The American Way

I got extra homesick yesterday. And I wasn't even homesick for one place - I was aching for the whole Western seaboard: I miss drinking coffee in the morning with my mom and watching the fog burn off Lake Woahink. I miss taking my brothers and the dog out to the beach for romping in the Oregon dunes. I miss driving to Los Feliz with friends for midnight pie on a Tuesday. I miss Highway 101. I miss pine trees. I miss palm trees. I miss Fall in Alaska.

So today James and I went to the megaplex in downtown Taipei and saw Eagle Eye. Before the movie we ordered Burger King.

Feminism or control freakishness, I don't like men ordering my food for me. If I'm hungry, I can tell you about it myself. But since we're here and I can't talk real good ... that's pretty much what James has to do, every day.

But today I pushed ahead of him at the Burger King counter figuring I could manage "We want two number ones."

The lady behind the cash register waited for me to quit speaking and pointing. Then she turned to James and pressed forward with the transaction.

"Two not six," he said afterward. Turns out I'd said something like "We want six ones." That might've actually been more cheeseburgers than I could eat. But had I been given the chance, I would've considered it my patriotic duty to finish them. As it was, just one Burger King cheeseburger had that familiar overdone flavor and entirely too much mayonnaise.

During the movie some dude behind me kept readjusting his feet on my chair. If we were in America, I would've done a 180 and given him the stink eye. But we're not in America, and I don't know if stink eye is the appropriate means to defend against movie theater feet in Taiwan. Maybe I'm not supposed to ward them off at all?

Back home I wouldn't think twice about busting out my "could you please take your feet off my chair" in my voice that says "if you don't, we may have to throw down outside." But, groan, like it or not, I am representing America over here. And I don't speak Chinese. So I try to keep myself in mild-manners mode. We'll see how long that lasts.

USA - home where I don't mind being a bitch - I miss you.

Packing

This week my mom and I went to Portland and she bought me everything. And not everything as in "she paid for what we purchased" - that's a given. She bought everything as in all the goods that were for sale in Portland are now gone. We left the city in a state of emergency: the shelves are bare, no one can find ballet flats to pair with autumn dresses.

Since I'm out of school now and occasionally work, I figured I ought to pay for dinner as a show of gratitude for her depleting the city for my benefit. But she shut me down with the flimsy excuse, "but I get miles if we put it on my card..." If I were a man, this would have been emasculating. Since I'm not a man, I guess it's not. But that's how I felt. Oh well. I'm happy to be the proud new owner of everything that once belonged in Portland.

Said everything is now sitting in the garage waiting to be stuffed into duffels. One could probably make decent suppositions about someone's personality based on the items she deems vital to haul across the Pacific Ocean. For me those items include thigh-high pink socks, two pairs of faux suede boots, and a stack of books that will probably put me over the airplane weight limit. That stack includes works by Studs Terkel, Paul Theroux and Capote. Maybe there's a career in journalism for me yet?

Less than a week left here. Yikes.