There's no crying in Taipei

James' grandma almost made me cry this weekend.


Really, the whole thing was my fault. But it was embarrassing nonetheless.

We went to Nini's for lunch. We walked through the exterior door, a hulking metal gate thing, which leads to a small outdoor foyer before going into the apartment. I was leaning against the wall to take my shoes off when I felt a tremendous pinch on my forearm. I instantly imagined a tropical demon-bug sinking its fangs into my arm. I made a little yelp and ripped my arm away.

Turns out it was Nini trying to close the exterior door, but my forearm happened to be wedged in the hinge. When I looked at my arm, I had a 2-inch purple bruise and the first layer of skin had been pulled off. While not life-threatening, this was fairly painful.

All of a sudden everyone was trying to look at my arm. Tears pooled in my eyes. I barely managed to say hello to Yeye, I couldn't look at Amina. Instead I stared at the ceiling, trying to calm down. It's bad enough having to rely on James to play interpreter for dinner conversation. Crying in front of a room full of people whose language I don't speak is more vulnerability than I cared to show.

I slipped into the bathroom to wash my arm and pull myself together. James poked his head around the door, looking concerned.

"GO AWAY." I warned. Tears come quicker when there's someone offering comfort. When James didn't skedaddle immediately I put on my war face and made a "shoo" gesture. So then he left.

Complete boo-hoo meltdown averted. When I stepped out of the bathroom Nini dabbed iodine on my arm while saying "Sorry, sorry" in English to which I responded "Mayo guan xi, mayo guan xi" "It's not a problem, It's not a problem."

I had the sniffles through lunch. And in retrospect, I guess it was obvious to all I was on the verge of tears. I deserve points for being a champ.