Today I saw a big pig sleeping at the side of the road

Moving on...

Whenever I thought of Chinese students I always pictured them working their arses off.

And usually not by their own doing.

I always imagined their teachers (or masters) to be super strict, standing at the front of the class with a bamboo cane, punishing below average students by making them do the horse-stance over an incense stick for an hour; with cups of hot tea resting on their head, shoulders, knees and toes.

Or maybe it was all the martial arts films I had watched having a bigger influence on me than I thought.

As my Taiwanese girlfriend bluntly said, 'It's not like that... and what's a horse-stance?'

So now I find myself being a student in Taiwan and I can say from experience that my teacher doesn't have a bamboo cane (at least, I don't think she does...) and so far I've been obedient enough not to have an incense stick blowing smoke up where the sun doesn't shine. But having said that, I can honestly say that the expectations the teachers have of their students are far greater than in the west.

For instance, I've just finished my fourth week at Uni. In total, my class have been given over 100 Chinese traditional characters to learn (that includes reading and writing them). We also have to learn the pinyin and the tones to go with the pinyin (whilst knowing which letters the tones go above).

I don't know, maybe it's just me being a weak westerner, but to my mind that's a lot of stuff to remember!

I got talking to a local the other day whilst waiting for the bin collection. As the sound of the bin truck got louder and louder (it sounds like an ice-cream man's rendition of a Beethoven's piece) the old man said something to me in Chinese, to which I replied (in Chinese) 'I'm sorry, I don't understand.'

He smiled and said, 'Oh, sorry, are you enjoying Taiwan?'

Now, this hardly ever happens! I was so shocked that I laughed.

'You speak really good English,' I said.

He smiled and said that he had studied in Edinburgh many years ago.

We got talking about this and that when I added that I was studying at Shida.

'Ah yes, a great university,' said my new friend. 'Chinese is hard to write, don't you think?'

Damn right! The fact that it was a local saying this comforted me somewhat because, let me tell you, Chinese characters are beautiful, yes, but incredibly intricate. And there's an order to the strokes too, something that you have to stick to because Taiwanese people know when you've done it the wrong way (or at least my girlfriend does...).

The other night it took me 2.5 hours to complete a set of questions on a single side of A4. And this wasn't just me... a few of my classmates said the same.

So let's get back to the workload:

- Daily class
- Up to 20 hours a month of additional study
- Homework
- Revision for 3 tests a week.

It's like having a full-time job that you take home with you.

Having grumbled all of that, I want to say that the eastern approach might be tough, but I think it could be having the desired affect.     

Yesterday, my girlfriend introduced me to a new cafe for us to study in. As we approached the cafe she pointed to the sign and asked me to read it. I felt daunted at the simple task until she said, 'You've gone through these words in class'. When I looked closer at the sign, I realised that I had indeed studied the characters, it's just that they were in a funky font. 

I felt a wave of pride come up through my chest as I read out loud 喝個咖啡吧!

And she, like a proud parent, nodded and smiled.

Bearing in mind that I was on the verge of carrying out a self-fulfilling prophecy, that I was indeed useless at languages, I have now been given a bit of faith, not only in myself but in the human race and our ability to learn.

If I can begin to read, write and speak Chinese in several weeks (very little, I might add, but little is still some) then this tells me that our ability to learn is virtually unlimited. All that's needed is an incentive to learn; that then provides the motivation and that then provides the results (mix in there time and patience and you're golden).

It could be boiled down to this: If you want to learn, you will.

If you want your mind to absorb new information, it will.

A tea drinking, bamboo wielding master isn't necessary.

Right, back to my studying... test tomorrow.

再見!!

Source

www.gavinwhyte.co.uk

A Safety-net Underfoot

A safety-net is a wonderful thing.

It brings comfort and stability to that part of ourselves that fears putting one foot into the unknown. 

But if we look closer we see that a safety-net is actually woven with threads of fear.

Not only that, but because the net is full of huge gaping holes, it's incredibly hard to move forward. 

When we can't move forward, we hinder our growth.

And when we hinder our growth life can become insipid.

For me, that's the ultimate sin.

The reason I'm nattering on about safety nets is because many people have said that my recent move to Taiwan was courageous and I'm always genuinely amazed by the remark.

With not being a traveler, my comfort zone has been stretched more than it ever has been in 31 years, but bravery didn't enter the equation for one specific reason.

And that reason was Love.

Yes, yes, I know I've plunged into the ocean of sentimental cheesy-ness, but hear me out;

The only reason I moved to Taiwan was because I was - and am - in love with a beautiful girl. It was because of her that I didn't feel I was being brave when I decided to move, for the simple fact that I just decided to move.

That's the important bit:

I just decided to move.

I just moved.

I just did it.

I made the decision and stuck to it.

My safety-net was my previous job with it's stable income, but with that now gone I'm left to find a new balance in a new land. And this didn't bother me because I was motivated by Love.

With a sense of Love, everything seems possible.

With a sense of Love, when you step forward on your net of comfort and stability, the gaping holes are filled with an invisible force that holds you upright.

I don't mean for the word Love to be limited between two people. For me, self-love comes first and then only with that Love of yourself are you able to Love another and see how carrying Love within you can change your world. 

If you're driven by some artistic intent and every cell in your body is bursting with the desire to create, and then all of a sudden life presents you with an opportunity that will undoubtedly drag your safety-net from under your feet, you will go for it. (You would be foolish not to!) When you go for it you won't think you're being brave. You'll just do it because you're driven by Love.

A Love to create. 

A Love to follow your desire. 

Your dream. 

Your gut instinct.

Your calling.

Yes, you might feel nervous, but that's just the vibrations of your safety net being stretched.

It's normal.

Nerves tell us that were're having an experience that we sense is a threat to our being, but more often than not it's no threat whatsoever - it's just growth.

Love is the ultimate safety-net.

Step forward and see what happens - in my case, Taiwan happened.

www.gavinwhyte.co.uk

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The Riddlers

All day long I’m surrounded by people speaking Mandarin and Taiwanese. It’s beautiful, but at the moment I can only pick out certain words – therefore, whole sentences remain non-existent – therefore, I haven’t got a clue what anybody’s saying. But, still, it’s beautiful. I was stood at my bedroom window with a cup of tea and could hear one of my Taiwanese flat mates on the phone to a friend. 

That’s how this poem came about.

Such a foreign tongue

For this alien to understand.

It speaks its riddles,

Then laughs!

At what?

I don’t know – but I will.

Because this foreign tongue,

With its sing-along tones,

Will not be foreign for long

For this foreigner,

Who is keen to unlock the riddles,

Will sound,

- One day -

Like them,

The Riddlers,

And, I too, will become a riddler

Who laughs at something he understands.

Source

On the Brink of Change

I've just opened my desk drawer and found a bookmark that I've had for years.

It's a Winnie the Pooh one and it shows him walking through the woods, hands behind his back. His friend Piglet is by his side, pleasantly gazing at him, and the excited Tigger is bouncing along up ahead.

At the top, there's a quote which reads, "You can't stay in your corner of the forest waiting for others to come to you. You have to go to them sometimes."

That quote has never been more relevant to my life than now.

I'm on the brink of change.

A chapter is ending and a new chapter is beginning. How it will all unfold, I have no idea. All I can do is keep putting one foot in front of the other, with the faith that the ground will continue to support me. If it doesn't, well, then my time to meet the maker has come. 

As someone told me recently, 'We spend more time dead, than we do alive.' 

The change I'm going through is taking me to Taiwan, where I'll be reunited with my girlfriend and learning Mandarin at a university in Taipei. 

I remember back towards the end of last year, I was trudging through the city of Leeds, when someone gave me a flyer. Normally, I refuse to accept one but this time I gladly took it and looked at it. And I'm so glad I did because the words printed on it had a profound affect on me.

They simply said:

MAKE BOLDER DECISIONS

The feeling I had when I read those words will forever be with me. It was like they were speaking directly to me from another place. They were the words that I needed to see/hear at exactly that moment in my life.

Has that ever happened to you? You'll know it if it has. It's like God/Life is speaking to you directly. It's giving you a key to the next stage in your development. Little clear signposts telling you where to go and what to do next.

I'm 31 and I've never had a desire to leave my hometown. I never dreamt of moving to a foreign country; I never had a reason to.

But leaving my girlfriend at the airport in January was too much.

I had to follow her. 

You know the scene in Donnie Darko when he suddenly sees the manifestation of intent coming out of his stomach, then it turns into a hand and motions for him to follow it? Remember? Well that was what it felt like for me. I felt like there was a massive hand above my girlfriend, motioning for me to go to Taiwan.

She said on a number of occasions, "I feel like I've come to take you home."

So here I am, four days until I fly with a one-way ticket. 

I've been going through the process of saying goodbye to as many friends and family members as I can. Some have been teary - some haven't. I've said goodbye to my work colleagues who I've worked with for the past decade. I was surprised that I felt sad to leave them (they're a mental bunch of lads... but I wouldn't swap any of them). 

I don't know how long I'm going to be in Taiwan for. It could be 3 weeks, 3 months, 3 years, 30 years. I honestly don't know.

But I'm going to run with it and see where it takes me.

Feelings of anxiety and the occasional flutter of nerves come to the surface when I think of what I'm doing.

I've been told it's normal.

I'm sure it is.

I'm stretching my comfort zone that's very much like an elastic band... the more you stretch it, the stronger it gets... the trick is to do it gradually so it doesn't snap.

We've all heard of those celebrities who get famous way too soon... they go crazy. Their comfort zone was pushed to the limits before they had time to adjust. It's like pulling a muscle... you've got to warm it up first to prevent such a thing from happening.

This morning, I had breakfast with a good mate of mine, the illustrator, Peter O'toole. He said, "Risk versus reward. The higher the risk, the higher the potential reward. Every time I've done something that's out of my comfort zone, something good has come out of it."

People have said I'm courageous for moving to Taiwan, but, really, what have I go to lose compared to what I've got to gain?

This opportunity has presented itself to me on my path.

I must have put it there for a reason.

And what better reason, than to stretch my comfort zone and grow.

I'm going to live at my own risk.

www.gavinwhyte.co.uk

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A Number Two in Taiwan

It was heart-rending. The stereotypical goodbye at the airport where you both hug, kiss, hug again, say goodbye; you then both turn around at the exact same moment and wave for one last time. Then she's gone. I drove home to The Police (I mean the band... I hadn't been robbed or anything - that would've been a disaster) and whilst singing along to Roxanne and changing the name to Ross Kemp to lighten my mood,  I knew I had to follow her. I knew I had to go to Taiwan.

Now, I'm not much of a traveler. Think of me as more of a Walter Mitty, type of guy. Don't get me wrong, I don't daydream my life away, but having said that, I don't go wrestling with sharks and jumping out of helicopters either, but at the age of 30, I had left the UK once. 

...once...

...and that was 16 years ago on an all inclusive holiday to Minorca with my parents and younger sister. I drank a lot of free strawberry milkshakes, kicked some Spaniard's ass at pool and got sun-burnt. 

It was fun.

Other than that, the UK has been my humble abode. My experience of foreign cultures, especially the East, came from my love of Kung Fu films and the occasional documentary on National Geographic. Trying to find a particular place on a globe is like a cruel game of Where's Wally. The globe would be covered with thousands of Wally's and the real one wouldn't be wearing thick-rimmed glasses.

My girlfriend was aware of this. When we first met (before we were dating) I asked her where she was from.

'Taiwan,' she said.

'Where in China is that?' I replied with a legitimate frown.

'It's not in China, it's a little island between China and Japan.'

I laughed at her and accused her of making it up.

A quick word of advice for the guys reading this - don't do that. Especially when you have as much knowledge of the world as an undercooked cod. If you do say it, expect the look that says your life is about to end within the next five seconds... and I wish you all the best.

Carrying on...

I booked my plane ticket (the first one I had ever booked) and looked forward to my little Formosan adventure. I decided it would be wise to do as much research as I possibly could about the land I was heading to. I read books on Taiwan, watched Taiwanese films, joined an English/Mandarin group in my hometown and started having Mandarin lessons on Skype with my girlfriend's sister, who just so happened to be a qualified Mandarin teacher living in Spain! Hey presto!

Having done all of that, and conversing with my girlfriend everyday, not one person, nor book, nor film, mentioned to me the issue of the toilet.

That's right... The Toilet. 

I will explain.

All was well. It was my first full day on the island (which isn't in China) and we were at an art exhibition. The most noticeable thing out of the ordinary was me, being the only westerner in the building. Having being introduced to an authentic Taiwanese breakfast and a morning coffee, my stomach started to rumble. 

Not a problem. 

We had just walked past some toilets. 

'I'm just going to pop to the toilet, love,' I said, calmly, not aware of the challenge that lay around the corner.

The bathroom was immaculate. It were super clean. The air was perfumed and the marble floors seemed to contain a million and one stars.

I was a happy man... then I opened the cubicle door.

Oh, that feeling.

I would've been less shocked if I had walked in on Bruce Lee who had, for some reason, forgot to lock the door.

'Oh, Brucey,' I would've said. 'I'm sorry, but the fault is all yours. And, I hope I'm not being rude, but I thought you were dead.'

He would've been a bit embarrassed, but I wouldn't have rocked the boat any further just in case he said, "Over there, on that island, with meee." To which I would've apologised profusely and left him to it.   

'What the &^$(*!' I said to myself. 'What kind of toilet is that!?'

I don't want to give the impression that it was something disgusting. On the contrary, like I've said, everything was pristine.

How can I explain this? Let us just say that it was like an elongated toilet that was flush with the floor (no pun intended).

I started to panic. I started to sweat. 

'What do I do?'

I couldn't go running back to my girlfriend whilst busting for a download and ask her for instructions.

'Love, how do you use the toilet?'

'Follow me, I'll show you.'

On a planet where pride doesn't exist, this might have been an OK scenario, but there was no way I was going to ask her how to use the toilet.

I couldn't ring her either because there was no wifi and I didn't have a local sim card.

I had to do this alone and I had do it there and then.

I felt that if I succeeded (the word IF being a super dangerous word in this predicament) then it would be a pure coming-of-age victory. It would be like when the Aborigines went headhunting - if you got a head you were a man! 

But this was much worse.

I prepared myself. 

Shorts came down... underwear followed. 

I began to squat but my shorts were getting in the way.

I changed positions and ended up doing what felt like a crab over this god-damn-bucket-thing!

I finally got into a position where I felt like I could, you know... go. 

So I did.

I was proud of myself, even though my arms were straining and...

Oh, wait... where the hell's the toilet roll!

OK, now the panic really kicked in.

My head was looking around like an owl having an anxiety attack.

What if they didn't use toilet roll here? I thought. What if there's another way of doing your business in Taiwan? What if I've been to the toilet in a place where I shouldn't have gone!? 

Jesus.

I turned my head 180 degrees and there it was. 

My savior. 

Loo roll, I love you. 

But then I had to reach for the swine. 

My right hand supported my crab-like posture whilst my left hand reached over my right shoulder and got the goods. It was as if I had decided to have a dirty game of Twister all by myself. 

But now the finishing line was in full view.

A few minutes later I walked out of the cubicle like a new man. I was proud of myself, yet still confused as to why they would encourage such a treacherous method of going to the toilet.

I found my girlfriend innocently looking up at a painting. I stood beside her, glanced at the painting and then explained my ordeal.

Needless to say, she thought the whole thing was hilarious and couldn't wait to tell her parents who I hadn't met yet.

'I didn't think to tell you,' she said, apologetically. 'It's just normal for us.'

'But why have the toilet roll there?' I said, pointing over my shoulder.

'What?' she frowned. 

'The loo roll was behind me.'

'You were facing the wrong way!'

...

...

...

I found Wally. He was squatting on an island in between China and Japan.

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A Quick Guide to the Art of Squatting

Later on that day, and with the ordeal still fresh in my mind, I asked my girlfriend about squatting.

'What's the best way to do it?' I asked her whilst in the tube station.

'Imagine sitting on the bottom step... or on a curb,' she said. 'It's comfortable and it's natural.'

'Hmmm.'

'Show me how you squat,' she said.

'What?'

'Show me how you squat.'

'You want me to pretend I'm on the toilet? Here? Now?'

She giggled. 'Why not?'

I looked around. 'For starters, there're people... everywhere.'

She looked at me with a smile that said 'so what'.

So I squatted there and then in the tube station as if I was taking a number.

Did people look at me?

Damn right they did.

Did they mutter, 'Weird westerner' under their breath?

Most likely.

But now I know how to squat: pretend you're sitting on a curb.

I did it for you. Now you don't have to go through what I went through. I'm saving you from the pain and the anguish and the mental pressure. 

So go! 

Squat away!

www.gavinwhyte.co.uk

Old Dog - New Tricks

I'm not one to shy away from a challenge.

It's for this reason that I've taken it upon myself to learn Mandarin.

Not only do I intend to learn Mandarin, but I'm putting aside the romanisation system known as pinyin and focusing on the traditional characters and way of reading them, known as Zhuyin.

Why would I put myself through such torture at the age of 30?

After all, you can't teach an old dog new tricks, right?

Wrong.

You can teach a dog new tricks if it's willing to learn them, regardless of its age.

Language has never been my strong point (the irony of a writer, I guess). I didn't start speaking till I was four years old. My parents said I made up my own language, and in my sleep I spoke in tongues. At school I hated studying French and German - opting to focus on German as I found it resembled English that little bit more.

So why have I decided to learn Mandarin, when I thought I had put all the 'language learning days' behind me?

I mean, I've always been drawn to the East. I've been a martial arts buff since I was knee-high. Bruce Lee has been my idol for as long as I can remember - even more so when I started to read his books and understand him as a philosopher, rather than a guy who only kicks ass on screen.

(Growing up, I knew my Nan shared the same birthday as Bruce Lee. I told her and she found it quite amusing and I found it cool. When she died in July, the date seemed somewhat familiar to me. And the reason was because she died on the same day as Bruce Lee, too. It may mean nothing, but to me it forges a connection to the guy who still inspires me to this day.)

Because of Mr Lee, I was drawn to Eastern thought and philosophy. I enjoyed watching documentaries about the East and even loved watching the Chinese cooking programs. I started drinking green tea before I was 10. And I've always found a bowl of plain rice really comforting!

So, I will ask again: why have I decided to learn Mandarin?

The answer can be reduced to four words.

I fell in love.

It's as simple as that.

Not only did I fall in love, but I fell in love with a girl who I met whilst living in a Buddhist Center and she was visiting the UK from . . . Taiwan.

Out of duty, she went back to her land far, far away and we intend to be with each other before this year is through.

So it is love that is my driving force. It is love that inspires me and eradicates all the fear and doubt I ever had about learning a new language. And the best thing is, I'm loving it. I'm truly enjoying the [slow] learning process that I've undertaken. I'm fascinated by Mandarin and how it all works. I'm fascinated by Taiwan and its history and its people.

And the more I learn the more I feel like I'm reminding myself of something which has always been within me.

I don't know about reincarnation or past lives (it makes sense if we consider that life has no beginning and no end) but it would explain my pull to the East.

As my girlfriend said, 'I feel like I've come to bring you home.'

And that's exactly why this old dog is wagging his tail.

(I know that most of you who are past your thirties will argue that 30 is young - but I'm afraid we in our thirties won't listen to you.)

www.gavinwhyte.co.uk