The Real Taiwan

I’m in an almost vegetative state. 4 hours of teaching sometimes feels like 8, especially when you have back-to-back classes of little Treehouse demons. I’m watching the best Taiwan television programming has to offer, totally shit movies on HBO, Hollywood, Cinemax, etc. I turn to ESPN whenever there’s a break from my shit movie. It’s a replay of Yankees-Rays, Yankees-Red Sox, Yankees-does it really matter? It’s the same one that’s been showing all day. Though I most likely already know the outcome, I sometimes tune in just to hear the Chinese announcers. In between all the incoherent babble, they will invariably insert American baseball lingo in there, maybe for comedic effect for us foreigners. “Sabathia ting tang tong shi wo bu he pinglinwn chu K YOU VERY MUCH! Buzhi dao le”, or something to that nature. Sure, this isn’t exactly high quality stuff I’m watching here. But after being away from television for 8 months, unwinding in front of the tube after a long day is a pretty simple pleasure. 

Suddenly I’m jolted awake. A familiar song begins to boom over the loudspeakers outside my apartment. At first I’m not sure what this noise is, and why it plays four times a day. I had heard it a lot in my previous 7 months in Taipei, but for the very first time I’ve forced to acknowledge; I’m forced to live by its restrictions; I’m a slave to it.

It’s the Taipei theme song for garbage trucks. Whenever you hear that song, you have approximately 5 minutes to haul your trash out to the street, where you will then heave it in to a moving yellow truck, like a quarterback pitching to his running back on an option play.

It took me about a month of living in Taiwan to establish the ironic connection between the classical music and trash collecting time. At my first apartment, we were fortunate enough to have a couple of kind gentleman take our trash out for us. Therefore I was pretty apathetic about finding out more about this strange, daily music. For me, it was just another weird part of Taipei.

Then one October evening I was teaching my E6 class, Step Ahead Level 10. As is the case with all Step Ahead classes, part of the curriculum is reading through a cartoon story book to learn new vocab, grammar, etc. Anywho, the name of this particular story was Who’s Taking Out the Trash? The story features a young American boy who visits his friend in Taiwan. One night, this boy is suddenly awoken by what he believes to be the familiar ice-cream truck jingle, only to be rudely disappointed when he discovers it’s the trash truck. I still remember the amused look on my students’ faces when I abruptly stopped reading and said “really???” I, too, had thought it was an ice cream truck. Damn.

But as I exit my building, arms loaded with an assortment of trash and beer bottles, it hits me. I’m living in the Real Taiwan now; a Taiwan where something as simple as taking out the trash is a community activity. The first stint of my Taiwan experience was pretty sugar-coated. I lived right by ShiDa University, an area home to many expats and Chinese with moderately strong English-speaking skills. The atmosphere was unmistakably international. There, speaking English, broken Chinese, or simply pointing at stuff sufficed for the most part. Here, it’s a whole new ball game.

 I stand at the intersection of our tiny alley and tiny lane, pretending not to notice all the gawking and staring. Finally a man approaches me and asks me where I’m from in Chinese. Elated I actually understood his question, I respond confidently that I’m from America. Of course this elderly man then mistakenly assumes I can speak Chinese, and goes on about something or rather from America. I’m completely lost. Thankfully he ushers me over to his wife, who non-verbally shows me she would like to take my recycling. Her eyes bulge out in amazement at the sight of all the beer cans and bottles I hand over to her, aftermath from our house-warming party the week before. She really doesn’t need to say anything; her facial expression gives away her thoughts. This American is definitely an alcoholic. But at least he’s a generous, environmentally responsible alcoholic. She “xie xie”s the living crap out of me. As I turn to head back to my building, I see a young man burning Heavy Money for loved ones who have passed on. He rotates between tossing money into the fire and puffing on his cigarette, almost as if to suggest he’s in a hurry to reunite with them. Once again, this is a sight that would be completely foreign in the upper-scale, almost ritzy ShiDa area.

This night has been a reminder that living here will certainly be much more of a challenge. But it will also be much more of an experience. Much more real.

View from my balcony

A small glimpse into the motor madness of Taiwan

Man burning Heaven Money. Come on man, it's June. Isn't it hot enough already?

The Things I Carried

I carried just over 12 oz. of water, hardly enough to fight the day’s heat, which has recently announced the arrival of Summer In Taiwan. 34 degrees Celsius reads the marquee outside of a local supermarket. While that only converts to about 93 Fahrenheit, the overwhelming, incessant humidity that accompanies the afternoon air makes it feel like a sweltering hundred. I begin to perspire the moment I exit my apartment building, after walking down six flights of stairs. The shower I just finished taking has been officially rendered pointless. Dripping sweat as I walk down the street I’m forced to acknowledge the weather that will be commonplace for the next 3 months. But I refuse to despair for long. I find myself suddenly grateful that at least some appropriate sunshine and clear skies have accompanied the relentless heat. Merely 15 minutes into my journey, the water has disappeared. My Sub-Zero Nalgene container is an empty vessel. I take comfort in the knowledge that, when I undoubtedly need to rehydrate, I can duck in to any of the ridiculous numbers of 7-11s sprawled throughout the city.

I armed myself with an almost-empty canister of Coppertone sunscreen, SPF 30. Once again, I severely underestimate the weather; my immortal enemy. My canister expires quickly into my journey, forcing me to intermittently seek refuge in shade to avoid getting scorched by the summer sun. Flashbacks surface of Sihanoukville and subsequent pain and peeling for weeks. Never Again. I equip myself with a New Era Milwaukee Brewers cap and cheap knock-off Taiwanese sunglasses, anything extra that might help keep me cool.

I strap on my red and black Burton backpack, purchased a few years ago with the help of my friend Kim’s employee discount at Sports Basement. My constant companion, this backpack has come along with me almost everywhere I’ve gone in Taiwan. It’s housed my dirty gym clothes, a handful of novels, water bottles, beer. It even served as a make-shift pillow when I made camp on the Kenting beaches. But today the backpack is a necessarily evil. Naturally I can’t do without it, but the combination of its weight and predominantly black exterior with the aforementioned heat make this journey even more treacherous.

I slip my fully-charged Ipod Nano into my pocket. My goal is to leave it there unperturbed, hoping to instead find a pleasant, natural soundtrack along the way. That hope quickly fades. Before long I find my thoughts nearly drowned out by the incessant roar of motorcycles and auto-repair shops operating, an orchestra that fairly accurately defines what it’s like to live in one of the densest nations in the world (Whoops, did I say nation? Sorry China). Sure enough I give in and put in my headphones. By the end of the day my battery is flashing the “low battery” warning.

Stuffed messily into my backpack is my Taipei City Map. Like the backpack, this map too has been with me through most of my time here in Taiwan. It’s taken quite a beating, been scribbled on numerous occasions, and all but lived out its usefulness. Yet, perhaps for sentimental reasons, I’ve chosen to stick with this map instead of simply grabbing another from the helpful ladies at the Taipei Main Station information kiosk. I carry the map for far more practical reasons, however. The map is an ally and a lifeline that somewhat alleviates the fear that I will become lost in Taipei, a phenomenon that has occurred far too many times as a result of my dysfunctional navigation skills, which are apparently incapable of improving. Today I’m on a mission. I don’t want to spend any unnecessary time questioning where I am or where I’m heading.

Sitting comfortably in the outer pouch of my backpack is my newly purchased Canon digital camera. I make sure to be extra cautious when handling this camera, constantly aware of my history with electronics and how sand murdered my previous camera in Kenting. The plastic cover remains over my LCD screen—I refuse to allow anything to taint the camera just yet. I’m actually impressed with my camera’s ability to catch the beauty of the day as I snap shots from a bridge overlooking the XinDian River. I hope in vain that some of the boats from the Dragon Boat Festival will sneak their way into the shots. Alas they don’t, but I smile knowing that I had been fortunate enough to capture some the day before. The pristine view of the XinDian River, with a combination of mountains and buildings adorning the background, is simply an added benefit of today’s adventure.

I strap on my water-proof digital watch that I received several Christmases ago. I typically opt to sport my other, sexier Puma watch which my brother Austin so graciously gave me as a graduation present last June. However, this is once more a decision of practicality. I need a watch that can take the heat and tell me exactly what time it is. Today I’m timing how long it takes me to walk from my new home to my school. Tired of being daily sucked dry by MRT and bus fare, I decided to seek alternative means of transportation. Noticing the relatively short proximity between the two on my map, I decided to time how long it would take for me to walk. If the time were reasonable enough, and the path more or less safe, I told myself I would buy a bicycle. My watch reads 1:11 when I first exit my apartment. Once I discover I’m walking in the wrong direction, I double back and officially start past my place on my way at 1:25. Another 14 minutes of my life wasted on directional disability.

Finally, I slide my wallet into my back pocket. Immediately aware of it weighing down my pants, I decide instead to put it in the trusty backpack. I’m carrying 5000NT on me, a significant sum of money. I do so because of the exhilarating prospect of buying a bicycle at the end of the day. I finally make it to my school at 2:36. A grueling 70 minute journey was complete, and a celebration at the local Mos Burger was in order. I spend 135 dollars on food, preparing myself to fork over another large sum of money soon for a bike. I spend the rest of the day walking around Ximending, Taipei Main Station, and the Taipei 101 Mall—where I seek a lengthy respite from the heat in Page One, which easily boasts the best selection of English books in Taipei. Unfortunately, by the time of my return at 6:30, the local bike shop has closed for the day, likely because of the holiday.

Yet the day was a triumph. Today, I got the confirmation I needed from my experiment. I got some healthy color and exercise. I got some great shots, capturing the day’s beauty. And to top it all off, I got inspiration to finally update this blog; to write a story echoing the style of Tim O’Brien’s classic novel. Tomorrow, I get a bicycle. 

The Taiwan Question

The “Taiwan Question” refers to the very unclear status of Taiwan in the international community. And frankly, it has for some time now. For more than half a century, debate has raged as to whether Taiwan is an independent country or merely part of China. I’ve always known that there was a very peculiar relationship between China and Taiwan. As a history major I was subject to hearing so much about quarrels between the two that have taken place since Japan lost control of Taiwan following the conclusion of World War II. The Chinese Civil War initially pitted the Chinese Communists vs. Chiang Kai-Shek’s Nationalist forces. After being ousted from the mainland, Chiang fled to Taiwan and established his KMT party here. At that point the fighting came to a halt. Though since there was never a peace treaty or armistice signed, technically the civil war has never ended. Since the KMT’s arrival in Taiwan, the Taiwanese have been participating in a desperate struggle to distinguish themselves from their big brother across the Taiwan Strait.

However, I was under the impression that the gravity of this issue had fizzled out some over the past 20 years or so. Considering the economic ties that bind the two countries together, I figured that both China and Taiwan had kinda dropped the issue. I was wrong.

Recently I’ve begun to learn more about recent developments in this conflict. One of my new hobbies here in Taiwan has been regularly buying the Taipei Times (one of the few newspapers published in my native yingwen tongue). At first this was primarily motivated by my desire to do sudoko and crossword puzzles. But after glancing through a few articles, I soon found this method of learning about the news far more refreshing than the computer alternative. 

The recent news about Taiwan’s estranged relationship with China probably hasn’t been worldwide news, especially considering all the developments that have taken place in Africa and the Middle East the past few months. But here, it’s been daily front-page news. Contrary to what I previously believed, this conflict is still very alive. One of the bigger incidents was a few weeks ago, when it was discovered that the WHO, in a private memo, had referred to Taiwan as a “province of China”, firing up the emotions of President Ma and countless Taiwanese. Ma criticized the WHO for taking a two-sided approach towards Taiwan. Then he followed by placing some of the blame on the rival Democratic Progressive Party, insisting that they weren’t strong enough on this sensitive issue when they were in power before Ma. But then in an act of hypocrisy and contradiction, Ma refused to protest the annual WHA meeting, which many members of government insisted they do. Honestly, it’s rather surprising how interested I’ve become in all of this considering all the disenchantment I’ve felt towards all the bickering in U.S. politics. But for me all of this is fascinating because it feels like history is still happening; that countries are still fighting for independence for greater powers, even if it’s only been a “war of words” to this point.

President MaYing-Jeou...not exactly the most popular guy in Taiwan right now. Gee, where have I seen this before?

However, the Taiwan Question is also personally interesting because my motherland has also established itself as a key player, whether it initially intended to or not. In fact, historically the U.S. has seemingly always played a role in this conflict. Immediately following the communist PRC take-over of China and the Nationalist KMT’s departure to Taiwan, the U.S. cut off all relations with China and obviously, for ideological reasons consistent with their Cold War stance, supported Taiwan in any way it could. This trend slowly began to change in the ‘70s in the wake of a humbling defeat in Vietnam. In 1972, Nixon shocked the world and traveled to China, reinitiating contact between the two world-powers. And by 1979, President Carter officially stopped recognizing the ROC and initiated full diplomatic relations with the PRC (which sure made McCarthy roll over in his grave). Since then, the U.S. has been in the precarious position of trying to defend Taiwan as a democratic “entity” whilst at the same time not pissing off an economic ally they literally can’t afford to lose.

Not surprisingly, the U.S.’ dubious position on the Taiwan Question has come under a lot of criticism lately from both sides of the Taiwan Strait. And the issue here isn’t so much interesting as it is absolutely terrifying. The Obama administration is currently trying to decide whether or not to supply Taiwan with advanced military weapons, including F-16C/D aircraft. Beijing has threatened that U.S.-China relations will be severely strained if such an action is taken, while on the other hand Taiwan is desperate to ensure itself some kind of protection. Being such a miniscule island, and considering the proximity to China, Taiwan could be in serious trouble if China ever decided to take any sort of aggressive action. As it stands now, China has several garrisons and multitude of missiles aimed at Taiwan, likely enough to send this small island to the bottom of the ocean from whence it came in just a matter of minutes. Last Wednesday provided tangible evidence of just how real this threat was to the Taiwanese. At about 12:15 p.m., a siren let out a massive wail that wouldn’t end for another 20 minutes. Not knowing what the hell was going on, I was trying to decide whether to seek shelter from a potential bombing raid, stand under a doorway in case of an impending earthquake, or seek higher ground from a massive tsunami (though this was far from likely considering Taipei’s distance from the coast). Later that day I asked the Chinese teachers at my school what the fuss was all about. They replied matter-of-factly that what had proceeded was actually a common drill here in Taiwan, practiced regularly so that the Taiwanese know what to do in the event of a Chinese assault. Oh. Well that’s reassuring.

As you can see from Exhibit A here, Taiwan has plenty reason to have a complex about its size

To add a little more suspense to the story, the former head of the ROC's military intelligence department, Lo Hsien-che has now been sentenced to life in prison for allegedly spying and sending military secrets to China for the last 7 years. If Taiwan had developed any strategic defenses to protect itself from China (including an alleged Taiwan-US military communications project), there’s a strong possibility that Beijing’s already been informed.

As I stated earlier, I find this whole situation extremely fascinating. It’s captured my focus and imagination for the better part of a month now. Yet at the same time, I almost have no choice but to follow up on it. It frightens me some thinking that there is a possibility, albeit extremely unlikely, that China might do something extreme. And what frightens me more is thinking if the U.S. would actually do anything to help in such a scenario. Sure, the odds of this happening are probably 1 in a million…but all I’m saying is there’s a chance.

Entourage

I’ve talked at length in previous posts about myself—ranging from my experiences, to lessons learned, to dissecting the multiple personas I own. But here I’m going to take the spotlight off myself and shine it on those individuals who surround me on a daily basis. Some are fellow foreigners, some are locals, but all are part of the reason Taipei has become my home over the past 7 months. Their faces have become as regular and familiar as those I used to see around SLO or even back home in good ole Willow Glen. To make things easier, this post I’ll focus solely on my laowai (foreigner) companions. I will focus on the locals next time.

I wouldn’t be able to start this post without first introducing my roommate, Ari, the man who’s been my partner in crime since LanguageCorps and the inception of this great adventure back in August. Ari, go figure by the name, is Jewish. And while he is also a big fan of Entourage, he has certainly grown a little tired of people drawing comparisons between himself and the rather infamous Ari Gold character. Ari and I have shared many experiences together, beginning with enduring the noise and ghetto-ness of “Rick’s House” in Cambodia and continuing until now with our shared befuddlement and confusion during Chinese class. Most importantly, however, Ari has proved to be a very outgoing guy who rarely turns down the opportunity to go out for drinks or play the wingman. Over the past 7 months we’ve become pretty close buddies. Admittedly this is due at least in some part to the fact that we share the thinnest of walls between our rooms, one which allows for absolutely no privacy. In fact, I bet Ari can hear me as I’m typing this right now. Farts, whispers, and everything in between are clearly broadcast between our two rooms. When I want to ask him a question, I usually walk over and knock on the door just to make things normal. But of course there’s other times when I’m too lazy, and so a conversation between the walls ensues.

"Dammit Lawrence..can't you just pretend like we can't hear each other through the walls?"

 Then of course there are my co-workers.  First there’s Lisa, the co-worker I’ve sat next to every day since I started working for Hess. As the two most recent hires (until just a few weeks ago), Lisa and I haven’t had the privilege of sitting with the veteran teachers and having real desks. Instead we’ve been somewhat banished over to the administration area, constantly finding ourselves in a desperate struggle with the admin ladies for space and peace. Lisa and her boyfriend Jack (who coincidentally works with Ari) are both from England, and from them I’ve picked up on a number of different expressions and adages. Things are no longer ‘cool’, they are ‘brilliant’; when something frustrates me, I find myself referring to it as ‘bloody’. When I’d like to borrow or bum something, I ask if I can ‘knick’ it; and finally, my personal favorite, I’ve come to start referring to cigarettes as ‘fags’.

Mark and Eddie round out the group of fellow NSTs at my branch. Mark’s the same age as me, from Baltimore, and the guy who always answered my ridiculous questions about his hometown after I watched far too many episodes of The Wire. Eddie the Aussie is a few years older than the rest of us, having now lived in Taiwan for over 3 years. Both Mark and Eddie are part of my basketball crew—a formidable alliance of white boys if I can say so myself. They’re both also remarkably good at Mandarin, so having them around is normally pretty helpful.

Dennis is a fellow co-worker of Ari and Jack and the reason I was first introduced to the epic hash runs I’ve described before. When it comes to the China Hash House runs in Taipei, Dennis is kind of a big deal. Through him, I’ve been able to go on a number of hashes thus far—brutally beating my body, meeting great people, and of course eating and drinking like a madman after the completion of the race. Dennis is also a fairly accomplished writer, and honestly at times his blog (http://dennissweeney.wordpress.com/) has discouraged me from continuing with my own—making my posts look rather amateurish, like perhaps they were written by the same people who write our reading books for Level 1 Treehouse.

Jack, Ari, Dennis and I getting our drink on. No big deal.

Lisa, Mark, and I cruising on a boat on the Danshui River.

Eddie the Aussie, Dennis, and I on New Years Eve playing with fireworks...one of which would later try and assassinate me.

Of course there are others as well. But this is definitely the main crew. If you’re eager to hear about my local acquaintances, tune in next time.