.  Seriously? No one drives on their side of the line anyways, so why do you insist on doing it when a runner is in your lane?



Why do I continue to risk my life for a hobby that only results in shin splints and arthritic knees?  I believe my run in Yerevan will summarize it perfectly.  I will highlight the truths learned on my journey which is less about the calories burned and more about the adventure literally and mentally. (Although, I admittedly run so I don’t feel guilty for consuming catastrophic quantities of chocolate to celebrate office-Friday)



I went running yesterday to my favorite spot in Yerevan.  It was 6 miles, but I could have done more.  Here’s why: with every step I discovered more culture of this beautiful country - some good, some great, some humbling, some annoying.



1.  Sidewalks - even if you can find them, they are uneven, a mess of holes, or turned into a parking lot...for those lazy people who drive cars and can't even stand to walk 2 blocks to actually park their cars.  It's like they forget they have legs or something.

2.  Cancer???  I inhaled so much 2nd-hand smoke, I might need a lung transplant.  (I have to admit, this is one issue that makes me appreciate America with it’s smoke-free restaurants, I can actually have my cake and eat it too…)

3.  People love to hangout.  Walking is a hobby here.  Just going on a stroll with your baby, your boyfriend, your best friends is a typical everyday activity.

4.  GUYS HOLD HANDS!! And they aren’t gay… It’s so cool. 



5.  And girls and guys can’t keep their hands off each other.  PDA can be nauseating.  One couple making out in the park is kind of sweet and cute, but…15…seriously?  Let’s just have a special park for lovers and they can all gather there and tell me so it’s not included on my route.



6.  Guys bring girls flowers.  It’s so adorable passing a couple with the girl carrying a(n obnoxiously) large bouquet of roses or a guy just heading out to meet his date unashamedly carrying a colorful collection of flowers.  Sometimes I’m tempted to stop running… ;)

(AND when there’s a BIG bouquet…they can’t make out until they’ve found a place for the flowers! WE ALL WIN!!!)



7.  It’s not always 'like riding a bicycle'.  Most people don’t learn to ride a bike. BUT, it’s a new fad and it’s awesome running by a reasonably smooth surface (remember how rare those are) seeing so many ADULTS trying to ride a bike for their first time. 

8.  Men will pee anywhere, especially when they are drunk. 

mouth-watering?

9.  Bakeries - America, you don’t know what bread is...and I pity you.
  FACT: bakery fumes are filled with fascinating powers.  I could run 100 miles if every mile there was a bakery.  AND, in Armenia, you don't find a bakery, a bakery finds you.  There are no less than 5 bakeries within a 1-mile radius.  (So, once we stop the cigarettes…I think Armenias will be superheroes!)

10.  Strength; Not my own.  I ran to the genocide memorial.  It has a beautiful park, usually away from smokers and a great view over the city.  It reminds me that Armenians have sacrificed.  They are resilient.  And they are building a stronger future.  I have so much hope for my friends here that inspire me by their kindness and love.  



Dear World,

We study history because otherwise we would forget how stupid people become when they do not remember the past.  It’s a circle really.

But, I do believe the only way we’ll end tragic events like genocide is to remember their history, the pain, the loss, the destruction, and especially the lies that enabled them. And then remember the survivors - their strength, endurance, hope, and sacrifice.



I know this isn’t in my usual blog-style.  But, I am choosing to remember.
And running through Armenia is a good reminder.


update:
3 days later I started a tour of Southern Armenia for work. 
I've been in two small villages with more observations!

I was able to lace up my running shoes (not literally...I'm one of those lazy people who will rarely untie them) in Yeghegnadzor (everytime I try to say it, someone corrects me...I'm pretty sure my mouth was just not meant for this city)  HOWEVER, my feet were!  I was in heaven!!  I found an idyllic country road and got in another 5 miles!  It was perfect!!

SO, my list has to continue:

11.  Running reminds me that there are many different ways to enjoy life!

I ran down and through the valley of Yeghegnadzor!

I passed by strangers, once I found a real road leading back into town, who just stared as if I was a creature from space.  There were maybe two restaurants in town and even the grocery story I visited only sold meat, cheese, and bread.  SO, they are enjoying home cooked meals everyday.  Probably not going out clubbing, concerts, or even the movies (didn't see one of those in town yet either), but they wake up in heaven every morning!

A view from downtown!

It's not dirty...but, that's my underwear...hanging outside your window.

So, my life isn't as glamorous as some may think.  True, I have enjoyed many different cities throughout the world.  But, I think this post will highlight a less-than polished perspective of the mundane moments I have endured whilst traveling.

Inevitably, when you are least prepared the worst happens.  Sometimes it's the inability to prepare (first example) and sometimes it's just optimism (second).

I have travelled extensively for the past few years and I cannot even remember when my checked-luggage was late.  There was that one time I missed my plane to Kyiv and my luggage actually arrived BEFORE I DID.  Let's talk about being betrayed by efficiency.  I had to heckle with customs officers for hours in my broken Ukrainian and their broken English (this was my first trip to UA) in order to finally retrieve it.  There's nothing that beats jet-lag after a ridiculously long international flight, than the first introduction to Ukrainian bathrooms and 'card-board' toilet paper, OR the arbitrary lines formed in post-soviet countries to avoid waiting but instead become an endless maze that even the most skillful navigator who upon reaching the surface will find that the 'exit' is temporarily closed whilst the passport officer has his/her 15-min bathroom break, OR an over-bearing 'welcome' from an unhappy and corrupt customs worker who I now realize probably made me wait for hours thinking he could get a bribe out of the new American whose luggage was sitting just behind his desk wrapped in cellophane. What he didn't count on was my extreme naivety.  (that was then...now, $10 otta do it...or increase by $5s...oh, and it's called a "tip" not a bribe.) Yeah, thanks to Ukraine, I grew up fast.  That was just the first day but it didn't tarnish my trip too much since I keep going back!

And now that brings us to present day.  Only slightly reversed.

Usually for a long trip, I'll sufficiently pack a carry-on with all the essentials.  But, my optimism and excitement for a 14-hour layover in Vienna made me disregard all travel-blogs as I thought about enjoying Strudel and a concert in Mozart's flirtatious city.

Hello, Vienna! Took this picture of the Riesenrad while biking through Leopoldstadt.

I could store a bag in a locker, but really? When was the last time I didn't get my luggage?  (Actually, I remember now...Ukraine 2 years ago...had a nice "tip" to pay when it was finally found...But, I certainly didn't remember that with visions of Vienna circulating throughout my head).  Therefore, I 'threw all caution to the wind' as I optimistically packed my magical Thai sling-bag with travel size toothpaste, makeup, water-bottle, i-pad, an umbrella (because I at least headed the advice of the weather man...WHO WAS WRONG.  Go figure. Try to be prepared and it's useless. Don't prepare and armageddon starts.)  and my running shoes (yes, I cannot bear to not have them for one day...and yes, I will run in 100 COUNTRIES before I die.  Unless I die prematurely...in that case, please see my funeral instructions for details: Amy's Funeral Pyre), and of course the necessary clothing allowance.  (Thai sling-bags are essentially the precursor to the carpet-bag, which the charming Marry Poppins transcendentally flaunted for the entire-world to revere.)

The fact that my trip to Vienna, which this post will not portray, was practically perfect, made the particular coincidence on this said occasion of which my luggage got stuck in Vienna -  despite the 17 hours in which a semi-observant person working for Vienna airlines could have figured out what to do with 2 abandoned black bags - only a minor nuisance and not the supreme tragedy it could have been.  Although, the 2 hours it took after arriving at 3:30 am in Yerevan to locate my lost luggage was slightly irritating (irritation caused from sleep-deprivation mostly and REMEMBER THOSE ARBITRARY POST-SOVIET LINES...yeah, those came in to play again.)

More Vienna...I think the church has re-branded itself.
I didn't know H&M was Catholic?
History Lesson: This church was constructed to honor the survival of Franz Joseph
from a knife-attack...how many assassins did these emperors endure before WWI?

Assured my luggage would most-likely arrive the next day, I made it to my apartment and slept a few hours before going to work.  That was Wednesday.  Luggage was promised to be delivered on Thursday.  And, I had a recruitment trip on Friday.  With only one spare change of clothes (one of which was strictly for exercise and a cultural faux pas to wear anywhere in Eastern Europe or Eurasia for anything else but exercising...yes, American college students, you don't actually have to wear gym clothes to class...in fact you may be shunned if you do.) I prudently decided to do some laundry.  Yes, it was in my sink...but, when living in hotels across Eastern Europe doesn't come without learning a few tricks.  Especially since laundry-mats are a novelty and as rare as the truth in a Kremlin media-release. 

That is where this story reaches it's apparent climax.  My apartment is situated on the 10th floor close to Yerevan's center.  My windows look out over a busy street, with stunning views of the opera house, Soviet-Mother Armenia, the Ferris wheel all lit up at night, and the Cascades.  It is out one of those windows that I hung, evidently not so securely, my laundry to dry for the night.  Waking up at an unquestionably early hour whether from my body trying to familiarize itself with it's new time-zone or an illuminating realization that my underwear was hanging outside a 10-story window, I felt I should be concerned.  Now, it wasn't torrential and I wasn't ashamed of lining up bras and socks to drip-dry, but even a slight sigh at 10-stories is enough to whip a pigeon in circles.  I rushed to my window to rescue my laundry!  The breezy-morning had taken its toll but I was able to retrieve all but the most pertinent part to every-day attire...you know...the underthing...undies...my loin cloth.

Yeah, it was gone...but, in the radiant light of the sunrise I spotted it precariously perched on my 9th-floor neighbors line.  Watching in disbelief, wishing for one arm to be 9 feet longer, I waited for another gust of wind to come along and take them all the way down so I could at least run down to the street to pick them up off the side-walk.  I was not about to introduce myself to my neighbors in broken Russian and have to explain what my underwear was doing on their balcony.  But, I'm still waiting.

Yerevan!

Oh, and Happy Independence Day, Armenia!!

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!

Never accept gifts from a Taiwanese grandma!

So, I've been meaning to post...but, I have so many crazy stories I don't know where to begin.  Therefore, I will carpe diem and write about it.  Literally...today. July 14, 2014.  I know some of you might be disappointed and want to read about adventures petting Tigers in Thailand or diving in the reefs at Kho Tao...but...I'll seize that some other day.

Sundays are by far my most favorite days for so many reasons.  Church, Covenants, Friends, and Mormons are kind of awesome! Basically spending the day with 100+ of the coolest people in Hualien (or wherever I happen to be)  = happiness!

Here's what happened today.

After church, I've been volunteering as a piano teacher to anyone who has fingers and desire (not that you have to have fingers to play, but I told them that is all they needed to come, but I could make adaptations. So far everyone has fingers...although I have to remind many of them that the thumb counts as a finger as well!).  I've had Asian students before, but this was a group class and most of them don't speak English so it's 10x as fun!  I'm super impressed with what they have accomplished!  Many can already play a few simplified hymns and others are learning a few simplified arrangements of the classics (Western pieces). 

My Taiwanese grandma has also been attending lessons.  She doesn't always look at the music and plays a lot of the time by ear.  So, although she might be in the wrong key, she totally gets something.  However, she hates scales (she's one who refuses to use her thumbs...or really any more than 4 fingers to play (both hands)).  After 2 weeks of encouraging them to play a few simple scales, and her futile protests, she humbly led me downstairs to present me a gift (It was a black skirt); this time it was my time to protest.  But, you see...she's a grandma...and grandmas always get their way.  There's also this thing called a 'language barrier' and suddenly I'm back in Bulgaria where 'no' means 'yes' and 'yes' means 'no'.  (An effective strategy to deal with an invasion by the Ottomans as well as young reluctant piano teachers who just want you to practice scales.  Is this a bribe?)

Before I continue, let me introduce you to Grandma Si Do (Yeah, we use solfege ;) )

From my very first week, this sweet little lady would give me big hugs after church and tell me "I love you", basically the only English she knows.  Even without translators, it's obvious this lady is smart, kind, full of love, life, and happiness!  Typical to grandma form, she's superwoman.  I've hiked with her on our church children's hike, and she basically does what she wants.  The very next Sunday after this awkward gift exchange, she snuck me down stairs in between classes to where the children were having snack time.  (I HAD NO IDEA THEY DID THIS!)  She just walked up to the teachers, flashed them a smile, grabbed some guava and a handful of lychee and shared them with me.  I'm pretty sure she does this every week.

The next week, she again sneaks me downstairs.  This time I had sought advice, and was told the best thing to do was just accept and be grateful.  It was her ability to give that brought her happiness -  another reason why I love this sweet grandma!  But, It is possible that she worked for the Taiwanese Secret Service, because there is something mysterious about the whole process: she keeps putting her index finger up to her lips, checks the halls to see that no one is watching, and hides in the 'closet' when presenting me with a bag, then signals for me to hide it...almost like a drug deal...but we are in church...and I'm given a massive bag of 2nd-hand clothes.  The bag was full of pretty eclectic tops that all reminded me of my grandma back in Arkansas and her passion for thrift stores. 

I modeled a few:

Well, a few weeks passed, I went to Hong Kong, Thailand, Cambodia, and Taipei.  It took about another week to get the piano class back into the routine of things.  However, today after church she came up to me with this sly look on her face and flashed an even bigger smile when she hugged me.    Immediately I was the center of a plot to forever seal my fate and destiny to the island of Taiwan. Grandma Si Do seized the day to propose on behalf of her son, whom I have never met.  She proceeded to arrange my next week with dinners, rides to her house, and details of how strong, attractive, hard-working [insert every other amiable quality to be desired in a man here] her son is. 

I was sitting next to my friend, Apple who spoke English.  I feel like it is also pertinent that this was precious Apple's first day attending church and has now become the translator of an arranged Mormon wedding.

I managed to escape briefly by retreating to the Bishop's office.  But, I was found again and thankfully there were nice Elders willing to translate and finalize the details of our wedding...in an hour after our piano class. (Can this get any more awkward?)

She tried to make light of the fact that he didn't show up by inviting me over for dinner and giving me a banana.  But, now that this guy has already stood up his betrothed at the altar (aka piano bench), I'm not sure if can give him even a first chance.  I mean, I guess if he has a really cool name like Earnest. (Who's gonna get that reference? And yes, I don't even know his name. Romantic?)

The good news:
I have a skirt...and some pretty classy clothes that can substitute for a wedding dress. 
I'm deciding between either Fluffy Sparkly - Blue Sweater or Shoulder Pads and Hidden Buttons - Red Blazer.  Your votes count.

AND SERIOUSLY. 

Happy Mother's Day!!

I am taking a brief respite of posts about Taiwan to share why this day is so meaningful to me. I am not a mother nor is my mother alive, but that does not stop me to appreciate all the great things that mothers do in this world and to give thanks for the inspiring surrogate mothers that taught me the basics of life: from the importance of deodorant to putting on makeup in 5 minutes and especially to have confidence in who I am. These women have taught me to serve, to teach, to have fun and to appreciate the calling of a woman!

First, the real surrogate: Grandma Thompson This woman is a rock. She rarely changes her mind and it’s usually because she’s right; she is loaded with experience. She was born in 1930 and worked harder than her 2 brothers on the family farm. And she had to work hard, she learned to walk and to run during the onset of the great depression. This wonderful woman later had 10 kids. Now, do you think she worked hard? But, if birthing 10 babies isn’t enough for society, she also was quite successful at her job which rewarded her with trips to exotic places such as Jerusalem and Hawaii. envious? And, just when she thought she could finally relax and move to the peaceful state of retirement away from the crazy wintery-ness of the north - she was asked to be the guardian for 3 more crazy children all less than 5 years of age.

I think the curtains say it all.

She tells me she has no regrets and for that I am thankful. She found other part-time jobs and ‘til this day she still volunteers regularly and can be found picking strawberries for a local farm or at a thrift store to support the disabled. She will be 84 this year. This dear mother, has been mothering for over 60 years. She isn’t perfect, but what mother is. She has taught me to value hard work, not give up, and to courageously accept the trials in my life. Like any good mother she has believed in me and supported me at all my concerts, competitions, and even helped me move 4 times (in her 70s and 80s - she’s seriously superwoman). She patiently listened to me figure out the piano and endured the squeaky years of the clarinet. She bravely watched on as I twirled fire batons and took my first solo international trip to Europe (I was 17). She kind of figured out the computer, at least enough to send me e-mails during my 18-month mission in Ukraine; and although they are short and simple, she reminds me that life is short and it’s the simple things that give us joy. Her faith is solid and her prayers are usually answered miraculously! I am thankful for all that she sacrificed to be a mom!

Second, The grandma who taught/is teaching me to enjoy life: Grandma Murphy This woman has some great stories from pretending she was adept at skiing on her first date with grandpa (she had him convinced! and it coincidentally was her first time to ski), to snowmobiling through the parks of Minnesota. She has been young in heart since I can remember visiting cabins in the summer, learning to fish off the pontoons, and riding with her on jet-skis until I was finally old enough to go myself! She also came from a generation where working hard in any profession was an achievement, from nursing to climbing the ladder at one of the Twin Cities most prestigious news papers, in my eyes she has achieved success professionally and as a mother. In fact, she didn’t start her maternity leave from work when she was pregnant with my father until the day she went into labor. I’m sure that was comfortable. How many other times do mothers sacrifice their own comforts for their children?? (Because the stretchmarks from 9 months of a baby growing inside of you really isn’t a big deal not to mention the other puzzle of getting it out). Although I only spent a few weeks every year with her, we always had fun!! From checking out the newest movie with Leonardo DiCaprio, to shopping trips, to swimming on the beach. Even now she shows interest in my interests which (excluding Leonardo DiCaprio) have evolved as I have discovered myself. AND what great grandma takes their great granddaughter out on the jetski? This one!

She still has the spirit of adventure as she’s zip-lined over rainforests in Mexico and gets out on the snowmobile after the yards of snow from a Polar Vortex! I won’t tell you her age, because it’s just a number she certainly doesn’t look or act! She has taught me to live life without regrets!! And I have learned from her that making memories is more important than making money. I’ve realized I’m a lot more like her than I realized! Well, I can’t ski (yet). She’s been a great support and encourages me as well as her other grandchildren! She also has inspired me as she served her husband who battled cancer for over 6 years. She suffered with him, and labored with love to provide him the comfort and nourishment he needed. When he passed last year, she has courageously found strength to keep finding joy in life and share it with those around her.

Third, my step mom, Jackie!! She is a fun, inspiring, hard-working, and super strong woman!  Seriously, she's probably superwoman.  I have learned so much from her over the years and I am so thankful for her friendship & support!  She has been a wonderful wife to my father and a great example to his 3 kids!  And pretty sure no one would believe me when I tell you about the adventures she has done.  She's brave, hardcore, and totally classy!

I am thankful that she has shared her spirit of adventure with me and has even brought me along on a couple! ...And was always there to make sure I was prepared for whatever challenges were ahead.  I love her cooking and as a woman, she definitely showed me that there were no limitations as she has completed challenging races up mountains.  Did I tell you she was hardcore?  She's stronger than any man I know.  An engineer by trade should tell you how smart she is.  And, she is also loads of fun.

                       

Finally, my best friend, my anchor, and the woman who has been there for me since even before our DNA formed together in the womb: my twin sister. Some people who know us might wonder if we are friends at all; they know that we can drive each other crazy. But, in reality my sister is the window to my soul. I rely on her when I have doubts, when I lack confidence, when I’m struggling to figure out my life (that’s pretty much always) and she selflessly listens and encourages me. I can helplessly dump my burdens at her feet when she is struggling to sift through her own and she carefully sorts through them with me and gives me the strength to carry on. I’ve seen her become a mother and experience the joy, the exhaustion, the surprise, the frustration, the pain, and the recognition that she is doing something greater than herself. She inspires me as she has sacrificed EVERYTHING for her children; her career in order to stay at home to teach Evelyn to write, read, and even play piano, her interests for those of children’s books, glittery crafts (that usually end with more glitter dumped on the floor than on the project), and the dreaded barbie movie she’s probably seen 297 trillion times, and her body as she has endured two pregnancies and births without anesthetics, nursed two tricky babies with lip-ties making it painful and tedious, and all the exhaustion that comes with raising, entertaining, feeding, and loving two children. She has sacrificed her life in order to teach her children that they are loved, that they have a purpose, and that they are special. I know she feels inadequate, I know she feels imperfect and I know she struggles to see the fruit of her efforts, but she inspires me and I am humbled and speechless at the mission she is fulfilling. There are really no words to describe my admiration for her. I would have fallen apart without my sister.

Yes, I am sleeping on her butt.
And yes, we are both too lazy to take off our glasses.
(In my defense, I was in denial that I would actually fall asleep. 
But, when you have a butt as a pillow...)

that’s her husband on the left…
who is really the 3rd wheel?

She has planned a wedding, discovered the mysteries of pregnancy and child bearing, and has fought through the challenges of life independently without a mother to guide her. She has overcome so much and has taught me the power of endurance and strength. Although she has struggled with physical problems since birth, she is one of the strongest woman I know. I am so grateful we kind of look a like and have the same DNA. Being a twin is a blessing from God.

we went through a phase...

Fourth, the many women who taught me, encouraged me, motivated me, and led me: my church leaders, teachers, family, and friends! I lost my mom when I was 11. So, this day should suck. And sometimes it does; that feeling of longing or what ifs is always imminent. BUT, I have been super blessed with wonderful women and surrogate mother’s in my life that make me grateful. These were women who loved and cared, because it was their tendency regardless if I was family or not. The many mothers I have met surely feel that they fall short from day to day, but I hope you know that your contributions are valued and important and essential to the progress of society. I admire every mother! Although I only had my mother for 11 years of my life I learned from her that you do not have to be a perfect mother to be cherished by your children. There will be bumps in the road. But, mothers are Saints. Mothers are angels. I’m still learning lessons from my mother as I strive to live a life that would make her proud. I am thankful that I know she loves me and I am even more thankful for the hope that I’ll see her again. Mothers are eternal!!


Happy Mother’s Day!!


One of my favorite messages to mothers: “Because, She is a Mother” - Elder Holland

(I encourage you to read the entire transcript!)

and if you really want to be inspired: http://motherhood.mormon.org/?cid=HPTH050814094

#itwasmom

Okay, I do have to mention how we celebrated it here in Taiwan!!
Here are some of the projects I did with the kids: I took their pictures for a flowery Mother's Day Card!

He just happens to be a twin. 

And them made cards, crafts, and crazies
and glued their pictures inside!

These kids are 4 & 5 and writing! They obviously have great mothers!!