Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Notes From Taiwan: The Rundown

Highlights:

- Hiking blindly across a mountain trail that lead to the Taiwanese National Hotel. Google pictures if you want to know why that's so cool. The mountains that run through Taipei are amazing, and make for phenomenal walks.

- Secluded mountain temples.

- Un-Americanized sushi. Took some getting used to, but it's quite good. Quite good.

- A plethora of coffee shops to choose from. I feel I'm not even breaking the surface of what's available.

- Bookstores with splendid selections of philosophy and science books. American bookstores really seem lackluster now.

- Fruit: Mangoes, enormous peaches, guavas . . .

Less Favorably:

- Obnoxious jackass at McDonald's. No idea what he said, but I'm about 90% sure it was derogatory.

- Hour of boredom listening to Alice and company speaking rapid, nostalgic, untranslated Mandarin.

- Ubiquitous humidity, and the sweat that accompanies it.

- The lack of A/C in far too many places . . . though that convicts me of being a rich, privileged American . . . but still.

- Excessive shyness: a disease affecting a countless many.

- Persisting allergies.

- The impression that heterogeneity is valued less here than elsewhere.

Never gets old:

- Sense of independence that comes from knowing my way around a neighborhood.

- Chopsticks.

- Adequate public transportation.

- Friendly locals.

- Better prices: cheap massages, food, cute dresses for Alice, etc.

Love to see:

- Cyclists

- Mountaintop cityscapes.

- Alice feeling at home, having light-hearted chats with her Dad.

- Informed political opinions that don't fall into partisan extremes.

Still scared of:

- Stinky tofu.

- Earthquakes.

- The sirens that make me think there's going to be an earthquake even though the aforementioned siren has nothing to do with said imaginary earthquake, which will remain imaginary.

- Grilled squid on a stick.

- The thought of ever attempting to drive a car here.

- China. Particularly the large weaponry they have aimed at me right now.

Hopes:

- To return. (Hopefully with the capacity to converse in Mandarin)

Saturday, August 15, 2009

Notes from Taiwan: Taipei Miscellany

Taipei wakes up slowly. My first day here started early on account of jet lag. I stalled waking until 6:45 AM, but my body refused to get the rest it needed beyond that. Alice and I spent the next few hours in aimless pursuit of coffee. There are many shops to be found, but none that cared to open before 10 o'clock. . . . and even then tardiness is the norm.

It is impossible to adequately describe the humidity here. Swedish saunas would seem parched compared to a normal day once the sun has towered over the sky-rises. Even relatively young buildings here appear old. Tiles and bricks all quickly gain the appearance of a public shower in a college dormitory. The air carries a weight that clings to everything. The sun here is not as scorching as in Texas. In Dallas when one ventures outside at mid-day they get the feeling that the sun is carrying out an angry vendetta against them. The logical conclusion is to flee for shade and wait for nightfall. Not here. Here the sun seems removed from the experience of heat. It seems to merely be the commandant of the air, which obeys its commands even in its absence, but ever-so-much-more in its presence. Either way, the simple act of walking overwhelms with the sense that the air is attacking you; coagulating around you. Its purpose being to immobilize, and drown the individual suffering its fervor.

The streets here are a hurried, partially-tamed chaos. Scooters equal or outnumber cars. The line at stop-lights leaves a large space for the mass of scooters that make their way to the front: most of them preferring to drive on the dashes as between them. Like any city of this size the motion is endless and partially disorienting.

I have walked more in the past 3.5 days than in the few years that have preceded them. I wake up sore every morning, but I've come to realize that restful vacations are wasted ones. Or so I'm telling myself, while trying to ignore the pain in my heels. Luckily parks in Taipei have short "trails" of fixed, rounded stones designed to increase blood flow to the feet of the elderly. I am loving my old age.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Notes from Taiwan: The First Email Home

Mom,

I just woke up and took my first tour of Alice's part of the city. Trust me when I say, there is absolutely and completely NO evidence that Taiwan has ever suffered a typhoon on the streets. Everything looks 'business as usual'. Again, I repeat: there is no sign that Taiwan has ever experienced a typhoon. Ever.

Ever.

There is no debris. There is no residual water. There is nothing, I repeat, NOTHING to lend weight to the news reports that some catastrophe has occurred here. I will leave it to you to surmise whether or not I have electricity.

As for earthquakes: I have experienced none. If I do, I will promptly command them to stop. Apart from such imperatives I have few means of controlling earthquakes. But, to assuage your fears: I have seen no apocalyptic collapse of the city.

I will try to take flower pictures as much as possible.

In the hour and a half I have spent galavanting around the city, I as an individual have experienced more humidity than many nations experience over entire eras. I've been too busy sweating to pay much attention to the temperature, so I can't really tell you how hot it is.

I am in full possession of all my luggage.

Alice appears to be 87% happy and 76% nostaligic.

I love you,
Joe

Monday, August 03, 2009

The Cure for Absurdity






A friend and I were discussing the ever-pervasive issue of evolution once. She was far from being a scientist herself, though that's not to suggest she wasn't respectably informed. Rather, she like many, was one who left science to people who "got it", which is why I felt quite validated when she said that she thought anti-evolutionists were basically just being offensive.

I think many scientists spend far too much time meticulously seeking to understand the natural world to then suffer the obtrusive and dogmatic opinions of a person whose sole source of information is the Bible. The truth is that scientists, like all professionals, don't like ignorant people taking shots at their profession, and tend to react emotionally, even spitefully, when they are confronted as such. It's akin to rednecks commenting on modern art, or a barely literate person critiquing fine poetry. I think of most of the discussions I've heard concerning the work of Jackson Pollock, and think they tend to parallel the evolution debate quite well.

The greater tragedies I notice in all of this are the conversations that end up not happening.

One thing I think gets ignored much to easily is the statistical ridiculousness of our world. It's an argument that has been sadly twisted to fit the ulterior motives of Christian apologists for much too long. We generally call it "the Watchmaker" argument. As it's generally presented, it says that life is possible only because our world is intricately organized to allow it. It is easily as fine-tuned as a Swiss watch. Thus, if you stumble across a watch in the wilderness, you never assume it is the product of natural processes, but rather that it is the creation of a watchmaker, and that he or someone else lost it there.

There are countless flaws in this argument, and even more flaws in the way many Christians attempt to use it. Yet, still I can't help but feel that it carries a valid point that is too rarely phrased in language that does not antagonize scientists.

Our planet is characterized by a staggering variety of fine-tuned balances. Were it a few thousand miles further or closer to the Sun life in the forms we are familiar with would have been practically impossible. Even more, were the composition of our oceans different, the percentages the elements present altered, the concentric spheres of our atmosphere changed, the pull of our moon absent . . . were anything other than it is, life would have been doubtful; if not impossible. I think we should avoid religious conclusions in regard to this, at least primarily. Yet, just in terms of pure statistics, the probability of our world existing is utterly absurd.

Now, absurdity does not in and of itself mean anything. The existentialists generally viewed absurdity as a symptom of an atheistic reality. I think it comes back to a hermeneutical question of how do we interpret the facts when we view them for themselves. We live in a world that is ornately ordered: but how? Is there some ordering factor in the universe, or are we merely the result of what amounts to the most statistically ludicrous chance happening that could ever be calculated or imagined.

I feel that both positions can be respected. I don't mean to be pejorative of those who see our universe as one ruled by blind chance. Only I cannot fathom how I happen to rest at the end of such a preposterous chain of "fortunate" accidents. I say this not because I think humanity is too dignified to be the product of chance, but rather because I think that chance has its limits. When we say that P= #, I wonder how many zeros we can tack on before we have to wonder if there is something driving it.


The leap from this "driving force" to a benevolent God is enormous. So, I don't wish to make it here. Rather I just want to say that at least to my mind, randomness, in the context of our universe, has to be self-limiting. Basically, the nature and ultimate complexity of our world prevents me from conceding that it is purely the result of random events.

My Grandpa (an agnostic) once said it this way, "Doesn't it seem more miraculous that the universe came about without God?"

Certainly. Only I don't have nearly enough faith to believe this miracle to be true. Whether this can be attributed to rationality or irrationality I think will tell each person more about their own beliefs than about my own. In the end, I believe in order . . . and I think it much too absurd to claim that it came about randomly.