Hair Menu

What happened:
The other day I decided to get my hair cut. It was a spur of the moment decision. I noticed that the BYU barbershop had a new sign and it looked pretty good. When I went in and took a number, they called me to sit down right away. No wait time; it was great. I sat down and the lady asked me what I wanted her to do with my hair. I never know the answer to this question. When you grow up with flowbee haircuts, you don't realize all the options you have when you get your haircut. I didn't want to waste her time as I sat thinking about the flowbee, so quickly I told her to use a 2 on the sides and then to just trim the top. She cut my hair, I paid, and left.

What should have happened:
The other day I decided to get my hair cut. It was a spur of the moment decistion. I noticed that the BYU barbershop had a new sign and it looked pretty good. When I went in and took a number, they called me to sit down right away. No wait time; it was great. I sat down and the lady gave me the hair menu. I looked at my options and asked, "Does anyone really ever ask for the Donald Trump Deluxe?"
The lady replied, "Only Donald Trump, he got his haircut here when he ran away from the New York Military Academy for a couple of weeks."
"I guess that's one monopoly that nobody will file a lawsuit over." I said, "Anyway, I want a number 3."
She asked if I wanted to upgrade my order with a hair wash and gel. I didn't want that. She gave me the number 3, I paid, and left.

Buffalo Jerky

Today I was offered some buffalo jerky. It looked a lot like something that I like to call hair meat. When I was in Taiwan, I was introduced to hair meat. It was all over the place. Stores sold hair meat on every corner and it was even hiding out in sandwiches waiting to catch people unawares (that’s how I found out how it tasted). I must say that hair meat is one of mankind’s blunders. It defies everything that is holy on this earth. Not only does the taste offend, the texture resembles the small slivers of wood you get from chewing on a toothpick for too long. I imagine that during the millennium, hair meat will be eradicated from this planet.
Buffalo jerky is pretty good.

Here goes...

Once in a great while we find ourselves looking towards the future with wonder. Will the day come that ice cream won't cause great pain? Or a day when dogs don't bark? Will there be a day when roommate doesn't sleep in his Halloween costume?
I don't know if I am the only one who has pondered these questions. They say our trials are good for us~~~whoa, what's happening...?

[time warp to sometime in the future]

When the news showed the announcement that Google had purchased the dairy industry--that's right, the entire industry--it made no sense. I knew their goal had been to control all of the data in the world, but I didn't know how this fit into their business plan. Over the next few months, I saw the birth of G-desserts and G-milk made from their very own upgraded versions of G-cows.

I refrained from trying these new(?) products because I learned several years previously that I had better health when I stayed away from these things. However, the world quickly became engrossed in the G-lact line--especially among Chinese mothers because G-milk didn't give babies kidney stones.

G-milk became much more popular than milk ever was. Nobody even asked 'got milk?' anymore. Everyone already knew the answer. It was soon discovered by a lactose-intolerant scientist that G-milk did not do a body good after trying to give some to his dogs. His dogs never drank G-milk, they just barked at it. People began asking what was in G-lact products that made them taste so awesome. These ingredients were discovered and found to cause addiction in 75% of users.

This was the beginning of the end of Google. After the company failed, it was finally admitted that Google not only wanted to control what went into our heads, they also wanted to control what went into our stomachs. G-milk was only the beginning of their plans.

The next night I saw roommate and found out that he got rid of his Halloween costume after spilling G-milk all over it. I guess that ~~~whoa, this again...?

[time warp back to the present]

Wow, that was weird. I suppose we never know when our trials are blessings. I don't really need to worry about getting addicted to dairy products designed to control my actions. But possibly some things will never be understood--I guess its possible that roommate had different dreams when he slept dressed up as Zorro.

Red Jello

And it came to pass that on the 13th day of the 10th month of the two hundred and thirty second year of the reign of the constitution...ish a memory was brought back to my remembrance.
2 For I had been working diligently in the office of Dialogue Marketing when my elder brother did say that he felt strange. This brought to my remembrance the following:
3 As I was in the third year of my studies in the division of schooling called high, I was invited by my beloved brethren in Calculus to endeavor to run on the cross-country team.
4 And verily, I said unto them, yea.
5 And on the first day of running, they did decide to run to the next city, yea, which was a distance of six miles.
6 And behold, we did commence our journey at the school called high, yea, and I did quickly fall behind.
7 And when I could no longer see them in the horizon, I did wheeze a great wheeze.
8 As I was thus under this influence which held me breathless, yea, at this moment of great alarm, I saw red, yea, everything did have a red color applied to it. My legs also did begin to feel like rubber.
9 It no sooner happened than I found myself understanding what it would be like to be red jello.
10 Nevertheless, my thoughts did speak unto me, saying: Thou art not yet as jell0; thy friends do not slurp thee, neither charge thee with tasty fruits, as they do jello.

Easter!? Revisited

Due to much demand from certain people...mainly me, I will divulge one of my dearest Easter memories--brought back to me by the scent of marshmallow peeps.
I must have been about four years old when I had my first Easter egg hunt experience. With six kids running around like hotdogs without buns, I suppose it was only a matter of time before my dad decided that we needed a structured activity. He told us that we would have an Easter egg hunt and that he had hidden exactly six jellybeans for us. That's right, one for each of us. Since I am the youngest and quite possilbly the most lethargic--I couldn't find my jellybean. My older siblings had found the easiest ones so the most difficult one to find was mine. After much tedious searching and a little help from one of my brothers, I finally encountered what I had been searching for--the most delicious Easter jellybean to ever be confectioned. It was a triumph--however it was not my first, for I had already mastered the loo.

Easter??

This semester I have class at 8 every morning. I live south of campus and on my way to class I pass many apartment complexes. A lot of people have 8 o'clock classes. Each of them get showered, get dressed and leave. A few days ago, as I was walking to class, I saw a girl leave her apartment. She was about 20 feet in front of me. All of the sudden, memories of past Easters flashed through my mind. Huh? Needless to say, I was confused. Then I realized that the girl in front of me smelled like marshmallow peeps...from twenty feet away.
I have smelled plenty of strange people on my way to class in the mornings. New smells are created once I get to campus. People are closer together and their showering smells, cologne smells and whatever else there may be all mix together. I suppose its better than pheromones.

True Story...kind of.

Recently I had the novel opportunity to explore the vast regions of space. I had the choice of the visitation of the planet of my choice and also a ten-dollar certificate to Starbucks. Contemplating on this mind-blowing choice, I thought of Saturn. What do we know about Saturn? I definitely didn’t know a thing. I promptly returned my request to the prize agency and they accepted graciously.
They informed me of the departure date and I prepared anxiously. When the determined date came, I got up at sunrise to put everything in order. Upon arriving at Cape Canaveral, I saw the subtle name of the space shuttle, Big Bertha. The only other people there were the pilots of the colossal machine. I yelled, “Yo…space cowboy. Where do I put my luggage?” Chester, the pilot, pointed to the loading station right under the huge sign that said, “Put your luggage here,” while Gilroy, the co-pilot, snickered. I felt tremendously inadequate next to these rocket scientists, as you can probably imagine.
The shuttle was entirely different than my expectations. I had the notion that it would be filled with delicate, highly technological equipment. Boy was I wrong! It was mostly made of tin foil and duct tape. But science was on our side. The tin foil might be some extraordinarily expensive metal alloy like titanium. No matter what it was, I called it foilium. The duct tape could be an astonishingly sticky strip of unknown material. Wait!! That is duct tape.
We had been in space for a couple of measly hours when the pilots decided to give me a crash course lesson on space flight. I thought it was great but little did I know: they secretly wanted me to be the designated driver that night when they had their space party. As astronauts they weren’t allowed to drink alcohol, but they said that was and Earth law. We weren’t on Earth, so the rules don’t apply.
The next morning Gilroy woke up with a frightening hangover lying on top of Chester. He slowly looked around and realized where he was. He was in an escape pod headed for Earth. I had strategically placed them there when it dawned on me, I didn’t need them! They taught me how to direct this multi-million dollar hunk of household products.
I skillfully landed on the planet Saturn with ease. I swiftly found a motel to plug in my oversized RV. Finally, I had that task completed and then became cognizant of what I just did. I had just found a dumpy motel on Saturn! I tried to think of what the receptionist looked like. My mouth dropped open. I ran back to make sure. Yep, it was Elvis. I called out, “You’re still alive?” He sang, “uh-uh-huh,” in his savvy singing voice we all have heard.
This was way too eerie, so I had to get out of there. Although I did hesitate for a short time long enough to get his autograph and ask him how things were going. I launched into outer space once more on my journey home. I recalled all the memories I had made on this trip: learning to navigate the space shuttle, talking with Elvis, and watching Chester and Gilroy hurl in zero gravity. Ah… it was fun, but just like this story, all things must come to an end.

Hungry Boy Revisited

For those of you who are just starting to read my blog, please read about hungry boy in the post called ‘Hunger’ down below before continuing with this post.
My second to last day in Taiwan was pretty good. I went swimming in a cool river, saw a fun waterfall, and little did I know—I was going to eat dinner with the hungry boy…and the rest of the branch. When I saw the hungry boy, my eyes lit up just like his do when he sees food. Now I know a portion of what he feels towards food. But not nearly the portion that he knows.
As soon as the prayer was said, he was the first person to start eating. As he looked over the table filled with all sorts of dishes, his joy was so great that he used just enough energy to smile—not without great effort of course. Since there was a returned return missionary visiting at the time, she showed a video apparently made for her wedding several months earlier. By this time, I was done eating already even though I hadn’t had lunch. When the video started, everyone stopped eating and started to watch the video. Everyone…except hungry boy. I watched him for the next several minutes. He didn’t even stop eating long enough to look up at the video the entire time.
Much later, other people had come by for dinner and were eating. Everyone that had been there from the beginning was done eating. Everyone…except hungry boy. He scooped the food into his mouth with his chopsticks so fluidly and methodically. It was mesmerizing. His mother told him that he should at least take a break. He replied that he had taken a break, a five minute break, and he was hungry again.
At the end, when everyone was leaving, Rita saw that nobody had taken the dessert that she had brought from Tainan where she was visiting some friends. She quickly went around telling people to take some. I noticed that everyone hesitated before taking some. Everyone…except…well, you probably know by now.
I suppose that if he is hungry after five minutes, then it really might be quite a feat to fast for an entire hour. Let’s just make it clear that I don’t want to walk a mile in his shoes.

Unexpectedness

One afternoon after spending time with a 5 five year old, I grabbed the bike and was about to leave. Little did I know—it wasn’t going to be that easy. A middle/upper aged woman asked me a question. I was in a hurry and was caught unawares so immediately I said that I don’t speak Chinese. That didn’t stop her. She said that I was very handsome and asked if I was twenty. I said that I was 22. She asked if I was American or Canadian. I responded that I was an American. She asked what I was doing in Taiwan. I said that I was here to have fun. She found out that I had only been here for less than two months and couldn’t believe it. She said my Chinese was very good. She asked me if I had a girlfriend. This question brought back memories from my mission. So many snakes would ask this same type of question. I shrugged it off because I didn’t think an old lady would hit on me. I told her I do have a girlfriend. She told me that her daughter married an American from Tennessee. Then the whopper came—she asked me out to dinner. A woman old enough to be my mother was hitting on me!!! I told her that I couldn’t. Finally, she said goodbye and cackled as she rode away on her bicycle. It was the most unexpected experience I could have had that day.

Ping Pong

Ping pong is inseparable from asian culture. I had always believed that to be true but didn’t realize what that entailed. I suppose the only way I really could find out was by playing with an asian in an asian country—with someone who hadn’t been adulterated with American culture. Believe it or not, I have had this opportunity and would like to share some of my thoughts on the subject.
People in Asia practice with machines—just like in tennis. (pictured below) I practiced with a man named Greg. Ping pong is more than a game when people train with machines. They practice ping pong almost as much as the average American spends on the sofa watching endless hours of ‘prime time’ television. Never mind, that can’t be true. Only Americans have that much time.



As you can see in the picture, they start at a young age in their training to become ping pong masters.

People in Asia have names for each type of hit—whether it has a spin, what kind of spin, what direction the ball was hit to, what direction the ball was hit from. It’s like the Eskimos and the twelve words they have for snow. While I was playing with an asian, he kept telling me something in Taiwanese that sounded like do da ha. I couldn’t figure out what the ha was let alone how to do it.
The person I played first was a retired ping pong master. He hadn’t played in about four years. That was good because it has been about four years since my ping pong glory days in high school. As we began playing, we were both a little rusty. After a while, he had missed a few slams and took his sandals off. Everyone’s jaw dropped. He really meant business. Well, several minutes later, after I had missed a few shots and I took off my flip-flops. The crowd went wild. Really, all seven of them. I lost in the end but I am happy to say I held my ground for quite some time. Its just something in their genes. Asians have uncanny ping pong skills. In the United States, football players are the jocks. You can see where this is going. In Asia, Ping pong champs are heroes.

Southernmost Point

We set out on a journey to the southernmost part of Taiwan. It was a treacherous journey on a motorized scooter. Finally we arrived at the following sign and had to walk from there.






I thought, “Oh no!! 500 miles!!!!” as we started on the path. Taiwanese miles sure are short. It only took about 5 to 10 minutes to walk 500 m. When we arrived at the platform with the following sign, I noticed that we weren’t at the very tip. There was still land.

So I jumped down from the platform (it must have been at least 2 Taiwanese miles down) and made the final journey to the tip of Taiwan as pictured below.

It was a long and arduous adventure, but alas, victory was inevitable.

Hunger

I had the fine opportunity to go on a campout with the branch I have been going to here in Taiwan. There was a boy about 10 years old that I shall never forget. The first night, a group of people were sitting and relaxing. He was sitting in the circle but had a dazed look on his face. Everyone kept asking him if he was hungry. His mom had already told him that he couldn’t have anymore food and that he had eaten enough. However, that didn’t stop some of the members from getting him some food. Every time they offered him more food, he took it while he shoveled more food into his mouth. He was eating so much!! Finally, his mom came by and yelled at him. In the middle of the night, some of the young men were making some noodles. The hungry boy was being guarded by his dad. He kept moaning about how he saw them making the food and now he was hungry. He tried to convince his dad that he could eat because there were vegetables in the food too. He was asked what he did on fast Sundays. He didn’t want to talk about that. But he eventually confessed that his fasting record was indeed 1 hour.
The next morning, he couldn’t wait to have breakfast. Some people were playing cards as they waited for breakfast to be made. He was sitting with them but his eyes were glazed over again. Finally, when breakfast was ready, his eyes lit up and he was so happy. He ate and ate and then he hid himself to eat some more so his parents wouldn’t see him.
Later in the day, a sister went up to him, started rubbing his belly and said, “西瓜甜不甜?” which means, “Is the watermelon sweet?” It was the funniest thing I ever understood in Chinese.
Never shall I forget the Taiwanese watermelon-stomached hungry boy.

Karaoke

I was invited by a family I met in Chaozhou to go with them to an island off the south-western coast of Taiwan. I thought it might be fun and exciting. We took a cool boat to get to the island. It was a small passenger boat and about four people threw up because they got sea-sick. A friend of the family that invited me worked for the government and had some official business on the island. Therefore, we all ate lunch with the mayor. I never would have thought that one day I would grow up to eat lunch with a mayor of a small island off the coast of Taiwan. He told me that he wanted me to meet one of his daughters who was a student in the US somewhere. He said that if I married her, he wouldn’t have to sell his blood anymore for her schooling. He thought he was pretty funny. I said, “no can do, bub”. He told me to have some beer. I politely refused and said that I would drink water. He kept asking and said that if I drank beer, everything would be free. If I drank anything else, I would pay for everything. Again I told him that water is what I wanted. By then he was bored with the conversation and started talking with the other people at the table.

We only had one scooter with us so we needed to do something about that. The mayor (prefect might be a better word) offered a scooter. It was an electric scooter and they said it was great. Well, the electric scooter only went about 10 km/h. 10!! It was a rainy day and so we couldn’t go to see much. The family was going to stay overnight on the island and I was going back with the government guys. Every time I saw them, they were drinking. The last boat left at about 5 o’clock and at about 4 I was already waiting to go. With the rain there was nothing I could do. We went to find the guy I was going back with and he was in a bar singing karaoke. So I went to wait. They wanted me to sing a song. Finally I thought, “what the heck, they are all drunk anyway.” I sang a couple of songs. They had about ten songs in English. I didn’t really know the songs but I figured it didn’t really matter.

When I got to Taiwan, I got a lot of tourist brochures to find out what things were must dos and must sees. I never found the one that said sing karaoke with drunk government employees.

But then there was the drive home. After we took the boat back we got in the car and the guy drove like a maniac. He drove like a Brazilian taxi driver. He broke pretty much every traffic law I know.

I guess it was a pretty rare experience. At least I got some squid jerky out of the deal.

Typhoon action

One weekend I went to a national park called Kending. It was a magical place with blue skies, beaches and …me! We arrived on Friday and had dinner in a very fancy restaurant--it’s amazing what can happen with coupons. It was an all you can eat place. You can believe it--a fancy all you can eat place. Yiru and I didn’t waste any time. He ate with a purpose. I ate with a fork. The next day we were going to go to the beach. I was so excited because I hadn’t been to a beach to swim in many years. I got in the water and three minutes later, everyone was called out of the water because of a typhoon warning. Boy was I disappointed. It was like teasing a fat kid with a piece of licorice. With nothing else to do we started on our way back to Chaozhou. It wasn’t long before the cloudless sky turned into a raging tempest. As cars went by we were splashed with huge amounts of water. No, we weren’t in a car, we were on a scooter. But it actually felt as if we were in a water park. The water came from everywhere. It came from above, below and from the sides. It actually felt pretty good when the water was warmed on the street and then gushed onto us by passing traffic. I am not sure if it is an achievement or punishment to have driven 100 km on a scooter in a typhoon. I think I like not knowing.

Compliments

The people of Taiwan are very nice. It seems as if they are a little more open than their American counterparts--especially the men. Waiting in a scooter-shop the repairman checking the scooter out looked at me and said, “you have a very beautiful nose.” I didn’t know what to say so I said thank you, what else could I say. I looked at his nose and considered saying, “you have a beautiful nose too.” But then I thought about what was going through my head and stopped myself. Besides, his nose really wasn’t anything special.

At church, an old man came up to me in the hallway and looked at me—so I shook his hand. He said, “Wow, very handsome. Very handsome” and walked away happily.

A young boy, probably eleven, peeked on me while I was sleeping on a campout the branch had put on. The next day he said I looked very cute while I slept-not like his mom or his dad.

Well anyway, It sure is strange getting these kinds of compliments, then I realized all of them came from the male side of the species. Wow. Right when I realized this, the young boy walked by. All the times he had tried to hold my hand flashed in my head. I thought, oh no, I don’t want to be the guy that turned an 11 year old Taiwanese boy gay.

7 Eleven

As the plane landed in Taiwan my brain was in my stomach and I wondered what marvelous thing I would eat first in Taiwan. I left the airport in a bus and couldn't wait to get off and eat the cuisine of Taiwan. Looking out the window, I noticed a recurring theme on each block...7 Eleven stores. They were everywhere!!! I saw more 7 Eleven stores than I dreamed was ever possible. We got of the bus and Rita went to get something for us to eat. When she came back with food, I saw on the label -- 7 Eleven. Wow. I never, never would have guessed my first meal in Taiwan would come from a convenience store that began in Texas.