replaced by every day

1.

On the last day of my trip to Guadalajara (was it really a month ago?), I took a taxi from my host company to the Guadalajara airport. When I met the driver outside, I apologized (in Spanish) for making him wait -- I'd had to go back through the building because I'd left my jacket in one of the conference rooms. I think my friendly apology must have gained his favor, because once I'd climbed into the backseat, he started what would end up being a 45-minute conversation with me.

It was one of the strangest, most disorienting conversations I've ever had -- strange because it was full of subject matter I hardly ever talk about, disorienting because it was probably the most Spanish I've ever had to process at once since high school. He told me how he'd been to the U.S. before, and how he didn't really like it because people weren't friendly to him. ("Americans work hard, but only seem to care about money," he said. "Look at me: I drive a taxi, and I'm not rich, but it lets me do my writing, and that's all that matters.") He said he almost died in a car accident when he was younger, and it was a miracle that he survived without mental or physical damage. After his recovery, he said, his view of life changed. He showed me the scar on his wrist and ran his hand over the ragged Bible sitting on his dashboard and said he now spends his spare time writing. He's written two novels so far, and is working on a third. I tried to get a better idea of what his novels were about, but the only thing I could really gather was that they were religious/spiritual in nature. He expressed his disgust at the world today: "People are preoccupied with sex, drugs, money, war, the internet, homosexuality." "Are you talking about only people in the US?" I asked. "No, Mexico too. Everywhere."

I listened, even though I didn't entirely agree with what he was saying, and tried to play a gentle devil's advocate with my limited Spanish. "You don't like what people are becoming these days, but what about good people, like you and your family? Surely you can't be totally pessimistic." He brought up George Bush and railed against the war in Iraq. His opinion of Bush was harsh: "Someone should assassinate him." I was surprised, if only because I'd pegged him as your typical religious conservative. But of course the rules are different in Mexico, and that there's no such thing as Republican and Democrat.

I forget what else he talked about -- he seemed to reiterate the same themes again and again -- but as we were nearing the airport, I said I hoped maybe I'd read his writing one day. He chuckled as if he knew I didn't really mean it, but when we reached the airport, he told me to wait a minute, and ripped off one page from his pad of receipts -- "this one is for your records," he said -- then ripped off a second page, scribbled his name and a phone number on the back, and gave that to me as well.

2.

Sometime in January my dad forwarded me an email about a NATWA II get-together in San Francisco. NATWA is a national association of Taiwanese-American women; my mom is a member, which is probably why my dad got the email. NATWA II is a subgroup for second-generation women; I am not a member, and in fact I didn't even know NATWA II existed until that moment, but the email sounded casual and welcoming enough. "I'll be up in the Bay Area this weekend and thought I'd see if any of you wanted to get together for dinner Friday night," wrote Joanne, the organizer. "Please invite any other Taiwanese-American women you know in the area."

I have no idea why I voluntarily decided to go to an event where I would not know anyone -- especially considering how antisocial I've felt lately -- but I think I convinced myself that it would be a good networking opportunity. So I drove up to the city alone, spent 20 minutes looking for parking, and arrived 15 minutes late at the cafe where we were meeting. There were already about ten or so other women there, most of them in their 20s, a few in their early 30s. I settled in at one end of the table, introducing myself and explaining the roundabout way I'd heard about this meetup. At the beginning it was mostly just your standard getting-to-know-you conversation: I seemed to be the only recent transplant; everyone else had grown up in California, especially L.A. There were also surprisingly few Silicon Valley types: Joanne worked for a nonprofit, several women were lawyers or were in law school, and another was a mother/filmmaker (at least, that's what someone else said she was!). There was one engineer, but she was a civil engineer and worked in the city.

I'm happy to report, though, that being Taiwanese and female (in this case, at least) was enough to keep the conversation lively. Two hours later, when the cafe had quieted down and our group had shrunk a little, we were still talking about topics such as travel, dating non-Asian men, politics (Taiwanese and U.S. both), parents, and our parents' politics. At the end of the night, Joanne took down everyone's emails and contact info, and as I drove home, I thought to myself that I should really try to take advantage of these things, try to meet people outside of my small (tiny!) circle of college and work friends here in the Bay Area. It's weird: I've never really liked hanging out with people just because they were Asian/Taiwanese, but this time, somehow, was an exception.

3.

About a week ago I picked up my violin for the first time since I moved out here to California. I was afraid I would sound horrible, but I played some scales and read slowly through the only sheet music I have here (Symphonie Espagnole by Lalo, which also happens to be the only major concerto I ever studied)... and most of it came back. For the next hour and a half I was irrationally delighted by the sound of my own playing, and went through the first movement of the Lalo about three times, along with any other pieces (or parts of pieces, more like) that I could play from memory. It was something of a relief to know that eight years of lessons and practicing and playing in orchestras hasn't completely gone to waste. And now I have goals: order some rosin, for heaven's sake, and another copy of my book of Bach partitas... so that I can play something every once in a while!