Confusion Says

A good deal of my time here is spent in confusion. More than I would like to admit, certainly at the time it occurs. But it seems that each week (if not each day) brings clarification to something I had previously thought I understood. During orientation, the state of Taiwanese education perplexed me--just how many students do go to college? At the beginning of the spring semester, I learned that we would be moving into the newly-constructed wing of Wu Jie Junior High in April. This surprised me since I could have sworn I was told in September that the wing would not be completed until 2010. This morning, my coworkers oohed and ahhed at my newly straightened hair (yay for Taiwanese hair salons and Jill's birthday bash) and asked me if I had tang zhi-ed it. Yes, I nodded, hearing "straight" (zhi) in the question. But some further miming (and coworkers) later revealed that they had asked if I had permed it. (Is tang at all related to soup?) Oh, no, I said. Ah, said a coworker, emphatically ironing her hair with pretend tongs, "you dgkjsgf???? zhi-ed it?" Yes, I said, nodding at the make believe tongs, not quite sure if we had hit the mark the second time either. And just now--only moments before I sat down to write this post!--I had my latest confusion encounter.

Last week, I went to Poya, a large store that sells household items. Anything from cosmetics to stationery, shampoo to soup pots, scooter helmets to popular and imported candy, pillows (small--for couches or desk-top napping), cleaning solvents to house slippers can be found in this store. It's a grand place, but if you call it by "Poya," locals will give you a blank or confused stare. "Baoya" will get you a smile and nod of appreciation--the same type you might get from mentioning Costco to a friend. Anyway, I went in search of one thing (which I have since forgotten, a shame since it turned out to be one of the few things that cannot be found in this megastore [along with large shower hair-catchers]) and of course walked out with my arms fully loaded. One of my impulse buys was a package of something from Quaker Oats. It now seems that I had been mislead by such words as "coffee" and "latte" on the labeling to believe I was holding a beverage. Funny how that happens. No, no, my office-mate told me (the same one who had mimed ironing her hair). What I had bought was a food item, but one that I could drink. ??? Yes, food that I can drink. I decided to open a package and test this definition of "food." (This had all started, just so you know, because she had generously offered me a packet of instant Barista coffee. Barista is a knock-off of Starbucks, which they also have in Taiwan, but tends to be more of a luxury item. [This does not prevent them from having the same desperate signs now populating New York--Starbucks is committed to making the best coffee possible and begs you to tell them how they can improve. A downward trend is a downward trend, it seems, and is not confined to the home-culture. Or maybe this is what happens when you franchise across oceans. Problems in one place are credited toward another, regardless of the actual reception of the merchandise in the new territory. I also saw these signs in Thailand.] Anyway, when she proffered her powdered latte, I proudly bust out mine. I was a little excited to show that I had finally caught onto the Taiwanese tendency to keep small food and drink supplies at one's desk. (It helps a lot with lunch, because the schools don't supply drinks. One of my schools has a hot/cold water machine in the hallways, the other has one in my office. But there's nothing flavored at hand.) Yeah, so anyway, I offered her a Quaker Oats not-coffee latte in exchange for her Barista latte. Of course, no exchange is necessary, but everyone here is so nice and keeps looking out for me and giving me things that it's nice to be able to return the favor. And that's when she told me that my drink was not a drink. And so I tested it, emptying the packet of powder and oat flakes into a cup and filling it to the top with hot water (from the machine in my office). And you what--it was thin. The powder and flakes floated around in the muddy water and had to be mixed in with a spoon. It strongly resembled a drink. I brought it back to the desk. My office mate and I peered into the mug. "You don't need a spoon," she told me. "The flakes will melt." It was starting to look more and more like a beverage. I drank it.

P.S. The flakes never fully melted. A few light ones floated, the rest sank to the bottom. I scooped them out with my spoon. Final status of food designation: inconclusive.