Since arriving in Taipei I’ve had my share of embarrassing experiences.  Most of them involve my very sad Mandarin skills or other communication issues.  Here are a few of the many:

Once, while trying to say “I like to eat delicious shrimp” I told my Mandarin teacher, “I like to eat delicious children.”  Her reaction was a dumbfounded look of horror.

Then, this week I thought I would look all smart if I asked the Chinese lady at the information desk at Taipei American School where the nurses office was in Mandarin.  So I got the question all worked out in my head and walked up and asked her.  Perplexed stare.  I asked her again.  Another perplexed stare.  So then I just asked her in English.  Her response in English, “Why did you say it like that?”  My response, “Because I’m a stupid American who can’t speak Mandarin.”

And now for the coup de grâce.  Last night we went to dinner at Taipei 101 with some friends.  After dinner we went to Cold Stone in the food court for some ice cream.  The teenage boy at the cash register wore a name tag which indicated that his English name was “Edge”.  So naturally I asked him if he was a big U2 fan.

Edge:  (expressionless blank stare)

Me:  You know, the rock group, U2!

Edge: (expressionless blank stare)

Me:  U2!  Bono!

Edge: (expressionless blank stare)

Me: (resorting to singing in the food court, with some dance moves thrown in for good measure) ♬It’s all right, it’s all right, it’s all right.  She moves in mysterious ways, oh-h-h.♬

Edge: (slightly wider-eyed expressionless blank stare)

Me: (turning to Shaun, the husband of the couple we were with, who speaks fluent Mandarin) Ask him if his name is after The Edge from U2.

Edge and Shaun: (polite interchange in Mandarin)

Shaun:  He said that Edge is after an American WWF wrestler.

Me:  Well that’s just sad!

Jason:  You’re a complete embarrassment.

My new life living abroad has caused me to leave my comfort zone in a big way.  When I think of my life back in Utah, it’s like I was wearing a huge, fluffy, fleece blanket.  It was warm and comfy and familiar.  I loved that fleece blanket.  Moving abroad has meant throwing off that blanket and leaving my comfort zone.  That comfort zone included dear friends and family nearby.  It was a neighborhood full of people who thought and acted much like I did.  It included streets and locations that I knew; vistas I had lived with most of my life.

Now, I leave my comfort zone every time I leave my house and drive through Taipei, on streets I’m unfamiliar with and with street signs I can’t read.  I leave my comfort zone when I figure out my way around town on the subway and on buses.  I leave my comfort zone when I walk up to someone on the street and ask for directions with my very limited Chinese.  The whole process of learning a new language means leaving my comfort zone.  In order to learn a language you have to allow yourself to look stupid.  Making mistakes is part of the process and often times that means opening yourself up to blank stares as people try to figure out what you just said and even standing there as people laugh at your mistakes.  Trust me, it can be hard on the ego.

I leave my comfort zone every time I get on the scooter and drive, white knuckled, down the thin, winding back road to Tianmu.  I leave my comfort zone when I go into a grocery store and try to figure out what things are and how I can make them into something that my family will eat.

My new life is full of unfamiliarity.  I’ve had to throw off that warm fleece blanket and stretch out my arms and legs.  I often face a new challenge and tell myself to take a deep breath and be brave.  But in leaving my comfort zone I’m gaining new confidence; confidence in myself and my abilities.

My children are gaining confidence as well.  Last week, my 14-year-old daughter became lost while riding the city bus home.  Terrified and alone (with a dead cellphone) she discovered that she had taken the wrong bus in this huge city where she doesn’t speak the language.  But she figured out how to retrace her steps and take a bus back to where she could catch a bus that would take her up the mountain to our home.  She arrived home late and shaken up, but she did it.  She made it and I’m really proud of her.  She learned an important lesson.  She learned that at times she will find herself lost and alone but her own brain and abilities can get her out of those predicaments.  It’s empowering.

I’ve also been empowered.  The old phrase “Nothing ventured, nothing gained” has become part of my mantra.  I’ve gained a lot recently and I’m grateful for that.  Recently, a friend from high school sent me a great quote from Helen Keller: “Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.”  Maybe a lot of people wouldn’t consider what my family and I are doing as all that daring, but compared to that warm fleece blanket we were wearing around before, it is pretty daring.