Half a Year in Taiwan - Some Serious Thoughts

As of 4 days ago, I marked 6 months of long-term service here. It's been an interesting time, with some surprising struggles, and unexpected encouragements.

Since in about a week I will be busy and travelling for summer camps until sometime in the latter half of July, this week seems like a good chance to reflect on lessons I've learned and am learning.

 

Reflections on these six months...

 

1. Expectations might be your enemy, but you can't ever quite succeed in not having them.

I tried not too have too many expectations coming back to Taiwan, but the very experience that made it a more feasible task to swap continents, lifestyles, and environments also inevitably meant that I would have some expectations based on that experience. Much of the experience that gave rise to those expectations was valuable, crucial even, to working effectively here this time, but the hardest thing coming back has been the frustration of some of those expectations.

I imagine most of you know what culture shock is; well reverse culture shock is the (often unexpected, and sometimes more difficult) shock one experiences when returning to one's home culture and realizing that your perspective has been changed as a result of your experiences in a new culture, and that you now view your home culture in a slightly different way. Sometimes your eyes are opened to negative things you never noticed before, sometimes your priorities have simply be rearranged, but either way it can be difficult to experience and nearly impossible for anyone who hasn't experienced it themselves to sympathize with you.

The blessing of my prior experience of living in Taiwan for a year affected my coming here this time in nearly every possible way, basically letting me hit the ground running. I was actively doing ministry within a few days of arriving while my brain was doing overtime trying to get used to being in constant Chinese mode. At the same time I was caught unprepared for the painful realization that Taiwan, and more specifically my acquaintances in Taiwan, had not been static and unchanging in the 5+ years in between last time I lived here and now. Kids who were in middle school my first few trips to Taiwan, and only early highschool when I lived here that year, are now getting into their early 20's. Being still in my 20's until next year, that means we're all in our 20's together, which is fun and meaningful in some ways and rather odd at the same time!

At the same time, old friends have moved on with their lives, with those fundamental changes that creep in between your mid 20's and your late 20's. I discovered some friendships have survived, many haven't, and the warmth with which I was welcomed back to Taiwan before my actual arrival turned out to be more or less unrelated to the eagerness of the welcomers to actually meet with me once I was here. Some former acquaintances are now friends, some friends are now more like old acquaintances, and I find myself not starting with anything like the social circle I thought I had coming in.

You could call it reverse-reverse culture shock, perhaps; learning to dodge the jab of culture shock only to be hit with a left hook when moving back into reach of the same culture again. But I think a more accurate term would be simply time shock; regardless of culture, it hits all of us sooner or later.

2. Yes I Still Love Taiwan!

The process of getting over here nearly gave me ulcers again. ("Let go and let God" sounds lovely and serene, but my experience is more like "Hold on tight and ask God to keep your fingers from getting broken if this thing comes to a quick stop") Having finally made it, though, it is such a tremendous blessing to have been given a love for the place to which you are called. And love is the right term, because the like gets stretched at times, but in the end I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

My work here is varied; I am not just here to "do ministry," though there's plenty of that, I am here to be a living representative of Christ. That calling leads to everything from teaching songs to 2nd graders and English to 80+ year old seniors using DIY bingo cards, to having late night Skype meetings with American short-term mission teams because of the time difference, to discussing concepts of Christianity and Taiwanese culture in mandarin with my young professional friends in elaborately-ambianced cafes, to turning the tables on pairs of Mormon missionaries and witnessing to them instead.

I'm not sure where Taiwan lies on the scale of comfort in terms of mission fields. It's really a false question because how comfortable you are depends on a lot of factors, and the overall environment and modernity of your surroundings is merely one of those. One could get along quite happily with a great ministry team planting churches in jungles, slums, or even a city dump, or push through day after discouraging day with no visible progress in your lonely coffee shop gospel outreach in a posh, comfortable neighborhood of a global city.
For my part, I tend to feel lucky that I get to live here. Sometimes when a short term team visits, though, I'm reminded that not everyone shares my enthusiasm for the details of life here. Living in Taiwan comes with all the benefits and drawbacks of living in/right next to the tropics:

There's intense humidity (hanging one's clothes out to dry may result in their mildewing instead), the insect life is diversely sized and numerous (from air-thickening mosquitoes to flying cockroaches to spiders that are like skinny tarantulas), nothing lasts more than a couple of hours without being refrigerated, garbage disposal becomes a serious endeavor that requires planning and multiple types of garbage bags, one is typically soaked in either rain or sweat within 90 seconds of going out the front door, I could go on. Most expats actually flee Taiwan after the school year ends to spend the relentlessly muggy summer elsewhere.

On the other hand one can drink inexpensive fresh papaya milk between waving palm trees under a glowing blue sky and feel that all that is not so bad. And since it's Taiwan, you might just as easily be doing that in front of a 3-story, Times Square-style LED billboard that's advertising cough syrup with Chinese medicinal herbs, or next to a quaint country train station built in the old Japanese colonial style with summer breezes playing through the flooded rice fields. There could be a garbage truck playing Fur Elise, or a guy beatboxing Mario bros. across from the barbecued squid stand.

Really, you never know what you'll see...

A Rubber Ducky bigger than a Starbucks floating in the harbor? Yeah, you might see that.

3. Things Never Stop Changing Anywhere in the World.

Taiwan in 2014 is a little more tired, a little less affluent. Taiwan's overall cultural worldview is even more heavily centered around almighty Success than America's is, so the lack of it (worse, due to global economic conditions and Taiwan's rather unique situation, the creeping realization of the inevitable future lack of it) affects people and society in general here even more deeply.

So the "cheerfulness" factor in general is noticeably down for someone who's only been back on a few short trips between 2008 and the end of last year. The glory days were just ending then, and there was happy inertia. Not so much now.
Of course all this is compared to the 'Taiwanese miracle' days of being one of the 4 Asian Tiger economies. So having come down several notches from that doesn't qualify as "hard times" yet here, but it's harder than many students now have ever known. Up until the middle of that decade people had been throwing out old stuff and buying new, now they're holding onto what was new in 2008 and it's not so shiny anymore. Graduating students don't find jobs waiting for them. It's a similar situation to what America faces now, really, except America has far more power, resources, and potential options.Taiwan is in a difficult political situation, and their friends are few and not willing to challenge China. In the past, the US was a guarantee that China would not unilaterally move to change the situation, but nowadays that's looking less and less like a surety.

Of course, while obviously no one enjoys a decline in prosperity, we have to ask the most important question: What does this mean for the gospel in Taiwan?
Honestly, it will probably result in people being more open to listen. People accuse Christianity of being a crutch for the weak, but it's far more the case that success is a crutch for the mortal; a means to pretend to control his own fate. Once the idols one worshipped in exchange for hope of worldly success seem ineffective, people will be more willing to listen to those who claim there is a God whose hope is not of this world. (They'll also be less willing to tolerate missionaries who don't seem to be contributing to Taiwan's economy, so we'll see how that situation progresses.)

4. I Need More of God

I am increasingly aware that my own relationship to God is more relaxed than fervent. The focus in American Evangelicalism on sound Biblical doctrine is very important, but it should serve as the rails on which our train runs, not the station we're headed to. God seeks to know us, and our path in life is to walk with Him, not only have very scripturally sound ideas about Him.

My time in seminary was glorious and blessed, but my lifestyle over those 3+ years was totally exhausting physically, mentally, and spiritually. My faith was strengthened and not weakened, praise God, by the fearless and intimate look at His word "behind the scenes" that my seminary offered. It was not confusion and dismay at some of the Sunday School Answers being challenged so much as relief that for some topics there were more complicated and grown-up answers that were much more satisfactory while not challenging scriptural authority whatsoever. (Sometimes the original text even leaves room for more than one interpretation! What a relief to find that we can disagree with each other on non-doctrine level questions and still all be equally convinced of the truth of Scripture.)

But by the time it was over, I needed rest and recovery. The time in Alabama was mostly an unstable "between time," with several months of "oh, you're still here?" It was valuable time spent with family and old friends, which I am grateful for, but also stressful in that I was neither here nor there.

After finally arriving in Taiwan and after the initial few months of transition, my life began to assume some kind of normal routine. I began to realize the lack of normal routine or stable life situation had seriously affected my daily walk. I'd been praying and working through so many big, one-time issues both as I left the US and upon arriving here that I'd gotten entirely out of the habit of setting aside daily time with God.

In America that's wrong, it's spiritual laziness, and being actively involved in church isn't sufficient to make up for it.
But Taiwan is not America. This is not Christendom, and never was; idolatry has never been seriously challenged until these few decades, and the real breakthrough hasn't happened yet. Here, under spiritual warfare and without a consistent church home, trying to plant a church in a spiritually resistant community where no steeples rise but the chimneys of many daoist sacrificial furnaces do, where the air is often thick with the smoke of burnt paper money and joss incense, what was detrimental to my spiritual health in the US is here an imminent danger.

(By way of analogy, imagine back when they had the smoking sections and non-smoking sections in restaurants. Sure, you could still smell dangerous second-hand smoke sometimes drifting over from the smoking section, but spiritually speaking this is like sitting at the table full of people smoking)

So if I don't hold onto time in God's presence on a personal level, actively seeking after Him, I will be dragged away from Him. Not from salvation, the enemy can't touch that. But your spiritual health can be chipped away bit by bit, and here I see how that can happen. Missionaries need your prayer for more than just the success of their ministry, when they go into the enemy's territory with the gospel they get the enemy's poisonous attention.

Sacrificial pig on display during Ghost Month, a plea to ancestral spirits to not harass the living

 

5. Taiwan Needs Prayer, More Than Ever Before

Even without this special kind of spiritual pressure, being on the mission field our reliance on God is made more obvious. I submit that this should not only be the case on the mission field, but it can be more difficult to leave our comfort zone when it's the default and you have to work to get out of it, whereas on the mission field being out of your comfort zone is the default and you have to work to fine one, if it's even possible.

In any case, we pray a lot! We know that any success in this kind of spiritual endeavor (and in the face of this warfare) will come through God's work, not our plans. We are all ambassadors for Christ here, and that role is made glaringly obvious in a land where most people's reaction to Christ is neither acceptance nor denial, but a shrug. He's great for you westerners, but what has He go to do with Taiwanese?

Missionaries have been in Taiwan for a long time, but the gospel has only reached certain sections of the population. The church that does exist cannot be described as consistently healthy either. I've noticed that some people think that while the church in America is sometimes sadly described as a mile wide and an inch deep, in countries with only a small church presence it must be the opposite; small gatherings of passionate and fearless believers. Taiwan is more or less neither, to be honest. In terms of Protestant Christians, there are a few dozen very large churches on the island, several thousand in total (most having fewer than 50 people on an island of 23 million people), and most of them are similar to American churches. People come on Sunday, maybe participate in a weekday night service or maybe not, and in small churches the "80-20 rule" (80% of the work done by 20% of the church) might even be more like 90-10. Or frighteningly often, only the pastor, because he's the "professional Christian," and it's his job to do the spiritual stuff, right?

I have noticed even more strongly this time living here that the prosperity gospel is also rampant in Taiwan. Joel Osteen is in literally almost every church bookstore. When you worship idols, it's a very natural transition. Idols (and the gods they represent) don't love you, but they can help you get stuff you want if you worship them. How much better to change your allegiance from a bunch of small gods to one big God who loves you -and- will help you get the stuff you want if you worship Him?

Please continue to pray for Taiwan.

6. Seeking My Place in Taiwan

"Doing" ministry in Taiwan is not always easy but it at least consists of relatively clearly defined tasks with goals you can write down. "Being" in Taiwan is what has presented me with the most difficulties so far, and it's something I want to work on. Who am I, here?

As a westerner in Taiwan, I'm not under any illusions that I'll ever be Taiwanese in the strict sense. If I spoke absolutely fluent and brilliant Mandarin, Taiwanese, and Hakka too, was a Taiwanese citizen, wrote famous historical novels about Taiwan in Chinese, had a seat in the Taiwanese legislature, whatever.. to a random person on the street I would be a white tourist. That's just how it is.

In a way, though, that takes some pressure off. If I was in Germany, say, for lifelong ministry, I might be tempted to set the goal to basically become German. This would be impossible in one sense (I didn't and now can never grow up Germany), but it would seem much more attemptable, as being ethnically Northern European, after some years, in dress, posture, and maybe even language, it's conceivable that I could appear to be and come across as a native German. That's an extremely difficult thing to do, and arguably you lose out on some benefits that you bring to the table as a foreigner in terms of ministry. It also leads to interesting identity issues.

In Taiwan, since this is impossible, I don't have the temptation to try. I am not content, however, to remain solely on the sidelines. My goal is to be fluent in at least Mandarin, and find a place in Taiwan's society, an accepted role among my friends and acquaintances and coworkers, so I can have an identity here other than "guest who doesn't leave." Some have suggested that's impossible. Maybe so. At this stage I think it's too early to say, so I will forge ahead and see what happens. It's true that it would have been more of a feasible option had I gotten here 9 years ago and spent all my 20's here, making friends long before those friends started families. So I know I'm arriving late in the game, but it's also a game without clearly defined rules, so maybe I can write a few myself. Only time and God's providence will tell.

So please keep praying for me too; it's been a long road but my journey is only beginning...

Walking on Eggshells... Difficulties in Learning Chinese Culture

(Note: None of the characters in this story are based on anyone I know, they merely represent generalizations of situations I've encountered on my path of cultural learning in Taiwan.)

Let us say that you have been invited to a party. You recently moved to a new neighborhood, and you're excited about getting to know your neighbors. You receive the fancy invitation and are impressed, it looks like people here really have style, you'll be careful to make the best impression you can.

Arriving at the party, you enter and are surprised at how warmly you are greeted by the hosts and everyone else present; you've never felt so honored as a guest. The decorations are beautiful and different from the ones in your old neighborhood, and the refreshments are unlike anything you have tasted before, but you decide you like them. This will be great, you think. You did stumble a bit as you entered, feeling something underfoot, but you are too busy meeting new people to notice.

Soon after many polite words the host graciously takes his leave to welcome other guests, and you pass into the main room beyond. At this point you stumble again. You definitely stepped on something. Looking down, you see that it was an egg. Yuck! The shell is crushed beneath your nice leather shoe and there's yolk and albumen everywhere. Embarrassed, you look around. Fortunately no one seems to have noticed.

Making your way carefully to a table, you notice there are no napkins. You ask someone where you can find one. "Oh, please, allow me," they say with a smile, and offer you their own handkerchief. "Oh, no," you protest, "I don't want to use your handkerchief to clean this up, I just need a disposable napkin." But they insist, and you can't figure out a polite way to decline. Thanking them profusely, and deciding people around here must be incredibly nice, you look around, wondering why you couldn't see the egg before you stepped on it.

The floor is clean, though, no other eggs to be seen. You try a few snacks and mingle with the other people, who are all interested to talk to the guest and lavish with their compliments. Soon, however, as you are approaching to shake hands with someone, you feel it again. "Crunch." Looking down, you see your shoe is again slimed by a raw egg you've stepped on. You smile apologetically for the unusual incident, but no one else has changed expressions or taken any notice at all. The man shakes hands with you, and everyone continues the lively conversation.

This seems strange. Turning to one new acquaintance, you motion down at the smashed egg. He gives you a very brief confused look, then smiles and invites you to try more snacks before moving on.
Suddenly you notice something strange about the way he is walking. He seems to be choosing his steps very carefully, as if avoiding something. Looking around, you see that everyone is walking in this way. They must be able to see the eggs on the floor! But why didn't they warn you about them?

In your old neighborhood, there were a few eggs on the floor too. Sometimes they were hard to spot, but there was always a little sign warning people of their presence, or at least a mark on the floor. This way even newcomers could know to avoid them. If they would do that here, it would make things so much easier, but it seems like no one has thought to do this. You think about suggesting it, but decide it would be a little too forward to do at your first party here. Maybe next time.

You still have egg on your shoe, and begin looking for napkins. Still none to be found. You don't want to ask anyone for fear they'll offer you their handkerchief again, but eventually you break down and do so. This time, the person is unlike the others, a little less friendly. He offers you his handkerchief, but seems a little reluctant to do so, as if it's an obligation. You try to decline, but he seems to be getting increasingly annoyed, so you give in and accept the handkerchief. He moves on quickly, and you really start hoping you can find some napkins soon.

As you walk away, it happens again. "Squish." Now you're starting to get annoyed too. You beckon to someone you met earlier, and they come over with a friendly smile. "Are there a lot of eggs on the floor here?" You ask. The person seems startled by the direct question. "Oh, it's possible that there may be one or two," they say, "but you shouldn't worry about that. Just enjoy the party!" You point at your shoe. "Do you not see that I have egg all over my shoe?" They shake their head quickly, not looking down. "No no, I'm sure nothing like that would happen." You can't get much more out of them, so you thank them and continue on.

You need to clean your shoe, this egg even got a little on your pant leg. But you are beginning to think there really might not be any napkins at this party, and you didn't know to bring your own handkerchief.

You notice someone's child standing nearby, and she is giggling at your shoe, clearly because of the egg all over it. It seems rude, but mostly you're grateful someone has acknowledged the egg at all. You motion to her, but she is shy and runs away. Before she leaves, though, she points to a spot on the ground nearby and grins.

Walking there carefully, you nudge the place she pointed to with your foot, and sure enough you feel an egg roll away. Why don't they just mark where the eggs are like normal people!? "If only I had someone to walk around with me," you think to yourself, "they could point out all the eggs and I would know where to step."

You see someone who greeted you when you first arrived, and walk quickly over to ask them for help. As you move in that direction, however, your knee suddenly strikes an unseen obstacle. With a strange sound, a whole giant pile of eggs tumbles to the ground, sending puddles of raw egg everywhere. Some of it gets on the other guests, who give you irritated looks. One or two look outright angry. One of the hosts who greeted you rushes over. "Are you enjoying the party?" he asks, looking concerned. "Yes thank you," you say, "but all these eggs... I'm sorry." The host smiles a little painfully. "Oh, no need to apologize at all, just..." -he lowers his voice so only you can hear- "try to watch where you are going, ok?"

He turns to leave. Almost panicking, you grab at his sleeve. Several bystanders wince. He turns, and now his smile looks very artificial, the duty of a gracious host encountering a painful social situation with all the courtesy he can muster, which to his credit is considerable. "I'm sorry," you begin, "I appreciate the invitation so much and I don't want to be rude, so if someone could please just show me where the eggs are on the floor, I could avoid them and everything would be ok. In my old neighborhood we always marked the eggs, but it seems like here I'm the only one who can't see them." He looks confused. "You are new here, of course, and we are so glad you have joined us tonight. But you know, forgive me for saying so, but this is not your old neighborhood, so we will be very pleased if you can understand some of our rules. One is that it's... a little uncomfortable to talk about the eggs. It's better not to talk about them at all. Please just watch where you step very carefully, but really, what is a broken egg or two between friends? We are so glad that you were able to come."

You watch miserably as the other guests begin scooping up the puddles of raw egg in their handkerchiefs, some even using their suit coats and expensive purses. Some manage to force a smile at you in the process, but others whisper and glance furtively in your direction.

Just then you see an attractive young lady who has already given you an appreciative glance or two headed your way. She smiles at you. "What a mess! I see you are new to our neighborhood, yes?" You nod, and she moves in to whisper. "I see you have found out about our eggs." You feel a rush of relief. "Yes, these eggs, I'm so embarrassed, I don't know where to step. There aren't any markers here." She laughs. "Don't worry, I have lived in other neighborhoods before, I know they usually mark where the eggs are. But here is different, you have to learn to know where they are without markers. We can't see all of them either, but if we can't see them we know where they will be." You sigh. "But how long will it take me to figure out how to do that?" She shrugs. "I'm not sure, some of our guests learn quickly, others never do, they have to bring people with them to parties to show them where all the eggs are, and to clean up the messes they make when they miss one. But why do you want to stay here, wasn't your old neighborhood better than this?" You hesitate. "I don't know, this place seems nice too." She rolls her eyes. "It's boring. I liked the other neighborhoods I visited better. But there's no place like home I guess. Anyway, let's talk about the neighborhood you came from, what's it like there?"

You hesitate. "I really need to know about the eggs, can't you help me with those?" She thinks for a moment. "Actually, since I lived in other neighborhoods for a long time, it's hard for me to teach you how to see the eggs. I even step on an egg now and then myself, but I have a handkerchief so it's no problem." You nod enthusiastically. "Yes! I need a handkerchief, at least that way I can clean up my own messes. Where can I buy one?" She smiles apologetically. "I'm sorry but they don't sell them. Your parents give you one when you are a child, and you keep it your whole life."

You sigh. "You mean there's no way to get one?" She grins mysteriously. "There is at least one easy way."
"What's that?" you reply, eager to find at least a partial solution to this mess. "I can let you use mine," she says. "I don't need it all the time, and I can also help tell you where some of the eggs are." You agree enthusiastically, certain that the worst part of the party is behind you. (And her attractive company is not unwelcome either.)

Soon, however, you realize that all is not well. The girl sticks close to you, not seeming to be familiar with the others at the party, and seems more interested in chatting about the place you came from than helping you meet more people at this party. You also get odd looks from some of the other guests that you weren't getting before. Once the host makes eye contact with you and shakes his head slightly, pursing his lips. You don't know exactly how to interpret any of this, and mention it to the girl. She shrugs. "I don't know, I don't really understand half of why they do what they do here." "But wait," you ask, confused, "isn't this your home?" She frowns. "Eh, I never really liked it much. I loved watching TV shows about other neighborhoods when I was a kid, and began visiting them as soon as I could. So there are some things I never bothered to figure out. It's not a big deal, just ignore them."

As she continues talking, you glance at the floor. There is an egg at your feet! You interrupt her excitedly. "I can see an egg! Right there!" She gives you an impatient look. "Yeah great, anyway, what I was saying-" you don't hear the rest, being too excited about this development. Motioning to someone nearby, you point at the egg. They frown at first, confused, then smile happily and nod. "Yes yes, good job, you are learning."

You turn back to the girl, but she doesn't look happy. "You're weird," she says, "I thought you were more like the guys I met in other neighborhoods. They weren't obsessed with egg-spotting, they just liked to have a good time." You are confused. "Isn't it good for me to learn how things work here?" She is digging through her purse for her phone. "Yeah I guess so. Hey I have another friend from different neighborhood who just got here, so I'm going to say hi to them. Maybe I'll introduce you guys later." She holds out her hand, taking back her handkerchief (which you notice is tattered and in poor condition), and waves as she turns and walks away.

You are a little sad to see her go, but at the same time get the inexplicable feeling you might have avoided a bad situation. Looking around, you see that in front of you is a large, open space of floor. One or two eggs are visible to your newly sharpened vision, but you suspect there are many more. You realize that despite her friendliness, the time you spent talking to that girl didn't help you learn how to see the eggs at all.

Suddenly you notice there is something sticking to your hand. Several threads of her handkerchief seem to have come unraveled while you were holding it. Without thinking too much, you thrust them into your pocket and begin the slow task of making your way across the open floor to a table with even more delicious-looking snacks further on.

You tread very carefully, ready to pause at the slightest feeling of something under your foot. Just then a stranger, seeming to have already had too much to drink, stumbles into you, muttering something insulting about stupid guests not even knowing how to walk correctly. You stagger back several steps, crushing three or four eggs in the process. "Why don't you watch where you're going?" you say angrily, trying to help him to his feet. There is an audible gasp from a couple of bystanders, and everyone averts their eyes.

The host is suddenly there, looking serious. He too ignores the drunken man, who trots away unsteadily breaking an egg or two himself, though no one seems to notice, and lays a friendly hand on your shoulder. "We are so glad you were able to visit us," he says, with a smile that is not entirely convincing, "but maybe you are growing tired? We don't want you to feel obligated to stay if you would like to rest." You are sure he is annoyed and wants you to leave, but you are angry too. It's not your fault there are so many eggs but no one wants to talk about them, not your fault someone had too much to drink, not your fault there are no napkins anywhere. This whole complicated situation could be resolved if someone would just clearly mark the eggs or at least set a stack of napkins out somewhere.

Summoning all your patience and courtesy, you thank him, but assure him that you are not tired yet, and would love to try some of the other delicious-looking snacks before you leave. He looks much less annoyed after you say this, and repeats your words for others to hear. "I am so glad you are not tired, and you are welcome to try any refreshments you like, although we apologize that they must look and taste terrible compared to what you are used to." You shake your head. "No no, they really are delicious."

He pats your shoulder again. "Don't be so polite! Here, let me help you, there might be something on your shoe." Your anger is cooling now, and you feel terrible that the host himself is now having to clean the raw egg off your shoes. "Please, let me," you say, trying to take the handkerchief from him, "I am embarrassed for you to do it." He refuses, and you repeat the offer twice. To your surprise, he then immediately relents, seemingly very relieved for not having to do it. "Alright, although I admit that it is we who are embarrassed by our floor having so many eggs in these modern times. No doubt it is very difficult for someone who comes from a high-class neighborhood with no eggs."

You blink. "What, no eggs? That's not true at all, we have eggs on our floors like you. But we mark them so people can avoid them. Well, most of them." It suddenly occurs to you that not every single egg was marked in your old neighborhood either. But those were the obvious ones, right? The host shrugs. "We always thought our guests must have no eggs, otherwise why step on them here? But it's not important, please, enjoy the rest of your time! Forgive me, but I must visit the sink. You know..." He nods at the egg-covered handkerchief. You carefully hand him back his handkerchief, feeling bad that he must now go wash it. As he leaves, you realize several threads from his handkerchief are stuck to your hand, just like before. You put these in your pocket as well, wondering why the handkerchiefs in this neighborhood seem to lose threads so easily.

You manage to make it to the next table without stepping on any more eggs, to your great relief. There are more people around this table than the earlier ones, and the snacks really are incredibly delicious, though even more unusual and unlike anything you had in your old neighborhood. Eating them there, you wonder if you even would have enjoyed them, if you hadn't had the chance to try some of the other snacks here first. You step on a few more eggs, but the guests are always graciously willing to lend you their handkerchiefs. Like the others, their handkerchiefs are always losing threads in your hand, though they are noticeably in good condition and not threadbare at all. You notice there are several different colors and shades, but nearly all of them have strips or patches that match those that other people are carrying. Strangely, the people back near the door have the most colorful ones, but looking ahead, at the innermost table with the craziest looking snacks, nearly solid-colored handkerchiefs are more common.

Looking back towards the door, you see the girl from before, talking to another guest who looks like he's from a couple neighborhoods beyond yours. He has so much egg on his shoes you can't tell what color they originally were. He points at them and they both laugh, and then she steps in close to hug him, getting egg all over her own shoes in the process. Strange, does she not care? And why doesn't she tell him about the handkerchiefs?

Thinking about this, you don't watch your feet, and step on another egg. This time you reflexively reach into your pocket, forgetting you didn't bring any napkins, and feel something small and soft. Pulling it out, you see that all the threads from handkerchiefs you've borrowed that kept sticking to your hand and ended up in your pocket have twisted around each other and started meshing together; it's starting to look like a really ragged version of one of the handkerchiefs the people here carry.

Stooping down, you begin to clean the egg white off your shoe with the loose web of threads. It's messy and the egg gets all over your fingers, but it's something.

Suddenly, you realize that you know what to do. At this rate, learning to spot the eggs is going to take a long time. But in the mean time, you're going to be borrowing a lot of handkerchiefs...