Green oranges are here! Autumn marks the green orange season on the island. When I first saw bins of mottled green fruit, I assumed they were unripe. But after a produce vendor tore one open to give me a slice, I realized that these large, tangerine-like oranges never lose their green color. A post on ramblingspoon.com remarks: “In tropical regions with no winter, citrus fruits remain green until maturity, hence the tropical ‘green orange.’”Caroline especially loves this sweet fruit with a slight sour aftertaste. She usually bites into a section, sucks all the juice out, and leaves a hill of pulpy remains behind. She also gets bits of pulp all over herself, and then, later, as she discovers it in her hair, on her feet, or between her fingers, she freaks out and runs to me saying, “There’s a boogey on meeeeee. Get it off!”
Barret likes eating green oranges as well, but he is more fascinated by the fact that there are trees growing near his school playground with fruit hanging from the branches. I guess when you are used to seeing fruit only in its natural surroundings of the Kroger produce aisle, spotting it hanging above the jungle gym is pretty amazing. His favorite citrus product here, though, is the fresh squeezed orange juice sold by the street vendors. The juice is made from a different kind of local orange that is small, tart and extremely juicy. The juice is paler than the Minute Maid or Tropicana variety in the States—closer to the color of lemonade—and has a pleasant tart taste that is very refreshing.
Citrus trees, in general, are pretty common around the area. In fact, McLeod recently discovered them at the Kuo Hua golf club, thanks to his caddy. I have to take a moment to explain that golfing in Asia is a much more formal event. It generally takes all day and ends with a trip to the steam room and showers before changing into fresh clothes for dinner at the club. Female caddies are provided, but lest visions of buxom, short-shorts-wearing drink cart girls float into your head, the women at Kuo Hua are shrouded head-to-toe in purple garments, gloves, and face masks that leave only their eyes peaking out
from beneath huge Chinese straw hats. Imagine McLeod’s surprise, then, when his demure, purple assistant suddenly grabbed an iron and began viciously attacking the limbs of a tree. Was it a snake? Was she frustrated at his Chinese? (In trying to ask his yardage, he kept mistakenly asking her “What am I?” to which she replied helpfully, “American?”) But no, at last she brought him the fruits of her labor, a fat green orange. Better than a candy bar from the clubhouse any day!Family Time for the Glasses
At the time of the last post, we were preparing for our first overseas Thanksgiving. It was a quiet affair featuring chicken and stuffing in the crockpot, cranberry sauce “shaped-like-the-can” as our family calls it, green bean casserole, fruit salad and pumpkin pie with Cool Whip. The ingredients were purchased for exorbitant amounts at my favorite import shop and worth every New Taiwan dollar! But don't think that just because we had an American-style Thanksgiving that Taiwan is not rubbing off on us. I had a weird “where do I live?” moment on Thanksgiving Day when I opened up my US-based MSN.com home page. The lead photo for an article on cooking disasters featured a platter with a charred turkey. My first thought before reading the caption was, “Hm
mm, black chicken recipes.” No, not “blackened” like spice-encrusted red-fish, nor burnt like the turkey in the article, but “black chicken,” a Taiwanese delicacy. They have a hybrid chicken over here that literally has blue-black skin beneath its feathers, so in the meat section of the grocery store, you will see a black-skinned whole fryer right there next to the pig knuckles and stir-fry beef. No, that’s not the kind of chicken we had for our Thanksgiving dinner. Maybe next year.On Thanksgiving Day, we also had our family celebration of Caroline’s second birthday with a few gifts and some long-distance Happy Birthday songs from the grandparents. Since she’d already had a big cake at her party, we had blueberry muffin bread for her birthday breakfast. (Long story, but I ruined my muffin pan so I’ve been pouring the muffin batter into a bread pan. Works pretty well.) One of her gifts was a two-foot tall Strawberry Shortcake fabric doll that she thinks is a real person. She talks to her and has tea parties with her, but Strawberry is not allowed to share her pillow or stuffed animals at night and has to sleep by herself at the bottom of the bed. Caroline is just a wee bit protective of her turf around potential competitive threats.
Carolinese
In addition to blossoming into a feisty but still completely lovable two-year-old, our resident princess has had a language explosion over the last few months that leaves us shaking our heads in wonder. And it’s not just the quantity of words and phrases, though she must be learning a dozen words a day. The drama with which she delivers her lines, especially with her slightly husky voice, would make Bette Davis proud. For instance, this week McLeod is traveling, so if you ask her where Daddy is, she responds matter-of-factly, “My Daddy on a BIG airplane.” (Evidently, in her mind, he never actually gets off the airplane, just circles the globe for days on end.) Then, with a knowing nod of her head, she’ll lean forward and say, “My Daddy CALL me.”During these phone calls from Dad, she holds various items up to the phone for him to “look at” while she provides a running commentary. Recently, it was pieces from the Little People Nativity Scene play set: “Look Daddy! It’s the BABY! Her name is called ‘BA-BY JE-SUS.’ (Yes, in her world all babies are female). “Her in her BED! This her MAMA. Her is called, ‘MA-RY.’ Look at this one. He named….he named… ‘Hat-on-his-head.’” (Poor Joseph gets no respect. In the play set he has a kind of generic shepherd look, so he ends up in the “fields by night” with the plastic sheep sometimes. No wonder she can’t remember who he is.)
We also have a family game called, “Get Caroline to say words beginning with sp.”
“Caroline, what’s that you’re eating with?”
“That my foon.”
“Caroline, what do you do with toothpaste?”
“I fit it! I fit bubbles in the water!”
Sometimes we don’t even have to try. She will simply walk into a room and say something like, “Where my farkle bow?” while she hunts for her sparkly hair ribbons. This week she added a new phrase that she picked up from Barret. He had made a tent with a blanket and announced that it was spooky inside. Caroline thought that was great, so now everything is “FOOOOKY, Mama! FOOOOKY!”
It’s not just the entertainment factor, though. I love that she talks to us about everything, and that I can finally know what’s going on in her head. When she says things like, “Mama, GO LOUDER!” meaning she wants me to go faster, I get to see her light up with glee as I swing, spin, or run faster with her. When I find her on the laundry porch sitting dreamily on Barret’s bicycle, I find out that she would really love a “Caroline Bi-th-ycle” of her own. That's definitely on her Santa list.
But my all time favorite moment is when a sleepy Caroline comes to me and says in her funny toddler way, “Mama, are you hold me?” Then, I wrap that bundle of energetic, two-year-old loveliness in my arms and all is right with the world.
Next post: Shèng dàn kuàilè! Reflections on Christmas in Asia and Barret becoming a bona fide five-year-old.
