Now cometh crunch time

I passed by this kiddie train while walking home (yes, walking - more on that later) this afternoon from FSI. I have no idea if it runs during the summer season, or whether it has permanently ceased operations.

In less than a week I'll be taking my final Mandarin Chinese exam. Finally. I've already had the test postponed twice - once back in February, when the language section decided that my progress has been too slow and therefore more time was required; and then in early April, thanks to the surgery I had done on my left knee, getting a ligament reattached to prevent the knee from continuing its annoying habit of wanting to pop out of its socket. Am I ready? Yes. And no.

This covered section of the above-mentioned kiddie train line resembles Noah's Ark. It might be because the small park where it's located is next door to a Vietnamese Methodist Church. Then again, it might not be.

I'm ready, in the sense that I'm anxious to get out of here and be on our way to Shanghai 上海, so I can finally get a start on my new career. There's nothing wrong with living in the Falls Church/Arlington/Alexandria, Virginia area, but it's been almost a year of doing nothing but sitting in classrooms and trying to absorb way too much information. It's time to move on.

Be bewwy, bewwy quiet. Wabbits are bewwy abwundant in this area.

No, I'm not ready, in the sense that I still don't feel confident that I'll pass. I don't know what it is - I've been struggling with Mandarin here since September, but of course it goes back much, much further than that. After all those years living in a Mandarin-speaking environment in Taiwan, the only language that I saw significant improvement in was Japanese. I could make excuses (true excuses, but excuses nonetheless) that those many humiliating experiences I had in Taiwan have resulted in some kind of mental block preventing me from enjoying conversing in Chinese, but that doesn't change the fact that I need to do well enough on the test next week to get off of language probation and be on our to China.

A small shopping center I passed as I was walking home. I stopped in at the Fiesta Oriental Store to buy a Gatorade. Perhaps my true path lies in the field of suburban planning instead of diplomacy, international relations or language teaching. If it was up to me, I would break the endless tracts of houses that mark American suburbia by including numerous small clusters of shops that would serve the surrounding neighborhoods and perhaps encourage people to walk or ride a bike to their local grocer etc., instead of having to drive.

It's safe to say I'm suffering from some serious exam anxiety. If I may rant, the way languages are taught at FSI remind of Taiwanese driving schools - at the latter, students aren't taught how to drive, they only learn what is needed to pass the unrealistic driving tests and thus get their driver's licenses (and then go out and kill themselves, and others, on the road). As for the exams themselves, they're structured more for political, economic or public diplomacy officers. I'm going to be a consular officer, where the biggest part of my job will be interviewing Chinese applicants and determining whether or not they're eligible for American visas. The test, however, will be asking me to give reports in Mandarin on topics such as gun control, nuclear weapons proliferation, human rights and so on. Which is most unfortunate because I actually didn't do too badly in the few consular classes I had in the Mandarin program. 

A classic American car. Which classic American car it actually is, however, I haven't a clue. UPDATE: Thanks to my old friend Rich, who is much wiser than me in the way of the automobile, I now know that this is a 1959 Cadillac. 

What also has me worried is the impression I have from prior experience that the exams are set up to reward those Type-A personalities who relish opportunities to express themselves. Then there is the fact that, in the Asian section at least, there is the perception among the testers (who are all native speakers of the languages) that Americans are (and should be) direct, frank and opinionated, so people like me have two strikes against us already. Despite answering everything clearly and correctly during my Japanese exam, I was told that, even though my score was on the borderline for passing, my answers were "too short". What they were really saying was that my responses weren't American enough. 

One nice thing about living in this area is the abundance of parkland and the number of cycling and walking trails crisscrossing the region. 

All excuses and frustrations aside, I've got to pass next week. While there would be advantages in having our time here extended again (such as in letting Amber finish out the school year), as I've already written, it's time to move on. So wish me 加油, and hopefully I can put up enough of a false front of good old-fashioned American self-confidence to squeak through and thus move on.

This stone, with the word "Amor" chiseled on it, is part of an art installation called "Named Stones", by one J.W. Mahoney. Eight inscribed rocks were installed in 1989 as part of an outdoor sculpture exhibition (one stone has since gone missing). According to the plaque, "Mahoney draws upon the Japanese Shintu tradition of naming natural objects in order to distinguish the special qualities of each and to encourage quiet contemplation". Shintu? 

Today a field trip to the Voice of America's Chinese section was scheduled for this afternoon, but I skipped it to work on those dreaded mini-reports 小报告. Then, because it was such a beautiful afternoon, I decided to give my surgically-repaired knee a good workout by eschewing the shuttle bus, and walking home instead, following the W & OD Trail much of the way.

In addition to rabbits, I saw lots of birds, chipmunks and squirrels, plus the occasional duck.

It was nice to be outdoors, but the approximately four miles (6.4 kilometers) I walked today was probably overdoing it. Granted, I stopped to take lots of photos, but it still took almost two hours to complete a trip that only required about 70 minutes to do pre-surgery. My knee was definitely feeling the effects when I reached our apartment.

Spring is in the air, and everything is a lovely shade of green. You wouldn't know it from the picture, but Interstate 66 is just a stone's throw away to the right of this photo. 

Still, my knee has made remarkable progress since my operation at the beginning of April. I just wish the same could be said of my Mandarin-speaking abilities.

This section of forest was a reminder that, for the time being at least, I'd better stick to flat, paved surfaces. Rough sections of trail are still to be approached gingerly.

Amber and the Giant Peach

Scenes from a Saturday afternoon...

Amber poses with a couple of cast members from the Imagination Stage production of Roald Dahl's classic children's tale James and the Giant Peach, staged at the Lerner Family Theatre in suburban Bethesda, Maryland (the same venue where my daughter and I caught of performance of Anime Momotaro a couple of months ago). Having recently had the story read to her first-grade class by her teacher, Amber was really into today's show. The same couldn't be said of her mother, whose Taiwanese upbringing has made her unknowing of the magic of Dahl's stories.

After the show, Amber enjoys a Häagen-Dazs chocolate ice cream cone, while listening to a jazz quintet performing in the background. Our visit to Bethesda today coincided with city's annual Fine Arts Festival.

Yours truly knocks back a bottle...of old-style cream soda. The harder stuff came later

The street near the Lerner Family Theatre was lined with stalls selling paintings and various arts and crafts. I didn't see anything that piqued my interest, but the area around Norfolk Avenue didn't lack for places to eat. 

Amber and I tried not to disturb this bird attempting to take a nap

Bethesda is one of the nation's most affluent and well-educated cities, but not necessarily one of its most attractive.

Later in the afternoon, we returned to Falls Church. After doing some shopping at The Local Market, we walked over to the local Applebee's (my wife's choice) for an early Mother's Day dinner.

Following our evening repast, we strolled over to another local establishment I like to patronize, Red White & Bleu, where I stocked up on vital supplies for the next few days. These study aids are helpful as I prepare for my final Mandarin Chinese 汉语(中文) exam later this month. Assuming I pass (a big "If") and we leave for Shanghai 上海, I'm going to miss the stores in this area.

Masonry

Because of my recent knee surgery, and subsequent (and ongoing) recovery process, things have been somewhat quiet for the past month. Thanks in part to the physical therapy exercises I'm currently doing, I have much more mobility now in my left knee, but I'm still far from completely recovered. Which has proven to be very frustrating, because I love to walk. I'm getting tired of hobbling and limping.

Anyway, getting to the point of this particular post, we found ourselves in Alexandria this afternoon needing to visit our credit union. The transactions were done much more quickly than anticipated, and with some unanticipated free time and with my camera conveniently on hand, we decided to visit the George Washington Masonic Memorial, the 333-foot (101 meters) tall edifice that sits atop a hill overlooking downtown Alexandria. We've driven by this building on many occasions, and Amber and I once took a look at the outside after closing time, but today was the moment we took the opportunity to finally go inside and ascend the tower. Which can be done at any time during opening hours provided you join the guided tour - ours commenced at 3 p.m.

Inside the main hall, the general stands tall and proud. My daughter, who last week went on a school field trip to Mount Vernon, was suitably impressed.

Lafayette, we are down here. Stained-glass windows of prominent personages from Washington's time line the walls on the left and right sides of the main hall.

On the third floor there are displays on Masonic societies in the United States. My maternal grandfather was at one time a Mason in the U.K. 

 

The fourth floor contains artifacts connected with Washington's life. Some of the odder ones included locks of the first President's hair and a cup made with metal from his first casket. I settled for a picture of this banner carried by American forces during the War of 1812 (which took place thirteen years after Washington's death).

 

The real reason for visiting the Washington Memorial is to enjoy the views from the ninth-floor observation deck. Here is the view looking down King Street in Alexandria. In the distance loomed ominous-looking rain clouds.

The skies were a little clearer looking towards the District of Columbia

Things were getting breezy as the rain clouds neared, but being wind-swept didn't seem to faze Amber much.

Back inside, we walked through a hallway lined with postcard images of historic Masonic temples from various locales around the U.S. This is Sacramento's house of Masonry, dating from 1913. Below is a picture of what is looks like today:

http://www.californiaspiritfestival.com/venue.html

The George Washington Masonic Memorial from the outside. This was taken as we were leaving for home, and by this point the rain clouds had started to reach us.

 

 

 

Mine eyes have seen the glory of a hole-in-one

Everything now and then, a seemingly innocuous family outing on a sunny Saturday afternoon turns up a few surprises. Not far from where we live is a place called Upton Hill Regional Park, home to some batting cages, a miniature golf course and, in the summer, a water park (Amber had a good time there last year). Like many places in this area, the hill has a Civil War connection. The sign above explains how both the Union and Confederate forces used fake cannons in order to fool the other side, and there's a mockup of one such ersatz artillery piece in the background of the photo. What's more interesting, however, is that this very hill was the inspiration for Julia Ward Howe's Battle Hymn of the Republic. It seems Howe was so impressed with a review of the troops she saw on Upton Hill that she went home and composed the poem which, when combined with the music to John Brown's Body, became one of the one of the most popular and well-known songs in American history. You can read all about it in this surprisingly detailed Wikipedia entry on Upton Hill. There's also this Northern Virginia Regional Parks page which has a short video on the Civil War history of Upton Hill.

You won't find me listed in Wikipedia, but you would've seen me this afternoon cutting a dashing, if hobbling, figure on the mini-golf links. Just another step in the rehabilitation process.

The demands of collecting dandelions occupied my daughter's attention following the family golf tourney (in which she bested her mother).

Going too far

I should've known better.

It's a safe bet that most, if not all, extended families have that special member. Said Relative (hereafter referred to as "SR") is probably a good person, having led a good life, working hard and being a good provider to their family. They no doubt have lots of amusing anecdotes culled from a long life to share with others. Unfortunately, over time they have also accumulated a life's worth of biases and prejudices arising from ignorance and reinforced with the stubbornness that comes with age. Back when I was much younger, my own SR would frequently employ the "N word" when talking about African-Americans, a fact which made my mother feel uncomfortable and which my father would try to explain away as the result of an upbringing in a southern state. Cut to the present day and the age of social media, and SR is out there, churning out a constant stream of rants and raves on a daily basis and "sharing" them with the rest of us through the good graces of Facebook. The "N-word" is no longer employed, but judging from the tone of SR's anti-Obama postings, it's pretty obvious his differences with the president are not merely over ideology (need I point out he's a birther?). As we all know, our chief executive is a closet Muslim, which brings us to another of SR's pet peeves - he's no admirer of Islam, to say the least.

Yesterday, I shared a Washington Post article on the difficulty some Americans are having in trying to categorize the Boston Marathon bombers. SR is one American not struggling when it comes to labels. He responded to my link with...well, I'm not sure what to call it (if the link doesn't work, consider yourself lucky). He's compiled a long list of "crimes" committed by "Muslims" (or "Palestinians", or "The Nation of Islam"), complete with ESPN-like stats, with little attempt made to provide further (as in crucial for understanding) details about the particulars of the case. The cut-and-paste job followed a self-penned commentary basically holding all Muslims, and Islam in general, guilty for the sins of the extremists. In SR's world, there are no Shias, or Sunnis, or Sufis, no disagreements over interpretations of the Quran and no differences in the way the religion is practiced in that long swath of countries ranging from Morocco to Indonesia (not to mention in other places in the world, including the U.S.). Islam is a monolithic entity that threatens the rest of us, and every Muslim, if not to be held accountable for the acts of the extremists, must at least be viewed with suspicion until the violence stops. And as SR once remarked when the U.S. diplomatic outpost in Benghazi, Libya was attacked last year, "force is the only thing those people understand". 

My mistake last night was in bothering to respond to SR. For facts, logic and reason do not engender a worthwhile dialog when someone else's prejudices are set in stone, and it's too late in their lives to think things over again. The result from SR was a constant stream of personal insults, bizarre analogies and just plain irrelevant weirdness. Alas, I let myself get drawn in, and I'm afraid I ended up responding, if not exactly in kind, then with snide remarks of my own that weren't really necesary. The best thing to have done was to have walked away and let the old man enjoy himself on Facebook. As I said before, SR is basically a decent and good man at heart, the kind of person you wouldn't hesitate to invite to gatherings of extended family members.

Just don't invite anyone of the wrong color, political affiliation or religion to the party. Or if you do, keep them away from SR and/or try to keep the conversation away from anything that might set him off. Let your SR believe that having operated a business for 36 years means they are always right about everything, and peace will be maintained.

As you may have guessed from the photos above, I was in Washington, D.C. this afternoon. Only I wish I hadn't gone. Not because the Marine Corp Memorial isn't worth visiting - it is. It's just that the walk to there from the Rosslyn Metro station gets a little tiring when you've only just started doing physical therapy on your surgically-reattached ligament in your left knee. As I'm typing this, I'm sitting in an armchair with an icepack on my knee as a result. One has to know one's limits. Still, the Iwo Jima Statue, based, of course, on Joe Rosenthal's iconic photograph, is an impressive sight, especially on a beautifully warm day like today.

I also limped over to see the Netherlands Carillon. This 130 foot (39.6 meters)-high tower is a gift from the Netherlands in gratitude for American aid during World War II, and the view from the top, when it's open, must be stirring. I didn't get to go up, but the flowers at ground-level, and the expansive lawn, made for a quite pleasant atmosphere.

UPDATE: Apparently, I inadvertently pushed a deep-rooted psychological button with SR, for a few days ago he posted another message on Facebook filled with nasty personal insults directed at yours truly. While I can take the venom (I've been called much worse by much smarter people) and elected not to respond in kind, a line was crossed - SR used a very offensive racial slur when referring to my Taiwan-born wife, whom he has never met (in the process, he also insulted my father and my daughter). If this is how SR wishes to live out the last years of his life, so be it. I, however, will no longer have anything to do with him, ever again.

Things to do in Falls Church when you're alive

Amber rides her bad Hello Kitty bike

As anyone who has been anywhere near a TV at all this past week can tell you, things have been more than a little interesting here in the U.S. Now that the tragedy of the Boston Marathon bombings has apparently come to end with the death of one of the suspects and the arrest of the other, prepare yourself for the inevitable, and very American, overreaction to the events that have occurred since last Monday. Expect further restrictions and invasions of privacy in the name of "public safety", and if you happen to be a Muslim-American, prepare yourself for the veiled (and not-so-veiled) racism to come. Most disturbing are the calls by some to treat Dzhokhar Tsarnaev as an "alien combatant". Odious though his actions may have been, Tsarnaev is an American citizen, and if we let our fears take primacy over our long-established (and hard-fought) civil rights traditions, the terrorists will rightfully claim to have ultimately won. This was the week that also saw the death of yet another attempt to provide some sanity to our ridiculous approach to regulating firearms. Funny how those very same reactionary, racist elements in our society (including some extended relatives in my own family), who so proudly parade their misinterpretation of the Second Amendment as being in the defense of the Constitution against a tyrannical regime (an administration headed by an African-American president, in other words), are so quick to dispense with the Sixth Amendment because some nasty person happens to have followed the wrong religion and/or originally come from the wrong part of the world.

But that's America.

At least some 113 million people in this country hold a U.S. passport (according to an article I read the other day), which means a significant minority of the population has, in theory, the opportunity to travel abroad and see for themselves just how complex the world actually is, and perhaps someday change the way we look at our ourselves and our relationships with other societies. Or they could just spend their overseas vacations at Club Med.

In any event, all is quiet on the domestic front. My mobility is still relatively limited, but I am finding it easier to walk, even with the full leg brace on. I start physical therapy on Tuesday, and hopefully everything will continue to progress well so that we can leave for China as originally scheduled. I've spent a lot of time this weekend sitting in the armchair with my left leg raised up on a chair, watching a lot of baseball games on TV while attempting to study Mandarin. But this afternoon I had to get out, so I took my daughter for a bike ride through the cemetery next door to our apartment complex. This is one of those activities that could never be done back in Taiwan, or would at least have raised a lot of eyebrows, due to certain social customs and traditional beliefs (and the fact that Taiwanese cemeteries in general aren't cycle-friendly). In this country, a cemetery, with its well-manicured lawns and placements of trees and flowers, can be a peaceful place for an afternoon stroll, and Amber and I weren't alone (among the living, at least) while we were out there among the gravestones. Spring was clearly in the air today:

Amber enjoyed the small hills on the cemetery grounds, and the speed she was able to maintain:

But even among the dearly departed in old Virginia, there was no getting away from the Chinese language:

A spring in my step

It wasn't the Tidal Basin in Washington, D.C., but suburban Vienna, Virginia's Meadowlark Botanical Gardens made for a nice substitute as the Kaminoge family ventured out in search of the cherry blossoms on yet another beautiful spring day. For me, it was a chance to get some exercise and get off the disabled list following my recent knee surgery. A good time was had by all three of us as we made our way among the trees, flowers and even a Korean-style garden. Meadowlark seems like the kind of place that would be fun to stroll around in at any time of year.

Before visiting the botanical gardens, we had lunch at a bar-and-grill in Vienna. Next door was a supermarket, where I fueled up with a bottle of Cheerwine, Southern soda so sweet, too much of it will make your teeth hurt. I'm hooked.

At the gardens

The ruins of a springhouse. In the days before refrigeration, these were built over pools of spring water, and utilized the naturally-cool water to preserve dairy goods, fresh produce and other perishables for several days at a time, even in summer.

My daughter plays under a cherry tree in full-bloom

Amber shows off her petal collection

At the entrance to the Korean Bell Garden. At some point in my career I hope to be posted to South Korea, and I would welcome the opportunity to learn the language.

Amber relives her days as a child model in Taiwan

Unlike at many Japanese Buddhist temples, this bell was not meant to be rung

I had to sit down a couple of times today, but all in all it felt good to be moving around outside, brace and crutches notwithstanding.

Further proof that when it comes to composing photographs of blooming flowers, my wife is far superior.

Daughter and dad take a break

Mother and daughter hide among the sakura

In addition to flowering trees, there were plenty of birds about in the botanical gardens. I tried, but ultimately failed, to get a good shot of a singing cardinal. Pamela was much more successful with the geese.

At the visitors center, Amber poses with her souvenir, a House Finch (complete with birdsong) that she promptly dubbed "Nami-chan". My daughter likes to name her stuffed animals after herself.