So was that a Christmas Market or a Holiday Murder Dungeon?

I think Krampus was the brains behind the German Christmas Market

One week ago I was all set to write a post about how events in Taiwan had finally learned how to be good, which has not historically been the case. 

In 2016 the taco festival was such a disaster that I left to grab potstickers because I could not get a single goddamn taco at an actual, literal taco festival where tacos were presumably being sold in exchange for money. Hot tip: if all your guests can get at a taco festival is a place in line where they're told "no more tacos", you are not running a taco festival, you are running a 'stand in line and cry hangrily' festival. 

Later that year Santa died thanks to the fake "Strasbourg" Christmas Fair where they played Green Day (?) and pushed you to buy vouchers that couldn't buy much -- I ended up with a random assortment of food items that I didn't want and mulled wine that wasn't good. The church running it suggested donating unused vouchers back to them, which felt like a scam. 

This year, I walked through the European Christmas Fair in Hsinyi. It was crowded but not overly so, and I didn't begrudge the fact that the many food stalls had mostly run out of food as it was near the end of the final day. It was fairly easy to buy other items including gingerbread cookies and Polish ceramics. I had skipped the taco festival, but friends said that the implementation of ticketing, crowd control and better ordering and space planning made it more of a success. In 2020 I happened across a small Christmas market outside the old Taichung train station, and it was lovely. 

Events like these in Taiwan seemed to be turning a corner, and I was happy to see it. It'd always confused me how night markets can run fairly smoothly, but events just couldn't. Night markets might be crowded (a side effect of living in a densely populated country) and there might be a few lines, but you could always get food. Perhaps people had taken advantage of this obvious local logistical knowledge to, y'know, plan less shitty events?

                

Such high hopes

With this in mind, I enthusiastically headed over to the German Christmas Market held near Maji Square on Saturday night, as visions of bratwurst danced in my head. This could be good, I thought. I'd heard last year it was good.

Alas. Whatever the German Christmas Market was this year, it was the exact opposite of good.

I could forgive the long line to get in, as contact tracing was required, and the slow trickle of entries meant it was never so crowded that you couldn't walk around. We managed to get gluhwein and order bratwurst after waiting in a second, shorter line. Okay. 

                

The line to get in

It was strange that someone pushed in front of us to demand a refund on her bratwurst, but perhaps she just wasn't hungry. 

Then we trekked to the other end of the fair to wait in the hour-long line to actually get our food. 

While waiting, we took turns as scouts hunting for other food. After getting jostled so that hot wine spilled all over his hand, Brendan stood in the bacon raclette sandwich line only to get one person from the front before they announced they were sold out. I checked out the Christstollen (lowest price NT$800, more like a gift than a Christmas fair snack. I didn't buy any.) Another friend stood in line for an hour to get some chicken thing with peppers and a few slices of bread. 

                 

Empty spaces cut through with lines of people waiting an hour for food

The line for Dutch sweets was just as long as the line for bratwurst. Almost halfway through our (hourlong) wait, the bratwurst sold out. We'd be served because we'd paid, but newcomers were out of luck. They'd just waited an hour to get into the market only to have just about every single actual food item unavailable.

I bought a beer out of spite. Also, I needed carbs. This made me drunker. 

Seriously, how does one go to an outdoor event in Taiwan and not get food? I am pretty sure that's against the law here. If a Taiwanese sausage vendor had set up just outside they would have made a fortune.

I will say, the food I was able to get was very good. The alcohol was all top-notch. They just needed several thousand more bratwursts and more stands to sell them. 

                                     

Me after I was physically unable to put anything in my stomach but alcohol until I left the market

Determined to find more food, I wandered the emptier section of the market, where there were lots of stalls but very few people. 

The music was holiday appropriate, or at least mostly Christmas-adjacent (I'm not sure what the guys in matching suits dancing in sync like K-pop stars were doing, but whatever). 

What else was there? Occupying prime real estate was the China Airlines booth. Though they had a raffle going for free tickets to Frankfurt (during a pandemic? Perhaps they don't have an expiration date), there was nothing else happening there. Next to them, a booth selling appliances. 

Who goes to a Christmas market to buy an oven?

There was a Mercedes Benz parked by the Christmas tree. I am pretty sure everyone in Taiwan who afford a Benz has either already bought one or is aware of the brand. Nobody is getting their brand awareness raised at a Christmas market. 


                

More empty space that could be used not to sell chains or padlocks or something to clean up with, but rather big fat wieners to stuff in my face

The stalls on the far end had an array of presumably German brands. You could buy some of this stuff -- but who goes to a Christmas market to buy cleaning products or padlocks?

The padlock stall seemed to just be...padlocks. At least the cleaning product stall was decorated with Christmas things.

"There's no fucking food," a friend remarked, "but you can buy everything you need for your murder dungeon. And a getaway car too!" 

I don't think I saw any chains or handcuffs for sale (essential components of a Holiday Murder Dungeon). That's a shame, as it might have made the whole thing a bizarrely fun experience. But no. It's almost worse that they half-assed the whole Murder Dungeon angle. On Christmas and Murder Dungeons both, go big or go home.

                        

Me looking for some goddamn food at the German Christmas Market

I had gotten a shot of rum in my gluhwein, so I was in a freewheelin', brainstormin' mood. 

"Maybe because people do buy cleaning products at Lunar New Year, they thought they'd buy them at Christmas?" I said to no one in particular. 

A Taiwanese friend scoffed. "Nobody's silly enough to think that. Maybe because it got rave reviews last year it became this business sponsored thing and that killed it?"

"German Christmas Markets are supposed to be 90% food. FOOD!" added the person in our group who'd lived in Germany for over a decade. "Not padlocks. I just wanted some burnt almonds. I cannot eat a fucking padlock!"

After the obligatory hour in line at Oma's, our other friend returned with his tasty-looking chicken thing. We'd finally gotten our bratwurst but it hit too late to absorb the rummed-up gluhwein. I mean, I know I say this a lot but I really needed more hot sausage, a lot faster than I freakin' got it. What is a German Christmas Market even good for if I can't get absolutely stuffed with wieners?

"So I'd actually just wanted some cookies," he said, putting small bags of speculoos, sugar cookies and candied almonds on the little table we'd cornered to form a Bitching Circle. "Turns out, you could walk right up and buy the cookies. The line was for hot food. But nobody makes that clear."

We ate most of his cookies.

It didn't matter that we weren't full. By 7pm every stall was sold out of food, at a market that would traditionally be mostly food. Imagine turning up to a night market and there are 3 food stands and they all sell out by 7. But you can buy a washing machine! Would you return? 

We headed to Maji Square. I teetered, one friend anxiety smoked and the person who hadn't gotten anything at all hunger-marched. We found a bar that served exactly one type of panini and wasn't packed, so we stuffed ourselves with ham and Emmenthal paninis until we felt better. It was run by a French guy who could understand my drunk ordering (it helped that he only had the one food item). Clearly the French know how to feed people better than the Germans.

Honestly, I thought Germans were supposed to be good at this Christmas Market thing. But I, a boorish American, have some advice for the German Office on how to make next year's market less like a Holiday Murder Dungeon Superstore and more like, well, a Christmas market. 

First, by all means have sponsors. But make sure that you have more than a half-dozen stands selling actual food. One bratwurst stand? One raclette stand? One place in the whole market to buy Christmas cookies and they don't even tell you that you don't have to wait in the hot food line for them? 

Certainly, this fair needed far more hot meat injection opportunities. They needed to quintuple -- no, octuple -- the number of places selling snacks and food for immediate consumption, so no one line gets too long. The only things sold in multiples in the whole market were beer and wine, which is of course why I got trashed. Of course that moves faster because it's easier to serve, but multiple food stalls cut down waiting time.

And order enough food. No Christmas market should sell out hours before it closes.

The only explanation for why this seems to keep happening at events like Christmas markets and taco festivals is that foreigners planning for them don't seem to take into account the crowds generated by the classic Taiwan combination: high anticipation and dense population. Night market stalls know what it means to be crowded in a Taiwan sense, and plan appropriately. It's time foreign-run events figure it out, too (or just collaborate with locals to work this stuff out). 

Have a meeting with all the sponsors. Tell them to make it Christmassy or GTFO. Gandi.net had the right idea with this, selling hot wine under a sign with their name on it. Now I remember gandi.net as the cool kids at the Christmas party. Not Mercedes Benz.

Here, I'll even give them some free ideas, although they are probably not genius ideas because I did indeed have them while hopped up on Gluhwein.

Padlock Guys: You know that thing where people put love locks on a bridge or fence to show they'll be together forever? Riff on that with Holiday Love Locks, which are lightweight locks you can write or paint your name on (painting service costs extra for those who don't want to DIY). They come in an array of holiday shapes and colors, including hearts, and are lightweight so you can hang them as ornaments on a Christmas tree, string of lights, holiday lantern etc. You can set aside part of your display for actual padlocks, and put the fake ornament ones into branded pouches.

Cleaning Product Guys: Have you not heard of holiday-scented cleaning products? Maybe you don't want to put out a whole new line of stuff, but sell some scented candles, sachets, potpourri or room sprays to your lineup. Do raffles where buying something will enter you to win one of your products.

Mercedes Benz: I'm not really into cars but someone who is would definitely buy Benz-logo or car-shaped iced Christmas cookies. Snowglobes and mini snowglobe ornaments with little Benzes inside! There are people who will totally buy that as a cute gift for a loved one dreaming of owning a real Benz someday. Soft pretzels shaped like the Benz logo! I'd buy that, because I like soft pretzels. 

Bosch and other white goods sellers: Cookies and other baked goods are the obvious choice here. Team up with Mr. Mark or Oma's for these things, with free samples of pastries and breads. Soft pretzels and cinnamon rolls in branded paper pouches (or bags or boxes for takeaway) under a big sign that says "It bakes better in a Bosch!" Put business cards for your actual stores in the bags maybe. Whatever. Or team up with the Polish office to sell Polish ceramicware, with advertising about how well it survives your awesome dishwashers. 

China Airlines: I mean there are the obvious airline-themed stocking stuffers, ornaments and iced cookies, but they fly to Frankfurt. Frankfurter wurst! Anything for more of the hot wieners you know we all crave.

Everyone else: Baby Jesus cried because of this fair, you guys. Have your sign and whatnot, but make sure you actually do Christmas things at a Christmas fair. Sell little bags of holiday nuts, chocolates, snacks or dried fruits in branded bags. Get some sponsors who actually do food and drink and have a whiskey stall, a hot toddy stall, a stall with chocolates (eat now or take home), a stall with mini cinnamon rolls. 

Get places that make actual gift-y items to sponsor. Like little jars of jam and chili sauce or earrings that look like sleigh bells. Get all the wine sellers that seemed to do well in Hsinyi last week to mop up again handing out samples and selling bottles for a second weekend in a row.

I mean I don't even care if some of it's tacky -- that makes it better. You had booth babes in Sexy Santa gear, which is totally fine but it also means that anything goes.

Keep some of the music, but you couldn't get like a band in lederhosen up there doing a tuba thing? I associate that with a stereotype, and therefore it's a good idea! 

But really, just have more food and stuff one might actually buy at a Christmas market. You were on the right track with the alcohol but it's better if you don't make it so that the only thing people can reasonably do at your market is get trashed.

Otherwise, do better next year because this was a middle finger to Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.

Overall rating? 2/10 (extra star for the good and plentiful alcohol). Needs more wiener.

I just innocently wanted to scarf down a pile of wieners, but the German Christmas Market was hiding around the corner waiting to ruin my dreams and also physically assault me with hunger

The Taiwan CDC is not going to rip your children from you (obviously)

Because there are still people in the foreign community who believe information that is straight-up wrong regarding new CDC guidelines, I wanted to provide some clarity as a follow up to my last post.

Due to a poorly-worded Focus Taiwan article, a lot of people are asserting that the new quarantine restrictions will require children over age 12 to isolate separately. Some are wording this as "implementing the new rules on taking children from families" when entering the country. You know, to add the maximum amount of fearmongering to this particular bit of disinformation. 

The actual article says this: 

Arrivals from outside the seven high-risk countries will now be required to stay in a quarantine hotel or a government quarantine facility at their own expense for 14 days, and also get a PCR test, the CECC said in a press conference.

The PCR test for them will be free, but Health Minister Chen Shih-chung (陳時中) said the fee for a government quarantine center will be NT$2,000 (US$71.72) per night per person, though children aged 12 and under can stay either with their father or mother in a single room with no extra charge. 

This implies that parents may have to pay for the quarantine of children over age 12, but it says nothing about them being quarantined separately. 

It certainly doesn't imply that the heartless, child-hating CDC dramatically rips your children from your arms at the airport, whisking them to GOD KNOWS WHERE to be quarantined away from you for two entire weeks as you, the heartbroken parent, sob and rend your clothing helplessly as these agents of darkness violate your family. And, to pile offense upon offense, you will be required to pay for this, just as the families of executed political prisoners were charged for bullets in fascist regimes! 

This is preposterous on its face. Think about it: do you honestly believe the Taiwanese government would require that 13-year-olds quarantine separately from their parents? Is there any evidence beyond one poorly-worded article that there were ever official rules stating this?

(Yes, the article was based on a press release, but the press release doesn't say your children will be taken from you, either.)

Because this is still getting traction, however, someone called 1922 and their answer was a very clear "obviously not". Children 18 and under can quarantine with parents (I don't know if they are required to, or if you'd be allowed to arrange a separate room for your 16-year-old who will probably be just fine without you. I don't think it matters.) 

If you arrive from a "red list" country like the UK, you tell the appropriate CDC worker at the airport who is in your group and what they need -- so if your child has special needs, you will have the opportunity to point this out to the government as well -- and they will arrange the accommodation for you. If you arrive from any other country, you have to make the arrangements yourself. But again, nobody is going to tear your children from you. 

In fact, the rule that adults cannot quarantine together is not new either: they've been expected to isolate separately for months. And yet, people are still saying this rule is "new" and "unfair". It's neither.

In the past this separation could include a home quarantine (there were rules about what sort of housing arrangements were allowed). However, people skirted those rules, and in a few cases violations caused local COVID infections. That's why the only new rule is that all quarantines must be in hotels or government facilities, and arrivals from certain countries with a prevalence of the Delta variant must quarantine at government facilities. 

All anyone ever needed to do to confirm that these "family separation at the border" policies were complete and utter fake news was call 1922. They even speak English. 

So please, if you are still hearing accusations like this, shut it down. If you believe it, stop. If someone insists this is an "official" rule or regulation, inform them that they are not correct. If you are an admin in a social media group where accusations like this are proliferating, end it by warning people about disinformation. 

I am going to give the people spreading this information the benefit of the doubt that they are not intentionally trying to stir up trouble. They read an article that wasn't perfectly clear, made some very wrong conclusions and discussed their worries with others. That amplified their fears and echoed their wrong conclusions back at them, until "children under 12 can stay...at no extra charge" became "they are going to take our children from us at the airport!" 

It is possible to unintentionally spread fake news, or say things in the most incendiary way -- OUR CHILDREN! TORN FROM US! -- without realizing what one is doing. But now that you know, please stop. It amplifies the incorrect information and results in real actions which look bad for the foreign community, such as endlessly contacting the CDC to demand that they accommodate your return the way you would prefer. 

Yes, it is true that if you don't arrive from a "red list" country that you will have to pay for your own quarantine as home quarantine is no longer allowed. That makes sense given the rise of the Delta variant and the impossibility of perfect enforcement. Yes, this does mean that if you chose to travel, you're now likely on the hook if you want to return. However, I urge everyone to consider that in New Zealand, you don't get to choose your quarantine facility, but chances are you have to pay for it regardless. You also have to apply for a place: there's a reason why they have special categories for urgent or time-sensitive requests: not everyone gets a spot quickly. 

And not every country would allow you to return -- or allow you to leave: 

Australia maintains a near universal travel ban on all non-citizens coming to the country. And even Australian citizens living abroad don't have an easy time entering. They need to fight for a limited number of plane seats per week to get into the country and must serve a mandatory 14-day hotel quarantine upon arrival. Australians in countries deemed at high-risk for COVID-19 like India, are completely banned from returning home, and face potential prison time if they attempt to circumvent the ban. (In May, Australia launched some repatriation flights to bring select citizens home from India, such as those with medical conditions.)

Australia has also imposed an exit ban that bars most of its citizens from leaving the country. A rightwing think tank called Libertyworks challenged Australia's outbound ban in court, but a federal judge dismissed the case earlier this month.

Compared to that, can you honestly say that Taiwan doesn't sound eminently reasonable, allowing citizens and legal residents to travel and return? Although I would support fee waivers for people undertaking emergency travel, does the overarching policy for Taiwan truly sound unfair in comparison? 

From Focus Taiwan:

Each room will be equipped with internet accessibility, television and other amenities, including three meals per day per person, the CECC said.... 

When questioned why passengers from high-risk countries can enjoy free accommodation, but those from lower-risk countries have to pay for their accommodation, Chen said only that it was compulsory for people arriving from high-risk countries to stay in a government facility, and therefore they should not have to pay, while arrivals from other areas had the option to stay at quarantine hotels, which offer a lot of choice.

 

I completely understand the frustration or worry over facing a bill you weren't expecting upon return to Taiwan. Obviously some would be concerned about the logistics of such a stay. Of course, it will be difficult, and not everyone has the money. However, it's the right call for the good of the country even if it inconveniences you personally. 

For those who chose non-emergency travel during a pandemic, you took a gamble. You rolled the dice. That was your choice. You lost that bet. I understand it's annoying, but it was your bet to take. Please don't pretend that you have the right to take any gamble you want, without any of the risks. The CDC was never your insurance company against making a bad bet on the travel game right now. 

I have no problem with people venting their frustrations online. Affording the bill, managing children in a single room for two weeks, arranging pet care for the extra time away: these are all legitimate annoyances. 

However, that's not the same as spreading fake news. "They're going to take our children!" crosses a big fat red line.

Allow me to be harsh: a lot of people got used to Taiwan getting an A in pandemic prevention, and are now angry that it's getting perhaps a B, when the rest of the world got a D or F. Now, they think the Taiwanese government is somehow responsible for accommodating their personal travel choices. Some are spreading fear and straight-up fake news, because "I don't want to pay for quarantine thanks to travel I chose to take during a pandemic" is less captivating than "they're going to take our children!" 

Of course, given the way fake news spreads,  the "they're going to take our children!" angle had legs even after "we shouldn't have to pay for quarantine" and "they should let us quarantine at home" died out. It was more important to be outraged than to just call 1922 and ask.

It needs to stop. Now. It makes the foreign community look bad. It unfairly compares an annoying but eminently reasonable policy with the very real human rights violations that occur in other countries. This is not family separation at the US-Mexico border or asylum seekers to Australia being sent to Nauru or Christmas Island.

Frankly, it's embarrassing. Stop. 

An Open Thank You Letter to the Taiwan CDC

Something about this scene just makes me think of "home in Taiwan" even though my place looks nothing like this.

There have been a lot of complaints about the new quarantine regulations announced for returnees to Taiwan. Essentially, families cannot quarantine together -- one child per parent -- and home quarantine is no longer allowed. Government facilities are available for NT$2000/night (the hotel options are nicer, but more expensive). There have been reports of hotels quoting inflated rates, but that's an issue for law enforcement -- it's a scam, not government policy. The government facilities are plain, but livable. 

A lot of people are unhappy about this, especially those with children who were planning to travel this summer. 

The thing is, family quarantine hasn't been much of an option for awhile -- "one person per residence" has been the rule for months, although there were exceptions if you had your own rooms with bathrooms (how many families have one bathroom for every member?) and minors. 

I understand the frustration: I haven't seen my 95-year-old Grandma since 2018. I was always aiming for the holidays, but any chance of an earlier visit is now shattered. Not all travel is a choice: emergencies happen. And, of course, some people had already left to travel thinking that they could quarantine at home upon their return. This does make their lives more difficult, and I sympathize. It's tough, and we're all stressed. 

That said, most travel is a choice. I miss the country of my birth too -- well, some of the food and people in it anyway. But ultimately most travel plans are optional, and can be canceled. The convenience of people who chose to travel does not trump the good of the country.

The people who created these new rules are medical specialists with more expertise in how to contain something as scarily transmissible as the Delta variant. It's an inconvenience and a cost burden to quarantine away from home, but do people really believe they are better qualified to decide if home quarantine is safe in light of the Delta variant's spread than actual epidemiologists? 

I'm also a bit distraught that people are buying into the idea that Taiwan was late to acquire vaccines. As far as I'm aware, negotiations started as early as possible: the "lateness" was more due to what companies like Moderna and AZ could provide and when, which was influenced by a global vaccine shortage. And, of course, we all know how China created the BioNTech drama.

They -- mostly foreign residents, from my observation -- are  upset that life in Taiwan is not as normal as it has been for the past 16 months, and are turning on the government that gave them those months of normalcy because things have changed.

I do not care for this: when I feel the Taiwanese government is being unfair to foreign residents -- be they blue-collar workers or well-off expatriates -- I'll speak up. But I just don't think that's true here: the good of the country takes precedence over our own convenience.  The government is not perfect, but they are not being unfair.

Perhaps the government facilities should be free for all, but then again, why should they be? Most travel is a choice. 

A reimbursement program for true emergencies would be a kindness, but there is no reason why the government should pay for quarantine after travel one chose to do. Offering rooms with facilities for very young children would be smart; some kids need cribs, and not all families can afford the pricier hotel options. However, it would be reasonable to suggest this without writing entire "complaint" letters. 

In other words, the Delta variant does not care if you would prefer to quarantine together, or at home.

Although I am still distraught that the central government did not do enough to stop the racist treatment of foreign blue-collar workers, I think overall they've been working diligently since the beginning of 2020 to keep Taiwan as safe as possible.

As a result, I feel safer here than I would in the US (yes, still), and I notice that Taiwan is still continuing strict measures despite having fewer per capita cases than countries which are opening up (and probably shouldn't be). Yes, there was an outbreak because some people didn't follow the rules, but Taiwan contained it faster than just about any other country could. 

So rather than complain to the CDC, I wanted to thank them, while reminding them that blue-collar foreign workers still need to have their human rights protected more decisively. 

Of course everyone is free to voice their own opinion, and if you're one of the unhappy people, my "thank you" letter doesn't take away from your ability to write a complaint. I don't agree -- in fact I think it has the potential to cast the foreign community in a bad light as most of us are comparatively well-off, or at least have the resources to consider traveling at all. But it's still everyone's right to write whatever they want. I, personally, chose a "thanks". I can only hope others will do so, as well. 

Or, if you do have a suggestion, to write them a thank you for all those months of keeping you safe, and then add it in: better children's facilities. Emergency travel payment exemptions. Whatever you want. But complaining? I do not encourage that.

This is the letter I wrote. You can write your own here.

Hi,

First, I just wanted to thank the CDC for working hard to keep Taiwan safe. I know you are getting a lot of complaints right now, but I understand what you're doing and why it's necessary and I am grateful that the outbreak is being contained in Taiwan due to your hard work. I feel safer in Taiwan than I would in the country of my birth thanks to Taiwan's excellent response, even though times are hard now.

However, I do want to suggest that the central government should do more to stop the racism against Southeast Asian blue-collar workers. I've heard that Miaoli County hasn't actually stopped the restrictions, just relaxed them to let workers out for 45 minutes a day, and some companies are still locking them up like slaves or animals. It's not right. Since the CDC was able to revoke other local orders when they didn't comply with CDC regulations, I think you could do more to stop this. It is wrong and blatantly racist, and it really looks bad for Taiwan's human rights record. Clearly, you have the ability to stop it, so you should.

In fact, foreign blue-collar workers should be prioritized for vaccines, as their living and working conditions create danger of an outbreak, and they do mix with Taiwanese as well. I know this is politically difficult to do (probably a lot of Taiwanese would complain about them getting priority), but it's the right thing to do. At the very least, the blatant racism has got to be stopped. If local governments won't do it, the central government should take a stronger stand.

Thanks again for your hard work and for managing the pandemic well for over a year. Taiwan did a lot better than most other countries due to your efforts and they have not gone unnoticed.

I hope others will follow my lead and put the good of the country first. If this is our home -- not a playground where we get all our desires met -- we should act like it. 

Taiwan's anti-stalking laws are getting much-needed reform

I think this picture metaphorically depicts the current state of Taiwan's anti-stalking laws.

Years ago, the ex-boyfriend of someone I once knew was engaging in aggressive stalking and harassment. We're talking the stuff of horror movies here. Despite showing up at her work and later the same night outside her front door as she was coming home (!), it struck me that there seemed to be so little the police could do. She called them and they came, but they weren't able to guarantee her safety in any meaningful way. She had been planning to end her time in Taiwan in the near future, but it was clear that staying would have been a dangerous proposition regardless. I don't know the extent to which his actions hastened her departure, but it almost certainly had some effect. 

We're not in touch anymore, so I'm not willing to include any more detail than that. However, what remains with me is this: Taiwanese law enforcement could not or would not do anything to make Taipei a place where she could safely remain.

Now, imagine if she had not been planning to leave, or was from here and either had nowhere else to go, or didn't want to leave her life behind just to rid herself of a stalker. 

That's not the only story I've heard; I'm intentionally not including more recent tales from others I don't know the extent to which doing so -- even with permission -- might impact their safety. Others have been in the news, most recently a woman in Pingtung who had reported her harassment over several months to police, but was still killed by her harasser. 

Given all this, Taiwan's new draft amendment to improve anti-stalking laws in Taiwan is mind-bogglingly overdue and hasn't been reported on nearly enough, although taiwanreporter has consistently highlighted the importance of this subject for some time, as has the Taipei Times.

Here is what the new law would do: 

According to the bill, the police will have the right to issue a written warning to a stalker or someone accused of harassment, once the victim's report can be corroborated.

If the accused disregards the police warning, the victim, police or prosecutors can seek a restraining order from the court, the bill states. Currently, restraining orders are issued only in cases of harassment or violence within a family or between couples.

Under the draft bill, the maximum penalty for stalking and/or harassment is five years in prison or a fine of NT$500,000 (US$17,667), and it allows preventive detention if the offender is deemed a likely recidivist. [The current fines are far lower: see below for more information]. 

It broadens the definitions specified in both the Sexual Harassment Prevention Act and Domestic Violence Prevention Act and makes them applicable in almost any situation, not just in a home, workplace, or school.

In particular, the definition of harassment has been extended to include making unwanted advances on someone.

You might be wondering if it's really true that currently, the police can only issue a restraining order in cases of harassment between family members or cohabiting couples, and whether most relevant laws are truly only applicable at home, work or school. What's more, are the current penalties truly so low? Are people being stalked in situations outside these narrow definitions truly left without protection? 

The answer to all of these is "yes". 

You may also wonder how it got to be that way. The problem is that work, home and school were each targeted with specific laws, with no umbrella anti-stalking or anti-harassment law covering all situations beyond one very general and low-stakes provision in one very broad law. Since I am not constrained by inches or word count, I have the space to sift through these laws. So let's do that, and take stock of where they currently fall short. 

I'm probably not including every relevant sub-code or detail of every pertinent act and regulation because I'm not superhuman, but there are three that stand out: the Domestic Violence Prevention Act (家庭暴力防治法), the Sexual Harassment Prevention Act (性騷擾防治法) and the laughably inadequate Social Order Maintenance Act (社會秩序維護法). Also relevant are the Gender Equity Education Act (性別平等教育法) and the Gender Equality in Employment Act (性別工作平等法). 

The Domestic Violence Prevention Act covers harassment, stalking (which is specifically defined) and other abuse by family members, including spouses and ex-spouses, relatives and cohabiting or formerly cohabiting couples. This is the act that allows for restraining orders to be issued, and allows for fines of up to NT$100,000 for contravening court rulings, including restraining orders and orders to relocate. However, it does not cover non-familial, non-cohabiting relationships -- so it would not cover a creepy date, friendship-turned-sour or terrifying ex that you didn't live with. 

The Sexual Harassment Prevention Act covers school and workplace sexual harassment, and stipulates fines of up to NT$100,000 (and higher for certain professions) and imprisonment for up to two years for unwelcome touching. The act includes threats, offense and intimidation, inundation (of behavior, approaches or images), creating a sense of fear or hostility or impinging on rights and interests of a person within the organization. Although the organization is meant to conduct its own investigation, it must report to municipal authorities and can be punished for not investigating appropriately. This act does not mention stalking, but the focus on the reaction of the targeted person to the unwelcome behavior might potentially cover this.

The Gender Equity in Employment Act and the Gender Equity Education Act cover any sexual harassment at school or work not covered by the Sexual Harassment Prevention Act, and include language against discrimination (which includes bullying or verbal harassment) based on gender or sexual orientation. Neither clearly stipulate that harassment or bullying of transgender workers or students is included in this definition, and neither use the term "stalking". 

The Social Order Maintenance Act attempts to cover everything else. This is the one that would cover that creepy date, rando who follows you or ex you never lived with. However, it does not define "stalking", saying only that it prohibits "stalking another person without justifiable reasons despite having been dissuaded" (emphasis mine).  It stipulates a fine of not more than NT$3,000 for stalking, and includes defacing someone else's property, such as a house or car. 

I have no idea what a "justifiable reason" for stalking would be, and am nonplussed that this language would be included in such a wide-reaching law. It goes without saying that NT$3,000 is barely a punishment; it's essentially a stalking fee, which if you have to pay it at all amounts to permission to keep on stalking. The law mentions "dissuasion" but makes no provisions for issuing restraining orders against such stalkers. Police may, however, restrain a person who is -- and I am quoting the law here -- "caught red-handed in the commission of an offense". 

It's terrifying to me that this is the only law under which my then-friend could have sought redress, and it would not have even stipulated so much as a restraining order.

Clearly, this change has been long overdue. Every time there is a widely-reported case (or number of cases) that could potentially have been prevented by more concrete anti-stalking laws, there is an outcry, followed by a call for reform, followed by what seems to be...no reform. 

It happened in 2018, when the Executive Yuan approved a draft bill to bolster harassment and "pestering" laws. That seems to have gone nowhere, as it did not have the support of women's rights groups. From the Taipei Times: 

While they support the idea of the bill, [women's rights groups] said its current version would not provide enough protection to people who are being harassed or stalked.

Once a person files a complaint with police, the police are required to spend three months investigating the allegations, which is both time consuming and fails to provide a victim with timely protection, Taipei Women’s Rescue Foundation deputy chief executive Jasmine Bai (白智芳) said.

It happened again in 2020, when the National Police Agency proposed anti-stalking legislation. It's not clear if that's the same proposal that was lambasted once again by women's groups, as by November 2020 the anti-stalking proposal under discussion came from the Ministry of the Interior (I was following this issue, and couldn't figure it out then, either).  This time, criticisms of the proposal included a lack of immediate tools to protect victims, and equating stalking to sexual harassment, even though not all stalking is sexually motivated. 

By March 2021, the New Power Party (NPP) was pointing out that the government was taking far too long to take action. Of course, as we now know, that short lag between March and April meant that there was no law already in place when the woman in Pingtung was murdered by her stalker about two weeks ago. 

That was the price society paid. A life was lost. This isn't abstract, it's an immediate need. 

The approved draft amendment seems like it will go further than its dead-on-the-vine predecessors, as Premier Su has requested that it be implemented within six months rather than the originally-slated year, according to the Taipei Times. It includes immediate protection for victims, expanding the power of law enforcement to issue restraining orders on any harasser, not just those with family/couple relationships. It includes non-sexual stalking, such as spying, sending unwanted messages, images, goods or services -- meaning it should also cover cyberbullying and online stalking -- and raises the penalty for aggravated stalking with a weapon. Because it covers stalking behavior rather than who is stalking (e.g. a colleague, family member or person at school) or why they're stalking (e.g. for reasons related to sexual desire, gender or sexual orientation), it ought to cover marginalized groups such as transgender people who face stalking and harassment.

Most importantly, the passage of this new law is more likely because it finally "draws on relevant laws in other countries and on the views of women's rights groups and legislators in Taiwan", according to Focus Taiwan. 

Imagine that. The government finally listening to women's voices when drafting legislation that will help protect women. 

Imagine if they had done that in 2018. How many people might still be alive?

Recent immigration reforms in Taiwan are a mixed bag

Stop. 

The cabinet has just approved a new draft amendment that would relax requirements for foreign professionals coming to Taiwan, including those enrolled in postgraduate programs in Taiwan.

As an immigrant myself, it makes sense to be generally in favor of streamlined immigration requirements. But I’m ambivalent about this. 

On their face, the relaxed rules are fine. I don’t see any good reason to make foreigners wait six months for National Health Insurance coverage if they’re committed to being here for at least a year, and it’s smart to encourage talent cultivated by Taiwan — graduate students at Taiwanese universities — to stay here. 

The enhanced tax incentives, immediate NHI coverage and shortened permanent residency eligibility period apply to “foreign special professionals” — that magic, golden class of foreigners who glitter all the more in comparison to everyone else, who is apparently garbage.

I'm not at all sure that these are the issues that would tip a "special" professional towards coming to Taiwan if they had doubts, with the possible exception of the NHI coverage, as health care is likely a major consideration when making such decisions.

I’m also concerned that these changes target the wrong issues and add yet another layer of elitism to already stratified regulations. While the government has moved quickly on “foreign special professionals”, they neither invest in the foreigners who are already here and committed to Taiwan, nor do they address the horrific human rights abuses and poor working conditions endured by foreign blue-collar workers, most of whom come from Southeast Asia.  

The amendment would also relax requirements for foreign teachers coming to teach subject classes at schools for the children of foreign professionals. Frankly, I do think some  requirements for working in Taiwanese schools can reasonably be relaxed — ask me for examples if you care. However, the lack of specificity in the announcement is jarring: what requirements will change, exactly? The students are children of foreign professionals, who all presumably speak English already, how does this do anything to support the Bilingual by 2030 plan? 

A friend of mine has been having trouble in one such “bilingual school for the children of foreign professionals”, dealing with teachers who create unprofessional materials including a “textbook” that consisted of printed-out Wikipedia pages. Such schools need more professional teaching expertise, not less.

The original draft called for graduates of “Top 500” universities to be allowed to work in Taiwan without the requisite 2 years’ related experience or a Master’s degree. However, that clause was dropped.

That’s a shame, as I supported it. Though I have no idea how “top 500” would be determined (most ranking systems are questionable), it would ensure that prospective immigrants won’t feel they need to teach English to come here. I am in favor of any regulatory change that reduces the non-serious people in my field. If they’re better at doing something else and don’t want to be in a classroom, let them, and leave teaching to people who actively choose it — even if they require training and experience, as I once did. 

So, it’s disappointing that the most promising clause in the amendment was dropped. What’s left is...okay. I’m not against it, but I’m not impressed.

As someone who went through the 5-year wait for her APRC, I have no particular desire to force that on newcomers. And yet from my experience, a five-year wait is an entirely reasonable requirement, especially now that it’s easier to change jobs. I suppose it's a positive change for those with graduate degrees from Taiwanese universities, however: student visas don't count towards the permanent residency clock, but Taiwan would be wise to incentivize such people to stay.

I have no opinion on tax incentives, but it sure feels like offering more benefits to the already-privileged. And everyone should have faster access to NHI, not just Special Magic Wizard Foreigners. 

I can’t help but compare this to the very minor recent improvement to working conditions for foreign blue-collar workers. Starting this month, most of these workers are now being provided with work documents in their native languages as well as Mandarin, rather than Mandarin only. 

That’s great, but frankly, I’m shocked that that wasn’t already the case (and embarrassed that I hadn’t realized it wasn’t)! How did take until the Year of Our Good Lord Baby Jesus in Goddamn Heaven Twenty-Twenty-Fucking-One to make this happen? Seriously?! 

It’s disheartening that the government can move so swiftly to accommodate the already-privileged, but can’t seem to get basic human rights sorted out for the vast majority of immigrants to Taiwan.

You can whine all you want about how it’s the Taiwanese government’s prerogative to “attract” certain “talent”, but the cold fact is that Taiwan needs these workers to keep the economy running way more than they need some tech bro. The fishing, the factory work, the elder care — those jobs are at the solar plexus of Taiwanese society, not whatever Craigstopher McJuggerton from Indiana will be doing here. I will freely admit that what they do is more vital to Taiwan than what I do, as well. 

It's not that I think the Splendiferous Glitter Foreigners shouldn't be welcome in Taiwan. Of course, they should -- but it's already pretty easy for them to come here. The people at risk of indentured servitude or outright slavery perhaps have more pressing concerns.

Finally, it annoys me as a long-termer that the government still seems to be unaware that there are foreign professionals who are already here, who are already committed to Taiwan, and what most of us seem to want is a realistic shot at dual nationality. 

At the risk of sounding like a big baby whinerpants, I’ve recently become aware that the path to dual nationality for someone like me is even more narrow than the existing one. For an educator, the requirement is to become an assistant professor. However, for language teaching professionals, there are essentially no such positions. The very few exceptions I’ve met merely prove the rule. Were I to get a PhD, the most I might reasonably hope to achieve in Taiwanese academia is an annually-renewed “lecturer” contract and very little access to research funding. Even that is rare: most new hires are low-paid adjuncts. The language teachers who are professors are generally Literature or Linguistics specialists who’ve been asked to teach language classes. 

So, it doesn’t matter what I do. I’ll never be a “professor” in the sense that the government requires. That job simply doesn’t meaningfully exist in Taiwan in my field. And yet, that is the requirement to apply for dual nationality. I could “publish in major international journals” (most likely without research funding), but I’ve been too busy training the teachers the government says it wants to cultivate!  

All this despite the government saying repeatedly that it wants to elevate the quality of language teaching in Taiwan, and therefore ostensibly wanting people like me as part of Bilingual by 2030. 

I’m not against these new rules. I wouldn’t even call my ambivalence “jealousy” because I’ve managed to carve out a good life here, get my APRC, and cultivate a career I’m passionate about. Hell, I went to two “Top 500” universities (whatever that means). I have NHI and neither need nor want tax incentives. It is a little depressing to see how pointless it would be to get a PhD for career-related reasons, but that’s a personal issue. 

Rather, the ambivalence stems from annoyance: the relaxed regulations aren’t a bad thing, but they don’t do much to the kinds of immigration reform Taiwan actually needs.  

Let's talk about immigration and quadruple standards (again)

An exhibit at the former Japanese Naval Guesthouse in Taipei, now an art gallery, featuring work by Taiwanese artists alongside artifacts from South and Southeast Asia.


I was recently quoted extensively in this Hong Kong Free Press article about the ongoing fight for dual nationality in Taiwan. I think overall the piece is quite good. 

The article covers some important points: even people born here to parents who don't have Chinese or Taiwanese ancestry can't get dual nationality. There is simply no pathway. Until just a few years ago that meant potentially being forced to leave the only country you've ever called home because there was no visa available. Now, that issue's been somewhat addressed by allowing such children to get permanent residency. Other streamlining has occurred, which helps, but still doesn't -- and can't -- address many key issues. 

We can't vote, usually get turned down for anything requiring a credit line, and aren't eligible for any number of benefits that will likely grow more necessary as we age (a lot of senior citizen benefits are not available to us regardless no matter how long we've paid taxes). Our ability to be fully included on the labor insurance pension plan was only recently instated, as well. 

However, there are a few things from my interview that didn't make it in, and I'd like to discuss them here.

It's been pointed out that the piece ignores the Southeast Asian community, and yes, it does. I brought up the issue of foreign blue-collar labor, not because I think I can speak for anyone, but because I was being interviewed. That segues into my first point.

Many people note the "double standard" of Taiwan's nationality laws: most countries either allow everyone or no one to have multiple nationalities. In fact, it's a quadruple standard.

People with the right ancestry can have multiple nationalities without issue. People with so-called "elite" jobs can get dual nationality. People like me can get permanent residency but not dual nationality. And treated worst of all, blue-collar foreign workers (who make up a large percentage of the Southeast Asian immigrant community) have no access to permanent residency, nor do labor and residency laws protect them adequately. 

This is both racist and classist on the part of the Taiwanese government. Although there are explanations for why the piece focused on APRC holders, it would have been good to include a section on the extra barriers that exist for most immigrants to Taiwan, with a related interview. 

My second point is related: it creates a system where your human worth is tied entirely to your job. But, as Preston points out in the article, being a good citizen is about more than what job you do, and it's a bit of a straitjacket to insist that "worthy" people must hold a narrow range of positions: 

“They’re using it as a rewards system....It’s basically a very exclusive club, but there’s more to good citizens than just being an elite member of society."

It stifles the sorts of contributions that may be good for Taiwan, but don't come with a specific title attached. 

It's also a reminder to those of us who have APRCs that consistently advocating for and supporting immigrant communities with less privilege is important. 

The truth is, even if I get a PhD someday, I don't particularly want to be a professor -- the job I would need to qualify. I think my personal contribution is more impactful as a teacher trainer, because I work with local teachers, who can then do what they think is best with their professional development in their context. 

The usual comeback to this is that "the government chose to incentivize the sort of people it wants to immigrate". Okay, but that's still a "you are only worth your job title" attitude, and in any case, the government has also been saying that it wants qualified teachers and teacher trainers for it's EMI/CLIL-based initiative to improve English language proficiency. In other words, I am exactly the sort of person they say they want. Beyond that, while the government may not say they want blue-collar labor, such labor is vital to Taiwan and they know it.

Another rejoinder I often hear is that Taiwan is a "monoculture", it's not a place where anyone from anywhere could potentially come to call themselves Taiwanese. I will leave aside the "being Taiwanese" aspect, because even if I get dual nationality someday, I don't intend to call myself that. I do think the term still has cultural connotations that just don't apply to me. 

There are two things wrong with the "monoculture" argument. First, the original citizenship law was written in China in the 1920s. It was never intended to apply to just Taiwan, and certainly wasn't tailored to or even appropriate for any concept of Taiwan as a nation. Now, the vast majority of Taiwanese either identify solely as Taiwanese, or prioritize Taiwanese identity. There is a distinct sense of a unique Taiwanese culture, heritage and history, separate from China. As Kerim noted: 

As a researcher of Taiwanese indigenous culture and languages, Friedman said there was also an ideological reason for allowing more foreigners to hold dual citizenship. “I would very much like to see Taiwan move away from the ethno-nationalistic view that citizenship in Taiwan is associated with being Chinese… I would like to see more diverse kinds of Taiwanese people.”

“I think Taiwan’s future as an independent country also depends on de-linking Taiwanese identity from ‘Chinese-ness’… So as a personal act, becoming a Taiwanese citizen myself is a step in that direction,” he said.

If descendants of the Chinese diaspora who have never even visited Taiwan, whose ancestors may have never visited either (or only stopped here briefly after leaving China in the 1940s) are eligible for "ROC" nationality -- something I don't begrudge, by the way -- then it's not about that distinct Taiwanese culture. It's about race, and specifically being 'from China'. But Taiwan doesn't identify as part of China! 

So, is being Taiwanese something separate from being Chinese, or not? If not, then why is the ancestral requirement paramount? If so, how does that square with what polls say about Taiwanese identity? 

Creating a pathway to nationality for who have built a life in Taiwan despite their ancestry can create a foundation for a nation that exists as a civic partnership rather than an ethno-state and cement a national identity distinct from China. It helps Taiwan move away from difficult, tired and frankly outdated arguments -- ethnic nationalism is so twentieth century! (Even with places like Tibet and East Turkestan, I don't think they deserve independence because they are not Han Chinese. I think they deserve it because the Chinese government treats them like crap.) 

In short, a pathway not based on bloodline contributes to a national ethos that makes sense and is consistent with the sort of country Taiwan says it wants to be. Some may fear an erosion of national identity, but out of over half a million foreign residents, only a fraction intend to stay permanently, and it's likely not all of those would go for dual nationality. In other words, those who want this pathway are already here, and for any newcomers the process would likely take around a decade: the number I hear mentioned most often is 5 years post-APRC, which itself takes at least five years. It wouldn't likely create a flood of newcomers, and I don't think Taiwanese identity is so weak that people who've stayed a decade could possibly threaten it. 

The second problem with the 'monoculture' argument is that historically it just isn't true. Taiwan has always been an international crossroads, and has seen waves of settlers, colonizers and immigrants, who generally weren't welcome at first (and some of whom did great damage -- and yes, I'm looking at powerful members of the KMT diaspora). Everyone with ancestral ties to China -- that is, most of the population -- is descended from settlers. More recently, intercultural families, often with a mother from Southeast Asia, are common in Taiwan. I've been too busy with work to find good data on this, but here's a 2010 article that put the number at one in ten Taiwanese children with a foreign parent, down from one in seven in the early 2000s. 

What happens to the children and grandchildren of these waves of immigrants? Honestly...they come to identify as Taiwanese. They adapt to local culture, and local culture adapts to them. 

I don't ever expect to be considered 'the same' as a local, and I doubt I could fully assimilate if I wanted to. I can't deny that my race and the privilege that comes with it as well as the culture I was born into create differences that I doubt can be fully bridged. However, this is my home. Period. 

There's one final point worth making: the 'social consensus' argument. As non-voters, we can't force the government to do anything, nor can we force the public to agree with this vision of Taiwan that includes us. 

But do we have to? Most Taiwanese who ask me if I have citizenship are shocked to learn it's not available to me without an unconscionable sacrifice (the ability to return to care for aging family in the US should I need to). I doubt most are even aware that the quadruple standard exists. How can society be against something it doesn't even realize is an issue?

I do worry that one of the issues is a willingness to consider people like me for dual nationality, but not the people who are hurt the most by the quadruple standard -- the Southeast Asian foreign worker community. That will have to be addressed in the coming years.

The government could do something about all of this. They could end these pointless calculations of 'worthiness' based on one's job. All I can say is that I hope, in my lifetime, that they do. 

The Taichung City government is discriminating against foreign residents for no good reason

It's time to complain again. I hate this as much as you do.

It was announced recently that the Taichung City government would be ending its program offering free public transportation for the first 10km of any ride to all passengers. Starting January 1st, the free transit is only available to some "Taichung residents". Of course, that doesn't mean all Taichung residents, only Taichung residents who are Taiwanese. 

Foreign residents of Taichung are out of luck. 

I'm not a Taichung resident, but if you are, you absolutely should complain. Here's a link to do exactly that. Pass it on. 

The policy will still include foreign spouses and students studying in Taichung, but foreigners without a local spouse will have to pay. 

Let's leave aside that Taichung public transportation is a bit of a joke (it's hard to get anywhere in a reasonable amount of time and every time I go I'm stuck taking taxis everywhere as I don't drive in cities). This is a shame, as good transit makes good cities for residents and visitors alike. The benefits are innumerable and undeniable. I'll be interested to see if the new MRT line improves the situation. 

Let's focus instead on the biggest impact: foreign blue-collar workers, typically factory workers and caregivers/home health aides. 

For "us" (relatively comfortable members of the foreign community who aren't going to hurt from having to pay a small amount for public transit), the insult is more symbolic. For me, it's entirely symbolic: I don't live in Taichung so I'd have to pay regardless, and I'm fine with that. 

For foreign residents who are routinely underpaid, work long hours and are more likely to rely on public transportation on a tight budget, the difference between being able to use the system for free like any other Taichung resident and being asked to pay is likely to exacerbate real struggles. 

As with every city in Taiwan, Taichung needs these workers. They are part of the backbone of a city's workforce. Here in Taipei, I don't know how my local community, full of senior citizens, would function without the large number of caregivers. Taichung's industrial centers surely need them as well. They are residents too, and it's offensive to treat them as outsiders, asking them pay for a service that's free for other residents, all while paying them below-average wages. 

Most visitors will bring or rent their own transportation, or use taxis like me. That means the vast majority of people asked to pay will still be Taichung residents -- just not Taiwanese ones. 

It's not a bad idea to charge for public transit, but it is deeply unfair to ask only some residents to pay, especially when so many of those residents struggle more than their Taiwanese neighbors.

Even though for us privileged foreigners, the issue is the principle and not the actual money involved, it's still offensive. We've been through this before -- again, again, and again. At this point, it's clear that forgetting that foreigners reside in Taiwan too, and we depend on the services that our taxes help pay for too, is either deliberate or deliberately obtuse.

In short, I am extremely tired of the whole "we forgot you guys existed!" game. It's getting old and it's got to stop. Especially when you don't know when the exclusion is deliberate and when your communities are just...forgotten. 

Plus, it reeks of a localist mindset - the only residents of Taiwan who matter are Taiwanese, apparently - that won't help Taiwan in its efforts to reach out internationally. Taiwan not only needs its local workers, both the blue-collar workers that basically keep Taiwan running and the white-collar ones who at the very least pay taxes and are an integral part of the economy, but we're also a strong source of soft power abroad. Some (like me) are privileged and some are underprivileged (a situation which really must be dealt with), but along with locals, we are all residents and we should all be in this together, and be a force that is good for Taiwan together. If the truth is "Taiwan for Taiwanese only and foreigners are only welcome to a certain extent, for what they can give us, but we'll shortchange them at every opportunity"...well, that's just not good for the country. 

And there's no good reason for it. Why can't Taichung residency be determined by the address on your ARC? Why include students (meaning that you're willing to include people without a local household registration) but not foreigners who've lived here for longer? If it's because "students are usually on a budget", well, blue-collar foreign workers are too because they're so underpaid so that's not an excuse either. I could understand making it free for all residents but charging visitors, but this is just plain discrimination as it's not going to be free for all residents! 

Yet it may be free for some visitors -- if your household registration is in Taichung it won't matter if you live in a different city, you'll get the benefit while plenty of actual Taichung residents won't. This isn't a "help Taichungers" strategy. It's an anti-foreigner one.

In short, Taiwan is never going to reach out to the international community abroad effectively if it can't even reach out to the international community locally. If it still forgets -- or stubbornly insists -- that we don't matter, or we don't exist, or that double-standard treatment for different residents is acceptable, or that some residents are more "real" residents than others.

It's not acceptable. It has to stop. 

The Basin and the Hill

Flights here arrive at ridiculous hours. We buzzed into town 3am as the hotel driver played a trumpety old song aptly named Yerevan, so we'd know where we were, I guess. It featured the the kind of vocals you'd belt out from a mountaintop. We rounded the main sights at the base of the town - Ararat, which is a brandy distillery, and Noy, which is also a brandy distillery. Then we started to climb.

All of Yerevan is built on a hill. There's a north, south, east and west, but also a top and a bottom. At the top, you'll find the Cascade, a massive limestone staircase and gallery space which echoes Art Deco but is actually Soviet '70s. Above that, where central Yerevan ends, the sword-wielding Mother Armenia. At the bottom is the Ararat distillery, and beyond that, across the border in Turkey, is the actual Mount Ararat. A mountain sacred to Armenians, sitting just opposite a man-made line that is completely open, yet impossible to cross.

In other words, from the top of Yerevan, you can see clear across to another country. 

It was 2017, and I was just about to start graduate school at the University of Exeter. We arrived a month early in this far eastern corner of Europe, because I had always been curious about the country that lays claim to the culture I grew up around.

Although my ancestors were Anatolian Armenians from another mountain down on the Syrian border, and passed on cultural touchstones more reminiscent of the Mediterranean than the Caucasus, my cultural memory threads not only through Antioch, but also Yerevan. They were both places my mother had wanted to visit; she never made it to either. My grandfather's siblings had visited Armenia, but nobody from my mother's generation had. As of now, I'm the only one from mine to have made the trip.

Three years before, I had visited the US to attend the 'leaving ceremony' from the proton therapy center that had obliterated the tumor in my mother's lung. I remember her recovered laugh, renewed energy, refreshed skin, regrown hair. A few months after that, we enjoyed a laughter-filled phone call on my birthday. 

One month after that, she called again. The disease had been driven out of her endometrium, then her lung. Now, it was in her lymphatic system. And that, she didn't say, would be that. But we knew. We never had a real conversation again; she lacked the energy.

I took a bath that night - filled a basin with scalding water and wallowed in it. I put my hands over my face until my vision went watery, so I wouldn't be able to tell which part of that liquid was coming from within, and which from without. The ceiling, painted white, was bubbling up with corrosions called "wall cancer" in Taiwan; spots of warped paint that needed to be scraped away and re-painted regularly. But they always came back.

I coped well, I thought. I did my job. I worked out when I would fly home before that. I called up a counseling service in Taipei, but they wanted me to choose someone from the list of counselors on their website, and there was no mental energy to spare. I had just enough energy for that, and not a drop more, so I never followed through. Because nobody can put that on a calendar, I ended up flying out well before my planned departure date, three hours after a desperate text from my sister. 

In Yerevan, on the verge of postgraduate study, some of the old shadows blew away. Stiff breezes swept from top to bottom and back again through wide streets, lined with trees and the more attractive type of monumental Soviet stone architecture.  Mom would have been delighted - not only visiting a country she'd always hoped she'd get to see herself, but starting down an academic path that she had always believed I would not just take, but excel in.

She had started a PhD program with high hopes, met and married my father, and found herself unexpectedly pregnant with me soon after. She quit, citing flagging interest in her dissertation topic. I've always wondered how true that was -- it's a lot of work and money to raise a baby, and I was colicky and difficult.

Looking out over that effulgent hilltop view, it was easy to get one's bearings. You can see well beyond a full day's journey. Eternity of a sort can be glimpsed, if you believe that Ararat is the home of the Armenian gods. You're a day's drive away from Turkey, Iran, Azerbaijan and Georgia, all in different directions. Because Yerevan is far from other population centers, one can see deeply into the world, but it's rather hard to get to you. 

From that distance, the snowy peak of Ararat looks like a chunk of rough white quartz fixed in the middle-distant sky, like the kind I used to find in the yard of our Hudson Valley farmhouse as a child. On hazy days it appears to float above the city, and you can inspect is folds and enscarpments.

I wanted to tell her about the language, which was familiar to me even though neither of us had learned to speak it. About the informal singing in an ancient church which made me cry even though I'm an atheist. The beauty of flowerpots and jewelry decorated with pomegranates, the rugs, the gusting mineral-scented winds past Soviet-style stone buildings. The round theater, the Fuck Azerbaijan graffiti, and how there's one metro stop at the bottom - Republic Square, which is also round - and another at the top, near the Cascade. I wanted to tell her not just about Tavern Yerevan with its massive portions of lamb-heavy dishes we could not possibly finish, but also the lahmacun shack near the top, all of which reminded me of Nana. Armenia is a stony land; they say that's what makes the brandy so good, and Yerevan is built almost entirely from that stone.

Mom and I shared the same blue eyes; I wanted to tell her that while I had to explain my Armenian heritage in great detail as I don't look the part, that the person who sold me apricot brandy finally conceded that blue-eyed Armenians were possible.

"Blue eyes on an Armenian? I suppose it is possible."

Instead, I wrote postcards to all my relatives.

The truth is, though, that I didn't choose to live on a hill. I chose a basin. It's printed a Taiwanese English textbook somewhere - even adults can recite it to me as though they've memorized it for a test.

It's laid-back - you can wear sneakers to decent restaurants. But it's also dense, a node in a tightly interconnected web not only within the country, but across the region. Almost every walk is a flat and humid one. Sometimes you feel like you're pushing the hot damp air away as you plod along. Tropical plants grope across damp old bricks, pavement tiles don't always match, and the buildings are an eclectic muddle of styles. It smells like urban and jungle, but not quite urban jungle. I love the place.

When I moved here in 2006, I hadn't expected that my mom would only be alive for eight more years. I visited once a year or so, but the truth is, I spent those eight years a continent away. I ask myself - if I had known that...? 

Of course, being able to move abroad at all is a privilege, but that doesn't negate the cost I hadn't even realized I was incurring.

I did well over the next few years. Work and school kept me busy, and my professors were pleased with my work. By 2019, I was nearing the end of the program; only the dissertation remained. I couldn't work on it. Whatever dark peeling bits were scraped away by the winds and views of Yerevan had peeled afresh. I tried walking and just walked aimlessly. I tried working out and cried on the machine. 

I asked a Taiwanese doctor friend for a recommendation so I wouldn't have to navigate the impossible corridors of help alone. The diagnosis was General Anxiety Disorder (but not depression, to my surprise). I told my doctor I'd had migraines and mild insomnia all my life - which is true - and he intimated that I might have had it all this time, with the dissertation merely exacerbating something I'd handled fairly well before.

Perhaps that's true. Certainly, I have always had the associated insecurities. But I know when the peeling started, and the dark began to creep in. 

Back in late 2014, the hospital called the morning after I arrived in the US. "Come right now," they said. 

When it had become clear earlier that she would not make it, someone asked mom what she really wanted. It was to have her family around her. So when the complications from the cancer - too many to name - finally reached her heart, they gave her a high dose of something that would keep her alive long enough for us to get there, but not much longer than that.

We surrounded her, and told her that we loved her. I know she could hear it, because the very last thing she ever did was raise up her arm and make a gesture asking for a hug. So I leaned in over the tubes and bed rails and machines and simply hugged my mother. 

I closed my eyes; it was black. And that was that.

The next morning I stayed entirely under the covers - head and all - for hours longer than necessary. I dozed but didn't dream. It was December, and cloudy. I didn't open my eyes, so I wouldn't be able to tell how much of the darkness came from without, and how much from within.

In 2019, my paralysis in the face of a dissertation seemed to stem from classic perfectionism. You know - the fear that hard work will still produce an imperfect product. This is of course a lifetime indictment on your whole being, so the best way to avoid it is not to work at all. Makes sense.

But if anything, Lao Ren Cha has proven that I'm quite willing to create and publish imperfect work that might be praised, shared, slammed, or ignored. I'm fine with that. So that's not it.

It's that the only thing I want in the world is for Mom to be here for it. There are a lot of complicated feelings wrapped up in completing a thing the vagaries of life prevented your late mother from accomplishing herself, and that she so badly wanted for you.

I want her to know that while we might never have seen eye-to-eye on religion (she was Christian; I was forced for a time but it never really stuck), I try to keep our Armenian cultural connections strong despite being three generations removed. I don't just cook dolma like Nana and pilaf like Grandma, I actually went to Yerevan. I looked across a ridiculous border and saw Mount Ararat with my own eyes. I bought her favorite brandy (Ararat) at the actual distillery and enjoyed every drop.

If I were Christian, I could end on a maudlin note about how our loved ones look down on us from heaven. But I don't believe that. That's not a border I believe anyone can cross. 

"How can you be so connected to Armenian culture, where religion is such an important part of life, and not share the Christian faith?" an uncle once asked. Well, like being a blue-eyed Armenian, it is possible.

With time, I've come to remember that Taipei may be a basin, but I chose to live here. I want to live here, even though in 2006 I didn't know how dear a price I would pay for that.

Yerevan might have views across sealed-off countries and the food of my ancestors, but it's also distant, rarefied, a place I visited - it's not where I live. Taipei, to me, is every little thing we do each day which, added together, make a life. You make your choices and pay your prices without knowing what they'll be in advance. It's a place that says you're free to relax, but where you might find ways to give more than you take, if you're willing to do that work.

I remind myself that this basin also has hills; one of them is a volcano. You can climb them, if you want. They have been painted and mapped beautifully by generations of people who have called this city home. Taipei may be a basin, but it is a geographically stunning one, with more complexity than the label implies. 

I'm still overwhelmed - glomming through life in that basin so humid you have to practically swim through the air. But it's hard and meaningful work. It may come to nothing; then again, it propel me to a situation where I can be of more practical use.

And I've been able, after some time, to excise the rough black stone that settled inside in 2014. It's heavy, but I can hold it in my hands now and examine its facets, its spikes and valleys and worn crevices. In my mind, this rumination takes place at the top of Gold Face Mountain (金面山), one of the peaks above the Taipei basin, although in reality I'm usually at home. 


 


I've learned that that thing - more like volcanic glass than jet - when turned in the right way, in the sun, there is a hint of fleeting translucence. I can't set it down - I have to carry it with me, probably forever - but at least I can interrogate it, know it, perhaps have a drink with it now and again.

A piece of art on The Cascade which looks a little bit like my drinking buddy,
which is a craggy black rock of bound-up anxieties and griefs

There is news, however. I handed in my dissertation today. I dedicated it to my mother. She's been gone for 5 years now. She would have turned 67 on the day I started writing this. 

It's a weight of a sort off my shoulders, although the stone is still embedded somewhere inside. 

Once I hit the button, I suggested we go to my favorite Japanese restaurant. We ate lushly: duck liver sushi, a scallop stuffed with crab and sea urchin, topped with caviar and wrapped up like a seaweed bao, more than that even. I drank a small bottle of sake on my own, and we teetered into Jason's across the street to buy fancy chocolate for dessert. 

Walking home down a tree-lined street, I recalled what a privilege it was, and is, to live in this city. It's been so good to me -- living here is a part of why I was able to do this degree in the first place. As much as I will try, I don't know how I can ever properly repay that in kind. It's not fair to describe it merely as a basin; that feeling came from me. When one can't get one's head together, it's hard to know sometimes what is inside, and what is out. 

There is, however, a maudlin ending: I know that she would indeed be proud. I do know she would - the Mom who lives in my memories tells me so. 

But the Mom who is on the other side of a border that doesn't have an other side? Well, nobody can know that. 

One might visualize finishing a degree or working through grief as a mountain to climb, with perhaps a view at the top. There's a clear up and down. But it hasn't been that way for me -- it's more like wading through a basin. I'm in a different place now, but at the same altitude. A different point across the same circle. I'm reminded of Vikram Seth's An Equal Music - the narrator's life doesn't have a clear forward trajectory so much as it resembles a fugue, with motifs surfacing and sinking, disappearing for awhile only to resurface; sometimes played in this line of music, sometimes that. Sometimes high, sometimes low. If there's a climax, it's all those motifs coming together, perhaps playing a little louder. It's not some new summit, it's not uncharted territory. It's up and down but ultimately swings around to come back again.

I key up Yerevan on my playlist and try not to think about it too much.