Making fire with business cards —to get promoted

It's absolutely beyond belief, paranormal and supernatural.

May and I managed to deliver the paper gift yesterday after successfully making a wee camp fire with all of her business cards in the wallet. It was an omen, but we couldn't tell if by clairvoynce.

May was told this morning that she is going to be promoted. She will have new cards printed with her new title and occupation, so for sure old cards are no longer needed.

Perhaps having difficulties in finding a temple with a burner was not a sign, but rather, burning business cards was a mojo. It may conclude that

Facing career stagnation?
Make a fire with your business cards and get promoted.

Making fire with business cards

My best friend May and I used to do crazy things together when we were undergrads more than a decade ago. For example, we would walk on the elevated road and then the bridge for motor vehicles to cross a river at 2.00 in the morning.

Today, an unexpected short religious ritual held during the lunch break reminded me of mad old days. May bought a 'paper gift' and we managed to deliver it by reducing it to ashes, i.e., burning it.

In Chinese folk beliefs, the dead, whether ascending to Heaven or suffering in Hell, still need daily necessities, luxury items, all sorts of consumer goods and, above all, money. While on few occasions people would immolate real stuff (yes, they even burn apple notebooks or flat TVs), most of the time paper crafts are used instead. Thus, it is popular to burn a paper model car, miniature paper house, paper TV or so for a deceased family member, as well as 'paper money' (precisely 'joss paper', not real banknotes), in the funeral and other subsequent remembrance rituals.

However, because of growing environmental and global-warming concerns, people are discouraged from burning such paper items nowadays. It is not uncommon to see a burner outside a temple sealed and made redundant. It is particularly true in Taipei.

Normally, a paper item would be made of bamboo splints and tissue paper, but what May bought is made of quality cardboard and coated paper by SKEA, a studio which makes literally any stuff with paper (visit the website and check out their fab produtcs), as long as you provide a photo.

As May and I couldn't find a temple with a burner, after the second attempt in Cihui Tang (慈惠堂), we followed a trail from the back of this temple into a hill, Tiger Mountain, neighbouring Elephant Mountain where Fanne and I heard cicadas singing.

Without a burner, which would provide enough heat to burn down the tough cardboard, we built a super tiny fire with May's business cards as 'fuel'. It took a while because the cardboard was so heavy-duty, industrial-strength. At one point I doubted whether this paper gift was meant to burn or made to last. Fortunately, it turned into ashes before all of May's cards were used up.

(See, while the gift has burnt to ashes, a corner of her business card bearing her name is still there.)

On the one hand, I believe, SKEA should be proud of their well-crafted products, but on the other, they should also worry about those who can't find a proper burner.

Ok, I need a card

I wonder why I would need a card bearing my name, occupation and contact information when I'm just nobody at the moment in this academic world. However, it's probably a good idea to have a calling card or visiting card or business card, whatever it is called.

A team member of a music database project which I'm currently conducting, Davide, who is a gramophone record collector and specialist, has a degree in graphic design. While designing a business card for another team member, Carla, who also works part-time as a Japanese translator and private music tutor, Davide kindly offered to do one for me, because both he and Carla suggested I should have my own card as well.

I told Davide that simplicity was the first requirement, and the second was the inclusion of a broccoli on the card instead of the title, position and university emblem. I don't think those are important to me, as a part-time faculty member, at present.

If, as a courtesy to others who give me their cards, handing out a card is essential, now I have one at hand with relevant contact details. If, in order to help people to remember me, the title and logo are meant to impress others, I have a broccoli in the upper-right corner and am ready all the time to tell them about the broccoli quadrilogy and my doctoral study in Scotland, or to ask them to visit my weblog and listen to my composition Broccoli's Sorrow. If people are interested in my research, or simply my personality, and would like to keep in contact with me, they will, otherwise the card doesn't mean anything to them.

Hope the new business card with the immortal, ubiquitous broccoli in the corner will bring me more luck and strength in the coming new semester.

Pianissimo Pêche Menthol One

(What would you think it is should I haven't told you it's a carton of ciggies?)

I stopped smoking on Chinese New Year when the last cigarette was burnt out, because I couldn't be bothered to buy more in the wee small hours of the morning. I was tired of have any more puff and just stopped. However, as I have said stop for now ≠ quit for good. I started again last Monday because I received from May a carton of my favourite Pianissimo Pêche Menthol One.

Acclaimed as a successful 'D-spec' (less-smoke-smell) product, the 1-miligram-tar and menthol Pianissimo Pêche Menthol One was originally developed for the Japanese domestic market, with an odour-reducing technology, by Japan Tobcco Inc., the third largest international manufacturer of tobacco products in the world. It was first launched in July 2005 in the test market, Miyagi (宮城) and Yamagata (山形) prefectures, and then introduced nationwide in October 2005.

I came to know Pianissimo Pêche Menthol One through a Japanese rock band Alice Nine (アリス九號). It's the favourite brand of the band's bassist Saga (沙我). I'm not particularly interested in Japanese 'Visual Kei' (ヴィジュアル系) groups, but somehow I discovered Alice Nine by chance.


(Saga, the extreme right, image from Alice Nine's Chinese official website)

Pianissimo Pêche Menthol One is not available in Taiwan, although other products of Japan Tobacco such as Mild Seven, Salem and Camel, have been on sale for ages here. Hence, I have to ask people to ship in for me.

Receiving my request through the international text sent to her mobile, Fanne bought me a carton of 200 cigarettes last year in the duty-free shop in Hong Kong Airport last summer. This summer I was given another carton, the special summer edition.

Apart from the pretty exterior carton, the packs inside come in three different designs featuring various items such as sunflowers, a straw hat, a glass of cocktail, sun chaises and fireworks. They really look like perfume cartons.

Thanks, May. They are so cute!

(front view of packs)

(back view of packs)

PS Smoking kills.

Tibetan milk tea

It appears that, to most of my friends and family, I have a peculiar taste in drink. Therefore, whatever product I fall in love with is doomed to be discontinued.

More than a decade ago when I was still an undergrad, the long-established food manufacturer I-Mei (義美) launched a new product, Tibetan Milk Tea. Trying it in the campus shop, I was immediately captured by its strong ultra-rich creamy taste and would sacrifice a tin of Taiwan beer in return for a carton of Tibetan milk tea.

However, neither Fanne nor other university classmates shared the same view with me. Whatever taste preferences they had, 'yuck!' was the same response after they politely accept my invitation.

Unfortunately, to me, but probably fortunately to I-Mei's long-term profitability, this marvellous drink was soon abandoned and no similar product has been introduced in the Taiwanese market ever since.

Last year, the courageous T. Grand International, the manufacturer of the well known Assam Milk Tea (阿薩姆奶茶), was brave enough to reintroduce Tibetan Milk Tea, together with the brand new Prague Milk Tea, to Taiwanese consumers. Somehow, I just couldn't find it in any convenience store, supermarket or corner shop.

Over the past seven months or so, I have been looking for the revived milk tea, but to no avail. I even doubted whether any distributors would ever help to promote this product should I-Mei's flop was still remembered. Finally, last week I found it in Pxmart (全聯福利中心), 'the nation's biggest hard discounter', as Taipei Times commented.

I have been yearning day and night for this perished milk tea for so many years, and thus was absolutely blissed out upon seeing it with its charming package featuring the spectacle Potala Palace. Sadly, however, having a sip, it was my turn to say 'yuck'.

To my disappointment, this is not Tibetan and is definitely going to be discontinued.

PS I don't think I have any interest in trying Prague Milk Tea. Give me a break.

Giving up military for music

Requested by Chin-Shuan Cultural & Educational Foundation (勤宣文教基金會) to write an introductory article for the programme of a forthcoming concert it is organising, I spent some time studying the background information about bands and musicians. I then came to know that all the three members of the Costa Rican music group Editus were conservatoire-trained and had once been affiliated with the National Symphonic Orchestra of Costa Rica.

In order to seek more details of Costa Rica’s Orquesta Sinfónica Nacional, I visited its website and consulted online references such as Britannica or CIA Word Factbook. I was so surprised when discovering that Costa Rica had constitutionally abolished its army in 1949 and part of the military budget was then re-allocated to support the orchestra.

Utmost awesomeness.

Irish Cream for the Seventh Night

It was the 'Seventh Night' (七夕 qixi, the Chinese version of St. Valentine's Day) again, the day when the cowherd boy and the weaver girl are reunited once every year.

Whereas earlier this year on the real St. Valentine's Day, Fanne found on her dressing table a pack of Italian Slitti Gran Cacao 73%, two days ago on the Chinese version she discovered a bottle of Carolans Irish Cream and a card.

I used to be a bit reserved but now appear to have a penchant for making arrangements for special occasions. Marrying a woman who had been waiting for me four years in the historic Church of the Holy Rude, where James VI was crowned King of Scotland, obviously has certain impacts on me.

Last week, upon seeing a drinking scene in a film on TV, Fanne was reminded of the days when we stayed in a flat in Murray Place, Stirling. Although most of the time we preferred having a pint of ale or a wee dram of Scotch in the local, sometimes we would pick up a bottle of Baileys from the off-licence downstairs and enjoy ourselves in the flat against the high-pitched, nasal sounds of Shanghai oldies.

She had been fancying a shot of Baileys. I just knew it, and was thus determined to prepare a seventh-night surprise for her

Somehow, Baileys, the commercial Irish whiskey and cream based liqueur, sold out, if now everywhere in Taipei, at least in the street where I live. I had no alternative but switched to an unfamiliar brand, Carolans.

It's indeed 'A Many Splendid Thing' to see her gazing at the bottle of Irish Cream and the card featuring a broccoli, the token of our troth. (The two brussels sprouts just happened to be there. I couldn't find a card that had only broccoli.)

I truly hope that in the near future we can go back to Scotland and take a shot of Baileys while having a bowl of crunchy and sweet broccoli.

Regarding reader's submission

As requested, Yung-Yao contributed a post to my weblog after his trip to my sister Li-Wen's e-Tea House. He mailed me this 'essay' on 15^th July, but as it took us a few days to proofread and copyedit the manuscript, it only went online yesterday.

Yung-Yao and I enjoy debating on any paradoxical, controversial issues all the time, which we believe helpful to establish stronger logic skills, enhance critical thinking and prevent Alzheimer's. However, sometimes we may make a mountain out of a mole hill and overplay our academic parts. The previous blog post may serve as a good example.

Rather than preparing on my own a post about his recalled 'pearl tea' experience with the photos he sent me, I suggested that he draft something in the fashion a correspondent contributes reports to a newspaper from a remote location, and I post it in my capacity as the owner/editor of the weblog.

It obviously worked quite well. We had much fun in reading and revising the manuscript as if we had been working on a non-peer-reviewed but intensive-editing-required essay.

Maybe I should urge some of my loyal readers, particular those whose mother tongue is not English, to contribute their views towards my life or short pieces about their own. As an academic experienced in marking students' reports/essays, as Yung-Yao describes, I shall do my best to offer them comments on language and writing style in return.

Reader's submission:A discovery trip to e-Tea House, New Yorkby Dr Yung-Yao Lin

(Yung-Yao and Li-Wen at e-Tea House)

Readers of Principal Wei's Weblog may or may not know that Wei has a sister, who lives in New York, USA. After finishing her high school and college, she worked in a bank for two years. One might think that it is a good job for a girl, stable and good paid. Being the only sister of Wei, Li-Wen, however, has a greater dream – opening and branding a new teahouse in downtown Manhattan. Since I was staying in New York for a couple of weeks, I decided to visit her teahouse. Not until then did I realise that she started having this dream while she was studying in the college. During that time, she took a part-time job to work in a teahouse and support her expenses.

Within the years of her part-time employment in a teahouse, Li-Wen developed a business plan and would like to make it come true. She thought of the name of her teahouse, designed the interior decoration and even registered a domain name in order to advertise her teahouse on the Internet. Eventually, she gained support from her aunt and uncle to make sufficient start-up fund. She then quit her job and found a good location near the influential Wall Street.

On July 4th, I went to Li-Wen’s teahouse with my university classmate, Ho-Yi, who is working as an architect in New York. The address is 29 John Street, not far from the Fulton subway station. As Wei didn't disclose the secret of my visit, Li-Wen was very surprised to see me. The last time we met was on Principal and Fanne's wedding in Scotland about a year ago. I was the best man and she was bridesmaid. Li-Wen greeted us excitedly and introduced us all products of her teahouse. I ordered my all-time favourite: Pearl Milk Tea. I forgot what Ho-Yi ordered though.

After leaving Taiwan for so many years, my hope for drinking authentic Pearl Milk Tea in London China Town has gradually died down. I concluded that any characteristic food or drink once leaves its motherland will never be the same. I have to say, however, I might be wrong. After sipping Li-Wen's Pearl Milk tea, my taste buds were able to recall my memory of happiness. Nicely blended milk and tea, ice-cold, combined with 'pearls', which are dark and partly transparent jelly-like tapioca balls. Having these chewy 'pearls' in the mouth is a wonderfully pleasant sensation that goes so well with milk tea. Li-Wen offered us some rice crackers, not home made, yet very nice, too. We happily chatted and joked. She also told us bits and bobs about her less-than-two-month-old teahouse.

When was last time talking and joking happily with my friends and each of us had a cup of Pearl Milk Tea? Towards finishing my drink, I tasted a hint of nostalgia.

At this point, I believe many readers will have agreed with me – the brother and sister of the Chens are the same type. They are not afraid of making dreams because they share the same revolutionary elements in their blood. To congratulate them for having made big steps, I sincerely wish them all the best on their own paths.


(Ho-Yi, classmate from Botany NTU, Class of 98, and, in her own words, a single girl seeking romance.)

Editor's note: Dr Yung-Yao Lin is currently a postdoctoral fellow in a research institute in Cambridge, UK. He is a long-term and passionate reader of Principal Wei's Weblog. He has appeared several times in many articles on Wei's blog. Since he has not a bolg of his own, he has decided to become a freelancer and contribute to Principal Wei's Weblog whenever appropriate.

Cicadas revisited

We went hiking at Elephant Mountain again and managed to record this lo-fi video clip in the rain. How wonderful it was to meet these cicadas two weeks later, although they were probably not those which we had encountered. The latter may have well breathed their last as adult cicadas have a rather short life span.

We had a light rain shower on our way up the hill and thus the video looks dark and dingy. In addition, as I'm not a cameraman from the National Geographic or the Discovery Channel, apart from the insect buzz and the soft pitter-patter of the rain, there is certainly no cicada in the video.

Luckily the shower stopped before sunset, so we could watch, with a scattering of lights gleaming through the haze, the sun sinking down behind the ridge.