Sixteen hours of hazy sleep and moments of lucidity allow me to arrive in Taiwan.
Sixteen hours allows me to wake up without an alarm at 4 am.
Sixteen hours allows me to watch my fill of BPL on a big screen TV, possibly live, with Chinese commentary. And also reruns of any Yankees game from the last few years where the winning pitcher was Chien-Ming Wang. Kind of entertaining sometimes.
Sixteen hours affords me a 180 NT ($6 US) steak meal in one of the nicest food courts ever. And Mos Burger and GOOD stinky tofu and all that good stuff you can only get in Asia.
Sixteen hours gives me tons and tons of my favourite fruit, the likes of which I have not yet seen on the North American continent, nor have I even managed to figure out its proper English name. (Wikipedia informs me that it has many common names, the most notable being "wax apple" while I do recognise its French name, "jamalac")
Sixteen hours has more than doubled the number of plaid/flannel shirts I own. This may or may not be an obsession. Lina, I think I miss shopping with you.
Sixteen hours lets me see how my cousins have grown (almost taller than me now!) since last summer, how my grandparents have aged, and my family for the first time since Thanksgiving.
Sixteen hours means I am sitting at the airport, waiting for my plane on New Year's Day after a night of watching fireworks, and the West Coast has not yet counted down.
I am sad today because for the first time, I am the first to leave (usually my dad leaves first for work). Thanks a lot, school. I get to miss watching my little cousin compete in the Taipei citywide track meet, miss seeing my cousins from Australia, who arrive in two days, and a whole bunch of other stuff. In less than sixteen hours (in fact, -4 hours if you factor in the time difference), I will be at home in California again.
And so those sixteen hours, that is my winter break.
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1 comment:
This is awesome.
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