She bravely gave interviews to the Chicago Tribune and ABC News.

She says she’s not going to live her life in fear.

Of course not.  Because it never happened.

After reviewing surveillance video that showed the woman getting off a commuter train (minus jewelry) and video from the location (no incident captured on tape) and interviewing witnesses (who all didn’t see anything, for real this time), police concluded the “victim” lied.

The link is here.

So I went to the zoo. It is also a botanical garden and is set on a hill. There is a train station right outside the gate, very convenient. And the entrance fee is only a couple of dollars U.S. Quite the bargain. I noticed there was a sign (in English) by the maps that stated you could request a map in either English or Japanese. Why they aren’t in the rack is beyond me. Anyway, so I asked in Mandarin for an English-language map, since I do happen to know the word for “map” (地圖).

It turned out I had been given a map in Japanese. So I went back and asked for an English-language map again, and there was some general confusion, and I showed her that the map was in fact in Japanese, and I do happen to know the word for “Japanese” as well.

I should note I always have some trepidation about speaking another language, and about requesting maps in general, since once in Japan somebody told me they did not have any cheese. Because the word for “map” in Japanese is “chizu.” As far as I know, “cheese” is “fu-ro-ma-jyu” (fromage) or sometimes “chi-i-zu,” neither of which I requested. But being a foreigner with a funny accent and all, I guess I’m subject to misunderstanding.  And it turns out some people say “mappu” for “map” in Japan.  But I digress.

But once we established that I am an English-language speaker, we started speaking both English and Mandarin.  She told me that the best way to see the zoo was to take the “train” up to the top and to walk down, as it is a long distance to the top.  Since I had already expended most of my Language Energy already, I elected to walk up to the top.  Because I have stronger leg muscles than brain muscles.  Along the way I stopped and visited with the animals.

The one really nice thing about the zoo is that the animal names are written in both characters and zhuyinfuhao (the syllabary).  This is very helpful to folks who are learning the language.  I wish the train system would adopt this practice on its signage as well.

‘

Because how else would you learn that a “Malayan Tapir” is “ma3 lai2 mo4″?  Now I’m trying to figure out how to drop it into casual conversation.  The word, not the tapir.  It was huge.

A little girl stared at me for a little while.  I’d guess she was about two and a half or so.  Then she ran to her grandfather and reported “Meiguoren!” (American!)  That’s gotta be a first.  I’m not sure how she deduced that, but I smiled and told her she was right and her grandfather waved and smiled.

After the little girl looked at me, I went and looked at the rhinos for a while.  If you haven’t seen one in a while, you forget how big they are.  They are really massive.  Tapirs are pretty big and scary.  But rhinos?  A whole ‘nother class of frighteningly big.  Did I mention that they are big?

Shortly after I took this photograph, the muddy-feeted one moved directly beneath where I was standing so I couldn’t see it any more.  But I could feel the whunnnggggg!  whunnnnng! whunnnnnnnng! of it slamming into the wall beneath me.  I think it was trying to trick me into leaning over to see it and then suddenly losing my balance and plunging headfirst into the enclosure.  So instead I hightailed it away from there.  You just know that someday that concrete is going to give and that rhino is going to get its way.

And no zoo visit is complete until you have come to the end.  Which was a display outside the bathroom about poop.  Unfortunately it was all in Mandarin so I was cheated of the chance to learn some more conversational bon mots.  Alas.  (Do I get extra points for dropping bon mots in there?)

Coming soon:  The End.  For real this time. 

Me:  Dude.  You lived in the United States, didn’t you?

He had indeed.  As well as a couple of other places.  For some unknown reason, he switched to another language, which I can speak conversationally.  We traded our histories.  His was more interesting than mine.

He tested out my Mandarin, too, but apparently found it lacking.  So he switched back.

I ordered this dish.  It’s a vegan wonton soup.  He asked me if I was vegan or vegetarian before taking my order.  Good thing he knew those words in English.  Because I sure as heck don’t know them in any other language.

It was good and I was hungry.  And when I got ready to leave, he rounded down my tab so it cost me a little less than $3 U.S.

First I visited an exhibit about genetics and DNA.  Fortunately the exhibit was in both English and Chinese.  Otherwise I never would have learned the word for DNA in Chinese.  It is apparently 脫氧核糖核酸, in case you ever want to drop it into conversation.

I was very impressed by the exhibit.  It did a good job of explaining difficult concepts in simple language and would probably appeal to many age groups.

This section was about genetics.  The computer terminal displays a game where you can “match” family members by their looks.  The family members are all animations apparently drawn by the same person, though, which made it hard for me.  Kind of like trying to match anime characters.  I was struck by the wall of photographs there.  How many times do you see family groups illustrated with all Asians?

After this section, I wandered down to the area with displays about the human body.  A guide working that area brought me over to an interactive model of the body and she took all the various body parts out and showed them to me.  She spoke a fair amount of English but asked me what a couple of the body parts were called in English.  I had to admit I wasn’t sure just which parts they were so I guessed.  *shamefaced*  She recognized the correct parts when I said the English words.

The one thing I am always very impressed with when I visit Chinese-speaking countries is how good people are at communicating even if you don’t speak Chinese.  This woman was no exception.  She spoke clearly and slowly using small words and used a lot of gestures and expressions to help me along.

After she had showed me several exhibits, she urged me to go to other floors where there are exhibits on physics and chemistry.  She seemed especially vested in making sure I go to the physics exhibit.  I’m not sure why.

But here’s the next thing I visited:

This is the “Sky Cycle,” which is five stories above ground.  The bike has slotted wheels and rests on a cable.  The rider is strapped into a harness which is clipped to the bike, and there is a large safety net underneath.  Underneath that is the atrium floor.  Did I mention five stories already?

I thought about going, but had already used up all my Language Energy with the very nice human body guide.  It’s just as well, because after this kid went, there was a bunch of twenty-somethings with their best friends, all laughing and teasing each other and daring each other to go.  They saw me standing around and told me to go ahead.  They were very nice and asked several times if I wanted to go.  I did but I didn’t.  I had to use more of my valuable Language Energy.  It was fun but my head hurt.

For a while I stood around and watched the twenty-somethings and wished my best friend were there.  The funniest part was the guy overseeing the cycle was the most bored, deadpan guy on the planet.  Everybody watching and waiting was all smiles.  They were laughing and talking and having a great old time.  This guy looked like he was waiting for his day to end.  Or his life.  Or something.  Good thing he was required to wear a safety harness clipped to the platform.

After that I wandered through an exhibit about the digestive system.  Starting with the mouth:

You know where you come out, don’t you?  *childish giggle*  Right before the end, there’s a display about farting, with sound effects.  You sit on these stools to watch:

You exit through an anus.  And that brings us to the end.

On the way back to the train station there were about half a dozen bakeries.  I stopped and bought things at several.  I was hungry.  Again I was impressed by people in the stores who really tried hard to help me despite my language inability.  Then I went to dinner.  Which was good but is a whole ‘nother post.

Because of course you need to know what I ate.  Up top on the left is just a regular old Fuji apple.  The bottom is a 蓮霧 (wax apple), and to the right is the star fruit.  This is the first time I’ve ever eaten the wax apple.

Here’s another photograph of the wax apple:

*I should note that undoubtedly among my gentle readers, slurs don’t and didn’t slide off their tongue like drool on a jet-lagged day/night. So maybe it’s just certain folks *ahem* who have that problem.

The steak shop formerly known as “Chink’s” made an announcement about the name change on its facebook page.  It garnered a few kudos, but served more as a general display of the dismaying hopelessness of the human race.  (Which is why we don’t typically read newspaper comments, as we prefer not to become either homicidal or suicidal.)  As with the newspaper comments, there was a big old dose of racism served up with the ignorance.  Which also answers the question, “Is it really racism?  Or is it just ignorance?”  It can be both, for your information.

But I digress, and I am sure I will be sorry when my internet cuts out and I have not yet completed this post.

One of the facebook comments caught my eye in particular.  It’s a stunning display of ventriloquy:

Tina Wroblewski-Evans:  Chinks will ALWAYS be Chinks to me!  My girls, who went there for the first time last year, were sad to hear the name change–and they are Chinese!!!!

Wonder if she’s related to General DeWitt …

And I asked, because I know you all are dying to know, and yes, her daughters were adopted from China.

It takes a special kind of something to take two adopted Chinese kids to a diner called “Chink’s.”  But the right word for it just won’t slide off my tongue.  Mostly because I’m sure it would leave a very bad taste.  But maybe this news article should be required reading for prospective adoptive parents who are shopping for children from Asian countries.  And then an essay should be required.  Kind of like the SATs, only harder.  And of course, we’d ask you to explain your position.  In your own words.

I didn’t buy any car parts.  I did buy some of these.  They are some kind of crumbly bread thing with a thin layer of apple-tasting innards.  Much harder/crisper than you might expect.  When you bite into them, delicious crumbs explode everywhere.  Obviously, best eaten outside.