Walls, cultural and personal

I've had both a series of medical issues these past months, in addition to my usual anxiety and overall executive dysfunction. Add to that a case of writer's block as cliché as it has been severe, and I simply haven't had it in me to face the world as a writer or as much of anything. 

It's not entirely debilitating, and I am not entirely splenetic. I can still work and have a social life, and I wouldn't say the American people voting for President Rapist again has completely broken me. But it's broken me a little bit -- what tiny shred of optimism I may have once clung to has been swept away in the swash of my complete and utter inability to forgive anyone who thought a known rapist would make a great president. Quite literally, if I find out someone I know voted for him, I will never speak to them again. 

In this intense anger and anxiety, various physical ailments and investigations, and not one but two ageing and unwell cats, I've been more reclusive and less engaged. I want to wall the world off, but I've mostly been turning inward, a marked change from my usual extroversion. It's not quite to the point where my subconscious has Cask of the Amontillado'd the rest of me, but I genuinely don't think the world will be okay. 

In an attempt to deal with this constructively,  I've been escaping from the world by methodically making over the smaller back rooms in our apartment. Mostly, I'm trying to make my space more functional  and improve overall flow. There's an aesthetic component to this as well, though. My home office, which my friends call my 'lady cave', is now drenched in a plummy color hilariously called Aubergine Burst. 

This chain of events led recently to a direct confrontation with one of the few things about Taiwanese culture that I don't like, even as I have sought to understand and accept it -- the indirect, high-context no. 

In addition to enplummification of my lady cave, I've been preparing to hang new art. And that's turned into a labyrinthine side quest of its own.

A few years ago, I became the new caretaker of a massive family heirloom -- a thick, heavy tome of my great-grandfather's that was either meant to be prominently displayed in a home library or office, or perhaps on a coffee table. A Historical Atlas of Armenia, published in 1953. I can't read most of it -- my Armenian is still not that good -- but the illustrations are plentiful and...how else to describe them? Luscious. Fine detail, rich colors, metallic accents. Various maps, historical coats of arms, portraits, prints of Medieval etchings, portraits of historical notables, artistic renderings of Mount Ararat, you name it. Slightly frayed at the edges of the binding, the cover a deep wine red with the gold stamped letters ՀԱՅ (among other things), it looks exactly like the sort of thing your Armenian great-grandpa would have had in his study to show off to his friends over a bottle of cognac.

I sought to have four of the most enigmatic images scanned, printed and framed, with the metallic accents faithfully reproduced if possible. The binding on this book is so thick that it cannot be scanned and printed directly, and one fold-out map is too large for the machinery at an average copy shop.

My usual print shop for this kind of work, River Image, seems to have gone out of business. So, asked for recommendations on where to get this done, and received just two replies -- a small custom printing firm in Wanhua that seems to have mostly corporate clients, and Sir Speedy. The latter couldn't do metallic accents, so I hauled my tome across town to Wanhua to inquire at the former.

This printing business is located in a narrow lane otherwise lined with old walk-up apartments. You know the kind -- clad in mid-century tiles in neutrals and greens, with iron window grilles and sprays of plant life in pots both along the road and growing out of cracks in the wall. You'd have to look closely to even notice the existence of a print shop on the ground floor of one of these buildings. Inside, there was so much printed material for various businesses, all beautifully done, that the employees balanced A Historical Atlas of Armenia on top of one pile to inspect the pages I'd selected. 

Then they discussed the matter in Taiwanese. I even understood most of it! The binding was the thing -- the only ways to avoid shadow-casted scans were to cut the binding, or digitally pretty them up. I didn't want to cut the book, and they doubted they could re-bind it well enough. They asked for time to look into how it might be done, which I granted. 

We all agreed the job was possible. They even had metallics! The question was more about how much effort it would require, and what that would cost. 

I got the distinct sense that they didn't particularly want to do it, at least not at a price a single person would pay, compared to a business. But, they assured me, they'd try. We added each other on Line and I went home, bookless. 

A few days later they got in touch: they could do the job, but the total cost would be around NT$40,000 for two color copies each of the four images, on good paper, with gold and silver accents. They wouldn't be able to do the work until January.

Honestly, I very much wanted these prints -- one set for me, one for my sister. But I knew, and I think they knew, that I wasn't about to pay over a thousand US dollars and wait over a month for them. I drafted a message saying I'd think about it for a few days, and I genuinely would, but deep down I knew that it simply was not going to work.

I asked a local friend to check my reply in Mandarin, as I wanted to avoid any inadvertent rudeness. She felt they were "treating the customer like a buffet", and perhaps she was right. She grew up in this culture, after all; I didn't.

But something about the exchange, and the way they responded positively to my reply -- of course we know it's a big expense, we quoted the upper estimate because we want to do the best possible work, and you can get quotes from other printers too -- made me think that they weren't trying to scam me, per se. 

Rather, they didn't want to do a fairly small job for what wouldn't have been much profit, but because they could do it and didn't want to outright reject the project, they quoted a price at which they would take it on, knowing full well I'd say no thanks and look elsewhere. All on good terms, of course. 

I then took the book to Sir Speedy near Da'an Station, and they were able to scan the pages, remove the shadows and give me two sets of pretty good prints (no metallic accents, though) for NT$1400, including digital copies.

I like to think I understood what was happening and responded astutely, but I didn't like it. I knew not to pay that outrageous sum of money, which no one ever expected me to fork over, but I’ve met exists with too much money and too little sense to understand that. 

The fake quote was a way to shimmy out of an awkward ‘no’, but it put me in the awkward position of having to say it was out of my budget, whereas I wouldn’t have found a direct rejection to be awkward. Research shows that when communicating across cultural divides, people tend to develop clearer styles with more nonverbal language to alleviate misunderstanding, so it makes sense to me to do this.

I'd rather be told kindly but directly that they weren't going to take the job. I accepted how the events unfolded, because I had no choice. Just because I can see it, understand it, accept it and respond to it doesn't mean I agree with it. 

Besides, this communication style makes sense to me, not to them necessarily. I’m naturally direct, it’s also my ‘home culture’ (New York). I communicate regularly in multiple languages with people from different cultures, and have done for decades. While I don’t want to make assumptions, they likely haven’t.

And what can I do but accept and work within the culture where I chose to live? Complaining does nothing. One must adapt.

My experience with the print shop reminded me of the other aspects of local culture that I don't care for -- not standing up to toxic bosses, but rather job-hopping to the next toxic boss, and the next, and the next, whenever the current one becomes too unbearable. Doing things one actively disagrees with to avoid arguing with one's parents, including signing anti-marriage equality petitions, not buying homes they don't want you to buy, or even having kids when you don't feel ready (or want them at all). 

In a lot of these cases, I think of them less as passively accepting poor treatment from others, and more as just making a choice that I wouldn't have made, and still wouldn't make even after almost two decades in Taiwan. Sometimes I even see the wisdom -- years ago I expended far too much energy standing up to a toxic boss, but in the end the only real solution was to quit. Perhaps there's something to be learned from declining to make the effort to change a dynamic that probably can't be changed. I'd choose to die on more hills; perhaps that causes me to die more often.

But you know what? I'll still stand up for myself if I think a boss or manager is wrong about something that concerns me. Diplomatically, even kindly, if they're not irredeemable. But at the very least, I will state my position.

All this to say, I'd rather interact in a still-foreign culture in ways that feel a little unnatural to me, to say "I'll think about it" when I know the answer is "no", to respond politely to an outrageous price quote -- understanding and accepting even though I'm not fully in agreement -- than speak to single person who voted for President Rapist.

Symphony in White, or welcome to my midlife crisis

"Did you make it to the NGA?" one of my oldest friends asked as I slid into the car near her office in northern Virginia. I'd planned to have lunch with my dad in Maryland and then metro to the National Gallery of Art to stare at James Whistler's Symphony in White for an awkwardly long time, just like I used to do in college. I hadn't even planned on seeing other paintings. 

The timing hadn't worked out, though, and like so many missed connections, I lost my chance to see one of my favorite paintings for at least a year. 

I wasn't even sure why I'd forsaken a free crash pad in New York City for the trees, school buses and starter homes of northern Virginia, but something under my outer skin of dissatisfaction and inner baseline happiness said that this was where I should be for a few days. It was the site of my last depressive episode late in college, which I'd mistaken for senioritis at the time. I was staying with a friend from that time, and we had plans to Facetime with another. The fourth member of our little group made up my cohort of bridesmaids in 2010 but wasn't available. 

Four women who graduated together and remained friends for decades, who'd all taken different trajectories in life. One became a lawyer, married and bought the Falls Church starter home where I was staying. She'd quit her respectable job in an instant if she felt she could. Another became a stay-at-home mom in the Baltimore suburbs. The third got a Master's in early childhood education, married, had two kids, moved to the West Coast, and is now battling mental illness. 

And the fourth? She spent a some time in Asia and tried to build a life in DC, but ended up quitting her boring office job with the greige cubicles to move to Taiwan and explore a newfound passion for adult education. She wasn't very good at it at first, but got better over the years. She owns no home and has no children, but lives in a beautiful downtown apartment, speaks Mandarin and spends her double-income-no-kids cash on globetrotting.

Add to that a recent family reunion which involved spending a weekend with a group of people who are mostly related to me but have chosen myriad different life paths. Things I could have done but didn't: doctor, park ranger, entrepreneur, marketing specialist, architect, product director, data scientist, schoolteacher, housewife. 

My friends' stories are their own, but all of us seem to have been wondering recently if we'd make different choices if we could go back. Personally, I know I made the right decision to stay childfree, but wonder if all those years of insisting that I'd intentionally not boarded the bus to a better-respected and remunerated corporate job and single family home was a big fat lie: had I missed that bus, and was presenting it as a choice a mere salve for the ego? 

It's unclear, but I can say definitively that something is amiss. It's not that I'm unhappy, and certainly I don't want to blow up my life like so many people in their forties who know something is wrong. 

I spent these days listening to my college friends' victories and tribulations, wondering if I wasn't a bit jealous -- but of what? If my marriage remains happy and loving, I don't regret not having children, and I like where I live, what exactly is causing this melancholy?

Work is an easy but incomplete answer. I haven't felt long-term challenge or mental stimulation in my career for a few years. The golden period when I was mostly doing teacher training has passed, and with it a series of novel challenges that forced me to be creative and use all my fancy certifications and degrees. The improved pay is gone with it; I still do some, but most of my work now is back to the regular classroom, plus occasional teaching material design. 

Even though I find it a bit easy as I've done it for so long, that would be fine if I felt I was bringing in a satisfactory salary and professional recognition. As I watch others in my social circle get promotions and earn progressively more money, I'll admit I do feel a bit trapped. I guess I thought my work would evolve into something more, with more challenge and money attached. It never did, at least not enough.

This isn't something I could have imagined saying even two years ago, when I was mostly doing teacher training and would have said without hesitation that teaching was a passion. Someone I saw as a mentor at the time assured me that the job can evolve, and with that you'll have both fulfillment and more financial security. The fact that teaching simply doesn't pay all that well compared to most other white-collar (and quite a bit of blue-collar) work was fine when it was a calling, a passion, a fulfilling occupation that gave life meaning. 

But when it started to get a little stale, a little this again?, I started asking myself why I chased a poorly-paying passion over corporate whoredom. If sustained passion for work is a lie, and I'm not going to be wholly fulfilled or challenged by my job even if I reach for that unicorn, then why did I limit myself like this?

I could have been a musician. I was good once, or so I'm told. I studied International Affairs; I could have been an analyst. It's too bad I don't respect the bad ones, and most of them are bad. I could have done anything else, but I chose teaching. Now, I'm not sure why.

The truth is, while I once would have clung to teaching no matter what, right now I'd quit without hesitation if something more challenging with better pay popped up. I don't know if this is a fleeting thought or a more permanent disillusionment.

It does go a little deeper than mere work woes: I have ADHD  and anxiety -- now fully diagnosed but only somewhat successfully treated -- so just about everything rots on the vine for me eventually. I get distracted or bored, and struggle to engage fully. I could have worked my ass off in that greige office for a promotion, or rather, I couldn't because my staticky, undiagnosed brain refused to care despite consciously knowing that I should. Perhaps my falling out with teaching as a passion and career choice is just another in a string of dots I simply cannot connect.

I want more money and more challenge, but if you asked me what actual thing I want to do, well, I haven't got a goddamn clue. I'm not sure I ever will -- how does the old quote go? I have no dream job, I do not dream of labor.

Perhaps I would have made different choices if I'd gotten diagnosed earlier rather than flitting to the next dopamine hit, the next challenge, the next country, the next set of coursework, the next language. Hell, I can't even concentrate on Mandarin and have abandoned it for Taiwanese because it's more fun, more in line with my politics and a hell of a lot harder. 

This is complicated heavily by my choice of home. I don't want to leave Taiwan. My husband and this country are the two best things about my life. As someone who's always sought a meaningful vocation, this is hard to admit. So my marriage and my home now mean more to me than my career success? In 2002, Depressed Senioritis Jenna would have never guessed. 

But what else exactly can I do if I don't leave Taiwan? There are office jobs if you speak Mandarin (and often if you don't), but I don't specifically want one. In fact, The lack of reasonable time off alone sours that idea. I can't point to any specific perks such a job would offer beyond a more stable (but not necessarily high) salary, but there sure are a lot of drawbacks. 

Even if I do leave Taiwan, I'm not sure what I'd do exactly. I have certainly limited myself as a teacher; every time a friend or family member brings up what I might do if I returned to the West, they describe a life which is a marked step down. 

That's privilege, of course. Living in Taiwan provides the privilege of a good life as a slightly-bored freelancer, and that is in no small part due to whiteness, foreignness, or both. 

One of those friends called it privilege without compunction. She pointed out that all of us are struggling in some ways and killing it in others. Those who are grinding at work might have unhappy marriages. Happily married couples face different challenges as parents. I agreed about the privilege but pointed out that I'm doing okay, but not as well as I'd hoped. I've wanted to be a homeowner for some time, but am priced out of just about every market. We have retirement savings, but not enough. In fact, it will never be enough. That's not hyperbole; I've done the math. I'm on this wheel forever.

"You live downtown in that gorgeous space and travel the world. You're doing fine," she said. 

A cousin at the family reunion expressed her admiration for how "accomplished" I am. The compliment felt good in the way getting a tattoo feels good: an endorphin rush from a million tiny needle pricks. I couldn't figure out how exactly I was accomplished, at least compared to the impressive careers of my relatives. I'm a freelancer in Taiwan with a lot of hobbies who hasn't done much with her life. 

Of course I didn't say this, and my cousin probably thinks I genuinely am accomplished, rather than just being some white rando who loves Taiwan, has lost her passion for her work, and is learning two languages. Maybe she's even right in a sense, but I couldn't tell in what sense. I have no idea how to come to terms with my own convoluted deixis. 

Being privileged but kinda sad is a trope, and often a pathetic one. It makes me think of a wealthy '50s housewife hopped up on barbiturates, washing the dishes as she stares out the kitchen window. But then there's that viral meme about how great it would be to vacuum the house while high on quaaludes like our ancestors. Honestly, some days it doesn't sound all that bad. 

The friend I stayed with -- the lawyer with the starter home -- has recently lost a massive amount of weight. That too is her story to tell, but it's more complicated than a straightforward celebration. She described a very unlike-her fantasy of moving out to a McLean McMansion to start her Hot Wife Life: yoga pants, Stanley cup, the lot of it. 

The Jenna who lives in Taiwan and has a lot going on in her life joked that she'd need a horrible pyramid scheme "job" to complete the tableau. The anxious Jenna whose career seems to have stalled and who never feels quite secure regarding money sees the appeal. 

On my last night in Falls Church, three of the old college gang were sharing memories. I love a good Terrible People story, so I talked about a Halloween party so bad that I took my bottle of cheap tequila home because I didn't want someone dressed as a sexy honeybee who was destined for the Hot Wife Life to have it.

Another recalled briefly dating my then-best friend (we no longer speak; it's for the best). The third asked if we remembered the time I bought a CD single of Live's Lightning Crashes at Eastern Market, an old song even at the time, and we laid on the floor in my Rosslyn apartment listening to it on a loop.

All I could do was exclaim that I couldn't imagine having bought a Live CD, but apparently I did. It reads a bit hokey now, a tad cringe, but then we were all cringe back then. 

But you know what has buoyed my maudlin thoughts on this train to New York, where I'll catch a plane back to Taiwan and a life I'm eager to return to while also feeling a little depressed about? A cringe 90s song about confusion setting in and forces pulling from the center of the Earth again.

It's the perfect lament for four hours gliding along a single track toward a final, immutable destination, alongside so many other inconsequential humans skittering like hard-shelled bugs to the myriad consequences of our privilege and our choices. 

What to do if you get COVID as a foreigner in Taiwan

I don't have a relevant cover photo, so enjoy this pretty tile from Portugal.

Other than having "I've finally bagged me the 'rona!" stuck in my head for the past few days, I've been thinking about how to help other foreigners in Taiwan with the whole process of it all, once you've tested positive.

It's not particularly straightforward, even if your Mandarin is pretty strong, and most of the guidance online is inadequate. "Find a clinic or hospital near you for a telehealth appointment!" is not useful if you feel terrible and are not up to searching online to find one. "You can get medication delivered to your home!" is similarly unhelpful without clear directions as to how, especially if you're not feeling well and don't have the energy to figure it out on your own. 1922 varies depending on who's available to talk to you at any given time: one friend got immediate help, the other got asked her name and phone number in Mandarin and was told someone would call her (fine if your Mandarin is okay, not great if you don't speak it.) 

So, I thought I'd do my best to write a guide. This is specifically aimed at people whose Mandarin is worse than mine, who don't have, say, a local significant other to help. Mine's not perfect, but it exists -- if yours is better, you probably don't need my help! 

Before you test

I strongly recommend, before you even feel sick, to have a plan in place. I didn't -- unwisely kept putting it off as non-urgent -- and had to figure all this out while sick. Learn from my mistake! What sort of plan? Well, you'll want to: 

1.) Download the EUCare app and register, if you have National Health Insurance (you can't use it if you don't). The registration is offered in English, and it doesn't obligate you to make an appointment. You'll need to verify your phone number and possibly e-mail.

Be sure to enjoy the "Congratulations, you are now part of us!" message you get when your registration is successful! I had a little trouble registering, but when I swiped the app closed then re-opened it, it worked.

2.) Figure out where you'll do your telemedicine appointment in advance (which may or may not be through EUCare). If you plan to use the Taipei City Hospital system and don't have anyone to pay the registration fee for you, then you may want to download a relevant app such as Taipei Pass in advance, as they have to review your account before you can use it. 

3.) Have a plan in place for paying the registration fee and picking up any medicine -- this can be done through online payment and home delivery, or having a trusted person be able to take your health insurance card to the hospital or clinic and pick it up for you. I strongly recommend discussing/agreeing in advance with those close to you regarding who will help whom if you suddenly can't leave the house. Even if you have a partner, they may get sick too. It is so much easier to have someone you can call at the ready to go pick up what you need.

4.) Keep a supply of painkillers, cough medicine and diarrhea medicine at home (just trust me on that last one). Some of those flu drink packets don't hurt, either. I also recommend having some citrus or sour candy or lemon drink mix on hand if you think you might be taking Paxlovid. 

Other items my friends or I have felt useful to already have at home:

Extra pet food, if you have pets (have a plan if you have a dog who needs to go out); extra garbage bags; sufficient toilet paper; lip balm, toothpaste and lotion; seasonings to make your food appetizing; and a stash of something you like that's not perishable so you don't need to immediately order grocery delivery -- for me that's frozen dumplings but it can be anything you can survive on for a day or two. 

5.) Figure out in advance if you qualify for Paxlovid (here's an FDA guide from the US and another guide regarding what Paxlovid is and who should take it). In Taiwan, I don't know every regulation, but chronic issues such as asthma or high BI qualify you, among others. There are also risk factors (such as liver or kidney issues and certain contraindicated drugs). I'm not a doctor; if you think you qualify, be ready to ask at your appointment. They may not ask you; you'll need to bring it up. 

Not everyone needs Paxlovid, so don't ask for doses you don't actually need. I qualified and received it, Brendan didn't, and he's doing fine. If you do need it, however, be prepared.

6.) Have some idea how you will get food delivery, especially if you have, say, a fobbed elevator and delivery people cannot get to your door. This may mean talking to your doorperson, making arrangements with friends or stocking up in advance on non-perishables.

Testing positive

You no longer need a PCR confirmation; an at-home rapid test is sufficient. You will need your health insurance card, positive test result, and a pen/marker. 

Now you'll need a confirmation appointment. You can do this in person, but you can't take public transportation, so if you don't have a vehicle (or are too sick to drive) and there's no one to take you, you'll have to walk. 

I strongly recommend that you do this online instead. 

Using EUCare

You can do so through the EUCare app. I'll link to some other resources after the screenshots below.

Once you register, there is a button for making an online appointment -- it's the "Rapid Test Positive Confirmation" button with the bell. 

They only have one clinic (located in Tainan) that does confirmations all day, so if you can't find anything near you, select "Tainan": 

The other options to the right are, in order: Taipei City, New Taipei, Taoyuan, Taichung, Tainan, Yilan, Hualien and Taitung. 

I don't know why it doesn't include every county, but this is an online confirmation, so it doesn't really matter. 

If you've selected Tainan because it's the only one open, choose Chimei, the first option:

I can't promise you'll only be given this option, so if there are several, choose this one: 

Choose a doctor and time (this is just one option, from what was available when a friend tested positive):

You may be asked to upload a picture of your health insurance card and positive result, and you may also be asked if there's anything else the doctor should know. You can type this in English. 

If the system acts up, just close the app and try again. It's a little buggy but it usually works at least on the second try. If you choose an option other than Tainan Chimei, and can't read what the choices are, I recommend getting Google's Translate app, which allows you to upload photos, including screenshots, to tell you what they say. 

If you don't get those options when you register, contact them via Line (the Help icon at the bottom -- make sure you have Line installed as it will take you over there.)  

Or just sign out and in again: pink button to sign out, yellow to get back in, and the circled option once you do that.

You can also use the Help function other issues with the app, and if you tell them in the beginning you prefer English they'll do their best (I didn't use EUCare but a friend did, and this is what he told me.) When you add their Line you'll get a bunch of messages -- these just tell you that the Help service is for using the EUCare platform, not actual medical attention, a rapid test confirmation or a COVID taxi, and that it's illegal to insult or abuse them or send pornography. 

You'll get a notification when it's time to join. Just open the app and press the button.

The doctor you get should be able to speak English (most doctors in Taiwan do, even if service or support staff do not). If you have any concerns such as picking up medicine you can ask at this time. Have your address ready -- if your confirmation appointment is not close to you, they can send any medicine to a nearby pharmacy.

According to another friend this can get difficult if you don't speak Mandarin -- if you don't, it's best to have someone who does on hand to help you. You'll have to choose the pharmacy and then have someone pick it up for you, or call to have it delivered. 

However, there doesn't appear to be a charge to use EUCare -- at least, my friend wasn't asked for any money.

Taipei City Hospital (for Taipei residents)

If you live in Taipei City, you can make an appointment through the city hospital system. This is what I used. The page tells you about how to do this -- I checked it in Translate mode for you all, and I can confirm it's pretty readable. You'll need the same items as above: National Health Insurance card (if you have one -- if you don't, have a photo ID ready), positive test and a marker. Click on one of the options in green: 



The options, in order are:

Chunghsiao/Zhongxiao (near MRT Houshanpi)
Ren'ai (at Ren'ai-Da'an intersection, near Zhongxiao Fuxing)
Chunghsing/Zhongxing (near Dihua Street)
Heping (near Longshan Temple)

Women's and Children's (on Nanhai Road near Freedom Square)

Choose whatever is most convenient for you and -- hopefully -- the person you have lined up to pick up your medicine and pay your fee. Actually inputting the information is not very hard: 



Choose a date (usually the same day or next day). 上午 is the morning clinic, 下午 is afternoon. It asks for your full name, date of birth, ARC number, phone number and address as well as a captcha. I put in my address in Mandarin, so I don't know if it will accept English. If you're worried about this, have your address in Mandarin ready to copy and paste. These are just examples of choices if you click "Ren'ai".

Click the blue button at the bottom to get your number. Then add the relevant Line ID and change your account display name.

You'll also need a method of payment for the NT50 registration fee if nobody can go to the relevant hospital for you. You'll need to download one of the the relevant apps such as Taipei Pass or the city hospital app (the latter in Chinese, for you to copy and paste: 臺北市立聯合醫院行動掛號). 

Taipei Pass takes awhile to activate as they have to review your registration. The city hospital app is only in Mandarin, and even though I can read everything on it, I can't figure out how to register. So, I strongly recommend you have an agreement with someone in advance. 

I used Ren'ai. I was asked to add the relevant Line ID and change my display name to my name and appointment number (an example is given on the information page.) They sent a message a few minutes before with a link, which I clicked on. A button appeared to enter the conference room and I did. The appointment was efficient, professional and in English. I didn't see that they actually used Line at all!

My husband was asked to add a different Line account when he tested positive (yes, we are a COVID House now) -- mine was tpechra9, his was tpechra8. His appointment actually was through Line, so just stay by your phone and wait for a notification. Have a picture of your ID/NHI card and positive test ready. I was asked to show mine -- all the appointments are recorded -- but he was asked for a photo upload. 

There are specific pickup windows for medicine, which is handled outside the main hospital. Ask your doctor which window your pickup buddy will need. If you need it delivered, ask at this time. I am not sure how to actually do this, as we had someone pick it up for us both times (Brendan did mine, and a friend did Brendan's). 

If you think you qualify for Paxlovid, be sure to proactively ask about it. It does not cost extra.

Local Clinics

You can also confirm your positive result through a local clinic. However, when I attempted to find one, I found that feeling like absolute garbage did not improve my ability to find that information and make phone calls in Mandarin. Turns out, being barely able to sit upright makes it difficult to do something in a foreign language. Who would've thought!

If you do want to go this route, here is a page listing all clinics which do positive result confirmation so you don't have to root around on Google Maps, like I tried to do. Again, learn from my mistakes!

Each link will take you to a city government page with some PDF links. These are all in Chinese but they translate to English fairly well (again, I checked for you). The PDFs are what contain the actual clinic and hospital contact information; you have to call yourself. 

In Taipei, the city hospital system is certainly easier to deal with, but this may be of help if you are outside Taipei. It doesn't translate well, as the links disappear. If you don't have even a little Mandarin, I recommend you at least be able to recognize the characters for where you live if you want to use this method.

Lienchiang (Matsu) and Kinmen just list the clinics with no links -- it's up to you to look them up and call them. No, they probably don't speak English, so if that's a problem you'll want to stick with EUCare.

Keep in mind that while the doctors usually speak English, the staff often don't. If you feel comfortable calling around while you are sick, then you probably didn't need my help in the first place! However, I wanted to include this option.

After confirmation

The confirmed case form

Soon after you are a confirmed case, you'll receive a text message with a link to a form which is helpfully all in Mandarin. Unfortunately, I had not thought to write this post when I received it, so I filled it out and sent it off without taking screenshots. 

If you can read Mandarin, it won't be that hard (though the information for close contacts -- that's family and workplaces only -- can get a bit lengthy. It's not required, but if you do have close contacts who aren't aware that you're positive you do need to fill it out.) 

If you don't, my best recommendation is to take screenshots and open them in the Translate app. Some difficult sections, such as asking you your neighborhood or 里, are actually optional. I happen to know my li but not every foreigner does, and it's a pain to look up.

Soon after, you'll receive a bilingual notification of quarantine, which will tell you what day you can leave home. This should be sent to you by text, with the last six numbers of your ID as the password. The link does expire after a few days, so I suggest you download this. I had to email it to myself and open it on my desktop to do so. 

The phone calls

You should receive two phone calls on your first official day: one from your district health office and one from whoever is designated with checking on you for the national government (for me, someone from Ren'ai Hospital calls daily). At least, that's true for me -- Brendan says he didn't get a call today, but I did. 

The district health office is your friend -- if you need help with something like garbage service, tell them so. If you're unsure, take down their number. You can always call them later to ask for help, as they'll only call you once. 

Depending on where you are, the district health office may not speak English. I don't know what to tell you except to be ready for this. 

The daily call checks on your symptoms for the national database. I usually talk to them in Mandarin, and you get all types. The first one confidently spoke English before I even tried to break out my language skills. The next day, the caller offered, but seemed happy she didn't need to. The third caller was clearly terrified of talking to a foreigner at all, even though I assured her she didn't need to use English. So, you know, you get all kinds.

If you don't speak Mandarin and make it clear in the beginning that you need English, they may make sure someone who speaks it will call you daily, or transfer you. I can't promise that, but that's how these things usually shake out. 

I'm quarantined but need to see a doctor for something else!

If you get sick with some other thing while in quarantine, you can make an appointment through EUCare (go to the button that says "Specialist" and choose from the options (it will again be a list of hospitals and clinics by location in the same order as above). In Taipei your best option is Mackay (台北馬偕紀念醫院), which is second on the list if you click "臺北". Choose your preferred clinic by the photos -- for example, for persistent cough, click on the lungs. Choose the last one, Family Medicine, if you're unsure what you need.  Input your information and a photo of your NHI card, and specify what you need in the box. You can do this in English. Then book the appointment and wait for the notification. 

The only part that may be confusing is the "Unified ID" (統一編號). That's usually a term for a business ID, but it's used here. Input your regular ARC/APRC ID number. 

You can also call 1922 for help, though their ability to do much will depend on who's staffing it at that time. Some people I know have gotten excellent service, some have gotten a gruff request for a phone number in Mandarin, so someone could call them back in English. 

I personally have developed a toothache in quarantine, and will probably call 1922 about it tomorrow, so I'll update with any useful information (there is no dental icon on EUCare). 


Other advice

These are just some tips I have from being in quarantine. 

First, I cannot stress enough to prepare in advance. I had done some of the not-yet-positive things I suggested above, but not all of them. Be smarter than me. Agreeing in advance with multiple friends that you'll all help each other will especially make everything so much easier. 

Secondly, if you do get Paxlovid and develop Paxlovid Mouth, the secret to killing that awful taste long enough to eat is citrus. It could be lemonade, lemon water, sour candies, Vitamin C tablets (the kind that come in the yellow and green tube, or the Korean ones in the moon-shaped plastic dispenser work great.) It could even be Pocari Sweat, which is mildly citrusy. But you'll want something -- eat a sour candy or drink lemon water if the taste becomes unbearable or you want to eat a meal that doesn't remind you of battery acid upchuck. It kind of tastes like a bitter chemical sewage; I really cannot emphasize enough how awful it is. 

But lemon and citrus kill it! It's kind of the big secret to surviving those five days while eating somewhat normally. Stock up. 

Drink massive amounts of water. We're talking as much as you can take. Be ready to pee it all out, but just keep drinking. 

Brendan says coffee every morning helps his symptoms. I drink it too, but haven't noticed that it makes them much better. It's worth trying, however. 

Rest even if you feel okay, at least for the first few days. Use this as an excuse to do nothing. 

There is no need to test daily. You can't leave for a week anyway, so it's not worth testing until you're close to your quarantine end date. Save your tests!

If you've read this far, there's a fair chance you're sick. If not, stay healthy!

Do people actually leave the United States because they're angry about politics?

One cold morning in 2004, I walked into work to find my colleagues congratulating each other. We're talking clinking coffee mugs, back pats, louder greetings ("HEY!"). I was crestfallen, but alone. In a financial services office, most employees voted Republican. Of course, the back-patters were the managers, the people with offices; as a twenty-something administrative assistant in a cubicle who took the bus to work and struggled to make rent, I most certainly had not. 

It wasn't just that the much-touted tax cuts hadn't helped me at all, or that the excellent Afghan restaurant in Georgetown closed despite hanging a huge American flag over the door; the new rah-rah-America-stop-the-Muslims ensured few customers. Of course it wasn't just about that one Afghan restaurant; it was a whole culture of bullying and distrustfulness that I could not stomach.

Having lived abroad before and already starting to feel that America being the richest country in the world did not necessarily equate to it being the best. There were other places I might live. Perhaps not China, where I'd recently lived. India didn't seem to have any job openings for me. Taiwan, however, looked intriguing.

I was frustrated with my coworkers but held my tongue. It seemed unprofessional, and besides, the one time I had implied I didn't agree with them my supervisor asked me not to talk about politics at work. 

"But they talk about politics," I pointed out.
"Yes but..."
"But..?"
"I mean, but the office is...most people are...there's no disagreement."
"So, it's okay to talk about politics here if you are a conservative because enough people in power agree with you, but if you are a liberal you shouldn't? That's blatantly unfair. Either it's okay for everyone, or no one. So maybe go talk to them."
"But they're senior managers."
"So?"

She just sighed. It didn't matter. I was on my way out anyway.

Then the election came around and I lost my head all the back-patting. I snarked that I was gonna leave the US and go live somewhere else as soon as I could, because I was done with a country that would re-elect George W. Bush.

A manager laughed at me, and said I probably wouldn't. I wonder if he thought I simply couldn't afford it, or that I was young and naïve but soon I'd see that the US was the greatest country in the world, or something. A few months later, the same guy said "I thought you were planning to leave?"

"Yeah, it takes some time to plan these things." 

He walked away. I guess he didn't know what to say.

So I got a second job, started saving my cash, found a job at some cram school in Taipei, quit my job and left. 

* * * 

This story is true, but contains a massive lie of omission. 

I did indeed snark at a manager. I did leave after the 2004 election, though it took me until 2006 to make it happen. I was broke, after all. Bush-era American culture -- the culture that had helped close my favorite restaurant and "cancelled the Dixie Chicks" -- was one reason for that. But the truth is, I was kind of trolling my coworkers. I was annoyed with them, and if they thought I left only because I didn't like W (and they did), then that suited me just fine.

The whole truth is that I was coming to realize that I'd preferred being abroad, though I wasn't sure why (there was certainly a huge amount of unexamined white privilege in there. I apologize. It was 2004 and I wasn't even 25.) I was figuratively sick of exhaustingly inefficient public transit. I was literally sick from not seeing doctors when I should have about chronic back pain, because even with a good company insurance plan I still couldn't afford the co-pays. Even then, I was sick of people trying to expand rights for guns but reduce them for women, expand savings for the rich but reduce social welfare for those who needed it, and sick of how much the United States tolerated that -- encouraged it, even. I was sick of people pretending centrist (or generously, center-left) Democrats were "on the left" when that's never been true. 

There were also positives, too: I wanted to explore and understand a new culture, try living abroad for longer, practice Mandarin in a country where it's a lingua franca. 

So, do people actually leave the United States because they are angry about politics? 

Sometimes, yes. Or at least, that's one of the reasons more often than I think Americans in general want to accept. 

I had a list of reasons, but politics was definitely on it. I've met people for whom it played an even bigger role. Couldn't afford health care, one expat told me in those early years. It was actually cheaper to pack up my life and move to Taiwan than to pay what they wanted to charge me. Another cited fear of mass shootings, but also fear that the people Americans elect don't do a thing about it. She was sick of the thoughts and prayers. These issues aren't directly about Republicans or Democrats -- except when they are -- but they are indirectly political.

Often, people move for similar reasons to mine: politics is part of it, but a combination of not having any strong feeling about (or actively disliking) the USA, coupled with a desire to learn more about another culture or study a foreign language bring a bit of weight to the desire. Frankly, if someone isn't interested in learning a new language or living in a different culture, they probably won't move -- "politics" or not. 

For others, politics might give a nudge to all the other reasons they were interested in living abroad in the first place. 

Of course, let's not forget that these stories come from people with some mobility: they're native English speakers, they have whatever degree or job prospects they need to move abroad. They have the ability to save enough money to leave, and enough freedom from whatever other constraints might keep people in place to do it. Fundamentally, we're talking about a privileged group. Myself included, despite being broke as a joke when I actually left. 

Regardless, my experience picking up 16 years ago -- in part because of politics -- has me scratching my head at some current social media discourse. 

"What's stopping Americans from picking up and moving to Europe?" one massive Twitter thread asked recently, in the wake of Roe v. Wade.

ok serious question, what keeps the average American (that can afford it) from moving to Europe?

please enlighten me

— Peer Richelsen 🗓🍊 (@peer_rich) June 25, 2022

The answers people gave for not leaving straight-up scrambled my brain. Seriously guys, some of them were bonkers.

Apparently, in the wake of many American women losing not just abortion rights but basic bodily autonomy, some big reasons for staying included "bigger cars", "big lawns", "better coffee" and "monolingualism" (America isn't actually monolingual, but alrighty). All of these, to me, are downsides of America -- yes, even the big lawns, because they create communities that necessitate driving and exclude anyone who won't drive, or can't for whatever reason -- and it only got more bizarre from there. Someone complained about beans on toast being bad. 

First of all, my grad school experience is screaming that beans on toast are not bad, if you add some nasty cheese slices and a squirt of hot sauce. But secondly, I will gladly eat beans on toast in a country where I can get a fucking abortion, Chadston. 

When you live in a place with a variety of food available, you can cook whatever you want in your own kitchen. It's not like you move to the UK and suddenly the Beans On Toast Police come to your house and ask why you are not making the legally required beans on toast. 

The same goes for coffee. Maybe you don't like tiny European coffees. Fine. Buy an American drip coffeemaker, a French press, a goddamn Turkish ibrik. Nobody cares. It's your house. You're not on tour. You aren't restricted to six overpriced cafes near the Eiffel Tower. When you actually live in a place you can make your own coffee any goddamn way you want, but crucially, you do not have to do your own abortion. Which is kind of the point. 

My final shock regarding these threads was how so few people brought up the obvious reason why many don't leave: work and visas. We were lucky that we wanted to live in a country that made it fairly easy to come here, and as teachers, we wanted to do the jobs that were available to us. Mostly, it's quite difficult getting a work or residency visa. It might be easier if you're privileged, but it's not just something you can do. You can't just move to Paris, get any old job and legally work at that job with no issues. Do people assume that you can? Is "I don't like the coffee" too big a barrier but "I literally cannot get a work visa approved" not?

Just as bad, however, were all the people saying it was silly to think about moving, or just dismissing it all with "eh, you won't move and you know it! Don't be childish!"

As someone who did move, I can say that this is also wrong. America isn't some unique paradise in comparison to a world where everyone walks around caked in mud with their thumb up their ass, or heaven forbid, drinks coffee you don't like.

Sixteen years in Taiwan and I do not feel like I've lost anything significant by moving here except for time with my family. People cite "freedom" as a reason to stay, but that's not a uniquely American thing. Taiwan is a free society, too. Or they cite "quality of life", but in this advanced Asian democracy, quality of life seems pretty similar to me, if not somewhat better thanks to the great healthcare. And that's not just me: though Taiwanese do leave (some percentage of any population is going to), my friends generally say they stay because they want to. 

Sure, I don't have a lawn in Taipei (though if I moved to the countryside, I might). But I can afford to see the doctor and even get an abortion if I need one. Taiwan has freedom of speech, freedom of assembly and a free press -- though that doesn't always equate to a high-quality press. Taiwan also has democratic government, good public transportation and offers a reasonably normal life in a reasonably safe country. I can walk down the street as a woman alone at any time of night and not worry about my safety. I've learned a language and built a career and community of good friends. It's not a lonely life. Finding food I like is not difficult; it helps that I enjoy local cuisine, but there are options if I'm feeling international, though that wasn't always the case. 

With the exception of good bagels and voting rights (for me specifically, as I'm not a citizen), I can't think of a single positive thing the US offers that Taiwan does not. There are negatives to life in Taiwan, but I doubt they'd be much different elsewhere.

In other words, the bad things about the USA seem uniquely bad by developed-economy standards. But the good things about it -- and there is some good! -- aren't particularly unique to it. 

There are indeed plenty of reasons to stay. Aside from the obvious barriers to leaving (not enough money, can't get a visa), people may have family obligations, jobs they actually want to keep, or their own personal reasons. Some may not think voting, donating and contacting one's representatives is sufficient activism, and want to stay and fight. I respect that a lot, though honestly I think it's unfair to insist that any woman worried about being affected by an abortion ban who can leave should actually stay and have her rights stripped away as she fights back. It's admirable to stay and fight, but it's wrong to demand of anyone.

I'm sure someone will read this and think, if someone can pick up and move to another country, surely they can afford to get an abortion in another state?

That is true. But with right-wingers talking about finding ways to ban that -- I'm not sure how it would be possible, but that doesn't seem to stop them -- it's honestly unclear if a year from now a woman will be prohibited from crossing state lines if it's suspected she's trying to get reproductive healthcare. If you're worried about being treated like a trussed-up incubator, you may want to get out now.

And yes, I do believe anyone who gets stroppy enough to imply women shouldn't leave even as they're being accorded fewer human rights than corpses in some states probably just hates women. The guys going off about how "oh but the coffee is bad" perhaps don't realize that this question isn't about coffee but basic humanity; they don't have a uterus so it's easy to forget. Those that think anyone who can get pregnant should sit tight and wait to be told to what degree they are considered mere egg sacks -- that leaving is "silly" -- are simply misogynists.

For me, the overturning of Roe v. Wade has tainted my impression of the United States, possibly irrevocably. Now, leaving in part because I didn't like George W. Bush feels almost quaint. How young, how naïve. I could still think of things to like or even love about the US, even as I chose to build a home in Taiwan. 

Now, thinking about the US is like mistaking salt for sugar when making cookie dough. It doesn't matter if the chocolate chips are still fine; the whole thing is ruined. Maybe some of the other ingredients are right, but the wrongness is pervasive and the result is inedible.

If you are thinking of leaving and able to do so, don't let the naysayers get you down. Don't let them convince you that nobody actually leaves for these reasons. People kind of do, and not just to Europe. Some of us have been gone for the better part of two decades, and aren't moving back. 

I don't have a statistical breakdown or a study to show you. I'm not sure anyone has actually researched expat populations to see how many left for political reasons. All I can say is I've met such people. To some degree, perhaps I am one (though again, I'm overstating the degree to which it was politics compared to all the other reasons.)

If you join us abroad, I promise you can make your coffee any way you want. 

And if you're a woman afraid for the security of her basic bodily autonomy and are thinking about moving to Taiwan, feel free to ask me for any advice. 

I'm also curious about foreigners in Taiwan reading this. Did you leave because of "politics"? Why did you leave the countries of your birth?

Do Western women in Taiwan want "any white f---er who pops along"? No, so don't stereotype.

Consider these two facts:

There are more foreign women than men in Taiwan. Mostly, they're from Southeast Asia or China and either married to Taiwanese men or working, often as domestic and health aides.

The opposite is true of "foreign professionals" -- they're not all Western, but the vast majority are male. 

Add to that two observations: first, the two communities don't intermingle much, even when it would be beneficial (say, foreign professionals showing up to support foreign blue-collar workers in seeking better labor conditions). Second, while there are social media groups for foreign women in Taiwan, they trend heavily towards heteronormativity. I've heard firsthand complaints from women who don't always fit into expected boxes that there aren't many welcoming spaces for them.

When it comes to love, dating and sex, this is a problem. There just aren't that many of us. In my observation, that means our own perspectives and experiences are simply not heard as much. It also means that there's a subset of expat men who fill that void with pretty brutal stereotypes: that we're all sexless hags (don't click that link, it might be the worst blog post I've ever read and honestly any decent person would take it down). That we're begging for anything we can get, that we're desperate and unwanted, that it's best not to talk to any Western women you aren't interested in. That we're all straight and cis, that we don't date Taiwanese men. Or that it's okay to treat any woman you deem "unfuckable" like garbage. 

Each and every one of these assumptions is wrong. 

Every once in awhile, I even come across someone assuming I'm single (and bitter, angry, desperate etc. etc.) simply because I'm an outspoken Western woman in Asia. This amuses me, considering how public I am about having been married for quite some time. We celebrated our 10th wedding anniversary last year. 

I've written on this topic before but intended to do a new post with more diverse voices for quite some time. So I asked around and found a few women willing to tell their stories, with their full editorial control. Everything here is published with active consent. Together, they dispel the notion that there is any one narrative that can be applied to all of us. Our experiences are varied and unique. They're occasionally heartbreaking or preposterous. They're often fulfilling and fun. They're often far more positive than the stereotypes would have you believe -- and from what these women have said, they're getting it more and better than a lot of the sadsack men filling up the bars we don't go to because we don't need their negative bullshit. 

The best way to learn about what life is like for a community of people is to spend time with them, and hear what they have to say if they're willing to talk. It's not to take generalizations you've already made and apply it to everybody. So, I'll stop here and let the stories stand on their own. 

From "Uma", in an open relationship:

I moved here ahead of my husband to get us set up here — I didn’t come with a job or recruitment or anything like that, and my husband had some things to do in the US. We have an open relationship, so I’d meet people through social events and had an online dating profile. I also hooked up with a few women, sometimes in a group situation. I remember early on before my husband arrived thinking, because he is a great lover — very considerate, doesn’t make assumptions about what someone does or doesn’t want, in touch and likes to please — I couldn’t wait to introduce some of these women to him so they could have that great experience too.


I had some interesting and fun experiences. Most were with other Westerners, though there were some Asian-Americans. No Taiwanese men, which is unfortunate. I think people who say “I’m just not attracted to Asian men” — well, you can say you’ve never been attracted to one before, that’s just telling your story. But to dismiss all of them as a class? If you only feel attracted to certain body types or races, I wonder what your media consumption has been like? If you’ve mostly only ever shown white men and maybe a couple of black men in sexual situations, then yeah, you’re probably going to believe you’re attracted to one type. Or you’ve mostly been shown a narrow stereotype of diverse Asian men.

It’s the same for women’s bodies: if you are only exposed to one type portrayed sexually you’re likely to think you’re only attracted to that type. “What you like” can change if you want. 

Anyway, I had a really good thing going with one Asian-American guy. It was hot chemistry and we were getting into all the kinky stuff you don’t really talk about on those first date like bondage, penetrating him, stuff like that. We both agreed we’d enjoy it until we stopped feeling it, and that’s exactly what happened. It was all healthy, safe, respectful.  


At one point my husband and I had a girlfriend. Some people would say crappy things like “oh, she’s your plaything,” but she was our girlfriend for nearly two years; we were all important to each other and emotionally invested in our relationship. It was hard for all of us when that ended, truly. 


The main thing I want to say is that dating can be hard anywhere — that would be true in Taipei, Tokyo, Paris, New York. I don’t think it’s especially harder because we’re in Taiwan except where we close ourselves off. My sex life here has been vibrant, exciting, passionate, and fulfilling. 

The only personal downside is that, since we don't live in Taipei, you do have to make social things happen in your local community. 

And there are some shitty men — I agree it’s harder to avoid them when you don’t live in Taipei. Entitled sexists, racists, you see a lot of alcohol abuse especially if someone doesn’t have a robust local community or support system. There have been times I’ve wanted to tell them off them but I hate to admit I moderate myself, knowing I’ll see them at the next beach party. I don’t say outright that I think they’re garbage people but it probably shows on my face! I hate this feeling afraid to affirm their stupid stereotypes toward Western women in Taiwan, even though I know it’s ridiculous — like if I get mad, I’m just another “bitter angry white woman.” I just “need to get laid” or “don’t have a sense of humor.” I get laid and laugh plenty and well. Maybe you’re just a lazy, entitled bigot?

 I’m not interested in those men. 

That white Western entitlement, the sort of fat-phobic misogyny that Buxom Babe Abroad has experienced, or the stereotyping they do of Western women where they think we’re sad losers and they’re kings…I mean that’s a boner-killer for me. I don’t want that, nobody with any self-respect wants that, but they think we’re desperate because we don't want THEM? Taiwan deserves better than that.  I may not have experienced it in the same way as Buxom Babe because we have different bodies [ed: this person is white and on the slimmer side] but I know the attitude well.


This stereotype some Western men have in Taiwan that Western women are all bitter, angry, desperate — it’s not true. At least for me, I couldn’t be happier or more satisfied. 

From "Emma", a lesbian woman in a relationship:

I came out fairly late, in my 20s, and actually moved to Taiwan for a girl. I was living in South Korea, and in the town where I lived, there wasn’t much of a gay scene — in fact we’d always complain about just how hard it was to be gay in that society. 

I basically scoured a popular dating site and was talking to someone in Taiwan. I came to Taiwan on vacation to see her, and I just felt this was a much more chill place. I eventually moved here, though that relationship turned out to be somewhat toxic. She was very family-oriented, though she wasn’t out to her family. I felt like she always wanted a lot from me, but didn’t have any time for me. For example, she would get mad that I didn’t wish her father a happy Father’s Day even though he’s not my father, and he didn’t know we were together. She also had a very serious personality. I think she’s abroad now, but anyway that didn’t last. 

After that I dated another woman, who was more into partying — specifically the EDM scene. We’d go to a lot of shows, festivals and clubs together. When her mom called, she’d have me put on music or something and tell her she was at a cafe with friends. That was actually a lot of fun, but she had a bit of a hard time being serious or taking us seriously. It didn’t last very long, but I have to say it was a lot of fun! 

My current girlfriend is a good mix of the two types — she can be a homebody but will go out if there’s a reason to go out. She’s not out to her whole family yet, but her sister knows. Her mother only knows me as her daughter’s “foreign friend”, or that we live together. This is the first relationship I’ve had here where my girlfriend didn’t live with her parents. She’s planning to come out eventually, so we’ll see where that goes. We’ve been together for more than three years, and we just moved in together recently. So we’re not close to marriage or anything like that yet, though I’m happy it’s legal and possible here. I suppose whenever we do meet, they won’t expect me to be like a typical man in a relationship with their daughter, because I’m very obviously not that at all. 



We met on a dating app, which I think everyone does these days. It feels like that’s the easiest way to do it. I did try to go to some lesbian events or bars here, but there just aren’t many bars or specific lesbian spaces, especially compared to what’s on offer for gay men. There are events, though. It feels like that everywhere: all these offerings for gay men — bars, events, parties, nightlife — and not nearly as many for lesbians. We’ve all heard the jokes, but seriously, I do wonder if lesbians just don’t go out enough to support more robust nightlife? They seem to be into more intellectual things like book clubs, but that’s conducive to, you know, friend groups, not necessarily dating. And when there are events or bars, it feels like Ts and Ps hooking up (’T’ for tomboy, ‘P’ for ‘po’ or a feminine lesbian), and it’s like — you’re either one or the other, and there’s not a lot in between. I do see couples where they’re both one or the other, but it’s not very common. 



Our first year together was wonderful. She stayed at my place usually, because hers was really small. The second was really tumultuous, but we got counseling and that helped a lot. So now, we still have our ups and downs but we’re much better at communicating and the ups and downs are on an upward trajectory, so I’m hopeful about that. It’s interesting because I just mentioned that binary of two types of lesbian women in Taiwan, but I’m clearly neither — not too tomboyish, not too feminine — and my girlfriend looks like a tomboy but if you get to know her, she has a really feminine personality. 



So for me, Taiwan is home. I don’t see any benefit to returning to my home country, and my partner is from here, so obviously this is home for her. And I really like it here, so although I worry about long-term prospects, like health and property ownership, it’s hard to see that far into the future but it makes sense for now.

I used to be way more into nightlife, but COVID has kept me away. 

I stay away from a lot of the expat spots because it does just seem to be weird old white men spouting bullshit, and I don’t really want to be around that. There does seem to be an attitude where they think we all want them, but I definitely don’t — like I’m incapable of it. 

I used to go to more things — I even went to a “find a wife" party for lesbian women once, though I was basically the only foreigner there. I spent a lot of time with another girl at that party, so I was disappointed that we didn’t go home together. 

I do see more white male-Taiwanese female relationships but, eh. I mean there are also just a lot more Western men here than women. I’m not sure why that is, but the disparity in who you see in relationships could be impacted by that. 

It’s just wrong to say Western women are all sad sacks here, and anyway it assumes we’re all straight. 

I’m pretty hopeful. Since my girlfriend and I just moved in together, there’s been some adjustment. She’s a huge neatnik, and she had to get used to my cats. One of them ate her plant, I bought her two new plants to make up for it. But, you know, that’s how it is when you first move in together. She loves my cats now and it’s going really well. We dated for over 3 years before moving in together, so we defied the old “U-haul” stereotype.

From "Alice", a woman of color who dated in Taiwan before getting into a long-distance relationship:

I’ve lived in Taiwan for about four years on and off — I went back to my home country for awhile for family reasons — and had lived in another Asian country before coming here. I really like Taiwan, but I was the only foreign teacher at my school in the other country so I didn’t have to put up with too much entitled white male behavior. 



Here, I have a lot of white male colleagues who are married to Taiwanese women, and they complain at work about how bad their relationship is, their personal lives seem to be a mess. And I think ‘you chose this person, and all you do is complain about them? And you act all entitled — maybe your relationship is terrible because you’re terrible.’ 

It’s certainly not all Taiwanese women, but there’s a subset who will maybe look for white guys to date just because they’re white, and those are the women these guys often date or marry, and then they say ‘oh Taiwanese women are crazy’ or ‘she’s crazy’ or ‘women are crazy’ but no — you’re crazy and she’s crazy and crazy found each other.

The problem is, white guys are also the only guys I’ve really dated in Taiwan. As a foreign woman who isn’t white, Taiwanese guys don’t seem that interested, or they hit on me but it’s clearly not serious. 

Basically, the white guys seem to be the only ones willing to look outside their own community to date. But it’s too bad, because the selection isn’t great. A lot of those guys come here to cash in their white privilege and coast, they half-ass it at work and assume they won’t get called out for it, they might not even be qualified for their jobs, and they talk like they’re these studs who can do anything and get anyone. It’s gross. 



And I don't like that it's so racialized -- as a foreign woman of color, I don't want to just date white guys. Where I'm from, sure, people might make friends along cultural, class, professional or education lines. And that's not great either, there are still boundaries [where perhaps there should not be]. But I generally didn’t feel I was only able to make friends with people who looked like me. 

There was one guy who told me he’d dated a lot of different women in the past year, and I figured ‘ok so he’s that sort of guy, I’m not into that’ so I turned him down. I didn’t tell him that was why I said no, though.

 When I first got here I dated around a bit, there were some casual no-strings things which basically ended with good feelings, because they weren’t that serious. 

After I came back to Taiwan I decided to just not date for awhile. That was great, actually! I was so happy, I felt good, emotionally healthy. I was in a really good place. So of course I made the typical mistake: I figured I was really feeling great, in a fantastic place in my life, so why not date someone? And I’ll attract better people too because I do feel confident and happy with myself. 

So I met someone through mutual friends. We got along really well, but didn’t trade contacts when we first met. I ran into him again — you know how in Taiwan every foreigner is maybe two degrees separated from everyone else — and this time we did decide to give it a try. He was a part of a very strong community with deep cultural ties, but he didn’t seem to mind that I wasn’t from that community. We got along so well.



Then, not long after we started dating he broke up with me, saying he only wanted a partner from that community. I thought that was a bullshit excuse: he knew who I was before we started dating, it wasn’t a secret, so why go down that road? It seemed like this was his key, his ‘get out of jail free’ card where he could just pull this excuse whenever he wanted. I was a little pissed. I asked him why he didn’t just date women he’d actually partner with and he said he didn’t want to do that here and never dated those women. So basically he was dating women from outside and giving himself this pass to just not tell them this belief until he’s ready to hop out. 

It didn’t last long, though it was very intense. 

Anyway, maybe we’ll be friends someday because we got along so well, but for now there’s still some chemistry there. 

What’s funny is that I started dating another guy from the same community. I hadn't intended to, actually, I’d swiped left on his profile on a dating app because I felt like I'd been there, done that -- I didn't want someone pulling the same thing on me. But he assured me he wasn't like that, and we went out for awhile. 

Partly we broke up because of the soft lockdown. it was too hard to see each other and honestly, I felt he just wasn't making nearly enough of an effort. Then he pulled the same crap — “I want to date someone from my community” and I did think, “you say you’re different but honestly you two are exactly the same. I’ve already been through this, so I don't want to hear it, bye.” 


Plus, he always wanted me to go to events and such with this group, and I kept saying no, because my ex would be there, and I just wasn’t gonna do that. And even if I did, I’d end up looking like a crazy stalker lady who hunted down some other guy to date so I could get invited and stalk my ex, even if it’s not like that at all — so, just no. 



I did go back to the my home country over the summer because I hadn’t seen my family in awhile. I got on another dating app just to meet people, and I ended up meeting someone I really clicked with. What I liked about those dates was how diverse it was; it wasn’t just white guys, or Asian guys. And I think that’s how dating could be, and I wasn’t getting it in Taiwan. 

Neither me nor the guy I met wanted to do long distance, but I had to come back, so we’re trying it. I’ll probably leave Taiwan next summer though, I think I’m ready to go. 

He’s open to living abroad for awhile, and I do love Taiwan, but we’d have to think about job opportunities for him. I don’t know, we’ll see. It would be cool to come back together, perhaps. 

And I found I appreciated dating someone who had a similar cultural background as me. He grew up in my home country although he’s not white either. I didn’t date Taiwanese guys because they didn’t seem interested in me, but I would have dated a Taiwanese American. Having that cultural connection is just one less thing, one less barrier, that you need to worry about and I’ve learned I value that. 


Finally, from "Olivia", a married bisexual woman:

When I first got here I was in one of those relationships that really needed to end. We loved each other and we just couldn’t break up, but we needed to. So we tried to be long distance, and then one day she suggested trying an open relationship. We all know where that goes — that’s the end. 

I decided to just enjoy being single and date around. If you just want to fuck, that’s easy. People think it’s hard to find someone to fuck if you’re a bigger girl, but it’s not really. I never had a problem. But in the past I was always ‘in a relationship’, I was never single for long, so I was using this time to enjoy seeing multiple people non-exclusively. That could be a lot of fun, but it could also be pretty weird — I brought one guy home and he said ‘oh, you have a cat’. I asked him if that was okay, if he was allergic or anything like that, and he assured me he wasn’t. So afterwards, I look at him and he’s breaking out in hives. It turns out he was deathly allergic to cats, but he wanted to get laid so bad that he pretended not to be. He asked me to go to the hospital with him, but I barely knew the guy! 

Another time, I dated this taller guy. My apartment wasn’t very comfortable, so he invited me to his place next time. I got there and he said ‘oh my girlfriend will be here soon’. I was pissed! He kept saying ‘no, no, she’s really cute, you’ll love her’ but I felt like this was a unicorn hunt — like thinking being bi means you’re up for anything including getting together with a couple, but you’re not exactly asked first. I said, well, let’s go to 7-11 first and have a few drinks, but they started fighting in the store so I left. The girlfriend actually chased after me, and they got really weird about it so I just left. 

I dated a Taiwanese guy who turned out to have serious issues. We were together for a year, and lived together. He’d get really suspicious of everything, including accusing me of infidelity at times when he was there to see that nothing had happened. He would claim he was getting treatment then the same shit happened again, so that was that. 

After that I dated mostly expats for awhile, though not always Westerners. One Chinese-Malaysian guy came over, but before we could get down to business he said something like ‘the problem with Malaysia is all the Malaysians’ so I kicked him out immediately. 

Then there were some really strange ones. I dated a guy I thought was really cool for awhile, though deep down something seemed off. He rarely stayed over, and something just seemed…sus. Well, I found out eventually that had been dating — in fact, he was engaged to! — my coworker, someone I literally sat next to at work! He hadn’t realized we were coworkers. She initially broke up with him but eventually took him back. And yet he sent me long, incoherent messages for awhile, until I blocked him. 

Then there was the guy who really wanted to try group sex. It was just something he was desperate to experience. I said yes to this, and we got a suite at a nice hotel with a few other curious couples. Well, it turned out that basically everyone there was straight but me! The thing is, the two other women were curious about what it was like to be with a woman, and their partners were fine with them trying it out with me, and I was into it. But this guy was so pissed that this whole orgy thing he’d organized wasn’t all about him and his dick. 

There were a few others, but eventually I met my husband through mutual friends, so that’s all in the past now. But this idea that Western women are these sex-starved harpies who want to snatch the D from any white fucker who pops along…no, not really. At least not in my experience. That’s some bullshit they tell themselves.

Someday I'll likely do another one of these -- a Part III, if you will. A trilogy. I hope you've enjoyed the details and learned something about not stereotyping Western women in Taiwan. And please, please remember that we are truly not desperate hags gagging for, ahem, any white fucker who pops along. 

We're just not. Good night.