The Same Old Rant v.4

 

That was a beautiful sunset yesterday evening over Smith Creek. Now that you feel at one with the universe, please have a look at the video below. It's in Mandarin, but is subtitled in English, so you have no excuse:

There shouldn't be any controversy that Ms. Watson was the winner of whatever particular speech contest in which she was a participant. Her Mandarin is excellent, her presentation both humorous and informative. Should I ever unfortunately find myself having to do something similar, I could never hope to be as comfortable and relaxed on stage as she comes across in the clip.

Had she given this speech at the Foreign Service Institute (FSI), Ms. Watson would probably have been given a score on the lower end of the spectrum. Why? It should be obvious, right? I mean, she didn't start her presentation by saying "Hello. My name is Diana Watson, and today I will talk to you what it is like to be an African-American woman in Taiwan", followed by an enumeration of her speaking points ("First, I would like to speak about..., then..."). There is a very set manner in which languages are taught at FSI, and Ms. Watson failed to follow the established parameters when preparing her speech.

I'm currently in the midst of yet another stint at FSI, my fourth since joining the State Department nearly ten years ago, which means it's time for another whiny complaint about language learning. Followers of this blog who don't have any family, friends, hobbies or outside interests may recall that every time I've studied a language in Arlington I've put up self-serving posts bemoaning my inability to conform to the FSI way of doing things, and begging for sympathy. For this occasion's pity party I'll focus on their 補習班 approach to language acquisition. The term bǔxíbān (and its Japanese equivalents juku 学習塾 and yobikō 予備校) refers to a "cram school", an exam factory that teaches its students only what is needed to pass an all-important exam. In the Foreign Service, language test scores carry an exceptional weight in shaping one's career path, and classes at FSI are geared toward teaching the students what they need to reach their desired or required scores.

Without giving too much away, there are two scores derived from the exam - one for reading, the other covering speaking. The reading portion involves timed reading of news articles, and requires the examinee to be able to give (in English) gist and details. The speaking part is virtually the complete opposite of having a normal, largely grammatically correct conversation in the target language. Instead, the test taker is asked to interview a native speaker on a particular subject, then report (again, in English) what the person said in their replies; this is followed by a formal presentation on a serious topic, which must adhere to a rigid framework (and why Ms. Watson's wonderful performance above would be scored comparatively low by the test graders). 

What's missing in all this, as it is in English buxibans, juku, yobikos etc., is actually learning to speak in the target language like a normal fucking human being. A consular officer in my three previous tours, I was given precious few opportunities to learn how to interview visa applicants in 普通话, русский язык or አማርኛ. As a prospective general services officer, I doubt I'll be taught how to read the terms of an apartment lease, or given tips on how to negotiate with a Beijing landlord. But I will be provided with endless dry (not to mention dated) articles to read on politics, economics, the environment, immigration and other topics that will have virtually no relevance to the work I'll be expected to do. Over the course of the next year and a half I will continue to be instructed to prepare short presentations on, say, the separation of powers in the federal government, or on the issues facing the American educational system, but what I won't be asked to do is express myself as naturally as possible in a foreign language (i.e. in ways other than "My name is American Johnny, and today I will talking about the status of women in modern society. First,..."). I'm reminded of the American academic in Tōkyō who complained he knew how to say "social stratification" in Japanese (shakai kaisō 社会階層, but I had to look that up just now), but struggled to communicate with a barber how he wanted to have his hair cut. At least I won't have that problem in Beijing! 

Despite cosmetic reforms over the years, the system here never changes. On the bright side, this should be the last time I'll have to walk the harrowing hallowed halls of the Foreign Service Institute, at least for language learning (especially as instruction is still taking place online instead of in classrooms). One of the Chinese instructors asked me how I learned to speak Japanese (not that I'm particularly proficient in 日本語), while continuing to struggle with Mandarin. I didn't have to heart to tell her it was due in large part to never having studied Japanese at FSI! 

The wife recently cracked that our family is becoming more Korean (and presumably by extension less Taiwanese). The premise for her joke is the frequency in which we shop at Korean-owned supermarkets and bakeries, and eat at Korean restaurants. In addition, Shu-E uses Korean cosmetics and enjoys watching Korean TV dramas (going all the way back to Winter Sonata, which she avidly watched while we were living in Yokkaichi 四日市). Even her surname is one of the most common in Korean society. This is all in spite of the perceived rivalry many Taiwanese feel their country is involved in with South Korea (the latter probably too busy obsessed with Japan to notice). The wife says it has something to do with sports and cheating, but I'm inclined to think it has more to do with the South Korean economy having outperformed Taiwan's so far during this century. 

True to form, a recent weekend afternoon found us having lunch (Korean, of course) in the food court at K Market International, followed by some grocery shopping:

Bulgogi rice

Amber thought the packaging of this sake 日本酒 might confuse small children into thinking it was a milk carton:

Returning to the topic of language learning, FSI graciously permits its students to have 1-2 Wednesday afternoons off each month to take care of personal matters. With spring fighting to gain a foothold against winter as the cherry blossom season approaches, I used one such Admin Day to take the Metro into the District for some brief, heart-friendly exercise (i.e. a short stroll on level ground). Exiting at Navy Yard, I passed by the headquarters for the Department of Transportation. On one side of the building there's the Transportation Walk, an outdoor museum with a handful of interpretive panels on the history of transport in the U.S.:

There are also a few life-sized elements, like this gas pump that recalls the days when uniformed attendants pumped your gas, cleaned your windows and checked your oil. Which all pretty much occurred before my time, too:

This steel pedestrian bridge leads from Yard Park to the Anacostia Riverwalk Trail:

While attempting to take a selfie on said bridge, a very attractive woman also out for an afternoon walk volunteered to take the photo for me. Which partially explains my awkward pose:

Frederic Douglass Memorial Bridge:

Nationals Park in the background. As baseball fans are painfully aware, the players were locked out of spring training by the owners for three months before a new collective bargaining agreement was reached. The issues are much more complicated than simply painting the impasse as a case of "selfish billionaires" vs. "selfish millionaires". This ESPN article (written before the new CBA was agreed on) examines the dispute from the players' perspective:

There always seems to be an inordinate number of helicopters, civilian and military, plying the skies of Washington:

Outside the Washington Navy Yard is this marker noting the arrival of the remains of the Unknown Soldier from France before they were interred at Arlington National Cemetery:

This Vietnam War Swift Boat is also displayed outside the Navy Yard gates:

86 days since the surgery, and the scar is coming in nicely. It still feels numb in places, which the doctor said would continue for several months following the procedure:

Only $208 for just over two pounds of Japanese A5 Wagyū beef 和牛 beef at Costco. Next time, perhaps. I did buy a box of frozen Taiyaki たい焼き, "Japanese fish shaped waffle cake with sweet vanilla custard cream", alienating my heart and my waistline by doing so. But while I may have brought "the famous Japanese dessert to (my) table", the product itself was "Made in Korea". Ah, 全球化 :

Some of you are probably aware that my daughter has a learner's permit and has been getting experience behind the wheel of our Honda Accord (her future car) with either me or her mother (or both of us) in the vehicle with her. On one Saturday morning I had her go on the Dulles Access Road in order to log more time driving on freeways. In many ways this route is ideal for student drivers, as the light traffic allows for a much less stressful experience compared to the usual situations on local freeways. She even learned how to engage and disengage cruise control. Upon reaching the airport, she continued on local roads from there to the Algonkian Regional Park in thoroughly suburban Sterling, Virginia. After parking by the boat launch, we walked on a short loop taking in views of the lazy Potomac:

A high school rowing club packing up after a morning workout:

Surveying God's country for our new homestead. We'll be moving in as soon as we can force out the indigenous population, and clear-cut the virgin forest. 'Murica...:

Lunch at A Taste of Burma in Sterling. I had the lamb curry, while the girl ordered the coconut chicken curry. Both were very tasty. I've always wanted to visit Burma/Myanmar, but that trip will probably have to wait until I'm close to retirement (and assuming the political situation changes for the better):

Seen in an art store at the Dulles Town Center shopping center, and begging a long list of questions. What inspired the "artist" to depict this scene? What the hell is going on? Why is Frederic Douglass, the African-American abolitionist and social reformer who Donald Trump apparently thinks is still alive (he died in 1895), placing his hand on the disgraced ex-president while praying? And, sadly, what kind of person would buy this piece of tasteless crap (real crap actually has flavor) and presumably proudly display it in their living room? Is there a mobile home somewhere where a MAGA-hat wearing "art lover" has hung this next to their velvet Elvis painting?:

On a visit to the Politics and Prose Bookstore in D.C. Amber surprised with the choice of title she wished to purchase. She's now officially entered her Lovecraftian phase. Hail Cthulhu!:

On one recent weekday I found myself with a significant chunk of "self-study" time. And what better way to acquire language proficiency than to do so while breathing in the refreshing air under a blue sky while walking through a forest? The answer to that rhetorical question is why I made the 90-minute drive to Cunningham Falls State Park in Thurmont, Maryland. However, after a couple of days of unseasonably warm weather, on that particular morning winter fought back with cold temperatures and steady rain. Or, I should make clear, it rained in our area - in the hills of Frederick County it was apparently cold enough to have snowed:

It was 34°F (1°C), with a mild wind chill of 30°F (-1°C) as I made the easy half-mile (800 meters) walk to Cunningham Falls:

The falls, though 78 feet (24 meters) in length, were somewhat anticlimactic, especially as a tree partially obscured the view from the boardwalk where I had to stand, but I relished the solitude and the 森林浴:

I returned to the car via the somewhat more strenuous Cliff Trail:

 

Obligatory selfie in the woods. The only other people I encountered while there were three teenagers who passed me as I was almost back at the parking lot. Presumably they were also playing hooky?:

Hunting Creek Lake:

After the falls I visited the Catoctin Iron Furnace, which was in operation by 1776 and, as the sign says, delivered shells for Washington's army to use at the Battle of Yorktown:

The furnace was also in full blast (rim shot) during the Civil War:

What remains of the smelting blast furnace:

Nearby are the picturesque ruins of the Ironmaster's Mansion:

I eschewed the freeway for the drive home, which added almost thirty minutes to the trip, but took me through some very scenic backcountry. Upon reaching the outskirts of suburbia in Leesburg, Virginia I stopped at Bubbleology, located in the Village at Leesburg, one of several outdoor residential/retail developments that have sprung up in this region in the past decade. Having gone through my 珍珠 (boba) phase years ago in Taiwan, I ordered my usual "black milk tea, no toppings, no ice, regular sugar". Apparently this was something the friendly middle-aged couple running the place had never before encountered, because they asked me several times if I wished to taste the drink first, just in case I would want to add tapioca balls after all. Everything was fine:

And a few days later, the snow reached us. This is the scene from our balcony around 0830 on a Saturday:

Naturally, I went out for a walk immediately following breakfast. This is how it looked as the wind blew directly into my face. And, yes, there were people out with their dogs in the 0°C/32°F (with a wind chill of -7°C/19°F) conditions:

 

Not being one to squander a good opportunity, later in the morning I made my daughter go outside to experience things for herself. As you can see, there wasn't a lot of accumulated snow on the roof of our car - only around an inch (2.5 centimeters), with none at all on the hood. Amber was less than enthused - despite the -1°C/30°F (wind chill -8°C/18°F) conditions, she neglected to bring gloves or mittens (the wind chill in the afternoon would further dip to -10°C/14°F at the time Shu-E walked to the nearest supermarket):

The following day I took the girl out once again to face the elements, although this time she was better prepared (i.e. she brought gloves) - until I found out that instead of boots, she wore tennis shoes (she claimed the boots gave her blisters). We drove about 45 minutes from Falls Church to the Rachel Carson Conservation Park in Brookeville, Maryland, a small park honoring the writer and environmental activist, who was also a resident of Montgomery County. The morning was sunny, with the temperature a brisk 28°F/-2°C (my phone app said it felt like 19°F/-7°C, but there was no wind to speak of while we were at the park). Amber tried to look intimidating with a sliver of ice she had broken off of the hood, but without much success:

The first part of our walk took us past an open meadow:

We soon entered the woods:

The Hawlings River:

During the last stage of our 90-minute-long trek, my daughter busied herself by amassing a large snowball...:

…which she then hurled against a couple of trees once her forearms became too sore from carrying the white orb:

In all we covered about 2.7 miles (4.3 kilometers) in a beautiful and still setting. After lunch, Amber drove us back almost the entire way to Falls Church; almost because, having worn tennis shoes and not boots, and with the snow that had accumulated within them during our walk rapidly melting in the warmth of the car's interior, she eventually had to ask me to take over the wheel as her feet had become "too cold". Another valuable winter lesson learned the hard way!

Amber's high school held a "Personal Project Showcase for 10th Graders" on a recent weekday evening. Each student had to choose a topic, research it and then develop a project. At Shu-E's suggestion, our daughter selected calligraphy 書法. She spent several weeks practicing with brush and ink under the aegis of her mother, then presented her work to her classmates and their families. The banner on the left reads 人興財旺年年好 "Wishes for prosperity year after year"; while the one of the right says 心想事成步步高 "For your wishes to come true step by step":

Another weekday, another block of "self-study" time. Like the previous week, I drove into Maryland, this time to Quiet Waters Park, near the state capital Annapolis. I left at around 0830 hours, right at rush hour, so I chose to avoid taking any freeways going there. The decision added around a half-hour to my travel time, but it was a pleasant drive, going through the District of Columbia (and past landmarks such as the Tidal Basin and the U.S. Capitol) and then onward into the Maryland suburbs, before reaching the park around 1000 hours. The temperature was a comfortable 52°F/11°C, and while it rained before and after my walk, my time on the paved trail that that traverses the full length of the 340-acre (138 hectares) park was a relatively dry one. Soon after commencing the walk, the trail guided me to a scenic overlook of Harness Creek:

Further along, a detour took me to the South River Overlook:

A rare (for me) panoramic shot:

I bade a good morning to the man pictured below right, and he responded with the same, then thanked me for my service!:

It had to have been the cap I was wearing, which does bear a resemblance to the type of head cover favored by many military veterans. As were going in opposite directions, I didn't have the chance to explain to him that this cap came from a Taoist temple in Changhua County 彰化縣, Taiwan. But, in fact, as a Foreign Service Officer, I am sort of quasi-military. My position in the FS is equivalent to that of an Army major or Navy lieutenant commander (!), and my family and I are eligible for USAA insurance coverage. And if I may drop all false modesty pretensions for a moment, I have helped hundreds of American citizens in China, Lithuania and Ethiopia, even if a few of them weren't very grateful (because I couldn't or wouldn't call in the Marines to break them out of jail). So "you're welcome" (the story behind the cap):

There wasn't much else to do after the seeing the waterfront except to enjoy the walk through the woods:

For a moment I felt as if I were in the middle of a Southern bayou. Then again, Maryland was a slave state with many Confederate sympathizers, even if it didn't secede from the Union during the Civil War:

I took a photo of this house because I liked the way it looked. By sheer coincidence a cardinal landed on the fence in the bottom right of the frame just as I took the shot:

According to my hiking guidebook, the trail was 4.9 miles (7.9 kilometers) in length, and should've taken two hours to complete. I did it in 95 minutes. Afterward, I drove another 90 minutes sans freeways (and through some splendid, though wet, countryside) to Olney. The previous weekend, following our trek through the snow, my daughter was looking at her iPhone for a place to have lunch when she noticed a Taiwanese restaurant called 168 Asian Burrito (though we ended up eating at a Mexican place). To my surprise (and disappointment) 168 Asian Burrito wasn't a restaurant with seating, but rather a kitchen located inside a gas station mini-mart. Still, there I was, so I ordered a Pork Sausage Bun, with a side of popcorn chicken (and washed down, naturally, with a Taiwanese-style milk tea). The owner was pleased to see the cap I was wearing - it turned out he was from Taichung 台中. Though I had to eat in a shopping center parking lot, in the immortal words of 阿诺·施瓦辛格: "我会回来的!":

When you have to wake up early on weekdays in order to make sure your teenaged daughter gets out of bed and off to school on time, and then have a few minutes to kill before your own online class begins:

As is the case with most of my recent blog posts, I'll finish up this entry by writing about our most recent weekend getaway. In this scenario, the three of us set out yesterday (Saturday) morning on a leisurely drive to the southernmost tip of the state of Maryland on the western shore of Chesapeake Bay. Our first stop was at the St. Mary's City Historic District. If you're anything like me, then you have no clue at all that St. Mary's is a former colonial town that was Maryland's first European settlement (1634) and capital (1632-1695). The reconstructed original colonial site is now a living history museum. We started our visit at the visitors center:

After paying the admission fee, we embarked on the well-marked trail running through the park:

First stop was the reconstructed Brick Chapel. The original Catholic house of worship was erected on this site circa 1667. Archaeological excavations here uncovered three lead coffins containing the remains of a family (father, mother and six-month-old child). The Jesuit architecture was very unusual in a part of the New World dominated by Protestant settlers:

The 1785 Mackall Barn, one of the oldest freestanding wooden barns in Maryland:

The colony's capital was shifted to Annapolis in 1695, and the St. Mary's settlement soon was abandoned:

Several of the buildings had period-clothed actors on hand to provide historical interpretation. This person demonstrated how a printing press was used to disseminate government announcements, as well as to make copies of contracts between employers and indentured servants:

The only wildlife we encountered other than birds was this groundhog:

Von Swerigen's Private Chamber Inn, a private lodging house that "offered the finest lodgings in early Maryland":

A number of A-frames have been erected on sites where evidence of early colonial dwellings have been unearthed:

The Maryland Dove, a functioning recreation of a 17th-century ship. Incredibly, a vessel of this small size (with a crew of only between 7-9 hands) would've sailed all the way from England to the colonies:

 

Amber presides over a session in the State House of 1676 (erected in 1934 during Maryland's 300th anniversary):

The Council Chamber, where the governor and his councilors would meet. The map over the fireplace is a recreation of one that was printed in 1670:

Sailboats race in Millburn Creek on a windy afternoon:

My daughter has been taking a weekly origami 折り紙 workshop at school. She worked on what she insisted was a "velociraptor" while walking around the historic district, but which to me more resembled a T-Rex due to its stubby forelimbs:

The Woodland Indian Hamlet was a reminder that the Yaocomico people and other neighboring tribes were there long before any Europeans showed up:

Our next stop following St. Mary's City was the Piney Point Lighthouse Museum and Historic Park. The lighthouse was built in 1836 at Piney Point on the Potomac River, not far from the mouth of Chesapeake Bay. The site was turned into a museum after being decommissioned in 1964, though it was closed for the day by the time we showed up after 1600 hours. Nonetheless we could still walk around the grounds. Here, our daughter strikes a less than mighty blow:

The lighthouse and the lighthouse keeper's quarters:

Striking a manly pose on the shore of the Potomac:

Being only around a two-hour drive from Falls Church, we could've easily returned home after visiting the lighthouse. But in order to have a plausible excuse not to have done any of my Mandarin homework, I booked us for a night's stay at Pier450 - The Quarters Motel, a converted 1940's fisherman's camp located in a quiet corner of southern Maryland. We stayed in the "Touchdown" room:

The onsite restaurant was temporarily closed, but fortunately for us Courtney's Seafood Restaurant was only a few hundred feet away:

I earned a couple of these after a day of driving:

I had the grilled rockfish, caught earlier that day in Smith Creek by the owner, and prepared for us by his wife (and our server's mother). It was excellent:

Sunset over Smith Creek, which took place at 1916 hours while we were enjoying dinner. See also the photograph at the top of this page:

I swear it was the sunset that turned my face red and not the IPA:

This morning:

The creek was almost a stone's throw from our room:

The motel is located at the end of the former Maryland Route 252. For Amber it was probably her first time to be in the middle of "nowhere" - she kept wondering why anyone would live in such a remote area. For this aging Gen Xer, it seems like an ideal location for settling down. The eternal age gap:

Breakfast at Courtney's:

After checkout, it was our daughter's turn to drive as she took us literally to the end of Maryland - the Point Lookout Lighthouse:

The girls cast glances out at where the Potomac River flows into Chesapeake Bay:

"A ship! A ship!":

During the Civil War Point Lookout was the site of a military hospital, and a prisoner of war camp for Confederate soldiers. The Union soldiers stationed there had to guard the POW's while facing Confederate forces on the opposite side of the Potomac, and living among a local populace sympathetic to the South. A reconstruction of the soldiers' barracks...:

…and a mock-up of the prison pen:

Just outside the park stand the private Confederate Memorial Park (closed today)…:

…and the open Point Lookout Memorial Cemetery. Both Amber and I were relieved not to see our surname listed among the 3500 Confederate POW's who died at the prison camp. As far as I know, the branch of our family that lived in North Carolina prior to the American Revolution all moved to Canada following the independence of the colonies:

My daughter drove as far as California...California, Maryland that is, where we stopped at a Cracker Barrel for lunch:

Taking command of the wheel, I decided once again to avoid any freeways (a wise decision actually on a Sunday afternoon) for the drive back to Falls Church. Amber took this photo from the passenger seat, an image sure to provoke the ire of any Fox News viewer (not to mention the owner of the house we passed in the Maryland countryside still proudly flying the Trump/Pence flag on their property):

She also took this shot of the U.S. Capitol building as we drove along Pennsylvania Avenue:

The cherry trees were nearing full bloom as we passed by the Tidal Basin, so expect the next post to (hopefully) include some nice images of Washington's iconic サクラ. Until then...

It was St. Patrick's Day on the day I went to Quiet Waters Park. While I hope you had a good time wearing green and drinking green beer, remember that Ireland is still a divided island. Erin go bragh: