My First Chinese Story

After taking Chinese lessons for 10 months here in Taiwan, I was finally able to sit down and write a short story about my day in Chinese.  To the average Chinese reader, the story is not much, but to anyone who knows what I went through to get here, it’s a great experience to read.  So enjoy…

我有很多故事.

有一天

我從中山分校

到淡水分校去.

我搭錯了公車

所以我下了公車

然後我又搭錯了公車.

我又下了公車

然後我想走路去.

我給

計程車司機一張淡水分校的名片

然後我問他可以告訴我怎麼去這個地方嗎？

不久有一個人騎機車帶我去.

這個人是台灣人.

他很友善.

這是我的故事.

Wake Up, Insects, Wake Up!

Stink Bug

“众所周知，太阳东升西落。”

Everyone knows the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. It’s one of those universal truths I thought I could take for granted, so much that I never had to stop and think about it. Then, one day, I discovered something completely different, a new truth about the way the sun and earth interact with each other.

I was riding my bicycle across Alaska, when I took a detour in Fairbanks and rented a car, driving north, past the Article Circle, until I finally arrived at the Arctic Ocean, in the town of Deadhorse. Here the sun wasn’t rising in the east and setting in the west at all. It was going in circles around the sky, twenty-four hours a day. I thought I had arrived on another planet. Even the plants and animals growing up around me looked remarkably different from anything I had ever seen before. Here, 1,300 miles south of the North Pole, the sun goes around the sky for sixty-three continuous days, before finally dipping below the horizon again as winter approaches.

In the first week of March this year, I was walking home when I saw lightening nearby. In the three and a half years that I’ve lived in Taiwan, I don’t recall seeing lightening here at all. I’ve seen some killer typhoons come and go, and I’ve heard thunderstorms before, but never experienced lightening. In fact, I’d forgotten all about the phenomenon. So I stored the event in some curious part of my mind, but just then, before arriving home, forgot all about it.

A week later my Chinese teacher asked if I had seen the lightening in the beginning of March. I had, I told him, and he went on to explain that this event was predicted by the Chinese lunar calendar. He taught me the words for spring (春天), summer (夏天), autumn (秋天) and winter (冬天), then thunder (打雷) and lightening (閃電). At last he showed me the word for insect awakening (驚蟄). He knew I had a strong interest in the environment around Taiwan and he held me spell-bound as he taught.

Everyone knows about the four seasons. The concept is as simple as the sun rising and setting everyday. But the lunar calendar works on a system of twenty-four seasons each year, not just four seasons. Now, tell me, is the sun suddenly doing circles around your head? Do you feel like you’ve just stepped off the planet? Let me explain the Chinese lunar calendar to you and see if we can get your feet back on the ground again.

The Chinese lunar calendar in Asia is somewhat like the farmers’ almanac in North America. Starting in 1792, farmers began collecting data to help them manage their crops, including yearly weather patterns, tide tables, astronomical events and planting and harvesting trends out in the field. Now, over 200 years old, the farmers’ almanac has a reputation for being somewhat accurate in predicting climatic occurrences during each season, such as whether or not there will be a drought next summer or heavy snowfall in the winter. But the Chinese lunar calendar has one outstanding feature, when compared to the farmers’ almanac. The lunar calendar was first formulated some time around 2500 B.C. That’s over 4,500 years of compiled data used to determine what’s going to happen each year in the environment. The Chinese lunar calendar, although referring to the moon, is actually more about the sun’s position in the sky. It’s a way for farmers to determine the best time to till the ground, plant seeds, and later in the year, harvest crops.

In northern Alaska, the people living there – know as the Eskimos – find that snow is a big part of their lives. In fact, the Eskimo language has at least seven different words for snow. Now, I know about powdery snow, which is great for snowboarding, and icy snow, which will knock you flat on your back if you’re not careful, but that’s about it. The English language doesn’t place too much focus on snow, because it’s not such an important part of our worldview. Eskimos, on the other hand, talk about ‘aput’ or snow on the ground, ‘gana’ or falling snow, ‘piqsirpoq’ or drifting snow, and ‘qimuqsuq,’ which is the name for a snowdrift. In this same way, ancient Chinese people found that naming only four seasons in the year wasn’t enough. They needed twenty-four seasons to better explain the world around them, a world they were so highly connected to. And just as English doesn’t have very many specific words for snow, we also don’t have English names for all of the seasons in the Chinese lunar calendar. Only our words for spring, summer, autumn and winter can be used to give us some kind of reference point for the time of year being talked about.

The lightening I had noticed in the first week of March marks the beginning of the third season (驚蟄), as predicted by the Chinese lunar calendar. The ground temperature rises, the air gradually warms up, and the sound of thunder acts as a gigantic alarm clock telling insects and animals alike that its time to wake up and start looking for something to eat. In Chinese, this season was originally called (啓蟄), but latter changed to (驚蟄), because the Emperor (漢景帝) preferred that his given name (啓) not appear in the name for the season associated with the waking of hibernating insects and animals.

Here is a list of the twenty-four Chinese seasons, divided into the four western seasons of spring, summer, autumn and winter, as a reference point. The English name given for each season on this list is something I derived by looking over several similar lists and then summing them up. Keep in mind that because this system is based on the movement of the sun and moon around the earth, the date for each season will be adjusted accordingly each year. Also, the seasons do not start and end on the same day in both Taiwan and China. Start by looking at this short list of western seasonal markers for the two countries, as provide by Asian Geographic magazine. Then compare that to when the Chinese lunar calendar says the seasons should begin and end.

The Four Seasons of the Western Calendar
China
Spring March – May
Summer May – August
Autumn September – October
Winter November – February
Taiwan
Spring March – May
Summer June – August
Autumn September – November
Winter December – February
The Twenty-Four Seasons of the Chinese Lunar Calendar

Spring
1. Spring Day (立春) Feb 4 or 15 – spring starts here; the first 15 days of the year.
2. Rain Water (雨水) Feb 19 or 20 – preparations for planting begin; rain is more likely than snow at this time; the second 15 days.
3. Insects Awaken (啓蟄) or (驚蟄) March 5 – a time when hibernating insects and animals awaken; spring thunder is present and the stirring of new life.
4. Spring Equinox (春分) March 20 or 21 – the middle of spring.
5. Pure Brightness (清明) April 4 or 5 – howling southeasterly winds may be present; the sky will appear clear and bright; the weather, sunny and warm; also known as Tomb-Sweeping Day.
6. Grain Rains (穀雨) April 20 – farmers are reminded that seasonal downpours are beginning; rain helps grain grow.

Summer
1. Summer Day (立夏) May 5 or 6–the first day of summer.
2. Little Grain (小滿) May 20 or 21 – grain swells on the stalk; kernels are plump.
3. Grain Day (芒種) June 5 or 6 – wheat becomes ripe; time of harvest.
4. Summer Solstice (夏至) June 21–the sun reaches the highest point; the longest day and the shortest night; summer heat becomes more oppressive.
5. Minor Heat (小暑) July 7 – a time when heat begins to get unbearable; torridity begins.
6. Major Heat (大暑) July 22 or 23 – the hottest time of the year.

Autumn
1. Autumn Day (立秋) Aug 7 – beginning of autumn; temperatures begin to cool.
2. End of Heat (處暑) Aug 22 or 23 – heat ends.
3. White Dew (白露) Sept 7 or 8–condensed moisture makes dew white; dew curdles.
4. Autumnal Equinox (秋分) Sept 22 or 23 – the middle of autumn; the true start of the fall season.
5. Cold Dew (寒露) Oct 8–dew starts to turn to frost; the weather turns cold.
6. Frost’s Descent (霜降) Oct 23 – the appearance of frost and falling temps; winter is near.

Winter
1. Winter Day (立冬) Nov 7 – first day of winter.
2. Light Snow (小雪) Nov 22 – a light snow starts falling.
3. Heavy Snow (大雪) Dec 7 – the season of snowstorms is in full swing; snow becomes heavy; deep winter.
4. Winter Solstice (冬至) Dec 21 or 22 – Winter is at its peak; the shortest day and the longest night.
5. Minor Cold (小寒) Jan 6 – minor cold; cold starts to become a little unbearable.
6. Major Cold (大寒) Jan 20 or 21–severe cold; biting cold; the coldest time of year; the beginning of the new year approaches.

The Alaska Book

In the summer of 2001, I quit my job and went north to ride my bicycle across Alaska.  What does that have to do with Taiwan, you ask?  When I got home, after riding over 1,200 miles and seeing the Arctic Ocean, I thought the adventure would end.  But it didn’t.  The adventure continues even today. 

Alaska, in a way, brought me to Taiwan.  I set out to write a book about my adventure north, and in the process, became an English teacher in Asia.  While the book was never published, I did manage to put out a children’s book for my Taiwanese students to read, so in some small way I feel like I have become that writer I always dreamed of.

Here are some selected passages from, The Alaska Book, the high points that I remember the most, the times when I wrote what I felt and was not afraid to share it with the world.  I hope by reading this you too will find your passion and follow your dream.  You have to believe there is something out there, or you will never go looking for it.

The Alaska Book – Selected Passages

By Daniel White

I looked out across the landscape for a place to sleep for the night.  Between the mountaintops was a high plain called Glacial Flats.  It was barren of features and the wind moved across it in gusts.  When the wind stopped, there was no sound at all.

…

I found a real curious place. 

Down the road was the faint trace of a turnoff.  Dirt tracks had been half-hidden by the low-lying vegetation that covered the plain.  The tracks led to a homestead of sorts.  Here was a cabin, a cooking area, and a pile of firewood.  Behind it was an outhouse with a half moon cut in the door and another structure that had not been finished.  Time and a lack of use hung on every corner.

…

There was frost on the ground in the morning.  I went out into the woods and found a single ray of sunlight coming down through the trees and stood there a long time, basking in the warmth and beauty of it.  Sometimes I could hear the raven calling, sometimes the eagle.  I couldn’t remember which day of the week it was.  I tried to think back to the last known day, counting forward from there.  This could have been Friday or Saturday, but I wasn’t certain.  I looked inside my journal for answers, but found none.

…

Clouds filled in the sky above, as if they were moving floods of water, drowning every open ounce of space.  A little rain fell down where the clouds overlapped.  Along the mountain rim they collided and splashed.  A storm has come upon me.  Soon I sank into its depths.  A gasp of air here and there as I was buoyed in and out of it.  Rain down my soul and thunder in my nightmare.  Morning brings safety.  Until then, I bare the shrieking winds alone.

…

I have this deep, unexplainable urge to leave everything behind.  I want to go to some place magical, where nothing I have ever known of exists.  It’s something I’ve felt inside me for as long as I can remember.  When I look closely at the land I see kinds of plants I’ve never seen before.  I begin taking pictures, proof that this place exists.  On the western horizon I see a string of calling mountains.  They are calling me to stop the car and head out over the vast landscape. 

…

Here the river flows north past ice-covered lakes.  I want to dive into such a lake, to be surrounded by it, filled up by it, completely becoming the lake.  I want the land to form me – not me always trying to form the land.  I want to give up control with my mind and run freely, no longer determining where I need to be.  I could get lost out here.  I am in another world.  The part of me that makes sense is no longer in control. 

…

I came down from the mountain.  An ethereal world faded out behind me.  I was on my way home again.  As I crossed the mountain pass and began to make my descent, a lightening storm flickered in my rearview mirror.  On the northern side of Antigun Pass I had seen caribou and musk oxen living in the wild.  Across the arctic plains – the expanse between the Brooks Range and the Arctic Ocean – were species of plants that did not exist anywhere else in the world.  That world was now being left behind me on the other side of the continental divide.

…

Some nights I sat wrapped in the mystery of what brought me here.  Was it the smell of the air, the cold, the warmth, the flight of a bird, or friendly play with a dog?  Each still memory is like a moment of silence.  Fading sounds, like the falling of the rain.  The miles, the many miles of searching down the road for a meal, a conversation, or a place to stay.  People living, all old or getting old, much like the land.  To me, a river is a drink of water.  Time is the mountains.  Sleep, exhaustion.  Nothing more.