So, I am in Taiwan.
I have updated this so infrequently that I suspect no one will read it in anything like a timely fashion, so instead of giving an update I will simply ramble.
Being a missionary here is different than one might expect. The language barrier is something, certainly, and there are times when I eat strange food that I'm not crazy about, but for the most part the hardships are familiar, trivial ones, magnified by the lack of familiar, trivial comforts.
I love Chinese food, I am picking up a little Chinese (a very little, but any is more than I knew before!), my apartment is quite comfortable, and I am very much enjoying being overseas. So much for the conventional hardships of foreign missions...
No, the difficulties are things like missing my church on Sunday and feeling as if my spiritual life is suffering for the lack of it (so much for missions being a permanent spiritual high, eh?); being in a culture where hugs are definitely not given at farewells (it sounds silly but you really do start to miss it); wondering if the work that I'm doing will have any eternal significance because much of it does not seem particularly evangelical (I'm aware that this is an easy fallacy to fall into, but knowing that does not always stop me), etc.
I have delved deep into my relationship with God and found that there is not nearly so much there as there should be at this point in my life. I find myself assailed with doubts when I should be faithful, hesitant when I should be bold, incompetent when I should be capable. I am not sufficient for this task, and this humbles and shames me. I pray to God for strength, and instead receive hard-won lessons.
In short, missions is not something you bring to other people. It's something God does to you.
He is certainly changing me. But the more I change, the farther I see I must change. In the curve which must approach sanctification, I feel I am asymptotically veering farther away.
Eventually, it will come around. It must, because He has said it will be so. But in the mean time I feel very far from where I should be.
I ask myself, how can I share God with others when I have pursued Him so little myself?
How will He overflow from my life to that of others when I feel like a virtual black hole of His forgiveness and mercy, constantly needing greater quantities of it?
I believe He will, and maybe is even now.
One thing I may be sure of, all glory is His.
In my endless quest to justify everything about myself, I find that I utterly cannot.
I cannot justify myself, my actions, my thoughts, my relations with others, nothing.
I can only fall on His grace and pray that it will be sufficient for even one such as me.
-Joseph
Monday, December 17, 2007
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Boethius and the Beach
So I have spent the last week, and will be spending the next week, with my family at the beach.
It's been fun, stress-free for the most part, and a good chance to catch up with my numerous siblings, who have done a little growing up since I moved out. Talking to my oldest sister about relationship issues, for example, is a new experience, but not an unpleasant one. It's interesting to see what kind of personalities they are developing as they mature. (if you can call moving into the teenage years maturing; for many people it seems to be the opposite!)
One thing I have always liked to do at the beach, which I do not see many other people doing, is going out and fighting with the surf. By this I mean getting out into the water where the waves are breaking the roughest, and struggling to hold my ground against every one.
It's endlessly fun (for me, at least), and a good allegory of life, I suppose. You discover different kinds of waves: tall, perfect crests which can be dived through; low, foamy waves which tickle as they pass; deceptive surging waves which look like mere swells, but then suck the sand out from under your feet and push you over. With this knowlege comes the strategies for dealing with them: Some waves you can let crash against you without being driven back, some you can dive through, some you had best swim underneath to avoid being swept off your feet and deposited nearer the shore. The allegory occured to me this time, but really I just enjoy it. It's probably not difficult to analyze this and make judgements on my personality, but I'll leave that to the interested reader...
Apart from fighting waves, getting a tan via repeated minor sunburns, burning my eyes out due to the glare and wave-stolen sunglasses (only cheap plastic ones, not to worry), and enjoying fresh seafood on a daily basis, I have been doing a bit of thinking, and reading.
The other day, I had a chance to sit out on the deck overlooking the ocean, and read a large chunk of one of my favorite books, the Consolation of Philosophy by Boethius. I won't go into the details of either the book or the philosopher here, (you can probably wikipedia that if you're interested) but it was definitely an enjoyable experience. My mind gets cluttered with all the excessive stimuli our hyperactive media culture subjects it to on a second-by-second basis, if I let it get to me, and occasionally it needs a bit of clearing and straightening out, to remind me of why perspective is so important.
The time away from my (former, as I prepare to depart for Taiwan in less than a month) job and routine has caused a shift in my perspective. I had expected it, but was nevertheless surprised when it came. It's so easy to get stuck in the routine of our lives that we forget the real world is all around us every day. Having broken out of this routine, I find myself noticing that reality is, well, real.
As Christians, we believe in some things that we can't see, and as people living in these times, we see many things that we must not believe. For me, this does not result in so much of a blurring of the line of what is real and what is not, as a lapse of perspective with regard to the relevancy of that question. Because I know that what I see around me is no more real than some things I cannot see, and because I believe that many things I cannot see are vastly more important than what I can see, I do not always attach enough relevancy to those things I can see. I forget that God has placed me in these very real surroundings, surroundings that existed in one form or another since He created them through Christ, for a reason. What surrounds me is not all of reality, but it is nevertheless real, and should not be ignored or pushed aside. Perhaps I am a bit too platonic about these things, attaching more significance to the unseen archetypes than their real counterparts that I interact with on a daily basis, sometimes without noticing them much.
-One exception to this, by the way, is nature. I have always been acutely aware of the beauty of the natural world, and am thankful that God has revealed Himself to me in this way. I cannot see a sunset, or a mountain range, the blue morning sky, or the waves breaking on the shore, without sending up a silent thanks to God for placing us amid such beauty. He pronounced His creation good, and though it is now fallen and corrupted, it yet retains the shadows of its former perfection.
But now it is late, and I think I will go and play Final Fantasy with my brother. It has occurred to me that perhaps a large majority of our entertainment (games, movies, television, etc) consists of constructing a hypothetical scenario with a system of relationships and rules, and dealing with the consequences of these. I wonder what that says about us as a culture? Does it make the Enemy's job that much easier when we are constantly immersing ourselves in alternate scenarios instead of focusing on reality? Is it so hard to deal with this life that we must create fictional realities to escape from it? Or are we just too lazy or fearful to fix the problems in our own lives, so we escape to other places to evade them?
Something to think about, anyway... time to end this.
-Joseph
It's been fun, stress-free for the most part, and a good chance to catch up with my numerous siblings, who have done a little growing up since I moved out. Talking to my oldest sister about relationship issues, for example, is a new experience, but not an unpleasant one. It's interesting to see what kind of personalities they are developing as they mature. (if you can call moving into the teenage years maturing; for many people it seems to be the opposite!)
One thing I have always liked to do at the beach, which I do not see many other people doing, is going out and fighting with the surf. By this I mean getting out into the water where the waves are breaking the roughest, and struggling to hold my ground against every one.
It's endlessly fun (for me, at least), and a good allegory of life, I suppose. You discover different kinds of waves: tall, perfect crests which can be dived through; low, foamy waves which tickle as they pass; deceptive surging waves which look like mere swells, but then suck the sand out from under your feet and push you over. With this knowlege comes the strategies for dealing with them: Some waves you can let crash against you without being driven back, some you can dive through, some you had best swim underneath to avoid being swept off your feet and deposited nearer the shore. The allegory occured to me this time, but really I just enjoy it. It's probably not difficult to analyze this and make judgements on my personality, but I'll leave that to the interested reader...
Apart from fighting waves, getting a tan via repeated minor sunburns, burning my eyes out due to the glare and wave-stolen sunglasses (only cheap plastic ones, not to worry), and enjoying fresh seafood on a daily basis, I have been doing a bit of thinking, and reading.
The other day, I had a chance to sit out on the deck overlooking the ocean, and read a large chunk of one of my favorite books, the Consolation of Philosophy by Boethius. I won't go into the details of either the book or the philosopher here, (you can probably wikipedia that if you're interested) but it was definitely an enjoyable experience. My mind gets cluttered with all the excessive stimuli our hyperactive media culture subjects it to on a second-by-second basis, if I let it get to me, and occasionally it needs a bit of clearing and straightening out, to remind me of why perspective is so important.
The time away from my (former, as I prepare to depart for Taiwan in less than a month) job and routine has caused a shift in my perspective. I had expected it, but was nevertheless surprised when it came. It's so easy to get stuck in the routine of our lives that we forget the real world is all around us every day. Having broken out of this routine, I find myself noticing that reality is, well, real.
As Christians, we believe in some things that we can't see, and as people living in these times, we see many things that we must not believe. For me, this does not result in so much of a blurring of the line of what is real and what is not, as a lapse of perspective with regard to the relevancy of that question. Because I know that what I see around me is no more real than some things I cannot see, and because I believe that many things I cannot see are vastly more important than what I can see, I do not always attach enough relevancy to those things I can see. I forget that God has placed me in these very real surroundings, surroundings that existed in one form or another since He created them through Christ, for a reason. What surrounds me is not all of reality, but it is nevertheless real, and should not be ignored or pushed aside. Perhaps I am a bit too platonic about these things, attaching more significance to the unseen archetypes than their real counterparts that I interact with on a daily basis, sometimes without noticing them much.
-One exception to this, by the way, is nature. I have always been acutely aware of the beauty of the natural world, and am thankful that God has revealed Himself to me in this way. I cannot see a sunset, or a mountain range, the blue morning sky, or the waves breaking on the shore, without sending up a silent thanks to God for placing us amid such beauty. He pronounced His creation good, and though it is now fallen and corrupted, it yet retains the shadows of its former perfection.
But now it is late, and I think I will go and play Final Fantasy with my brother. It has occurred to me that perhaps a large majority of our entertainment (games, movies, television, etc) consists of constructing a hypothetical scenario with a system of relationships and rules, and dealing with the consequences of these. I wonder what that says about us as a culture? Does it make the Enemy's job that much easier when we are constantly immersing ourselves in alternate scenarios instead of focusing on reality? Is it so hard to deal with this life that we must create fictional realities to escape from it? Or are we just too lazy or fearful to fix the problems in our own lives, so we escape to other places to evade them?
Something to think about, anyway... time to end this.
-Joseph
Friday, August 31, 2007
The phantom piper
So this morning, as I was about to leave for work, I heard a rather unexpected sound of bagpipes outside my window. Looking out, I saw that a man was standing in a grassy spot across the street, and had begun to play the 'pipes. This, of course, required that I stay and listen. He played several different songs, one of which I recognized (though sadly, Amazing Grace was not forthcoming), before finally vanishing as suddenly as he had appeared.
Let us all hope the phantom piper returns someday... to finish what he started with a little "Scotland the Brave"...
On the other hand, he is more or less solely responsible for me not getting into work nearly as early as I had planned.
Curse you, phantom piper!!! *shakes fist*
Let us all hope the phantom piper returns someday... to finish what he started with a little "Scotland the Brave"...
On the other hand, he is more or less solely responsible for me not getting into work nearly as early as I had planned.
Curse you, phantom piper!!! *shakes fist*
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Camp: Day 2
The next three days of camp started in roughly the same fashion; waking up and meandering into the dining room to help set out breakfast. This involved everything from helping the ladies in the kitchen (who spoke only Taiwanese. We managed to work with them fairly well, however) carry vast pots of rice, to setting out little bowls of condiments for the mountains of toast we helped prepare from numerous loaves of bread. Feeding 153 plus staff meant putting out vast quantities of food, and even then a few mornings we and the Chinese staff had to snatch what little was left after the kids had gotten theirs.
Breakfast consisted of toast some mornings, with available toppings including peanut butter, jelly, scrambled eggs, cucumbers, and a shredded pork substance rather like what's left over in a pencil sharpener. Other mornings it was a bowl of watered-down rice, with available condiments including the eggs, cucumbers and pork stuff, and also some spicy pickled flour dumplings, and a few other odd dishes. We either had soy milk or passion fruit juice to drink, both of which were excellent. I don't know the secret to their soy milk, but whatever the serve at camp is much better than the stuff you get there.
After breakfast there was a brief clean up time, which gave us a chance to finish eating and quickly discuss our plans for the next chapel period, which began directly afterward.
This morning, we led the kids in a song, Father Abraham (the girl's suggestion, since it involved simple words and "fun" motions), which went pretty well. The Chinese staff had them sing a song or two and then performed the next installment of the drama. After this, Erica gave her testimony, and a female pastor (male pastors are often in short supply in Taiwan, for both cultural and practical reasons) named Lydia spoke to the kids for a while. The kids then left for their cabin times, and we started preparing for the classes we would teach that day. Due to the extreme number of kids, Ron asked us to split up and teach two classes, even though there were only five of us. Caleb and Jacob taught Aussie rules football, continuing from the last camp, and Erica, Rebecca and I taught the English class. Caleb and Jacob apparently had a decent time of it, except when it rained briefly and the staff ordered everyone inside until it stopped. (because everyone knows that a little bit of rain makes kids sick. Or at least that seemed to be their reasoning.) For our part, we had mostly girls, which was expected, and for the most part they were very well-behaved, albeit very quiet. (Except for one girl, who was apparently spoiled cock-eyed.) We played welcome games to get everyone to speak up, and Erica drew pictures on the board and had everyone say the English name. Some girls knew more english than others, and so we tried not to let them answer all the questions unless no one else could.
I then played hangman with them, which they had fun with but were hesitant in guessing.
We also had them help us make lemonade. Several of the girls liked it so much that they asked us if they could fill their water bottles with it, while others made hilarious faces and pronounced it very sour. After their snack break, we played Go Fish, teaching them the english phrases that go along with it. "Do you have any ___ ?" "No, Go Fish!" etc
We also had to use class time to prepare a presentation that they would perform at the end of the camp. This was difficult for us, because while the kids like to perform up front, they liked to do this in Chinese. English was another matter entirely, and they were shy about using it.
Nevertheless, we planned out a short skit where the kids would be going to church, and then would sing a song at the end. One class would have a few lines of dialogue, and the other class would have responses. We later found out that this would be more difficult than we thought to organize, because due to scheduling conflicts the two classes never had a chance to practice together! After we had practiced with them for a while, we played Duck Duck Goose, which they enjoyed except when one girl slipped and fell. The floors are mostly all concrete there, but fortunately she only bruised and scared herself. After class was over, there was a short break, and then it was time for lunch. This worked similarly to breakfast, we stood behind the tables and handed out food until the kids were all through the line, then got our own. This year, due to the sheer number of kids, we sat at our own table instead of interspersing among them. It was good in one sense, as we had a little bit of space this way, but I also felt a little segregated, sitting at "the foreigner's table" as it were.
After lunch, the kids assembled in the chapel, and then broke up into groups and went to different station games. We each worked a station the first and second periods. The first period for me was floor hockey, in the top floor of the dormitories. It was the fourth story, a totally open room with windows all down two sides, with a spectacular view of the surrounding area and mountains beyond. I had felt sick and somewhat depressed earlier, but now my spirits began to rise. I was coming to this beautiful country to spend a year. I opened all the windows, and the room cooled down to a reasonable level. Mark Heinsman had been sent out after drinks for all of us, and I drank mine (a peach green tea) as I waited there for the kids to start arriving. This took longer than I expected, so I had some welcome solitude for a few moments. These were spent somewhat in just getting a breather and cooling down, and also in talking to God for a while. Eventually the kids started to arrive. They didn't speak much english that would be helpful in floor hockey, but little was necessary. I divided the kids up onto even teams when they didn't do it by themselves, and managed the flow of kids coming in and out. Some epic battles raged, and I could mostly watch and restart the matches after each goal. Since I was little, I have always appreciated situations where the adults or people in charge let us have fun with minimal interference, and thus try to take this approach when the situation calls for it.
In this case, the kids were having fun, and so a furious floor hockey war raged largely unabated for the whole first period. Any number from 4 to at least 14 kids were involved at various points, and my job was largely to referee if necessary, and as previously stated, restart the match after the goal. (this was done with enough anticipation as possible. I would set the ball down, carefully center it, act as if I were going to back up, then as the kids started to jump forward, reach back down and adjust the ball. Then, turning to each side and asking "ready?" I would jump out of the way and shout "go!" at which point both sides converged upon the ball and chaos ensued) The points quickly became irrelevant as kids were continually coming and going, what mattered was the scrimmage. After spending the first period this way, the time for swapping out came, and a huge influx of kids who spoke nearly no english arrived, indicating that they expected to practice archery there. I had no idea which of the Chinese staff was teaching archery, so I headed back downstairs, followed by a large crowd of children. Eventually they saw the archery guy carrying the bows upstairs, and ran to follow him.
After the activities wrapped up, there was a "world wide buffet" which also spanned dinner time. A variety of dishes, mostly altered from their original context, were set up on trays and tables outside, and the kids filed through and picked what they wanted. I was starting to feel overheated and sick, and so I ate little. This did not improve matters, and by the time showtime in the chapel rolled around, I was in a cold sweat. Our presentation about America and Alabama that Caleb had put together was first, and I advanced the slides while he narrated and Erica and Rebecca acted out each slide. (football and baseball, for example) Once that was over, Starcey and Janet came out and explained the next event, which was the kids' cabin group presentations. For this, they introduced a panel of three "judges" (complete with upbeat techno intro music) who would award prizes to the best presentations. The group presentations are usually the most opaque part of the camp to we Americans, and this time was no exception.
Not only are the presentations completely in Chinese, but they reference popular Taiwanese TV shows, or other things which the costumes and actions do not clearly convey to us without an understanding of the language. They are usually entertaining, though, and some of the groups did a very good job. When this was over, the kids went to their cabin time, and I went to bed shortly afterwards. I felt better in the morning, there is always one night during the first camp when the heat and exhaustion take a toll on my body, but having recovered I'm usually ok.
I also had heat rash this year, though less severely than in previous years, but decided afterwards that it was actually due totally or primarily to the new, unwashed camp shirts. (either from the dye, or from the fact that the shirts did not breath at all until washed. Judging from the placement of the rash on my arms, it was from the dye.)
This was a happy revelation for me, since it means that I don't just automatically get heat rash from being over there during the summer. Some powder I borrowed from the Heinsmans helped dry the rash up, and so the story has a happy ending. Which is just as well, as you doubtless are not interested in hearing any more about it.
At this point, the camp was half over. We were still tired, but getting into the swing of things.
The next day would be similar to this one until lunch, but we would have the water war after that, and then the campfire and gospel presentation, the most important night of the camp...
would the clear weather hold? Find out in the next installment....
Next Time: Water war and CampFire II
-Joseph
Breakfast consisted of toast some mornings, with available toppings including peanut butter, jelly, scrambled eggs, cucumbers, and a shredded pork substance rather like what's left over in a pencil sharpener. Other mornings it was a bowl of watered-down rice, with available condiments including the eggs, cucumbers and pork stuff, and also some spicy pickled flour dumplings, and a few other odd dishes. We either had soy milk or passion fruit juice to drink, both of which were excellent. I don't know the secret to their soy milk, but whatever the serve at camp is much better than the stuff you get there.
After breakfast there was a brief clean up time, which gave us a chance to finish eating and quickly discuss our plans for the next chapel period, which began directly afterward.
This morning, we led the kids in a song, Father Abraham (the girl's suggestion, since it involved simple words and "fun" motions), which went pretty well. The Chinese staff had them sing a song or two and then performed the next installment of the drama. After this, Erica gave her testimony, and a female pastor (male pastors are often in short supply in Taiwan, for both cultural and practical reasons) named Lydia spoke to the kids for a while. The kids then left for their cabin times, and we started preparing for the classes we would teach that day. Due to the extreme number of kids, Ron asked us to split up and teach two classes, even though there were only five of us. Caleb and Jacob taught Aussie rules football, continuing from the last camp, and Erica, Rebecca and I taught the English class. Caleb and Jacob apparently had a decent time of it, except when it rained briefly and the staff ordered everyone inside until it stopped. (because everyone knows that a little bit of rain makes kids sick. Or at least that seemed to be their reasoning.) For our part, we had mostly girls, which was expected, and for the most part they were very well-behaved, albeit very quiet. (Except for one girl, who was apparently spoiled cock-eyed.) We played welcome games to get everyone to speak up, and Erica drew pictures on the board and had everyone say the English name. Some girls knew more english than others, and so we tried not to let them answer all the questions unless no one else could.
I then played hangman with them, which they had fun with but were hesitant in guessing.
We also had them help us make lemonade. Several of the girls liked it so much that they asked us if they could fill their water bottles with it, while others made hilarious faces and pronounced it very sour. After their snack break, we played Go Fish, teaching them the english phrases that go along with it. "Do you have any ___ ?" "No, Go Fish!" etc
We also had to use class time to prepare a presentation that they would perform at the end of the camp. This was difficult for us, because while the kids like to perform up front, they liked to do this in Chinese. English was another matter entirely, and they were shy about using it.
Nevertheless, we planned out a short skit where the kids would be going to church, and then would sing a song at the end. One class would have a few lines of dialogue, and the other class would have responses. We later found out that this would be more difficult than we thought to organize, because due to scheduling conflicts the two classes never had a chance to practice together! After we had practiced with them for a while, we played Duck Duck Goose, which they enjoyed except when one girl slipped and fell. The floors are mostly all concrete there, but fortunately she only bruised and scared herself. After class was over, there was a short break, and then it was time for lunch. This worked similarly to breakfast, we stood behind the tables and handed out food until the kids were all through the line, then got our own. This year, due to the sheer number of kids, we sat at our own table instead of interspersing among them. It was good in one sense, as we had a little bit of space this way, but I also felt a little segregated, sitting at "the foreigner's table" as it were.
After lunch, the kids assembled in the chapel, and then broke up into groups and went to different station games. We each worked a station the first and second periods. The first period for me was floor hockey, in the top floor of the dormitories. It was the fourth story, a totally open room with windows all down two sides, with a spectacular view of the surrounding area and mountains beyond. I had felt sick and somewhat depressed earlier, but now my spirits began to rise. I was coming to this beautiful country to spend a year. I opened all the windows, and the room cooled down to a reasonable level. Mark Heinsman had been sent out after drinks for all of us, and I drank mine (a peach green tea) as I waited there for the kids to start arriving. This took longer than I expected, so I had some welcome solitude for a few moments. These were spent somewhat in just getting a breather and cooling down, and also in talking to God for a while. Eventually the kids started to arrive. They didn't speak much english that would be helpful in floor hockey, but little was necessary. I divided the kids up onto even teams when they didn't do it by themselves, and managed the flow of kids coming in and out. Some epic battles raged, and I could mostly watch and restart the matches after each goal. Since I was little, I have always appreciated situations where the adults or people in charge let us have fun with minimal interference, and thus try to take this approach when the situation calls for it.
In this case, the kids were having fun, and so a furious floor hockey war raged largely unabated for the whole first period. Any number from 4 to at least 14 kids were involved at various points, and my job was largely to referee if necessary, and as previously stated, restart the match after the goal. (this was done with enough anticipation as possible. I would set the ball down, carefully center it, act as if I were going to back up, then as the kids started to jump forward, reach back down and adjust the ball. Then, turning to each side and asking "ready?" I would jump out of the way and shout "go!" at which point both sides converged upon the ball and chaos ensued) The points quickly became irrelevant as kids were continually coming and going, what mattered was the scrimmage. After spending the first period this way, the time for swapping out came, and a huge influx of kids who spoke nearly no english arrived, indicating that they expected to practice archery there. I had no idea which of the Chinese staff was teaching archery, so I headed back downstairs, followed by a large crowd of children. Eventually they saw the archery guy carrying the bows upstairs, and ran to follow him.
After the activities wrapped up, there was a "world wide buffet" which also spanned dinner time. A variety of dishes, mostly altered from their original context, were set up on trays and tables outside, and the kids filed through and picked what they wanted. I was starting to feel overheated and sick, and so I ate little. This did not improve matters, and by the time showtime in the chapel rolled around, I was in a cold sweat. Our presentation about America and Alabama that Caleb had put together was first, and I advanced the slides while he narrated and Erica and Rebecca acted out each slide. (football and baseball, for example) Once that was over, Starcey and Janet came out and explained the next event, which was the kids' cabin group presentations. For this, they introduced a panel of three "judges" (complete with upbeat techno intro music) who would award prizes to the best presentations. The group presentations are usually the most opaque part of the camp to we Americans, and this time was no exception.
Not only are the presentations completely in Chinese, but they reference popular Taiwanese TV shows, or other things which the costumes and actions do not clearly convey to us without an understanding of the language. They are usually entertaining, though, and some of the groups did a very good job. When this was over, the kids went to their cabin time, and I went to bed shortly afterwards. I felt better in the morning, there is always one night during the first camp when the heat and exhaustion take a toll on my body, but having recovered I'm usually ok.
I also had heat rash this year, though less severely than in previous years, but decided afterwards that it was actually due totally or primarily to the new, unwashed camp shirts. (either from the dye, or from the fact that the shirts did not breath at all until washed. Judging from the placement of the rash on my arms, it was from the dye.)
This was a happy revelation for me, since it means that I don't just automatically get heat rash from being over there during the summer. Some powder I borrowed from the Heinsmans helped dry the rash up, and so the story has a happy ending. Which is just as well, as you doubtless are not interested in hearing any more about it.
At this point, the camp was half over. We were still tired, but getting into the swing of things.
The next day would be similar to this one until lunch, but we would have the water war after that, and then the campfire and gospel presentation, the most important night of the camp...
would the clear weather hold? Find out in the next installment....
Next Time: Water war and CampFire II
-Joseph
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Taijung
Or Taichung, or Taichoung, or however you care to romanize it.
(this is where my friend Charles would say pinyin takes care of all that, heh)
After the camp had wrapped up, we said our goodbyes to the kids, and had our post-camp staff meeting. The Chinese staff were given an opportunity to speak to the Aussies, and vice versa, and there were compliments and testimonies given all around. It was emotional at times, and also occasionally hilarious, as the inevitable errors in translation that arise when two languages meet were prevalent. Once, Ron had been translating the Chinese into English for everyone, and then one of the Chinese staff spoke in english. once they had finished, Ron began (in English) to paraphrase what had just been said, before realizing that it was in English. Everyone died laughing, and the undercurrent of joy that fellow servants of the gospel had was evident. Once the meeting was over, we had a while before the Aussies left, in which we were able to talk a bit more, and then it was time for them to go. We packed our own backpacks in preparation for a night's stay in Taijung at the Heinsman's, then piled into the Delica and drove down to Taijung. It is a decent drive from Dajia to Taijung, and so by the time we got there it was supper time. On the way, we got a call to ask for our drink requests. There is a little drink stand at a produce/meat market near the Heinsman's house, called Crazy Sue's. If you are in Taijung, it is -the- place to get cold or icy fruit drinks. Period. By the time we arrived, Teri Heinsman had run down and brought us back drinks from there, and an excellent meal was spread out for us. Chinese-style, there were several dishes from which we all loaded our plates. The mangoes were as good as I had remembered.
I had been totally exhausted when we arrived, but felt sufficiently rejuvenated after supper to go with the others to check out the Taijung nightmarket. This time, sadly, there was not much worth looking at. While you never know what you'll find there, that night we found mostly clothing, which was mainly either very cheap (in both price and design) or overpriced and inappropriate. This was not much to my liking, but the girls found a couple more interesting clothing shops, and somewhat ironically, Jacob and Mark Heinsman perused any place that sold earrings. (there were many)
We made our way back by bus, and in a humorous incident, Teri had the air conditioning unit leak on her.
Once back, we went to the rooms where we were sleeping. Due to space constraints, the Heinsman's apartment where we were spending the night has a small footprint, but spans several stories. The stairs become significant. The girls came in and we talked for a while, then crashed.
The next morning, we woke and went to visit the Heinsman's church. It was an interesting experience, singing worship songs (some familiar and some not) and listening to a sermon, all in English, after hearing so much Chinese. We ate pizza afterwards, but were forced to leave quickly because the camp staff needed the van. We changed clothes quickly at the Heinsmans, and headed back to the camp again. Just as we did, the typhoon-induced rain began to fall. It was forecasted to do this all week, but I prayed that God would help the weather to be clear. Constant rain would make things at our camp very difficult.
We arrived, and had the precamp meeting. The campers would be arriving later that afternoon, and so there was much to be done. We also talked about where we would be sleeping. The guys got to keep their current room, and the girls were moved due to the massive numbers of kids that were coming. In just a short while, they began to arrive in vans and buses. 153 in all. We had planned out a dramatic entrance with Ron to introduce ourselves to the kids, involving a human pyramid which Ron knocked over. We then jumped up and chased him around. Now that all the kids had arrived, they assembled in the Chapel, nearly filling it just by sitting in their rows. The camp started, as various staff introductions (including our pyramid skit, which went well) and camp rules were given, followed by some singing, led by Starcey and the activity team.
The kids went out to their rooms, and later we all assembled to eat. We were scheduled to be in the dining hall before every meal to help, and this sometimes became an adventure in and of itself, as I will explain later! We also found out that day that we had somewhat more responsibility in this camp than I had previously known. Apparently the Aussie's agenda had carried over and we were expected to do roughly the same things they had done in addition to what we already knew about. This was unexpected, and a little stressful, not least because we were still jetlagged and sleep-deprived. We had two more games to lead that night, and a song.
These went mostly well, Simon Says was a hit, and especially good because it only involved moving in place for the kids, since there was not enough room to do much more than that!
The other game, a variant of rock-paper-scissors that Rebecca had suggested, also went well, except at the end. Unlike previous camps, the Chinese staff had decided to introduce a point system to the games this year. Once the game was finished, they attempted to tally the scores of the 40-odd kids who had completed the game succesfully, and the scene approached chaos.
The song we had picked to teach the kids was "Praise ye the Lord", and this turned out to be a very good choice. The lyrics were simple, and we had a girls side and a boys side, who took turns singing "Hallelu" and "Praise ye the Lord", each standing for their part. We turned it into a competition for loudness, and the kids definitely got into it. Afterwards, Harry, a perennial at the camp, led the kids through some dancing. Harry is a very interesting fellow. I have only to explain that his job was as an aerobics instructor, and that probably conveys most of what is necessary. He is certainly talented, and apparently lacks joints. We joined in the dancing this year, for the most part. I felt rather foolish, but it was probably very good for me.
After the dancing, and a song or two led by the activity team, the drama team (consisting largely of the activity team, plus a few extra people) performed the first part of the Prodigal Son story that they had used last camp. A young woman whose english name was Sally, also the camp photographer, played the part of the Prodigal Son this time around. After everything in the Chapel was over, the kids went to their cabin times, and we had a meeting. I was rather stressed, both from trying to avoid problems from previous years, and from our additional expected participation in the camps, which I had not expected. It was a fairly simple matter of planning the extra activities, but everyone's exhausted state complicated things. After a sometimes tense and very long evening, we got the majority of our plans squared away, and Caleb put together the presentation that we were expected to do the following night. This took him some time, and he kept working after the rest of us had gone to bed.
This was probably the hardest night of the camps, when the heat, jetlag, exhaustion, stress, sheer number of kids, and difficulty of adapting to a constantly changing situation, all came down at once. But after much prayer, conversation, and planning, it was also the night that we got one step ahead. Everything was now mostly mapped out, except for the night of the Campfire. There was an extra bit of complication there, as the difficulty of planning a game with so many kids and so little room kept arising, along with the fact that we had to figure out something for both outside and inside, in case of rain. But this would be settled later...
I collapsed on my bed, which as I have said was surprisingly comfortable, especially given how tired I was. I set my alarm, all too early, as breakfast was at 7:20 and we needed to start helping out in the dining room by 7 at the latest. Soon I was out, dreaming of Taiwanese people as I usually did after being in Taiwan for a few days.
Next time: First full day of camp!
-Joseph
(this is where my friend Charles would say pinyin takes care of all that, heh)
After the camp had wrapped up, we said our goodbyes to the kids, and had our post-camp staff meeting. The Chinese staff were given an opportunity to speak to the Aussies, and vice versa, and there were compliments and testimonies given all around. It was emotional at times, and also occasionally hilarious, as the inevitable errors in translation that arise when two languages meet were prevalent. Once, Ron had been translating the Chinese into English for everyone, and then one of the Chinese staff spoke in english. once they had finished, Ron began (in English) to paraphrase what had just been said, before realizing that it was in English. Everyone died laughing, and the undercurrent of joy that fellow servants of the gospel had was evident. Once the meeting was over, we had a while before the Aussies left, in which we were able to talk a bit more, and then it was time for them to go. We packed our own backpacks in preparation for a night's stay in Taijung at the Heinsman's, then piled into the Delica and drove down to Taijung. It is a decent drive from Dajia to Taijung, and so by the time we got there it was supper time. On the way, we got a call to ask for our drink requests. There is a little drink stand at a produce/meat market near the Heinsman's house, called Crazy Sue's. If you are in Taijung, it is -the- place to get cold or icy fruit drinks. Period. By the time we arrived, Teri Heinsman had run down and brought us back drinks from there, and an excellent meal was spread out for us. Chinese-style, there were several dishes from which we all loaded our plates. The mangoes were as good as I had remembered.
I had been totally exhausted when we arrived, but felt sufficiently rejuvenated after supper to go with the others to check out the Taijung nightmarket. This time, sadly, there was not much worth looking at. While you never know what you'll find there, that night we found mostly clothing, which was mainly either very cheap (in both price and design) or overpriced and inappropriate. This was not much to my liking, but the girls found a couple more interesting clothing shops, and somewhat ironically, Jacob and Mark Heinsman perused any place that sold earrings. (there were many)
We made our way back by bus, and in a humorous incident, Teri had the air conditioning unit leak on her.
Once back, we went to the rooms where we were sleeping. Due to space constraints, the Heinsman's apartment where we were spending the night has a small footprint, but spans several stories. The stairs become significant. The girls came in and we talked for a while, then crashed.
The next morning, we woke and went to visit the Heinsman's church. It was an interesting experience, singing worship songs (some familiar and some not) and listening to a sermon, all in English, after hearing so much Chinese. We ate pizza afterwards, but were forced to leave quickly because the camp staff needed the van. We changed clothes quickly at the Heinsmans, and headed back to the camp again. Just as we did, the typhoon-induced rain began to fall. It was forecasted to do this all week, but I prayed that God would help the weather to be clear. Constant rain would make things at our camp very difficult.
We arrived, and had the precamp meeting. The campers would be arriving later that afternoon, and so there was much to be done. We also talked about where we would be sleeping. The guys got to keep their current room, and the girls were moved due to the massive numbers of kids that were coming. In just a short while, they began to arrive in vans and buses. 153 in all. We had planned out a dramatic entrance with Ron to introduce ourselves to the kids, involving a human pyramid which Ron knocked over. We then jumped up and chased him around. Now that all the kids had arrived, they assembled in the Chapel, nearly filling it just by sitting in their rows. The camp started, as various staff introductions (including our pyramid skit, which went well) and camp rules were given, followed by some singing, led by Starcey and the activity team.
The kids went out to their rooms, and later we all assembled to eat. We were scheduled to be in the dining hall before every meal to help, and this sometimes became an adventure in and of itself, as I will explain later! We also found out that day that we had somewhat more responsibility in this camp than I had previously known. Apparently the Aussie's agenda had carried over and we were expected to do roughly the same things they had done in addition to what we already knew about. This was unexpected, and a little stressful, not least because we were still jetlagged and sleep-deprived. We had two more games to lead that night, and a song.
These went mostly well, Simon Says was a hit, and especially good because it only involved moving in place for the kids, since there was not enough room to do much more than that!
The other game, a variant of rock-paper-scissors that Rebecca had suggested, also went well, except at the end. Unlike previous camps, the Chinese staff had decided to introduce a point system to the games this year. Once the game was finished, they attempted to tally the scores of the 40-odd kids who had completed the game succesfully, and the scene approached chaos.
The song we had picked to teach the kids was "Praise ye the Lord", and this turned out to be a very good choice. The lyrics were simple, and we had a girls side and a boys side, who took turns singing "Hallelu" and "Praise ye the Lord", each standing for their part. We turned it into a competition for loudness, and the kids definitely got into it. Afterwards, Harry, a perennial at the camp, led the kids through some dancing. Harry is a very interesting fellow. I have only to explain that his job was as an aerobics instructor, and that probably conveys most of what is necessary. He is certainly talented, and apparently lacks joints. We joined in the dancing this year, for the most part. I felt rather foolish, but it was probably very good for me.
After the dancing, and a song or two led by the activity team, the drama team (consisting largely of the activity team, plus a few extra people) performed the first part of the Prodigal Son story that they had used last camp. A young woman whose english name was Sally, also the camp photographer, played the part of the Prodigal Son this time around. After everything in the Chapel was over, the kids went to their cabin times, and we had a meeting. I was rather stressed, both from trying to avoid problems from previous years, and from our additional expected participation in the camps, which I had not expected. It was a fairly simple matter of planning the extra activities, but everyone's exhausted state complicated things. After a sometimes tense and very long evening, we got the majority of our plans squared away, and Caleb put together the presentation that we were expected to do the following night. This took him some time, and he kept working after the rest of us had gone to bed.
This was probably the hardest night of the camps, when the heat, jetlag, exhaustion, stress, sheer number of kids, and difficulty of adapting to a constantly changing situation, all came down at once. But after much prayer, conversation, and planning, it was also the night that we got one step ahead. Everything was now mostly mapped out, except for the night of the Campfire. There was an extra bit of complication there, as the difficulty of planning a game with so many kids and so little room kept arising, along with the fact that we had to figure out something for both outside and inside, in case of rain. But this would be settled later...
I collapsed on my bed, which as I have said was surprisingly comfortable, especially given how tired I was. I set my alarm, all too early, as breakfast was at 7:20 and we needed to start helping out in the dining room by 7 at the latest. Soon I was out, dreaming of Taiwanese people as I usually did after being in Taiwan for a few days.
Next time: First full day of camp!
-Joseph
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Reunions and New Meetings
As we traveled down to Dajia, we talked to Jacob and Teri (the Heinsman's daughter).
Jacob had been there a while, working on the camp, and was exhausted. Teri had recently returned from a trip to Kyrgyzstan, and talked about that a little bit. Mostly about the fermented horse's milk she had brought back, and how no one would drink it, so it sat in the refrigerator a long time, but how could you say a fermented drink was spoiled?
I mentioned previously that we had not expected to go directly to camp. I was excited at the thought of seeing our friends there from previous years, and of meeting the Australians, but a little apprehensive at the same time. We were being thrown straight into work, without a chance to recuperate or adjust. I had done this a couple times before, and Caleb had once, but the girls had not. All these things did not occur to me that night, but looking back I am impressed with how well they managed the lack of transition, even with a few relatively sleepless nights for them. (the bamboo mats and heat/humidity at night took a little getting used to for them, coupled with the jet lag)
We arrived at camp before too long (it's near a north-south highway on the island), and began to unpack. One of the Australians was there to greet us, a very large (in both height and girth) named Steve. Steve was the leader of the group, who came from a small church in Adelaide. In fact, it was small enough that with the team of nine people that came, their attendance was halved! We talked to him a little bit, and then carried our bags to our rooms. I was a little nervous ahead of meeting everyone again, meetings preceded by high anticipation usually have that effect on me. Yet it turned out to be anticlimactic. Several of them (the "core group", you might say, 5 girls who had been there every year we had, who all spoke english to some extent (mostly fairly well) and who we had become good friends with) had waited up on us, but were (understandably) very tired, and mostly went to bed soon after we arrived. Before we arrived, Teri ran in as a joke to tell them that we had gotten held up and wouldn't be there that night. As she finished telling them this, we entered the chapel. It is a largish open room, with a concrete terrazzo floor, and a stage up front. The girls were mostly sitting on the stage, and when we entered, two of them jumped up and ran to us. These were Judy and Steffie. Judy, 16 (but, unusually for the Chinese that I have met, appearing much older) also known as "Super Judy", a self-proclaimed Drama Queen (the term takes a slightly different connotation there than your highschool definition) and who possessed enough personality for any three normal people, hugged us and welcomed us back. Steffie, 17, a small, intelligent, and emotional girl who I have talked to during the intervening years more than the others, shouted "Joseph!" and ran to hug me. I was expecting her to slow down, but she did not, and collided with me at full speed. (since she weighed about 90 lbs, this did not have the damaging effects that it could have, heh) The others then greeted us: Starcey, 21 (as of earlier that day), cheerful and competent, who since last year had been the activity leader, balancing both the "up-front excite-the-kids" and the "behind-the-scenes-planning" roles remarkably well. Janet, also 21, (who recently changed her english name to that from Jenny), a bubbly, heavier girl, with a beautiful singing voice and impressive drama skills (though through the years they had all become very good at that), and Dorcas, 19, a tiny girl (5' -maybe-) whose english abilities were a little behind the others (though she also spoke Mandarin, Taiwanese, and Hakka, a dialect of the minority group in which her ancestry lay), but had improved since last year, and who was very good at the piano. All had worked to the point of near exhaustion. This was their third camp, and they had three more to go. By the end of our first camp, they would often finish an energetic drama skit and then collapse into a near-involuntary nap offstage. Throughout our time there, we were encouraged to keep working hard and push through our own tiredness by their example.
After talking with those of them that stayed up for a while, we went to our rooms and prepared for sleep. For the guys, (Caleb, Jacob, and myself) this was a small, concrete-floored box, filled with bunk beds, in an old camp building. With 153 kids, we didn't have room to stay in the normal dorms, which were fairly similar but with better circulation. An oscillating fan made it possible to sleep (and nearly breath) in the warmth and humidity that made the air thick. The best method I found was to lay shirtless and sheetless on the (surprisingly sleepable) bamboo mat, laid on top of the thin foam block they used for a mattress on the bunk beds, where I could feel some moving air. It was not uncommon to wake up sweating in the morning, and somewhat stuck to the bamboo mat underneath. One can get used to nearly anything, however, and here our labors at the camp came to our aid; by the time we were ready for bed, we were so tired that sleep came quickly, regardless of the unusual sleeping arrangements.
Upon waking, (early, due to jet lag) I took a shower and went to read my Bible as the sun rose.
These moments were sadly few for me this trip, as we were so busy and tired that opportunities to sit and read were seldom. Still, I managed to find a few times, and those were worthy.
Sitting in an especially beautiful corner of God's creation, with mountains in the horizon and rice fields nearby, and the cicadas buzzing, how can one not feel the presence of the God who said "it is good"? Paul speaks of creation leaving man "without excuse", and I agree. Nearly every people and tribe have their own creation myth involving a god or gods who created the world.
I cannot believe that someone could look at the world and not see that it was created. The touch of a master artist with a deep appreciation of beauty is unmistakable.
That day was a busy one, though not stressful for us in that the Aussies were taking care of this camp, we were there to watch and observe and help out where we could. I met their team that morning during their devotional. Steve, the big man we had met the night before, and his wife; Bryce, a tall man with a strong accent who worked as an environmental consultant for businesses and had a fondness for puns; Nat, a friendly man who was going to Bali after the Taiwan trip was over; Josh, a dread-locked, laid-back, young man, the sort of person that comes to mind when I think of Australians; Katie, an athletic red-head whose parents were farmers in the Bush; Pam and Leanne, sisters (though their looks were dissimilar) who seemed to get along well; and Penny, an easygoing woman who seemed to be very moved by her experience there.
We helped in various activities that day, and especially watched as they taught the kids some basics of cricket and Aussie rules football. Cricket finally makes a bit of sense now, heh.
Katie gave me the rules for both on a sheet they had printed out, which came in handy later, as Jacob and Caleb ran a class teaching Aussie football in both our camps. I talked to her for a while that day, and she told me a little about herself. Her parents, as previously mentioned, ran a farm in the Bush. Australia is currently in a terrible four-year drought, so they were trying to break even from their crop losses with the money they made on sheep. Her older brother was a diesel mechanic, and her younger brother was set to inherit the farm. Due to the drought, in most of Australia you had to get a permit to even water your garden, and then only at certain times of the day. They were very excited at the water war which came later. They had begun to prepare for it by setting out buckets and tubs of water, and soon all the kids split up into their groups to have a water balloon filling competition. Rows upon rows of squirtguns that the kids had brought were laid to the side, and we lined up the buckets of water along the side of the camp's small grassy area. There were some planned games before the big war started, one involving drawing colored balls from a box where they were hidden. The teams of kids chose a color, and if they were wrong, their councilors got soaked. Then the tables were turned, and it was the councilors turn to pick. Everyone had gotten pretty wet by this point, and it was funny to watch the pent up energy keep building and building. Soon it was time, and the water war exploded into being.
Water flew everywhere, as 150 kids and dozens of camp helpers doused each other with water balloons, squirt guns, buckets and scoops. It did not stop until the camp well began to run out, (it quickly replenishes itself later) when the last few vendettas were settled, and everyone went to change into dry clothes.
Then it was time for supper, a curious combination of Taiwanese food and "western food", usually not quite in the traditional sense. It was generally good, however, and was soon finished, the tables cleaned, and the kids had a few minutes of clean up time while all the staff (Aussies and us included) headed for the chapel for some prayer time. This was the most important night of the camp, when the "campfire" (a pile of wood and chopsticks in an old satellite dish set up on concrete blocks. I love Taiwan) was lit, and the gospel was presented to the kids. After leading the kids outside and lighting the fire, the camp staff turned things over to the Australians, who played a game with the campers called "four corners", with street signs for four Australian animals held up in the four corners of the basketball court (the fire was in the middle, so any games had to go around the perimeter). The kids would circulate from one to the other, and when the whistle blew, they had to stop at the one they were at. When a die showing each of the animals was rolled, whichever animal came up would be the one whose station the kids had to stay at. So, if a kangaroo was rolled, the kids at the kangaroo station had to remain there. Eventually, nearly all the kids were stuck, and the few who remained won. The camp staff then formed a conga line of sorts with all the kids, taught them some basic moves, and conga'd back into the chapel. There the kids saw the most important segment of the drama, based on the story of the Prodigal Son, where he comes back to his father. The gospel was then presented, and the camp song, in this case "Wo Yuen Yi" (Eng: "I am willing"), sung a few times.
It's hard to describe this time. Emotional, full of silent prayer on our parts that the kids will understand what they are hearing and take it to heart, and that God will work in their lives.
Afterwards, the kids split up into their cabin groups, where their councilors gave their own testimonies and answered any questions the kids had. We met with the Australians, who were having a prayer time, and then went to bed soon afterwards.
Next time: Wrapping up the first camp, heading to Taichung.
Jacob had been there a while, working on the camp, and was exhausted. Teri had recently returned from a trip to Kyrgyzstan, and talked about that a little bit. Mostly about the fermented horse's milk she had brought back, and how no one would drink it, so it sat in the refrigerator a long time, but how could you say a fermented drink was spoiled?
I mentioned previously that we had not expected to go directly to camp. I was excited at the thought of seeing our friends there from previous years, and of meeting the Australians, but a little apprehensive at the same time. We were being thrown straight into work, without a chance to recuperate or adjust. I had done this a couple times before, and Caleb had once, but the girls had not. All these things did not occur to me that night, but looking back I am impressed with how well they managed the lack of transition, even with a few relatively sleepless nights for them. (the bamboo mats and heat/humidity at night took a little getting used to for them, coupled with the jet lag)
We arrived at camp before too long (it's near a north-south highway on the island), and began to unpack. One of the Australians was there to greet us, a very large (in both height and girth) named Steve. Steve was the leader of the group, who came from a small church in Adelaide. In fact, it was small enough that with the team of nine people that came, their attendance was halved! We talked to him a little bit, and then carried our bags to our rooms. I was a little nervous ahead of meeting everyone again, meetings preceded by high anticipation usually have that effect on me. Yet it turned out to be anticlimactic. Several of them (the "core group", you might say, 5 girls who had been there every year we had, who all spoke english to some extent (mostly fairly well) and who we had become good friends with) had waited up on us, but were (understandably) very tired, and mostly went to bed soon after we arrived. Before we arrived, Teri ran in as a joke to tell them that we had gotten held up and wouldn't be there that night. As she finished telling them this, we entered the chapel. It is a largish open room, with a concrete terrazzo floor, and a stage up front. The girls were mostly sitting on the stage, and when we entered, two of them jumped up and ran to us. These were Judy and Steffie. Judy, 16 (but, unusually for the Chinese that I have met, appearing much older) also known as "Super Judy", a self-proclaimed Drama Queen (the term takes a slightly different connotation there than your highschool definition) and who possessed enough personality for any three normal people, hugged us and welcomed us back. Steffie, 17, a small, intelligent, and emotional girl who I have talked to during the intervening years more than the others, shouted "Joseph!" and ran to hug me. I was expecting her to slow down, but she did not, and collided with me at full speed. (since she weighed about 90 lbs, this did not have the damaging effects that it could have, heh) The others then greeted us: Starcey, 21 (as of earlier that day), cheerful and competent, who since last year had been the activity leader, balancing both the "up-front excite-the-kids" and the "behind-the-scenes-planning" roles remarkably well. Janet, also 21, (who recently changed her english name to that from Jenny), a bubbly, heavier girl, with a beautiful singing voice and impressive drama skills (though through the years they had all become very good at that), and Dorcas, 19, a tiny girl (5' -maybe-) whose english abilities were a little behind the others (though she also spoke Mandarin, Taiwanese, and Hakka, a dialect of the minority group in which her ancestry lay), but had improved since last year, and who was very good at the piano. All had worked to the point of near exhaustion. This was their third camp, and they had three more to go. By the end of our first camp, they would often finish an energetic drama skit and then collapse into a near-involuntary nap offstage. Throughout our time there, we were encouraged to keep working hard and push through our own tiredness by their example.
After talking with those of them that stayed up for a while, we went to our rooms and prepared for sleep. For the guys, (Caleb, Jacob, and myself) this was a small, concrete-floored box, filled with bunk beds, in an old camp building. With 153 kids, we didn't have room to stay in the normal dorms, which were fairly similar but with better circulation. An oscillating fan made it possible to sleep (and nearly breath) in the warmth and humidity that made the air thick. The best method I found was to lay shirtless and sheetless on the (surprisingly sleepable) bamboo mat, laid on top of the thin foam block they used for a mattress on the bunk beds, where I could feel some moving air. It was not uncommon to wake up sweating in the morning, and somewhat stuck to the bamboo mat underneath. One can get used to nearly anything, however, and here our labors at the camp came to our aid; by the time we were ready for bed, we were so tired that sleep came quickly, regardless of the unusual sleeping arrangements.
Upon waking, (early, due to jet lag) I took a shower and went to read my Bible as the sun rose.
These moments were sadly few for me this trip, as we were so busy and tired that opportunities to sit and read were seldom. Still, I managed to find a few times, and those were worthy.
Sitting in an especially beautiful corner of God's creation, with mountains in the horizon and rice fields nearby, and the cicadas buzzing, how can one not feel the presence of the God who said "it is good"? Paul speaks of creation leaving man "without excuse", and I agree. Nearly every people and tribe have their own creation myth involving a god or gods who created the world.
I cannot believe that someone could look at the world and not see that it was created. The touch of a master artist with a deep appreciation of beauty is unmistakable.
That day was a busy one, though not stressful for us in that the Aussies were taking care of this camp, we were there to watch and observe and help out where we could. I met their team that morning during their devotional. Steve, the big man we had met the night before, and his wife; Bryce, a tall man with a strong accent who worked as an environmental consultant for businesses and had a fondness for puns; Nat, a friendly man who was going to Bali after the Taiwan trip was over; Josh, a dread-locked, laid-back, young man, the sort of person that comes to mind when I think of Australians; Katie, an athletic red-head whose parents were farmers in the Bush; Pam and Leanne, sisters (though their looks were dissimilar) who seemed to get along well; and Penny, an easygoing woman who seemed to be very moved by her experience there.
We helped in various activities that day, and especially watched as they taught the kids some basics of cricket and Aussie rules football. Cricket finally makes a bit of sense now, heh.
Katie gave me the rules for both on a sheet they had printed out, which came in handy later, as Jacob and Caleb ran a class teaching Aussie football in both our camps. I talked to her for a while that day, and she told me a little about herself. Her parents, as previously mentioned, ran a farm in the Bush. Australia is currently in a terrible four-year drought, so they were trying to break even from their crop losses with the money they made on sheep. Her older brother was a diesel mechanic, and her younger brother was set to inherit the farm. Due to the drought, in most of Australia you had to get a permit to even water your garden, and then only at certain times of the day. They were very excited at the water war which came later. They had begun to prepare for it by setting out buckets and tubs of water, and soon all the kids split up into their groups to have a water balloon filling competition. Rows upon rows of squirtguns that the kids had brought were laid to the side, and we lined up the buckets of water along the side of the camp's small grassy area. There were some planned games before the big war started, one involving drawing colored balls from a box where they were hidden. The teams of kids chose a color, and if they were wrong, their councilors got soaked. Then the tables were turned, and it was the councilors turn to pick. Everyone had gotten pretty wet by this point, and it was funny to watch the pent up energy keep building and building. Soon it was time, and the water war exploded into being.
Water flew everywhere, as 150 kids and dozens of camp helpers doused each other with water balloons, squirt guns, buckets and scoops. It did not stop until the camp well began to run out, (it quickly replenishes itself later) when the last few vendettas were settled, and everyone went to change into dry clothes.
Then it was time for supper, a curious combination of Taiwanese food and "western food", usually not quite in the traditional sense. It was generally good, however, and was soon finished, the tables cleaned, and the kids had a few minutes of clean up time while all the staff (Aussies and us included) headed for the chapel for some prayer time. This was the most important night of the camp, when the "campfire" (a pile of wood and chopsticks in an old satellite dish set up on concrete blocks. I love Taiwan) was lit, and the gospel was presented to the kids. After leading the kids outside and lighting the fire, the camp staff turned things over to the Australians, who played a game with the campers called "four corners", with street signs for four Australian animals held up in the four corners of the basketball court (the fire was in the middle, so any games had to go around the perimeter). The kids would circulate from one to the other, and when the whistle blew, they had to stop at the one they were at. When a die showing each of the animals was rolled, whichever animal came up would be the one whose station the kids had to stay at. So, if a kangaroo was rolled, the kids at the kangaroo station had to remain there. Eventually, nearly all the kids were stuck, and the few who remained won. The camp staff then formed a conga line of sorts with all the kids, taught them some basic moves, and conga'd back into the chapel. There the kids saw the most important segment of the drama, based on the story of the Prodigal Son, where he comes back to his father. The gospel was then presented, and the camp song, in this case "Wo Yuen Yi" (Eng: "I am willing"), sung a few times.
It's hard to describe this time. Emotional, full of silent prayer on our parts that the kids will understand what they are hearing and take it to heart, and that God will work in their lives.
Afterwards, the kids split up into their cabin groups, where their councilors gave their own testimonies and answered any questions the kids had. We met with the Australians, who were having a prayer time, and then went to bed soon afterwards.
Next time: Wrapping up the first camp, heading to Taichung.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Flying West to the East
Here begins my attempt to transcribe our adventures over the past couple of weeks.
We were too busy for me to write anything during our trip, so hopefully my memory will serve me well, and no important details will be left out. The members of our party this trip were Caleb M, Erica C, Rebecca W, and myself. (My brother Jacob, having gotten there early to do some work at the camp facility, more or less joined the crew once we arrived.)
--July 11/12th 2007: Arrival
The voyage to Taiwan was fairly enjoyable this time around, as fun as a day of flying and layovers can be, really. We arrived at the Huntsville airport at a ridiculously early hour, and quickly realized this was a very good thing when the line at the American Airlines counter was very long. This in and of itself would not have been a problem, except that the line wasn't moving. One man at the front of the line had some sort of problem that was apparently difficult to resolve, especially for the ladies working the counter that particular morning, to whom English was apparently a second language. (not merely being sarcastic, they spoke with what appeared to be a strong german accent) So, instead of taking him off to the side and dealing with whatever intractable problem that required 30min to find a solution, they tried to figure something out while the entire line of people backed up almost to the airport entrance. (I should note that the Huntsville airport is quite small, and that the AA counter is almost directly in front of the door. Still, we're talking about several dozen people at this point)
Finally, either they gave up or fixed the problem, and the man left.
Meanwhile, I had been filling in parents and friends on the flight numbers and times, after resolving a bit of confusion about the day of our return trip. (the international date line always throws me off for some reason) Once the girls were through the line and got their boarding passes, it was nearly time to get on the plane. At this point, goodbyes were said and we all prayed (quickly!) together, and set off through security. I am always interested in the differences between security checkpoints in different countries. Mexico has been the most laid back, so far, and America tends to be a little frustrating. Taiwan is somewhere in the middle, and handles the process very efficiently for the most part. They are more thorough in their checking of carry-on luggage, however, as we shall see later.
Rant- I still don't understand the logic behind the whole 'no liquids on planes' nonsense. Wow, it looks like every single terrorist has needed oxygen to blow up anything. We should ban that on planes too! Seriously, if I want to bring a transparent water bottle, with water that I would happily drink from to demonstrate that it is in fact not an explosive, I see absolutely no reason why I should not be allowed to do so. It's a fear-based, knee-jerk reaction of idiotic bureaucracy, and it irritates me every single time I go through a checkpoint. And I'm not even the one who got stopped for it, heh.
Anyway, sorry about that. If I keep carrying on like this, you the reader will think that our trip was annoying or difficult, and it honestly wasn't.
We arrived in Dallas without incident, and spirits were high. We had fun and took silly pictures on the airport shuttle there, and arrived at our terminal and boarded as planned.
Airports (at least on the way -to- somewhere) are always a little exciting for me. Sure, they are not normally very stimulating places to hang around, but in spite of the utilitarian architecture and repetitive loudspeaker announcements reminding us of pointless security measures, there's an unmistakable undercurrent of travel. Yeah, -this- place is pretty boring, but think of all the places you can go from here! I always get a feeling of venturing out, from what is familiar to what is not, that I am in a temporary holding station before rocketing at hundreds of miles per hour into the atmosphere to touch down in a place that is at least somewhat new and exciting.
I feel very sorry for those who must commute by air. Without the excitement of the destination, it must surely be an exercise in monotony.
Now comes the worst part of our departing trip. After we left Dallas for Los Angeles, we ran into turbulence when we had to fly through/past/over/around a massive storm front. That was the worst that I had ever experienced, and probably the first time I was ever really worried while flying. Turbulence doesn't really bother me normally, it's something I pretty much expect to encounter a bit of while flying, and it's always funny to hear all the kids on the plane scream in unison every time their stomachs have that dropping sensation. This time, however, the turbulence was long and severe, and we lost some serious altitude at one point.
It was made easier by the fact that I had a first hand view out my window of the storm front we were flying past, and seeing a massive cumulonimbus cloud that you are passing in and out of is an impressive experience.
This soon passed, and we could relax until we got to LAX.
LAX was interesting for me, and was the first time I had set foot in California. I could not have really counted it, except that we had to walk out of the terminal and to the international flight building, and so we really did go outside and walk down the street for a couple of minutes. The weather outside was more or less perfect, and I can see one of the reasons the California coastal cities have a homeless problem: when it feels like that outside, who wants to live in a house?
(of course I realize the weather isn't always that perfect, but it certainly was that day)
Upon arriving at the international flight building (or whatever it's called), we saw the China Airlines counter, and decided to check with them about our flight, just in case. This turned out to be a very good idea, since our original boarding passes were not valid on this flight, and we had to get new ones from China Airlines. Since we had some time, we went upstairs and looked at the little foodshops they had. There was a haagen dazs, staffed by people whose accent sounded like they spoke whatever language haagen dazs would mean something in if it were actually a real phrase (it's actually just made up, I read somewhere) and we all got some ice cream, which was very good. We then headed through security (Man, I would make a lousy citizen in a totalitarian regime. I don't like security checkpoints, and I hate people shouting at me to do things. I already took my shoes off, sheesh)
We could see the plane we would be leaving in while we sat in the boarding area. It was a humpback 747, a truly massive plane, beautifully painted with a plum blossom on the tail.
Once we got inside, we had a nice surprise: it was the most well-furnished plane I have ever travelled in. Every seat had its own personal touch-screen, with movies, music, TV shows, and games available. This was manipulated both by touch and by a controller mounted to the armrest, that you could unclip to use as a phone (though this feature was disabled), TV remote, menu selector and even game controller. To put the icing on the cake, when the meals came, we were given actual metal utensils.
For some reason, my ticket had me sitting away from the others, at the very front of the coach seating. This gave me more leg room, for which I was grateful, and told God so. Little things like that remind me of how much He loves me.
Shortly after take-off, a little Chinese boy came and sat on the front row with me. His name was Ivan, oddly enough, and his mother later told me that she hadn't realized the implications of that name when she had picked it to be his english name. (he can always change it later if he doesn't like it, but it's kind of cool, I think. I've never met a chinese person named Ivan, heh)
Perhaps somewhat appropriately, Ivan liked chess. For being so young (7 or 8, I think, though he was precocious and gave the impression of being older so I had originally though he was 11), he was a pretty good chess player. I happened to have a travel chess set with me, (yes, Tope, if you are reading this, it was the same one we used, haha) which is why I know this.
I also helped him solve multiple levels of a little puzzle game that the system for our touchscreens offered. I had a strong feeling that my ticket had been separate from the others for a reason, and that God had placed me on the same row as this little boy for a reason. I explained the purpose of our trip (his english was at least as good as any normal kid of his age in the US, at which point we talked a little bit about Christianity. It turned out that he and his mother were Christians, but his grandparents who he was going to Taiwan to visit were not. His mother came by and talked to me a little bit, she had formerly been a flight attendant on that airline, but had to quit when she got married and started having kids because it kept her away from them for too long. She was very kind, and thanked me repeatedly for keeping her son company. She gave me some contact information and said that if I was ever in L.A. (where they lived) I should get in touch with her and come eat with the family.
Between this and the in-flight movies (of which I had my pick of about 30. This airline seriously rocked), the trans-pacific flight passed much more quickly than it had in the past. We had a direct flight, so there was no stopover in Osaka, and soon we touched down in Taipei.
There, we stretched our stiff legs, found our luggage, and went through immigration quickly.
Upon exiting, we found my brother and two of the Heinsmans (an American family who live in Taichung, the father of which is Ron, who is in charge of the camp in Dajia) there to greet us.
It was then (and only then) that I learned that instead of spending a couple days in Taipei to acclimatize, see some sights, and get ready for camp, that we were heading for camp directly. And immediately. We exited the airport, and I was greeted by the hot, muggy, scent-laden air of Taiwan once again. We threw our luggage in the back of the Delica van they had driven up in, (being a smaller team this year, we all fit) and within minutes we were driving down the American-style highway system on our way to Dajia and the camp there...
Next time: Old friends and new friends
-Joseph
We were too busy for me to write anything during our trip, so hopefully my memory will serve me well, and no important details will be left out. The members of our party this trip were Caleb M, Erica C, Rebecca W, and myself. (My brother Jacob, having gotten there early to do some work at the camp facility, more or less joined the crew once we arrived.)
--July 11/12th 2007: Arrival
The voyage to Taiwan was fairly enjoyable this time around, as fun as a day of flying and layovers can be, really. We arrived at the Huntsville airport at a ridiculously early hour, and quickly realized this was a very good thing when the line at the American Airlines counter was very long. This in and of itself would not have been a problem, except that the line wasn't moving. One man at the front of the line had some sort of problem that was apparently difficult to resolve, especially for the ladies working the counter that particular morning, to whom English was apparently a second language. (not merely being sarcastic, they spoke with what appeared to be a strong german accent) So, instead of taking him off to the side and dealing with whatever intractable problem that required 30min to find a solution, they tried to figure something out while the entire line of people backed up almost to the airport entrance. (I should note that the Huntsville airport is quite small, and that the AA counter is almost directly in front of the door. Still, we're talking about several dozen people at this point)
Finally, either they gave up or fixed the problem, and the man left.
Meanwhile, I had been filling in parents and friends on the flight numbers and times, after resolving a bit of confusion about the day of our return trip. (the international date line always throws me off for some reason) Once the girls were through the line and got their boarding passes, it was nearly time to get on the plane. At this point, goodbyes were said and we all prayed (quickly!) together, and set off through security. I am always interested in the differences between security checkpoints in different countries. Mexico has been the most laid back, so far, and America tends to be a little frustrating. Taiwan is somewhere in the middle, and handles the process very efficiently for the most part. They are more thorough in their checking of carry-on luggage, however, as we shall see later.
Rant- I still don't understand the logic behind the whole 'no liquids on planes' nonsense. Wow, it looks like every single terrorist has needed oxygen to blow up anything. We should ban that on planes too! Seriously, if I want to bring a transparent water bottle, with water that I would happily drink from to demonstrate that it is in fact not an explosive, I see absolutely no reason why I should not be allowed to do so. It's a fear-based, knee-jerk reaction of idiotic bureaucracy, and it irritates me every single time I go through a checkpoint. And I'm not even the one who got stopped for it, heh.
Anyway, sorry about that. If I keep carrying on like this, you the reader will think that our trip was annoying or difficult, and it honestly wasn't.
We arrived in Dallas without incident, and spirits were high. We had fun and took silly pictures on the airport shuttle there, and arrived at our terminal and boarded as planned.
Airports (at least on the way -to- somewhere) are always a little exciting for me. Sure, they are not normally very stimulating places to hang around, but in spite of the utilitarian architecture and repetitive loudspeaker announcements reminding us of pointless security measures, there's an unmistakable undercurrent of travel. Yeah, -this- place is pretty boring, but think of all the places you can go from here! I always get a feeling of venturing out, from what is familiar to what is not, that I am in a temporary holding station before rocketing at hundreds of miles per hour into the atmosphere to touch down in a place that is at least somewhat new and exciting.
I feel very sorry for those who must commute by air. Without the excitement of the destination, it must surely be an exercise in monotony.
Now comes the worst part of our departing trip. After we left Dallas for Los Angeles, we ran into turbulence when we had to fly through/past/over/around a massive storm front. That was the worst that I had ever experienced, and probably the first time I was ever really worried while flying. Turbulence doesn't really bother me normally, it's something I pretty much expect to encounter a bit of while flying, and it's always funny to hear all the kids on the plane scream in unison every time their stomachs have that dropping sensation. This time, however, the turbulence was long and severe, and we lost some serious altitude at one point.
It was made easier by the fact that I had a first hand view out my window of the storm front we were flying past, and seeing a massive cumulonimbus cloud that you are passing in and out of is an impressive experience.
This soon passed, and we could relax until we got to LAX.
LAX was interesting for me, and was the first time I had set foot in California. I could not have really counted it, except that we had to walk out of the terminal and to the international flight building, and so we really did go outside and walk down the street for a couple of minutes. The weather outside was more or less perfect, and I can see one of the reasons the California coastal cities have a homeless problem: when it feels like that outside, who wants to live in a house?
(of course I realize the weather isn't always that perfect, but it certainly was that day)
Upon arriving at the international flight building (or whatever it's called), we saw the China Airlines counter, and decided to check with them about our flight, just in case. This turned out to be a very good idea, since our original boarding passes were not valid on this flight, and we had to get new ones from China Airlines. Since we had some time, we went upstairs and looked at the little foodshops they had. There was a haagen dazs, staffed by people whose accent sounded like they spoke whatever language haagen dazs would mean something in if it were actually a real phrase (it's actually just made up, I read somewhere) and we all got some ice cream, which was very good. We then headed through security (Man, I would make a lousy citizen in a totalitarian regime. I don't like security checkpoints, and I hate people shouting at me to do things. I already took my shoes off, sheesh)
We could see the plane we would be leaving in while we sat in the boarding area. It was a humpback 747, a truly massive plane, beautifully painted with a plum blossom on the tail.
Once we got inside, we had a nice surprise: it was the most well-furnished plane I have ever travelled in. Every seat had its own personal touch-screen, with movies, music, TV shows, and games available. This was manipulated both by touch and by a controller mounted to the armrest, that you could unclip to use as a phone (though this feature was disabled), TV remote, menu selector and even game controller. To put the icing on the cake, when the meals came, we were given actual metal utensils.
For some reason, my ticket had me sitting away from the others, at the very front of the coach seating. This gave me more leg room, for which I was grateful, and told God so. Little things like that remind me of how much He loves me.
Shortly after take-off, a little Chinese boy came and sat on the front row with me. His name was Ivan, oddly enough, and his mother later told me that she hadn't realized the implications of that name when she had picked it to be his english name. (he can always change it later if he doesn't like it, but it's kind of cool, I think. I've never met a chinese person named Ivan, heh)
Perhaps somewhat appropriately, Ivan liked chess. For being so young (7 or 8, I think, though he was precocious and gave the impression of being older so I had originally though he was 11), he was a pretty good chess player. I happened to have a travel chess set with me, (yes, Tope, if you are reading this, it was the same one we used, haha) which is why I know this.
I also helped him solve multiple levels of a little puzzle game that the system for our touchscreens offered. I had a strong feeling that my ticket had been separate from the others for a reason, and that God had placed me on the same row as this little boy for a reason. I explained the purpose of our trip (his english was at least as good as any normal kid of his age in the US, at which point we talked a little bit about Christianity. It turned out that he and his mother were Christians, but his grandparents who he was going to Taiwan to visit were not. His mother came by and talked to me a little bit, she had formerly been a flight attendant on that airline, but had to quit when she got married and started having kids because it kept her away from them for too long. She was very kind, and thanked me repeatedly for keeping her son company. She gave me some contact information and said that if I was ever in L.A. (where they lived) I should get in touch with her and come eat with the family.
Between this and the in-flight movies (of which I had my pick of about 30. This airline seriously rocked), the trans-pacific flight passed much more quickly than it had in the past. We had a direct flight, so there was no stopover in Osaka, and soon we touched down in Taipei.
There, we stretched our stiff legs, found our luggage, and went through immigration quickly.
Upon exiting, we found my brother and two of the Heinsmans (an American family who live in Taichung, the father of which is Ron, who is in charge of the camp in Dajia) there to greet us.
It was then (and only then) that I learned that instead of spending a couple days in Taipei to acclimatize, see some sights, and get ready for camp, that we were heading for camp directly. And immediately. We exited the airport, and I was greeted by the hot, muggy, scent-laden air of Taiwan once again. We threw our luggage in the back of the Delica van they had driven up in, (being a smaller team this year, we all fit) and within minutes we were driving down the American-style highway system on our way to Dajia and the camp there...
Next time: Old friends and new friends
-Joseph
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Departure
I write this at 11PM, on the night before my third departure for Taiwan.
I am excited, so excited that I doubt I will sleep, although the glass of Chianti might help on that front. (I know, "be not drunk", and I have yet to be, no worries there.)
So rarely do I feel that I can anticipate something fully, up until the moment it happens. Typically this ends in the anticipated thing managing to not occur. I have foolishly done this in the past with things that I had no surety of, and met with great discouragement, but last year as I remained skeptical up until our plane left Osaka for Taipei (meaning that we would either land in Taiwan or crash) I was forced to admit that some things can be fully savored up until the moment that they do indeed occur. This can only happen when God permits it. I have no control over whether this trip happens or not now; it is in His hands. I will trust that He can bring me to Taiwan once again if He chooses.
Taiwan felt inexplicably like home after the first trip. The second trip felt very much like coming home again, and it remains to be seen what the third trip will feel like. I sometimes catch myself using terms like "coming to Taiwan" rather than "going to", as if I am already there in a sense, and am only returning to myself. We shall see. At present, as far as my long term stay is concerned, I have dragged my feet on my application, but finally filled it out and gotten some references. I had hoped to send it before I left, but I have reaped the rewards of my procrastination, and that will not be the case. It is just, however, the fault is my own and I cannot complain. I do know that I will get there this fall at some point, Lord Willing.
Speaking of moving in that direction, I have informed my employers of my decision to quit this fall. They took it well, or at least appeared to, and wished me luck in my endeavors. I feel relieved; the last couple of months at work have felt like a sort of hypocrisy, with me knowing that I will not be there too much longer, but my employers considering me an investment for the future. I am sorry that their investment has not profited them as they expected, but I think my time there has been well-spent, and have no regrets on that front.
It's time to move on, to a wider world.
The world that awaits me.
May He deliver us there safely, and bless our efforts for His glory.
I am excited, so excited that I doubt I will sleep, although the glass of Chianti might help on that front. (I know, "be not drunk", and I have yet to be, no worries there.)
So rarely do I feel that I can anticipate something fully, up until the moment it happens. Typically this ends in the anticipated thing managing to not occur. I have foolishly done this in the past with things that I had no surety of, and met with great discouragement, but last year as I remained skeptical up until our plane left Osaka for Taipei (meaning that we would either land in Taiwan or crash) I was forced to admit that some things can be fully savored up until the moment that they do indeed occur. This can only happen when God permits it. I have no control over whether this trip happens or not now; it is in His hands. I will trust that He can bring me to Taiwan once again if He chooses.
Taiwan felt inexplicably like home after the first trip. The second trip felt very much like coming home again, and it remains to be seen what the third trip will feel like. I sometimes catch myself using terms like "coming to Taiwan" rather than "going to", as if I am already there in a sense, and am only returning to myself. We shall see. At present, as far as my long term stay is concerned, I have dragged my feet on my application, but finally filled it out and gotten some references. I had hoped to send it before I left, but I have reaped the rewards of my procrastination, and that will not be the case. It is just, however, the fault is my own and I cannot complain. I do know that I will get there this fall at some point, Lord Willing.
Speaking of moving in that direction, I have informed my employers of my decision to quit this fall. They took it well, or at least appeared to, and wished me luck in my endeavors. I feel relieved; the last couple of months at work have felt like a sort of hypocrisy, with me knowing that I will not be there too much longer, but my employers considering me an investment for the future. I am sorry that their investment has not profited them as they expected, but I think my time there has been well-spent, and have no regrets on that front.
It's time to move on, to a wider world.
The world that awaits me.
May He deliver us there safely, and bless our efforts for His glory.
Thursday, July 5, 2007
A reflective day at work
I sat at work today, for the last part of the workday, reading an article on wired.com. I had come across it by a small chain of events (and weblinks); first a desire (the basis of which I have forgotten) to look up the wikipedia article on the postcyberpunk genre. From there, it was only one hyperlink to Snow Crash, a foundational novel in the genre, written by Neal Stephenson. From there, one more hyperlink to an article about the man himself. After skimming the article, I noticed a link to an entry about an article Stephenson had written for Wired.com, about the role the tech-explosion in China was playing in the culture there. I chased down the article itself, glad that Wired.com keeps extensive archives, and read it. It was a lengthy and glorious exposition of the grimy, wire-tangled backstreets of China, where in the midst of a communist regime, capitolism flourishes on a level unknown in the US, yet leads to no increased freedoms on a cultural level. Hooked by Stephenson's seamless integration of a love for technology (and how it relates to everything else), captivating writing style, and socio-political commentary, I went back to my search results on Wired.com to see if he had written any other articles.
I found a 56-page behemoth about his experiences as a self-proclaimed 'hacker tourist', whilst tracing the route of the longest undersea cable ever layed. Lovingly, he began with the history of undersea cables themselves, originally encased by gutta-percha, a substance rather like tree-rubber. From there, he began to jump, country by country, locale by locale, into a series of expeditions into the colorful neighborhoods near or through which the wire passed. Giving GPS coordinates of each stop, and punctuating his descriptive narration of the locations and personalities with technical descriptions of how information cables, and indeed the entire global information network, operate.
While devouring this flood of well-conveyed information like a chocolate-addict who has just bought a brick of special dark and decided to have it all in one sitting, I sit in my dingy cubicle, listening on my iPod (manufactured in China) to music by Yoko Kanno, an eclectic composer extremely popular among a small niche group in Japan and America (and perhaps a few other countries). Soon, -days, even- I will be in Taiwan. Yet there I can jump onto any computer with an internet connection and access the same article. I am never totally away from home, in an earthly sense at least, if I have an internet connection. By that link, I can communicate with friends and loved ones, and maintain the flow of both relevant and irrelevant information that my brain has become so accustomed to.
The world grows smaller, and yet larger. Products made in some and designed in other various countries jostle each other with an innocent familiarity. What if one were to trace down each factory where they were made? One would see places and have adventures and meet people enough for a lifetime. And yet not enough, for on each trip a world would open up, waiting to be explored, and yet followed by an endless stream of others. There is perhaps no general location on earth that cannot be reached within a few weeks by someone sufficiently motivated and with sufficient resources. The very accessibility of the world makes it enormously unaccessible. The very number of countries one might visit taunts one with the knowledge that there is not time in a life to visit them all. And visiting is not to know, to know intimately. The local culture, the small things that any child born there ceases to even think about, yet are totally unknown to the transient observer. Even within our own towns, these places exist. Do we really ever pay attention? We drive, ride, or fly to our various destinations, heedless to the thousands and millions of lives playing out as we pass. The world has become endlessly complicated and yet a simplicity emerges.
But here I sit, isolated from most external sources of stimulus; the artificial lights maintain a steady (save for the occasional flicker), unceasing illumination. My cube does not move, or change, the only difference in its appearance now than from an hour ago is the constantly updating image displayed on my computer screen. The occasional noise from the hall filters in; uncomfortable shoes banging their soles against the dirty tiles, someone washing their coffee mug, perhaps a door closing as an office empties at the end of the day. These are masked and blurred by the ceaseless humming of the grimy air vents, which pump in conditioned air to keep the temperature constant. Occasionally, random forces cause a slightly more forceful push of air, and a welcome draft blows past me. The smells do not change, unless someone burns a bag of popcorn (a frequent occurrence), when a burnt, sweet smell fills the air, and dissipates, to linger eternally in the complex smell of dust, plastic, mildew, and vague smells of people and lunches that soon deadens the sense of smell so that it is no longer noticeable. I do not hate this place, but I grow weary of it.
I must see, I must know. It is this desire which propels me forward. I am drawn by the places yet unseen, the air yet unbreathed, the food yet untasted. The changing skies, the seas, the oceans, the forests, the weather, the cities, the people, the books, the endless sea of knowledge, infinitely absorbable and yet infinitely continuing, rushing past me and every moment both wasted in my failure to comprehend but a tiny portion of it.
We tritely ascribe omniscience as one of God's attributes, vaguely imaging it to be an encyclopedic sort of knowledge. Yet we cannot truly (never fully) appreciate anything like it without realizing how much there is to be known. God set forth a creation and a reality dependent upon Himself, and reality presents us with an incomprehensible torrent of what can be known. (Choices too, the vast majority of which are unconscious and automatic, lest our minds be broken by the sheer unending number of them)
All reality streams from the One self-existent reality, somehow This and yet a Person, a never-ending flow of what is, from the never-ending One who simply, Is.
That this Source of all reality can be mindful of us, can endure our endless pettiness and triviality, and yet love us with a love beyond all that the human race could collectively imagine, could Himself, Who is Meaning, descend to become that for which meaning is derived, and suffer Himself to be slain by -and for the sake of- those whose very existence is utterly and totally dependent upon Him in every infinitesimal unit of time, is beyond all comprehension. What sufficient response can there be but to utterly and totally submit, by whatever free will (real or apparent) is given to us, the whole of our beings to Him Who has done this thing?
I found a 56-page behemoth about his experiences as a self-proclaimed 'hacker tourist', whilst tracing the route of the longest undersea cable ever layed. Lovingly, he began with the history of undersea cables themselves, originally encased by gutta-percha, a substance rather like tree-rubber. From there, he began to jump, country by country, locale by locale, into a series of expeditions into the colorful neighborhoods near or through which the wire passed. Giving GPS coordinates of each stop, and punctuating his descriptive narration of the locations and personalities with technical descriptions of how information cables, and indeed the entire global information network, operate.
While devouring this flood of well-conveyed information like a chocolate-addict who has just bought a brick of special dark and decided to have it all in one sitting, I sit in my dingy cubicle, listening on my iPod (manufactured in China) to music by Yoko Kanno, an eclectic composer extremely popular among a small niche group in Japan and America (and perhaps a few other countries). Soon, -days, even- I will be in Taiwan. Yet there I can jump onto any computer with an internet connection and access the same article. I am never totally away from home, in an earthly sense at least, if I have an internet connection. By that link, I can communicate with friends and loved ones, and maintain the flow of both relevant and irrelevant information that my brain has become so accustomed to.
The world grows smaller, and yet larger. Products made in some and designed in other various countries jostle each other with an innocent familiarity. What if one were to trace down each factory where they were made? One would see places and have adventures and meet people enough for a lifetime. And yet not enough, for on each trip a world would open up, waiting to be explored, and yet followed by an endless stream of others. There is perhaps no general location on earth that cannot be reached within a few weeks by someone sufficiently motivated and with sufficient resources. The very accessibility of the world makes it enormously unaccessible. The very number of countries one might visit taunts one with the knowledge that there is not time in a life to visit them all. And visiting is not to know, to know intimately. The local culture, the small things that any child born there ceases to even think about, yet are totally unknown to the transient observer. Even within our own towns, these places exist. Do we really ever pay attention? We drive, ride, or fly to our various destinations, heedless to the thousands and millions of lives playing out as we pass. The world has become endlessly complicated and yet a simplicity emerges.
But here I sit, isolated from most external sources of stimulus; the artificial lights maintain a steady (save for the occasional flicker), unceasing illumination. My cube does not move, or change, the only difference in its appearance now than from an hour ago is the constantly updating image displayed on my computer screen. The occasional noise from the hall filters in; uncomfortable shoes banging their soles against the dirty tiles, someone washing their coffee mug, perhaps a door closing as an office empties at the end of the day. These are masked and blurred by the ceaseless humming of the grimy air vents, which pump in conditioned air to keep the temperature constant. Occasionally, random forces cause a slightly more forceful push of air, and a welcome draft blows past me. The smells do not change, unless someone burns a bag of popcorn (a frequent occurrence), when a burnt, sweet smell fills the air, and dissipates, to linger eternally in the complex smell of dust, plastic, mildew, and vague smells of people and lunches that soon deadens the sense of smell so that it is no longer noticeable. I do not hate this place, but I grow weary of it.
I must see, I must know. It is this desire which propels me forward. I am drawn by the places yet unseen, the air yet unbreathed, the food yet untasted. The changing skies, the seas, the oceans, the forests, the weather, the cities, the people, the books, the endless sea of knowledge, infinitely absorbable and yet infinitely continuing, rushing past me and every moment both wasted in my failure to comprehend but a tiny portion of it.
We tritely ascribe omniscience as one of God's attributes, vaguely imaging it to be an encyclopedic sort of knowledge. Yet we cannot truly (never fully) appreciate anything like it without realizing how much there is to be known. God set forth a creation and a reality dependent upon Himself, and reality presents us with an incomprehensible torrent of what can be known. (Choices too, the vast majority of which are unconscious and automatic, lest our minds be broken by the sheer unending number of them)
All reality streams from the One self-existent reality, somehow This and yet a Person, a never-ending flow of what is, from the never-ending One who simply, Is.
That this Source of all reality can be mindful of us, can endure our endless pettiness and triviality, and yet love us with a love beyond all that the human race could collectively imagine, could Himself, Who is Meaning, descend to become that for which meaning is derived, and suffer Himself to be slain by -and for the sake of- those whose very existence is utterly and totally dependent upon Him in every infinitesimal unit of time, is beyond all comprehension. What sufficient response can there be but to utterly and totally submit, by whatever free will (real or apparent) is given to us, the whole of our beings to Him Who has done this thing?
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Freefall - Stavesacre
Sleepless eyes open wide
Before heaven I stand again
If there's no winning this war tonight
I was wondering
If you could steady my spinning head
And trusting gets harder now
I wish you were here beside me
My failures, my fears and doubts
Have been haunting me
I'm just not who I thought I'd be
Freefall
Weightless and terrified
On I go, crossing over
From living to so alive
And purified
I know weeping is cast for the night
But joy . . .
Thought I was a good man
But fell short of my standards
Now what am I left with?
All or nothing
And my first taste of freedom?
Freefall
Weightless and terrified
On I go, crossing over
From living to so alive
And purified
I know weeping is cast for the night
But joy . . .
If I fall down
If I fail you
When I fall down
When I fail you
I hope to find you there
I hope to find you there
I know I'll find you there
I've always found you there
When I fall down
Down
Freefall
Weightless and terrified
On I go, crossing over
From living to so alive
And purified
I know weeping is cast for the night
But joy
Joy comes in the morning
Joy . . Joy comes in the morning
Joy . . Joy comes in the morning
Before heaven I stand again
If there's no winning this war tonight
I was wondering
If you could steady my spinning head
And trusting gets harder now
I wish you were here beside me
My failures, my fears and doubts
Have been haunting me
I'm just not who I thought I'd be
Freefall
Weightless and terrified
On I go, crossing over
From living to so alive
And purified
I know weeping is cast for the night
But joy . . .
Thought I was a good man
But fell short of my standards
Now what am I left with?
All or nothing
And my first taste of freedom?
Freefall
Weightless and terrified
On I go, crossing over
From living to so alive
And purified
I know weeping is cast for the night
But joy . . .
If I fall down
If I fail you
When I fall down
When I fail you
I hope to find you there
I hope to find you there
I know I'll find you there
I've always found you there
When I fall down
Down
Freefall
Weightless and terrified
On I go, crossing over
From living to so alive
And purified
I know weeping is cast for the night
But joy
Joy comes in the morning
Joy . . Joy comes in the morning
Joy . . Joy comes in the morning
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Commencement
Well, given that myspace is becoming increasingly irrelevant, and facebook is not the best format in which to have blogs, I have decided to start my own.
The posting will probably alternate between frequent bursts of activity and long periods of silence, but that's to be expected, I guess. In either case, it should be a good way to vent, achieve the occasional catharsis, foist my ponderings upon you all, and keep everyone updated should my travel plans become a reality.
Welcome to my blog.
-The title is from C.S.Lewis' book Perelandra, the second volume in his space trilogy which is so much more than just a space trilogy. I highly recommend it.
The posting will probably alternate between frequent bursts of activity and long periods of silence, but that's to be expected, I guess. In either case, it should be a good way to vent, achieve the occasional catharsis, foist my ponderings upon you all, and keep everyone updated should my travel plans become a reality.
Welcome to my blog.
-The title is from C.S.Lewis' book Perelandra, the second volume in his space trilogy which is so much more than just a space trilogy. I highly recommend it.
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