And what kind of fun do I like more than earrings? No kind, that's what. I'm a total earrings-and-scarves hoarder, which I think may be some sort of weird personality issue (seeing as before earrings and scarves it was nail polish, and for awhile it was colorful striped socks with individual toes). But as quirks go it's not a financially or personally devastating one, so I think it's fine.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Dangly Bits
And what kind of fun do I like more than earrings? No kind, that's what. I'm a total earrings-and-scarves hoarder, which I think may be some sort of weird personality issue (seeing as before earrings and scarves it was nail polish, and for awhile it was colorful striped socks with individual toes). But as quirks go it's not a financially or personally devastating one, so I think it's fine.
Friday, April 29, 2011
A Million Landscapes: One Beautiful Country
Why did you choose Taiwan? But Taiwan’s dirty. We’re not developed like the USA. Why would you leave the USA? Salaries there are so high. Life in Taiwan is hard. You can get better jobs over there. Why come here? There’s of course the common coda of “Why not China?”
I hear it from students – both current ones and from children in my former life as an inexperienced English teacher. It all started with one precocious seven year old, in his first year at Kojen, hearing me say “I love Taiwan. Taiwan is beautiful!” and riposting with “No Teacher! Taiwan is TRASH CAN!”
After that came common themes such as “I don’t want to live Taiwan. I want to live in USA!” and “Do you really think that Taiwan is a beautiful island now?”
Taiwan has a poverty rate of 1 percent, and yet more Taiwanese seem to think that their country is second-rate because “it’s not developed” or “not developing quickly enough”. America’s poverty rate is far higher and yet the average drone from the average American is about how great, prosperous or whatever our country is. Taiwan can boast a relatively equal status for women (at least compared to the rest of Asia – more comparable to the USA than to Japan or Korea) and acceptance of homosexuality, and yet locals will tell you it’s ‘backward’.
There are more articulate denials of love for Taiwan – the health care system costs too much money, housing prices in Taipei are too high (that one’s true) and pollution (yeah, but although Taiwan does produce a fair amount of pollution, I generally blame China for that – it wafts across the Strait in noxious brown waves). There’s also “the buildings are so ugly”, “it’s too crowded”, “we work too hard” (also true), “there’s too much traffic” and “people are not nice” – the last of which I usually meet with a “WHAAAAT?!”
Honestly, after five years it’s easy to guess how I feel: hearing these sharp indictments of the Beautiful Isle hurts. I know for every person who says “I’m going to have my baby in the USA because Taiwan is too ugly and crowded”, there is someone who revels in the mountains, relishes the food or takes advantage of Taiwan’s abundant cultural and outdoor activities, who goes to the museums and skips through the night markets and who sees, as I do, the obasans outside fanning themselves and gossiping as a great national treasure.
I wouldn’t have stayed if I didn’t like – no, love – it here…and it makes me sad. I might even go so far as to say it hurts my heart a bit to hear so many Taiwanese trashing their country.
There is a bright side to all of this: it happens fairly often that my love for this country will infect someone else, like a patriotic disease. My praise of Taiwan helped convince my sister to come spend a year here, and she loved it (she’d previously been to China and yeah…uh…no). I find, however, that it’s even more common to see a change in my local acquaintances as I describe my Taiwan – as I show them their country though my eyes.
This happens everywhere – my mom has said that she began to look at the USA differently after seeing it through the eyes of the Japanese exchange students my folks hosted. I was captivated by squirrels in Washington, DC after seeing how our British/Australian friend reacted to them (it was something like “OMG SQUIRRELS!!!!!!”) I think I even took a picture of a squirrel as though they’re a rarity or something.
It does happen here –
“No way, you think Taiwan is beautiful?”
“Dude, look at this picture I took in Lishan!”
“Oh…I…oh. I see. I guess it really can be nice.”
(and)
“You don’t think the night markets are dirty?”
“No, why would I?”
“Because…they’re dirty. There are rats. The hygiene is not good.”
“Oh, there are rats in the USA too. I think 'night market' and I see the oyster omelets…and the woman who sells weird t-shirts and keeps an English sheepdog in her shop! And the awesome lady who makes lumpia!”
“OK, maybe that stuff is pretty good.”
(and)
“But those temple parades are so noisy!”
“I KNOW – isn’t it great?!”
“Why would it be great?”
“Have you ever seen an American parade? Bo-ring. Some guys march, a few cars with flowers, an old guy waving, maybe a band. Blah. You guys have LION DANCERS, and come on, aren’t bajiajiang the COOLEST THING EVER, and the firecrackers…”
“Those aren’t safe!”
“Yeah, but they’re AWESOME.”
“What about traffic?”
“Meh…why rush so much? Why not enjoy the dragon dancers and martial artists?”
“OK…I think I see.”
(and)
“But the stores are so…dirty in Wanhua.”
“Not dirty – local.”
“Dirty and local.”
“…and so Taiwan. I mean you go into some of those shops and it’s the same tarnished mirror walls, pink tile and polyester floral curtains that were hanging when ‘Monga’ would have taken place…the only difference is that now there’s an HDTV in every shop. It’s not as fancy as some other areas, but it’s really Taiwanese, and the food? Oh, the food!”
“OK, that’s true.”
So.
What do I see when I see Taiwan? Well, it’s true that parts of urban Taiwan are drab and gritty, but just go to the mountains and feel your soul expand. It’s also true that there’s a weird fashion polarization of “far too trendy to look good” and “seriously, brown loafers and black pants?”, but for every dorky Office Lady outfit there’s someone rocking some awesome sartorial taste.
Sure, it’s got pollution issues. But what I really see are the rugged northern and eastern coastlines, the soaring central mountains, the smiling Old Taiwanese Ladies who chat with me, the vendors who start positively beaming when I tell them their food is good, and greet me personally when I return as a regular customer. The taxi drivers who chat with you just because they like to chat, the old guys who talk politics in the park. The people who will go far out of their way to help you. Taipei city from Qingtiangang or Maokong. The interiors of funky student cafes. Lavender-and-peach sunsets with streaky clouds across the western sky as I take the HSR to Hsinchu every week. Renting a car and driving the cross island highways (two of them, at least). Creaking copses of bamboo and Japanese-era houses. Truly awesome seafood. Incense-smoked temples and finely carved idols. Raucous street parades and ancient beliefs. Sweeping views. Ornate temple roofs with colorful phoenixes and curlicued dragons. Lanes and side streets bursting with life well after dark.
I see an independent streak – not just in the praiseworthy supporters of Taiwanese independence, but in those who don’t believe independence is a good idea now, but admit that they will never consider themselves to be a part of China, come what may. I see a vibrant art and design scene, a notable independent music scene and pride in local specialties (“our town is famous for peanuts!”). I see Touming Magazine, Edward Yang and Yuyu Yang and independent small-time artists and artisans scattered across the country.
I see a wonderful amalgamation of history and modernity – calligraphy on the walls of the Grand Hyatt meant to ward off angry spirits, idols carried on subways, captains of industry who visit fortune tellers and feng shui masters (I don’t really believe in these things myself, but I kind of like that they’re there).
It is a great joy to watch my local friends and students see Taiwan through my eyes and, I hope, catch a glimpse of what I think is so great about the place, because when I look at Taiwan, I see what I still think should be Taiwan’s tourism slogan:
A million landscapes. One Beautiful Island*.
Because it's just that super, please enjoy a compilation of just a few of my favorite photos from five years in Taiwan:
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*"One Beautiful Country" would be better, but that'd never make it on TV abroad.
Monday, April 25, 2011
The Expat Myth
Months ago I received the usual monthly e-mail newsletter from an organization I subscribe to. This newsletter often features articles, essays and stories from subscribers who have just moved abroad.
I scanned the one that was featured that month. The first line read: “A friend and I used to have a theory – that if you live abroad, you are either running from something or running to something.”
Since then, I’ve been mulling over that line and others of its ilk – theories about why people move abroad that are hilariously applied to everyone who has ever moved out of their native country, at least as an expat (immigrants are generally exempt – we all assume they moved for freedom, money or both). Some that I’ve heard:
“They’re losers back home and moved abroad because they couldn’t make it in their native countries.”
“Call them FILTH – Failed In London, Trying Hong Kong.”
“There’s nothing for them – with a degree from a university nobody cares about and no great career ambitions or prospects, it’s easier to move to Southeast Asia to teach English and take advantage of the beer and the chicks.”
“They fetishize the place where they’ve settled and are unhealthily obsessed with the culture – or the women – there.”
“They couldn’t get dates back home so they moved abroad hoping for better luck.”
(Are we noticing a trend here of assuming that those who move abroad are single men?)
“They were too ‘weird’ back home and abroad they feel they can ‘be themselves’. They don’t really consider that the country they live in frowns upon ‘weird’ even more, and they only get away with it because they’re foreigners.”
“They’ve got no innate personality so they think that ‘being a traveler / expat’ will automatically make them cool.”
“They don’t want to work hard, so they go abroad for easy, stress-free employment where nobody expects them to work their butts off to build a career.”
“They think they’re ‘intrepid explorers’, not realizing that thousands of foreigners before them have gone to the same places and stopped in the same haunts. They want an easy way to be unique.”
“They think they want to learn a foreign language, but most of them don’t.”
There are more – but you get the idea. These aren’t direct quotes, but they do paraphrase the different theories I’ve seen and heard banged about on the Internet (on forums full of expats no less!), by travelers who aren’t expats, and by people back home.
Then, of course, there’s my grandfather who proclaimed he didn’t understand my desire to live abroad. He’s been to dozens of countries for work and just didn’t see why someone would choose it as a lifestyle, because “everywhere I go, I think it will be different but really everything looks like Albany” (He was sent abroad to look at manufacturing issues in paper and felt mills, so he saw a lot of bedroom communities, factory towns, the more boring parts of cities and the inside of high-end Western hotels).
And you know – every single one of them has some element of truth and certainly applies to some people. It’s not entirely wrong to guess that the average expat is a single white male (or white male married to a local woman). It’s not entirely wrong to say that a lot of them are super dodgy.
So what’s the big deal – the assumption that they apply to all expats, or that every expat is guilty of living out the stereotype of one or more.
And that’s simply not true, at least not for everyone.
A good half of the stereotypes listed above insinuate that the expat is moving abroad for better dating prospects – which ignores all women who move abroad despite dating being difficult for them in many countries.
(Yes, there are women who move abroad to date in specific countries where prospects for women improve rather than decline – I may write a post about that in the future).
Explorers have been manning ships and caravans for centuries and the idea of moving to a different place simply because you want to, simply because it’s different and simply because you enjoy the challenge or have a non-creepy interest in the local culture or language is nothing new. A desire to see a place and meet people who are interesting, different, even challenging doesn’t have to be the result of some ego-driven desire to be ‘cool’; it can simply be because it’s fun to do, at least for some.
Considering that this has been true ever since the first humans migrated out of Africa and been documented since the Ancient Greeks if not before, I don’t see why it’s such a difficult concept to grasp.
For every expat who goes abroad intending to learn a new language, and never actually does so, there is another who came over and did learn. Taiwan is littered with the non-learners – I won’t judge for not learning unless you’ve been here for years, but I don’t have much regard for intending to do so and then not following through because it’s ‘hard’. I don’t think every foreign expat, especially those who stay for less than two years, needs to be fluent, and I do recognize that learning predispositions mean that learning a language is harder for some than others. As someone who speaks Chinese, I do however take issue with the assumption that we all came over with noble intentions and we all gave up when we figured out that the beer was cheap. Not true.
As for employment, yes, plenty of foreigners do move abroad, get jobs teaching English and do a poor job of it, which gives the entire profession a bad name, and not everyone who came over with no experience, got a job teaching and stuck around is an inept teacher. Some find that they’re quite good at it or become very good at it and many of those go on to become professionals who get lumped in with the rest.
Because, honestly, is teaching English to grade schoolers easy? I happen to think it is (there are people who would disagree). Does it attract early twentysomethings with a college degree but no professional skills? Yeah, it does. Does that mean that everyone who teaches abroad – and there are some very skilled professionals out there doing so – deserves to get lumped in with them? Absolutely not.
The idea that expats move abroad because they can’t make it at home is wrong, too – or at least wrong much of the time. Setting aside those who live abroad because they’re gainfully employed and successful enough to be trusted with an assignment abroad, plenty of expats left good jobs in their home countries to try something new. I worked in finance before moving to Taiwan – it wasn’t that I was unsuccessful (well, considering I was in my mid-twenties before true success generally hits, anyway – I was doing fine for my age), it was that I didn’t like it. It is possible to do non-traditional work in the USA, but let’s face it, these days most jobs involve a carpeted little box and a softly glowing computer monitor. Not everyone is cut out for duty as a cube monkey, and while some of those jobs provide entrée into more interesting work, plenty lead to a dull management position and an office, which is basically just a larger box to sit in all day (as I see it – those who enjoy this sort of work are welcome to it, and I’m happy for them).
There’s also this: I wouldn’t have the job I have now – in corporate training – if it weren’t for my time working at various financial firms. Or rather, I might have been hired simply for being a good teacher, but I wouldn’t bring in the clients I do without that business experience.
Yes, it’s true that plenty of young Americans and Europeans go abroad because the job market back home is so stubbornly stagnant, but I fail to see what’s so wrong with that – it’s what millions of immigrants hope to do (and several hundred thousand achieve) every year, just in the other direction. There’s no shame in it.
So no, I didn’t move abroad because I was running from something – I didn’t like my job much in DC, but it was respectable enough employment. I had an evening job that I loved and a private student from the Japanese embassy. I had an active social life and still have friends. I dated (rather successfully, I might add, despite not being conventionally beautiful. Take that, Beauty Myth). I rented an amazing townhouse that I still miss living in. Life was pretty good.
I didn’t move because I was running to something. Sure, I’m weird (WHEEEE) but not so weird that I felt I had to leave my native surroundings to ‘be myself’. I certainly wasn’t moving for cheap beer (my taste runs towards Expensive and Belgian) or dates. I did move to learn the language in an immersion environment, but followed through and did actually learn Chinese and some Taiwanese. I have an abiding and deep interest in Taiwanese culture but I would not call it a fetishization – it is possible to have a normal healthy interest in the goings-on around you and how things work.
Yes, I do occasionally suffer from “grass is greener” syndrome (I’ll post about that later), wondering what life would have been like if I’d pursued a more traditional career or gone to graduate school earlier. There are definite perks to that life path and I am happy for those who choose it. That said, many of those folks back in DC who still work in my old office park probably sit at their desks and occasionally wonder what life would have been like if they’d packed up and decided to see the world, learn a new language and explore the limits of their comfort zones.
Finally, again, I really don’t see why this is so difficult to grasp for a lot of people. The travel bug bites some and not others, but it’s been biting people since people were people. You’d think those who don’t get it would stop bartering in worn out clichés and stereotypes about those of us who do enjoy life abroad.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Tailoring: Taiwan Edition!
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My seamstress had never done a wedding dress before, but that was not a problem as I didn’t want a typical dress. It only became a problem when she realized that my standards of perfection were quite high – considering the time, money and emotional capital invested in the project, the result of which I’d wear on the most photographed day of my life to date (I like to pretend I’ll be famous and photographed even more someday) with all of my loved ones around meant that I cared far more about details and perfect fit than her usual customers. She was otherwise mostly employed by Taiwanese opera and drama troupes for whim she made banners for sets and costumes.
After that stress, though, it was done, and it was perfect:
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…and I cannot recommend getting tailoring done in Taiwan strongly enough. It won’t be as cheap as Southeast Asia or India but it is still significantly cheaper than home.
Many foreigners don’t consider options when shopping in Taiwan, such as clothing altered, copied or even made from scratch.
This surprises me, but not very much: tailoring and custom-made (or copied) clothes cost far more back home than here. Although plenty of magazines advise you to get everything you buy tailored, the fact is that most of us don’t have the money to follow through on that in the USA, where tailoring one item can cost $50, $100 or more.
It’s also a shame, considering the massive Yongle Fabric Market and its fabric and tailors at your disposal (more on that later).
Here, it’s a great option for people – especially Western women – who can’t find things they like or that fit in stores and are sick of paying international shipping rates or only shopping on visits home.
Here, you’ll pay NT$50 for an easy hem shortening, maybe NT$100 to take something in simply, and upwards for more complex adjustments – but rarely more than NT$300-500 (about $10-15 US).
To get clothing copied you’ll pay more – NT$500 and up depending on complexity.
For a custom made piece with no pattern to work from, you’re looking at NT $2000-$3000 (about US $60-100), which is a lot, but if you buy good fabric and it’s a quality piece, it can be really worth it. This is a great option for suits and formal or semi-formal wear, and for shirts that flatter you that you’ll wear for awhile.
Keep in mind that these prices are for tailoring only, not tailoring with fabric which is purchased separately.
Let’s talk first about getting clothing adjusted:
There are tailors who alter clothing, but don’t make it, scattered across Taipei and the rest of Taiwan. Look for these characters:
修/改衣服
There is one in Shilin Night Market, visible from the main drag, but nowhere to change into the clothing to show the tailor what you want. There’s one in Zhonghe near Nanshijiao Night Market (if you’d like directions, leave a comment – it’s hard to describe). There’s one in Jingmei, (景美) on the first floor of the shopping arcade that also boasts Lai Lai Jia Jia (來來佳佳) 2nd run movie theater, a bunch of old lady stores, a shoe repair (also useful), a guy who sells fried stuff, a shop selling loose leaf tea and a Taiwan Lottery stand, with Café 85 and the Ha Ha (哈哈) internet café on the other end, near Jingmei Exit 1. The tailor is on the 1st floor. She doesn’t speak English to my knowledge but she does have a curtain so you can change into your clothes to show her what you want.
Yongle Market, both the first floor of the brick building and third floor of the ugly fabric market in the building from the ‘70s, are packed with tailors. Most can both adjust and make custom or copied items.
Back home I used to say “if it doesn’t fit off the rack, I won’t buy it – I’m not going to get things tailored” – here I am much happier to say “it’s not perfect but I can get rid of this ruffle/change this hem/take it in/add some darts and it’ll work” because I know I can get it done quickly and cheaply.
Some tips:
1.) Keep a piece of chalk on hand so you can draw what you want on the item – where darts should go, how far you want it taken in, etc..
2.) Not always necessary, but you might want to bring a local friend with you if you can’t speak Chinese at all.
3.) Find a place where you can change, or wear light, fitted clothing that you can pull the item over to show what you want altered, pinching it with your fingers.
4.) If it doesn’t come out right the first time, make the tailor fix their mistakes. That’s their job.
5.) If you want to buy an item and alter it, and the altering involves size changes or darts, buy one size up if you can. If it’s just ruffles or hems, don’t worry about it.
6.) Neckline and sleeve changes will cost a bit more, as will taking up pants that have a too-low crotch or saggy butt. Hemline changes should be cheap.
7.) It is possible, just harder, to alter an item that’s too small to be larger – generally it involves adding panels at the sides. Don’t let a tailor tell you it can’t be done – it can. It will involve extra work for you, finding fabric you like or that matches to add to the sides, though. Find this by bringing the item with you to Yongle Market and searching. If you use a tailor at the same market, he or she can probably recommend a few places, as well, if you speak Chinese.
8.) Bring along an item or picture of an item whose shape you love that can be used to demonstrate the alteration you want. This is especially helpful for t-shirts: you can buy t-shirts in fabrics you like in men’s sizes and cuts, bring your favorite women’s t-shirt to the tailor and have her adjust the men’s t-shirt to a more flattering shape for you. I have an Old Navy “women’s perfect tee” that I love, from before they tried to ape American Apparel (which I don’t love) and I regularly buy men’s t-shirts that I like, bring my purchase and the Old Navy tee to the tailor and have her alter the new tee to a flattering women’s form.
Now, for getting clothes copied:
You all know, I hope, about Yongle Fabric Market on Dihua Street near Nanjing W. Road. The second floor of the huge, hideous building (attached to a much more attractive old brick market façade) is a maze of fabric sellers offering every textile you could ever want (except dupioni/Thai silk – for that go to the shop on the 2nd floor of the southwest corner of Nanjing/Yanping Roads above the watch store).
I strongly recommend women leaving for Taiwan or who are home visiting and want more clothes, and have clothes they like now, to specifically bring items they’d like copied. It’s a good way to increase wardrobe by adding similar items in different colors and to replace clothing you love but that’s falling apart and can no longer be worn except around the house.
First, bring the items you want copied with you and wander Yongle Market to find new fabric to copy them in. Pay attention to types of fabric and make sure you buy something that will be just as flattering in that shape: if the shirt you love has a bit of stretch, the fabric you buy should also have a bit of stretch. If you buy a stiffer, no stretch textile, it might not work.
You can change various elements of the item, as well. In the lanes around Yongle Market (especially one that leads off Minle Street – 民樂街 – one road to the east – to Yanping N. Road; it’s the lane that’s north of the lane with the little wet market) you can find ribbons, embroideries, lace, beads etc. that can be added to make your copied items unique and different from the original. In the far south exit of the brick-fronted market itself you can buy all sorts of cool buttons to add.
I haven’t had this done in Taiwan yet (I did it all the time in India), but I believe the Chinese word you want is “fu4 ben3” – 複本 – which means “to duplicate”.
If you want any changes from the original, speak up now. It is perfectly possible to copy the same thing but make it longer/shorter/sleeveless/collarless (or with a collar)/different skirt/different neckline/bigger/smaller/with ties/with a belt/etc..
Finally, be aware that fabric is sold by the “ma” (I don’t know the character, but it’s basically a meter or close to it) – and comes in two standard widths, one wider and one narrower (usually the cheaper stuff comes in the narrow width, as do the faux silk Chinese brocades). You will of course need more fabric if what you buy is narrow – your tailor will tell you how much you need. A short dress might require three “ma”, a shirt might take a “ma” and a half, and you’re looking at 5+ for a full-length dress.
Custom clothing is the hardest, and the most expensive (because it’s also the hardest for the tailor!), but a great option if you are in Yongle Market, see something you like, and think “wow, that bias-cut black cotton would make a great wrap dress” or “I could get a suit jacket made from these two fabrics” or “I’m invited to a formal function in Taiwan, don’t have a dress, can’t find anything to fit me and don’t trust that something I order online will look good” (or just “I need new seasonal clothes and shipping fees if you order from foreign brands online are higher than you want to pay – they usually start at about $26 USD).
Your best bet for this is to find pictures similar to what you want – several pictures to show different features, and if you are talented this way, try to draw a picture with pencil and colored pen to outline how you want it all to come together.
This is also good for you, not just the tailor – I don’t know about others but I get ideas for clothing all the time that seem great in my head, but like various elements of a dream that don’t make sense once you expose them to conscious daylight, all the things I think I want in an article of clothing end up not working out well or even making sense. Trying to draw your idea forces you to confront your idea’s flaws.
Buy a pattern if you wish (I’ve never seen one in Taiwan but you can buy them online), but most tailors will be able to work without one, and will in some cases make their own.
This will likely take longer, cost more and require more trips to the fabric market for you to seek out lining and other necessary fabrics (sometimes your tailor will do this for you, but may charge you for his or her time).
This will also require several visits to the tailor for fittings, and if the final product is not flattering or what you had in mind, it is expected that the tailor will fix it free of charge (unless what you wanted was thoroughly unrealistic – I’m reminded of a story from Australia of a rather zaftig woman who demanded a tube dress with a tulle stick-out mermaid skirt, provided cheap fabric and who berated the tailor who made it because the final product didn’t make her look slender).
For big projects – such as a wedding dress – it’s a good idea to tip. My dress, in the end, cost NT$5000 for custom tailoring (a steal compared to the USA) and took over a year to get right, including one complete rebuilding of the unsatisfactory skirt. I gave my tailor (Li Mei) NT$600 extra in a red envelope and she seemed to appreciate it. She definitely did not refuse it, at least!
Again, pay attention to the fabric – some fabric just won’t drape the way you want or fall the way you want. If you speak Chinese, your tailor can inform you of what will work and what won’t. If you don’t, I advise bringing a Chinese-speaking friend along at least once to discuss all of these things, and a dictionary (I recommend Pleco for iPhone and iPod Touch with the handwriting screen add-on) for tough words like “dart”, “sweetheart neck”, “drape” and “chiffon”. Taking it back to the tailor to say “the skirt doesn’t fall the way I like” when you picked a fabric that will never fall that way can be categorized under “unreasonable”.
Your best bet for a tailor who can create custom works from scratch is Yongle Market – most tailors in other parts of the cities focus on alteration and repair, not creation.
Reasons #18 and #19 to Love Taiwan
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As someone who has lived in Washington, DC, I do find that what constitutes good manners in Taiwan is completely different and sometimes annoying (that slow sidewalk shuffle thing is a personal pet peeve) but I feel it's not at all true that people in Taipei are "rude".
"Well, she takes this stuff and sells it for scrap. Just bring it to me - I'll give it to her."
Seriously, even if Mrs. Zhou is going to get some spare change for the broken electronics, who cares? How many people in the USA would respond with "hey, I'll take care of your broken stuff for you!"? Any at all?
Friday, April 22, 2011
Cultural Preservation
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The bus started with a grimace and we began hurtling across the jungled countryside. Mr. Gingerbread introduced himself as Ashok ("My pleasure to make your acquaintance. May I kindly ask your educayshional qualificayshiuns?") and began a thoroughly pleasant discussion with me, mostly asking what I liked about India.
I paused too, because there was something I didn't like. Well, beyond the corruption and poverty, which nobody ever likes. Normally I'd wave this question off with "aaahh, no country is perfect, isn't it? Of course there will be small things, small small things only, that I don't like" (my semester in Southern India made it so that whenever I returned I picked up bits and bobs of the local speech patterns. I do the same thing in Taiwan), "but they are small and generally I like it." With emphatic bobbling of the head.
"There is -" intake of breath - "one thing I don't like."
"Oh, and what is that thing?"
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"What are you meaning by 'badly'?"
"Well, marriages are still arranged and while that affects men, too, it disproportionally affects women - the men's families size criticize the potential brides far more than the bride's family takes issue with the groom. He basically just needs to be same-caste, maybe, and making a good salary. She has to be accomplished, but not more accomplished than he is, and pretty, and fair, and slender, and a good cook and housekeeper. Basically, those marriage ads do care if the woman did well in school but are mostly concerned with looks and housekeeping. I think that's not fair. At home women are still expected to do most of the housework, or supervise the help if they have help - even if they work. If there is a divorce the woman still gets more blame than the man. He can go back to his life - she might get disowned by her family. There are still dowries.
"It may be your traditional culture, but it's not good for women's equality today. It means that women will always have to do these things, even if they don't want to, and men don't have to do them. That means men will always do better in their careers than women. That means women will never have a choice."
"Men don't have a choice either. We have to do our career and make some money, isn't it?"
"Yes, but you can choose your career. You can do what you are interested in. Because men don't really do housework, it's easier to pursue hobbies if they don't like their job. Housework and child-care doesn't give any choice. It's always the same work - you can't choose to do housework you like. You just have to do it, and being in charge of all that means less time for hobbies...although of course many Indian women do have hobbies."
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Food might be cooked more often by the men of a household, but it will remain largely the same - expecting men to share an equal burden at home doesn't mean that channa masala will suddenly cease to exist, or that butter chicken will disappear through a space-time distortion.
(No, it changes it because women traditionally swept the house and held the babies doesn't count, because I used the adverb "meaningfully").
Taiwan is, quite refreshingly, one of the places where I have not heard this pile of steaming crap about how keeping women down is imperative to preserve this amorphous thing called "culture". Taiwan is also one place where I can say with conviction that traditional culture has successfully transitioned into the modern world. Japan and Korea share a similar distinction, but deep gender issues and discrimination persist.
Although there is still work to be done, Taiwan is an example that they don't have to.