Book Review: Lost in Taiwan

First, a touch of random business: check out my interview with designer Johnny Chiu of Not Just Library and the east coast culinary train in Taiwan Everything, and my interview with the general secretary of the Taipei Zoo in Taipei Quarterly. Both interviews were fantastic, but in very different ways. Imagine talking design one day, and learning about various mating practices the next. 

And now, back to the show.  

More than once, I've been on the receiving end of some weird assumptions that as a childfree person, I must dislike children. That all of us who chose not to have kids get hives when they're around -- well, mental hives, at least. It's not really true though: I don't want to spend all day, every day with children which is why I neither teach nor spawn them, but I don't mind being the weird wine aunt who blows in from Asia once every few years, bearing gifts and stories. 

Not long ago, I happened to arrive for a visit with some friends on the birthday of their 8-year-old daughter. She's into graphic novels, and I wanted to bring her something specific to Taiwan. When it comes to English-language children's books with a Taiwan tie-in, there are...not a lot. There's Hey Taipei, which is for much younger children; this one reads at a junior high school level. There's The Astonishing Color of After, but that might be more appropriate for a tween or young teen. 

For an 8-year-old, even one who's a precocious reader? I mean, if you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them.

After a long search, I finally came across Lost in Taiwan, a fairly new graphic novel by Mark Crilley. I'd never heard of it, and couldn't preview it as I wanted it sent directly to my brother-in-law in the US so I could pick it up from there and give it to her personally. I decided to take a chance, and am happy I did. 

As an adult, I read Lost in Taiwan in perhaps an hour, while flying from Albany, New York to northern Virginia. The main draw of graphic novels are the illustrations, and this book delivers. Obviously they're gorgeous, and Crilley is an accomplished graphic novelist. The real charmer is the way Crilley's art captures Taiwan's uniquely atmospheric urban and semi-urban spaces. Dare I say, he's nailed the Taiwancore aesthetic?

Even as an adult reader, panels depicting, say, a string of red lanterns in an urban cementscape, the dark entrance to a traditional market alley, and the random fields between clutches of buildings caught and kept my attention: this is a person who gets the feel of daily life in Taiwan. 

But what's the story? Well, young teenager Paul is visiting his older brother Theo, who's teaching English in Taiwan. The city is never specified and to be honest, it doesn't have to be. Theo is learning Mandarin, cooks homemade danbing, has a local girlfriend and in general seems genuinely interested in engaging with Taiwanese culture. Paul...isn't. For most of his visit, he's shown very little interest in leaving Theo's apartment. Overall he's a bit defensive and walled-off, as many young teenagers are.

Then he notices that there's a gaming console on sale in a nearby store, so with his trip almost over, he finally heads out on his own. 

Of course, Paul gets lost. But he meets some locals who help him out, makes new friends, learns something about himself, you know the drill. It's a little cliché, but for a young adult graphic novel that's absolutely fine. The moral lesson hits a bit too hard, but I probably only noticed because I'm approximately quadruple the age of the target reading demographic. 

In fact, if I had one criticism of Lost in Taiwan, it wouldn't be the moral theme -- it'd be the narrative taking for granted that white guys in Taiwan, whether they're adults or teens, will all easily and predictably meet the cute Taiwanese girls and women of their dreams. It's not that that's a bad thing per se, it's just that white-guy-Taiwanese-girl meet-cutes are perhaps a tad overdone? It's not the most interesting experience one can have in Taiwan. I say this with confidence, as I'm not a white guy who's met-cute a Taiwanese girl, and yet I've chosen to stay here for the better part of two decades and counting. 

But you know what? Whatever. The Maybe Romance? storyline never gets creepy, with Theo in a happy relationship and Paul seeming to be more friendly than romantic with his new local friend. That's a good thing -- it works better than an international teenage love story subplot ever could. 

Overall, Crilley is a talented artist and storyteller, and I'm both happy and grateful to have found a graphic novel targeting exactly the sort of reader I was buying for -- a near-tween who can read at a 7th grade level and has a Cool Wine Aunt who lives in Taiwan and brings her random gifts. 

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.

The world is full of horrors beyond our comprehension, so let's talk about T-beauty

Look you guys, I just can't. Like...I can't. American voters actually voted for the guy who said "you won't have to vote again" if he wins. I bet if you asked, most of them would say they oppose fascism, but they sure didn't vote that way. 

And I just can't take that, because fascism -- and this may come as a surprise to many more than it should -- is bad. You don't even have to like socialism to believe that. If you think fascism is good, this is not the blog for you. If you think Trump is not one stripe of fascist, kindly never speak to me again. He bears all the hallmarks. 

It's already affecting Taiwan. TaiwanPlus reporter Louise Watt called Trump a "convicted felon", and her report was first removed, then altered. But that Trump is a convicted felon is a matter of fact, not opinion. She was not editorializing -- he is a convicted felon, by a court of law. Period. 

I get that Taiwan wants to be friendly to just about anyone in its quest to uphold its own sovereignty and TaiwanPlus is technically a government news outlet. However, if we can't even speak the truth here, if the news is too scared to state a fact, then what's even worth fighting for?  I don't just mean in Taiwan, I mean at all, for anything?

I can't take all this, I just can't. I have nothing in my heart for it. Only blackness remains. I'm willing to go scorched earth on this, but every cell that isn't numb and unforgiving is pained at taking such a hard stance. So before I completely lose it, let's talk about T-beauty. 

A lot of these types of articles recommend 5, maybe 10 products. They curate. But y'know what? Screw curation. I'm so utterly devastated by watching President Rapist actually win the election that I'm not gonna do that. I'm gonna go full-bore, window to the wall, the world can bite me on this. I'll probably never write about T-beauty again, either because I won't feel like it, or the resource wars will be upon us and we'll all be making soap from ashes and chemistry equipment scavenged from Tianshui Street. 

Phew. So.

T-beauty -- like K-beauty but with a T. Not Korea, but Taiwan. My interest in T-beauty arose from a desire to not rely on Western products unavailable in Taiwan; all that shipping and shoving things that leak and break in suitcases was simply not sustainable. Of course, many international beauty brands are available in Taiwan, but the cheap ones like Dove don't work that well for me, and I'm not a Duty Free bitch; I'm not gonna pay through the nose for something called "Face Caviar" (gross) from a brand called La Prairie, which is apparently Swiss. And as we all know, Switzerland is famed for its expanse of prairie.

High-quality products conceived and produced in Taiwan at reasonable prices, from the more artisanal brands found in places like Eslite and Hayashi to affordable options at drugstores, were a good alternative to explore. 

Besides, most (and possibly soon all) of the United States no longer thinks my body is my own, but I still do, and I would like to maintain good skincare whilst telling fascists to eat shit and possibly throwing Molotovs at them (we'll see how things evolve -- I am open to all anti-fascist possibilities). I realize I'm not exactly sticking it to the man -- after all, the incoming regime is fine with beauty care, when they're not shaming us for spending time and money on it. We're just ornamental to them. Trump certainly thinks of us as mobile sex ports unfortunately burdened with sentience, and so do many of his minions. I do enjoy it for myself, though.

There are a lot of great articles recommending different products, but they can't guarantee that those products will work on my fickle skin and hair. I haven't found a big difference in how products popular in Asia affect my skin, but my hair is notably different from the local norm. 

I do have my favorites, though, and I've divided these recommendations based on where they're used on the body, or at least where I use them.

From here -- finally, an achievable path to home ownership!

Hair

My hair is fine but very wavy; it will even curl in the right conditions. It's thinned out a lot since COVID, and while I don't heat-style it at all, I do color it. It's impossible to comb without conditioner. My face tends toward oily but my scalp dries out easily. I leave two full days between each hair wash, and try for three if I think I'll make it without an itchy scalp. Here's what works for me:

Shampoo

I like most of Cha Tzu Tang's shampoos, with the exception of the Incense Cedar Leaf Purifying Shampoo, which feels amazing on the first use, then dries out my scalp after every subsequent wash. My current favorite is the Mulberry Repairing Shampoo, but I've had good luck with their Mallow Volumizing Shampoo as well. 

Another long-time favorite is Yuan. While long-term use of their signature Alpinia Speciosa "Head Water" can sometimes lead to drying, it always results in lots of shine. 

For color-treated hair, there's really only one good option: Greenvines' Know More Color Vibrancy Shampoo. In general I find many of Greenvines' face products to be a bit too heavy for my oily skin, but their hair and body care is fantastic.

Conditioner

Good conditioner is especially hard to source, and it even took me awhile to find a salon that uses it without question or protest. Or worse, let their assistants who do all the work just neglect it without telling me, and then wonder why I'm crying as they rip out my already thin hair trying to comb it. Horrible memories.

Conditioner, then, was once a product that I exclusively brought over from the US. But I doubt I'll be visiting at all in the next four years, if not longer, because the latest wave of "your body my choice" nonsense on the back of President Rapist's victory has me genuinely worried about encounters with misogynists who don't understand consent and feel entitled to women's bodies. You know, like the president-elect does. 

As someone who has been sexually assaulted -- not raped, but it could have turned into that if things had gone differently -- this also raises my hackles in a PTSD sort of way. I cannot fathom spending even one minute in a country where most of my fellow voting citizens knew perfectly well that Donald Trump is a convicted rapist, but voted for him anyway. Which means on some level, they think it is okay to be a rapist. Which means they think rape is okay. Which means they think what almost happened to me was okay. It's okay that the President of the United States has, to all public knowledge, actually done worse, and to many women. More than twenty, at last count.

Or they think all those women are lying, which means they're misogynists who still don't respect women or their bodies. 

Anyway, I can't get over this. I cannot forgive and cannot speak to anyone who thinks rape is acceptable, so I guess I'm buying my conditioner in Taiwan.

Both Cha Tzu Tang's Marigold Hair Conditioner, which is a solid basic option, and Rosskastanie Revitalizing Conditioner work for me. Yuan has a few options, but their Hair Treatment -- the more expensive one in the white tube -- is amazing. Worth every penny. Ginger Acre (also called Ginger Ginger or 薑心比心) offers a lighter Orange & Ginger conditioner that I like when all the moisture I pour into my hair feels like too much, and it needs a rest while still being conditioned.

Of course, all of these brands offer other products -- Greenvines has a detangling conditioner I'm interested in testing, for example -- but I can only talk about what I've actually tried and liked.

Leave-in Treatments

There are a few Taiwanese options for products you leave in hair, but I've only really tried one: Yuan's Lemon Hair Cream. It doesn't really add moisture, which is good when I'm a day away from a wash. You'd think as a cream that it would be heavy, but it's not -- it creates texture in the hair and adds quite a lot of shine, without the weight. 

I have so many leave-in products to work through that it might be awhile before I get to these, but I'm curious about Greenvines' Recharging Leave-In Treatment, as well as their various scalp and hair oils. 

Another option that's worked for me is just basic drugstore pure aloe gel. Some of these are Korean, some are Taiwanese, so I can't recommend a specific brand. But any inexpensive aloe gel, rubbed into wet hair, will add an oil-free, grease-free moisture boost that my hair loves.

Otherwise, I have to admit I still use non-Taiwanese leave-in products -- mostly Parkjun Labs' Protein LPP Oil from Korea, and Lucido-L hair holding cream from Japan, which feels like Elmer's Glue but is water soluble and actually holds my waves in place. 

Face

Despite being in my forties (yeah, I know) I still have a very oily face. I'm not very wrinkly but I still get big, ugly zits. Taipei's humid, subtropical climate is said to keep people looking young -- I don't know if that's true, but I can say that my face never feels dry here. While most Taiwanese seem to be looking for moisture in their face care products, I look for clarity. 

You know where you won't find clarity? A country where the majority of voters chose a felon for president. A few think he was wrongly convicted or "they" are "out to get him". But this is real life, get your conspiracy theory asses back to Ancient Aliens and leave the adults alone. Many, however, are perfectly aware that he did in fact commit all of those crimes, and still voted for him.

We've had felons in the White House before -- Nixon famously, but probably others as well. Somehow this bothers me less than the rape. Of course it's bad, and of course I wouldn't vote for a felon, but a lot of Americans might be numb to this. I mean, considering how common these sorts of crimes are whether by the wealthy.

Ah, the wealthy, whom people admire for no good reason, it's not like they're particularly smart. Have you met rich people? I have. Jesus Donkeycuck Christ. Honestly though, if you want to find crime, you don't even have to look at the billionaires. Check out the American government abroad. 

I can't do anything to wash this stain away from the country of my birth, but I can wash my face. 

Face Wash

Yuan has many facial cleansing gels, but to be honest my favorite product for this purpose is actually their soap. While I find the mugwort soap a bit too drying -- it works beautifully for a day or two, then my face actually gets oilier -- their gromwell & roselle soap, mung bean & job's tears soap and yellow sage soap have all worked. I only use a cleanser in the morning along with one of those vibrating exfoliant machines that sounds like a sex toy; in the evenings I wash with just warm water, dried with a soft towel. 

I've heard people say that Yuan soaps are drying, and that can be true. But that's what my face needs -- I've tried to fight grease with moisture and it doesn't work. Your mileage may vary.

I don't vary my face washing much, so I don't have a wide range of products to recommend. It's taken me a long time to get my post-wash face care routine down though, so I have a lot more to say.


Morning Skincare

Most face lotions, including Taiwanese ones, are too heavy for me. If you have dry skin they may work for you, however. I've narrowed it down to one toner, and one serum -- although the serum is optional if I'm feeling especially greasy. 

Toners that have worked for me include 23.5N's Oriental Beauty Tea Balancing Toner and Naruko's Green Tea Shine Control Toner. Despite the Japanese name, Naruko is a Taiwanese drugstore brand. A student of mine once commented that it's popular with and targeted at Taiwanese female college students, both in terms of the focus on treating oily skin and the low price point. 23.5N's Bamboo Ultra Hydrating and Yuan's Wild Mugwort toners are also lovely, though I prefer the long-term results of the Oriental Beauty Tea product.

If I'm traveling in the US, I carry a travel bottle of Greenvines' Know More Awakening Toner. It's too thick for Taiwan's climate (yes, I know, I find even a toner too thick!) but perfect for, say, winter in New England.

Not that I'll be experiencing an American winter anytime soon. Unless of course we mean nuclear winter, because Trump's comfort with autocrats around the world -- especially Putin, but others too -- make me genuinely afraid that his idiocy and predilection for both chaos and control will lead to World War III. 

And people chose that. They chose it. How can I look my fellow citizens in the face again?

If I've got a zit, which I usually do, I dab on some Naruko Triple Effect Blemish Clear Serum. It really does reduce redness and inflammation in pimples, and I find they disappear more quickly. 

If I want to add a serum after that, there's really only one good option: 23.5N's Rice Soothing Active Essence. Anything heavier than this and I get real zitty, real fast. 

I do use an eye cream, because I'm old. Naruko's basic eye cream is great and available at Watson's. Honestly, the skin around the eyes needs a lot less special care than marketers have led us to believe. If I want to be ~*~fancy~*~, 23.5N's Red Pearl Barley Whitening Eye Gel is a good choice.

This is the only "whitening" product I'll use, because if you've met me, you know that not only do I not need to my skin to be any whiter (nobody does, honestly), but also I do not think it's possible. I could already get my makeup at the mortician's if I wore makeup. Which I don't, because if I have this strong a reaction to just toner, you can imagine how makeup makes my skin feel (like I've been hit by a clown wielding a well-frosted buttercream cake. And yes, I foiled your "cream pie" jokes. I win). 

In fact, the presence of whitening products in so much Taiwanese skincare, which are wholly unnecessary because skin of every color is beautiful, creates a challenge for the Westerner who just doesn't want it. I've inadvertently bought products that have bleached my colorful towels or caused my face to turn tingly, red and blotchy. 

Speaking of whitening, I'm terrified of Trump's rhetoric on immigrants. This is where I feel especially disheartened. Want to point out that immigrants are not only good for the economy but also commit fewer crimes than natural-born citizens? Get ready for a racist backlash based on lots of fear about a non-existent "migrant crisis" of criminals, fraudulent voters, job-stealers and dole-bludgers -- and zero evidence.

Trump is frighteningly non-specific about who will be targeted in these "mass deportations", so even though immigrant friends of mine are documented and legally in the country, I still fear for them. They might not get deported, but they will probably encounter quite a lot more racism than they already do, now that racism is officially condoned and part of presidential rhetoric.

Oh yeah, and as an Armenian-American, you can imagine how deeply the phrase "mass deportations" labeled as "necessary" for "national security" makes me feel that this world truly is full of horrors beyond our comprehension. Have we learned nothing from history?

Apparently not, and we're going to learn even less, because we're also about to start defunding education.

Evening Skincare

If I've made it to the evening without Xanax, which I usually don't these days, I might have the energy for some evening skincare. I usually use Naruko's Green Tea Shine Control Clear Night Jelly, but a fancier option with great results is 23.5N's Bamboo Ultra Hydrating or Oriental Beauty Tea Balancing gel masks, used in very small quantities. I imagine the Rice Soothing Active Gel Mask is fantastic as well, as I like that entire product line.

If I really need to calm down about the fact that more than one cabinet pick is bogged down by sexual misconduct allegations -- one famously being an accused pedophile -- I might do a mask. Yuan has great masks, with my preference being the Wild Mugwort Soothing Black Mask. You can never go wrong with 23.5N masks, with my favorite being the Rice Soothing Active Feather Masks. I also like MyBeautyDiary Witch Hazel Oil Control masks and both Naruko's Tea Tree, Narcissus Repairing and Magnolia Firming masks. Forest Beauty masks are affordable and smell amazing. I'm especially fond of their tea series, most notably the Alishan Green Tea firming mask.

I have less to say about evening skin care than morning, so I'll mention Yuan's Hinoki toothpaste here. I wouldn't have thought to try a fancy toothpaste with an unusual flavor and scent, but I was given a tube and liked it. Will I spend my own money on it? Perhaps! 

I can't say it helps me wash the taste of burgeoning worldwide fascism out of my mouth. Nothing can keep me from despairing that despite our efforts, the dictators and wannabe-dictators are winning. 

Body Care

It's unclear to what extent Trump will be influenced by mustelified man-child Elon Musk, who "thinks he understands China well" but clearly doesn't, as he believes "Taiwan is an integral part of China". It isn't and arguably never has been, not even under the Qing, which controlled only the western third of Taiwan for most of its reign, and treated it like a colony and 'defensive hedge', not an integral part of anything). But, it will certainly be to an extent. 

Perhaps his choice of Marco Rubio for secretary of state will counter that -- Rubio is famously pro-Taiwan, which raises questions of why all the worst people in American politics, except Trump, seem to support this country. I still haven't really come to terms with that, and never will. 

But Rubio is also a misogynist fuckpig who thinks women have no bodily autonomy, so even without delving into the other foreign-policy implications of this choice, as a woman he makes my entire body do the AOL "Goodbye" sound.

Regardless, if the Trump team signals to Russia that it can conquer Ukraine unopposed, and to Israel that it can "finish the job" of annexing chunks of Palestine and committing atrocity after atrocity against Palestinians, I don't know that Rubio alone will be enough to still China's hand. 

So, if we're going to be in the trenches lobbing Molotovs at the PLA as it marches on Taipei, we're going to want to be clean and well-moisturized.

Unfortunately, I am a boring person who doesn't have a particularly varied routine, but I'm a big fan of Cha Tzu Tang's Taiwan Incense Cedar Leaf Body Wash. The scent might be a bit strong for some, but I love it -- it's too bad the shampoo doesn't quite work for me. For something lighter, try Cha Tzu Tang's Lotus Leaf Moisturizing Body Wash. I find Yuan soap a little too drying for the rest of my skin, but their body washes are quite nice. I love citrus, so lemon is my preferred scent.

I don't really like keeping so many bottles around, though, so I often opt for bar soap. For non-drying options, I find Dachun Soap is easily the best. My favorites among their offerings are Classic Tea Soap and Taiwan Native Red Quinoa Soap.

When we're in bomb shelters sharing rations, we'll want to be moisturized. It's hard for me to recommend a specific body lotion as most T-beauty brands offer them, and they're about equally good in my estimation. My favorite scents are typically from Cha Tzu Tang and Ginger Acre. 

There's also Greenvines' Auscentic moisturizing body oil, which absorbs quickly -- no grease -- and smells amazing. I'm a fan of their Awakening Grace scent, but it's expensive, so I've only bought it once. Someday I may try the Auscentic body washes as well.

If I'm not wearing perfume, I like Naruko's Green Tea Body Spray. It's great for controlling the acne that I get in...places. Honestly, don't ask.

If I am wearing perfume, I generally don't prefer anything too sweet or feminine. Dachun's East Fame, Pseven's Aged Tea and Ruby, and Take a Snooze's #14 Earl are among my favorite Taiwanese scents. 23.5N has a range of aromatic oils, with Summer Solstice being my favorite. Yuan has a few as well, and they're all good. 

And if I'm taking a bath, I usually add salts. While I usually make my own blend of Epsom salts and essential oil or buy Japanese bath salts from Tokyu Hands, Yuan's Repose aromatic bath salts are also fantastic.

Hand and Foot Care

We're going to want to keep our hands clean during the resource wars, both metaphorically as our (elected!) leaders sell us out to the highest bidder, and also literally. How is the world going to look health-wise after RFK guts the FDA while demonizing vaccines? How many more epidemics will be unleashed? Who knows, but wash those hands. I keep Cha Tzu Tang handwash in my kitchen -- I can't find the lavender one I have now on their page, but they're all good -- and Yuan handwash in the bathroom. 

I did try bar soap for this purpose to cut down on bottle consumption, but I found it made me not want to wash my hands. That's no good, so I just got the bottles.

Because I'm white, I probably won't be marched to a death camp by either China (in Taiwan), Israel (in Palestine) or the US (on its own soil). But who knows, so it's good to stay moisturized. Also, dry hands and feet can lead to micro-cracks and cuts that can let bacteria in, and you won't want that in the coming years.

So, Cha Tzu Tang's Lotus Leaf moisturizer is perfect for hands. I find Yuan's lotions a bit heavy for hands, but their Rose Hand Cream is just right for suffering feet. 

But whatever. 

I want to believe that fascism can be fought and defeated, that this "enemy from within" stuff, calling centrist (dare I say mildly conservative) liberals 'radical socialists', was from history textbooks, not current speeches.

We kinda-sorta stopped it once, no? These days, though, it feels like kudzu. Fighting it seems to stimulate its growth; anyone who's battled hate against a particular group will be familiar with this dynamic. As a woman who cares about gender equality, it reminds me of young men turning misogynist in larger numbers in response to improvements in women's rights and status in society. 

Truly, I have no idea how we're going to stop Stupid Chaos Mussolini. Those who voted for him seem to want to 'unite' and be friendly again; I can't do that. I can't even offer forgiveness, let alone kindness or friendship. I suppose someone's got to talk to the people who aren't exactly fascists but still made excuses to vote for one -- who knowingly chose a rapist. 

I can't be that person, though. They're either going to have to fix their own shit, or we're going to have to fix this whole thing the same way we had to handle it about 85 years ago. Think it can't happen again? That's what they thought in the early 1930s, too.

Dancing the ol' Taiwanese Government Shuffle on dual nationality until we all die

 

I don't always use Wikimedia Commons for cover photos, but sometimes you just need an old lady dancing

It's no secret that once we decided Taiwan was our permanent home, we truly meant permanent. We intend to work, build lives, retire and die here just as millions of Taiwanese do, despite not being citizens. For people like us, dual nationality just makes sense. I've talked about this extensively before, and I'll summarize my case again below. 

But first, let's talk about the preliminary comments from Taiwan's Ministry of the Interior (MoI) on Crossroads Taiwan's petition to amend the nationality law and end the country's double standard on who can and cannot obtain a second nationality.

Those comments (translated by me) are a big fat pile o' nothing: 

 

Wu Hsin-te, Chief of the Nationality Administration Section of the Department of Household Affairs of the Ministry of Interior, said "Those with special distinctions and senior professionals can obtain dual nationality. This year's amendment allows senior professionals, who originally had to wait three years before they can apply for this period of residence, to do so in two years.”

Okay Mr. Wu, but that's not very helpful for those of us who are professionals and are skilled in our fields, but do not meet the frankly insane requirements in all but a few fields to be officially deemed "senior" or "special" professionals deserving of a path to dual nationality. 

In education, you have to be a professor. There is an exception for those who've published in "high impact journals" but this is a bit of a joke: who has the time or support to do that without the funding and access provided by universities? I have a Master's and I train Taiwanese teachers in exactly what they need to meet a specific government goal -- Bilingual by 2030 -- which happened to be the brainchild of President Lai Ching-te. I also help Taiwan's businesspeople better engage with international counterparts. I have been a teacher for two decades.

Yet I don't qualify. I'm not "special" or "senior" enough. 

I'd say that I "should" qualify (and I do feel that I do, without shame), but the entire notion of a class system of Deserving Foreigners vs. Garbage Foreigners is ridiculous. It should not exist at all. More on that below, too. 

 

The Ministry of the Interior emphasized that the country has a single nationality system...

 

This is false. Taiwanese can have more than one nationality, and so can the foreigners they deem to be not garbage. The MoI should not lie like this. 

...and the Nationality Law was just revised in May.

So? Revise it again. I don't care what you just did. Fix your problem, don't say it's half-fixed like that's sufficient.

Except for senior professionals such as senior engineers, or clergy and other distinguished persons who have contributed to Taiwan, they do not need to give up their citizenship, they can get ID cards.

Okay, so Taiwan doesn't have a "single nationality" policy. Why lie? 

What I want to know regarding this "single nationality policy" is why they think the double standard is acceptable. Most countries have the same law for everyone, naturalized or born. Either one can have multiple nationalities, or one can't. It's actually fairly rare to allow that privilege for born citizens, the descendants of ROC citizens abroad, and a very few Special Magic Foreigners but no one else. A few countries do this -- South Korea comes to mind -- but most don't. 

The US, for example, doesn't recognize other nationalities their citizens may have, but won't end their citizenship over it (most countries that allow multiple nationalities have such a policy). In fact, a few Americans who don't have ROC/Taiwanese heritage have obtained Taiwanese nationality without renouncing US citizenship.

Japan, on the other hand, has the same rule for everyone regardless of how you became Japanese: you can only be Japanese. If you're caught with another nationality, you either have to give it up or lose Japanese citizenship.

Besides, they think people like me and thousands of others who do work every day that do contribute to the economy, tax revenues and in other ways don't "contribute to Taiwan"?  My training Taiwanese teachers and helping Taiwanese business leaders do their jobs isn't "contributing to Taiwan"? 

Thanks. 

 

The revised law also solves the problem of the status of children born in illegal households. Stateless children can apply for naturalization with the assistance of social welfare agencies and guardians. 

 

That's great. Cool. But it doesn't really help the other mmigrants who have made their lives here but don't have the tools they need to retire in the country they call home. So it's a good start, but completely insufficient. 

Needless to say, it's disappointing. It's a nothingburger. 

And it underscores the completely bonkers caste system of Deserving vs. Garbage. I know there's an argument out there that Taiwan has the right to determine who gets access to dual nationality based on the talent it wants to attract. 

This is a stupid thing to think. 

First, the immigrants Taiwan needs the most are the blue-collar workers, mostly from Southeast Asia, who keep the factories and fishing boats running and take care of the grandparents. The Taiwanese government surely knows this, but doesn't tend to admit it. Without them, the economy would grind to a halt. 

Besides, having "the right" to do something (which Taiwan unarguably has) doesn't mean it's the right thing to do. 

I think what I do matters. I do believe I contribute in my way. However, if I left, Taiwan would survive. I'm white collar, but I am absolutely not as critical to Taiwan's core economic interests as the group who gets paid the least and treated the worst. The group that isn't even under discussion as having a path to dual nationality, even within Crossroads' campaign. 

Unfortunately, Crossroads' strategy is realistic: if the public can see that people like me deserve a path to dual nationality, it should be then a little easier to convince them that  similar path for blue-collar workers won't flood the country with job-takers, and most who come here to work eventually leave, anyway. Those of us who want to stay, including among blue-collar workers, are a smallish slice of the total foreign population.

With people who have ancestors who were ROC citizens having fairly easy access, despite the fact that their families may have no other connection to Taiwan, it's easy to see that Taiwan's preference is still based more on race and politics than actually "attracting the talent" Taiwan needs. The caste system is thus:

1.) People with Chinese (ROC) ancestry, under the assumption that this will make one "loyal" to Taiwan.

How? I cannot say. Loyalty isn't a genetic or race-based trait. I'm not against such people having that right, but can we just admit that it's also just an ethnic preference, like most jus sanguinis citizenship paths? 

2.) Relatively wealthy Westerners, most likely envisioned as "white people" in most Taiwanese government minds, even though not all Westerns are white, and Chinese spouses. 

In fact, Chinese spouses might be in the first group. It's debatable. 

3.) Regular Westerners (like me). White still probably preferred, because racism.

4.) Southeast Asian blue collar workers and most foreign spouses.


So please, please, do not tell me it's about "attracting talent". It's not. Taiwan needs the fourth group the most. But while I'm being hyperbolic when I say I'm considered garbage (I'm more like very nice recycling?), this crucial group is actually treated like garbage. It's not right.

It's all politics and discrimination. An absolute clownshow. Don't even pretend otherwise.

There is an optimistic reading of these comments, however. The Taiwanese government tends not to show its hand even if changes are being considered. It simply won't admit as much until the change is official. 

Take the economic subsidies. When Ma Ying-jeou's government handed out cash, permanent residents were excluded unless they had a local spouse. When we inquired, we were treated rather rudely. The subsidies were for "taxpayers". I am a taxpayer, but was told that being a taxpayer is not sufficient to get the benefits of...being a taxpayer. 

The government lackey who had the absolute stones to say that with a straight face has my eternal emnity. 

But then the COVID vouchers and NT$6,000 tax payback were rolled out under Tsai Ing-wen, and after a brief back-and-forth, permanent residents were included. This is certainly due in part to a different attitude toward foreign residents from different administrations -- Ma's people streamlined some processes for us, but at the end of the day, would never actually consider us part of the fabric of Taiwanese society. 

But it also means that a general attitude shift was afoot. We were rebuffed, but then the system changed.

It's an oft-made observation that the Taiwanese government does things in baby steps. Evolving nationality laws are part of that, and I have it on good authority that Tsai Ing-wen understood the need for them to change. Eventually, someday, Taiwan will probably relinquish the double standard, just as it's slowly fixing its mess in not making marriage equality truly equal. 

And I love Taiwan because here, things do tend to get better.

Here's the thing, though: it's too damn slow. Yes, I want this for Taiwan's own wellbeing -- immigrants are vital to its future. I want it for new generations of immigrants who move to Taiwan. 

But damn it, I also want it for me. And at the pace the government is moving, the change that will make it possible for me to truly call Taiwan home won't come until I'm too old to benefit, or long dead. 

What good is dual nationality, which would make it more possible for us to own a home where we can grow old in Taiwan, if we're 70 when it happens? Who buys their first home at 70? Who can? I'm not angry that it's a step-by-step process. I am very angry that it's going so slowly that I have less and less hope of seeing it in my lifetime. This doesn't just matter in general, it matters specifically to me. 

The only thing that does give me hope is that groups like Crossroads are making an effort. When civic groups get involved, it tends to speed up the pace of change. 

Why do I care so much? As a permanent resident, don't I have access to pension plans, labor insurance and health insurance? 

Yes, but it's not really sufficient. Leaving aside the more abstract desire to vote -- to have a civic voice and representation in the country I call home and would fight for  -- it matters for practical reasons as well. 

After building careers here and contributing to the country through our labor (we hope, anyway), access to the tools we'd need to retire here matter. Permanent residency is usually sufficient, but it does not give us access to everything we'd need to feasibly retire in Taiwan.

Home health aide and long-term care subsidies are out of reach. Although legally foreign residents can buy property in Taiwan, actually getting approved for a mortgage can be a challenge. If approved, we're likely to be asked for an infeasibly large deposit (I frequently hear 40%) and frankly insane interest rates. Programs to ease the burden for first-time homeowners? Once again out of reach. 

And yet, where are we supposed to live when we're old? Landlords don't like to rent to the elderly, but we don't have local family to take us in. 

Why don't we just renounce?

We have obligations in our country of birth that are not easily discharged, such as aging relatives. Post-renunciation resumption of citizenship is not a feasible option for Americans. As above, most other countries have the same rule for born and naturalized citizens, so we resent the double standard. 

More importantly, however, if we renounce, what are we supposed to do when our aging parents might need our care? We're not rich, we can't pay full-time health aides. We can't go back temporarily to be caretakers and not work as well. We just don't have that financial flexibility. 

I thought that Taiwan cared about family responsibility. Filial piety and all that. What is this if not the definition of filial piety, and yet Taiwan doesn't seem to value it at all when it comes from a foreigner. Does it only matter when the aging parents are Taiwanese?

Usually, we love that Taiwan is not like "most other countries". Life here is good. In this particular way, however, Taiwan diverges from the norm and for a country seeking to attract "foreign talent", it's a big fat problem.

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. 

Antique and secondhand shopping in Taiwan isn't always easy

I'm actually excited to tell you about this lamp

I've had a lot going on these past few months, from my cat's heart attack to a voracious return of my lifelong insomnia (it's ebbed and flowed since childhood). One way I find relief from this is physical activity, preferably paired with some sort of mental problem-solving. When we lived in Jingmei I'd take long bike rides along the riverside. I started blogging as an outlet. More recently, I've taken an interest in interior design, making my home look as good as it possibly can, while spending as little as possible. This usually means scouring everywhere I can go or Lalamove will pick up for secondhand finds. 

The problem: while secondhand shopping in Taiwan can occasionally yield some real treasures that it'd be difficult to find elsewhere, and is especially good for Shōwa-era vintage Japanese items, it is usually riddled with issues. 

First, however, I'd like to share a success story. I came across this old Japanese pendant light at April's Goodies a few weeks ago. NT$700 was an acceptable price, so I nabbed it. I removed the old light as it didn't look safe. I could have re-wired it as a ceiling pendant with a fairly straightforward lighting kit, calling an electrician for installation only. Instead, I saw its potential as a table lamp and ordered a wooden light bulb stand online (a 燈座, not 燈台, as I learned after an educated guess and a fruitless search). 

                    

I don't have much restoration experience, so while I theoretically know how to make old things beautiful again, I lack the practical application skills. This I could handle, though. I removed the acrylic panels, washed them and coated the yellowed ones in a baking soda and peroxide mixture to dry overnight. I cleaned the wooden base and applied butcher block oil to give it some new life. The acrylic was slighly warped with age, so they no longer snapped in place -- I added a small amount of plastic adhesive to each panel in turn, weighing it down from the inside to dry in place before replacing the next one. Plop the whole thing over the lightbulb stand and boom -- a gorgeous "new" lamp! It will be extremely easy to turn it back into a pendant light if I ever so desire. 


                      


A happy ending like this, however, feels pretty rare. Frankly, I find secondhand shopping in Taiwan a little difficult. I don't mean the language barrier; I regularly communicate with sellers on Facebook Marketplace. Rather, the overall secondhand scene is often not ideal. 

I'm a little wary of the markets under the bridges, which are probably the best places to hunt. I've heard on multiple occasions that some (though likely not all) of the best finds are actually stolen. In fact, our building had a shoe thief for some time, which prompted a security upgrade. I asked a neighbor once why anyone would continually scout apartment buildings for used shoes to steal and she said that's the origin of most of the shoes at, say, the secondhand market under Fuhe Bridge. 

The secondhand furniture and kitchenware markets on Xiamen Street and Chongqing South Road are more trustworthy, but also a bit more specific (and I've yet to find a piece of furniture I actually want on Xiamen Street, despite checking it out multiple times). 

Thrift stores seem to come in two varieties: clean and organized but small, like Kuang-ren Green Fashion (光仁綠時尚) or the small shops in some MRT stations, or big but -- how can I put this -- often a bit grimy, as with many branches of Flea Market (跳蚤本舖). There are some bigger secondhand furniture markets outside the major cities, but there's nothing quite like the thrift stores where I furnished most of my college and early-twentysomething apartments. I do understand that Taiwan isn't the US and I can't expect something like thrift store culture to be exactly the same, but an option that's even vaguely parallel would be welcome. Kuang-ren is the best I've found so far. 

The antique stores are a little better in terms of quality, and I usually have good luck at Shōwa Old Home Store, Qinjing Warehouse and April's Goodies, but every vintage fiend I know is still reeling from the end of in-store browsing at Treasure Hunters. Their Line group is a bit overwhelming and I'm not always free when the bidding starts. What's more, if you're not already in the group, it's now very difficult to join. I have to wonder -- do they really want our business or not? 

It's a real shame, as one of my favorite secondhand lacquerware items came from Treasure Hunters, as did the matcha bowl I use as a catch-all and my beloved live-edge coffee table.


                     


There's an exceptional antique market on the outskirts of Tainan City, with friendly owners and reasonable prices but, well...although I try to go every time I'm in Tainan, it's still far. There are also places that restore furniture, or make custom pieces out of reclaimed materials, but they can be hard to find and get to.

I've found all sorts of great things at these shops, from gorgeous lacquerware to the aforementioned pendant-turned-table-light. One has to be careful, though: mixed in with some real finds are random bits from IKEA and Zara Home. That would be fine at a thrift store, but I'm not thrilled to see these things at antique store prices. 

My best luck has always been with Facebook Marketplace. After months of bookmarking and training the algorithm, I managed to score this teak dresser/sideboard for approximately 70% less than it would have cost at Scanteak (and it is Scanteak). I scored a real marble bowl for NT$80 which is unreal. Negotiating with sellers in Mandarin has been good language practice, as well. I'm not even all that mad that some of the items are grossly overpriced. That happens in the US, too, although sometimes in the US the price reflects some effort put into refurbishing or restoring something.

In fact, most (though not all) of the items on this sideboard are secondhand. 

What bothers me is how difficult it is to find items with prices clearly stated. If I see a real price I can choose to pay it, try to bargain it down or pass. If I see something listed for NT$1 or $66 or whatever, I have to message the seller to get the price. If it's so high that I don't even think it's worth bargaining -- and it usually is, that's why they don't state it outright -- I've wasted my time and theirs. It's now to the point that I don't even try, even with items I want, if no price is given.

This happens in secondhand Facebook groups too. Often, leaving off price is the norm, so even frequent sellers who used to list prices no longer do. There are some bright spots, like Buy Nothing Taipei and various groups where people who see free curbside finds post photos and addresses (though this has never really worked for me in Taiwan), but overall the caginess around pricing really harms the usefulness of online secondhand shopping.

This isn't to say that secondhand shopping in other countries is easy. Its newfound popularity in the US has caused higher prices, and as someone who doesn't have to buy secondhand but rather chooses to, I am at least theoretically part of the problem. That said, I also don't want to buy new things that it took resources to produce when there is so much waste in the world. 

At least when we travel, I can hit up thrift stores in the US, charity shops in the UK, op shops in Australia. Even in Taiwan, I can't complain too much. It takes awhile, but I have found some real treasures. I just wish there were more or better options here. 

A Thin Comfort

Taiwan's eternal light

When I'm extremely stressed, I engage in a practice that is likely very common: curling up on my bed and covering myself completely in a blanket. Phone nearby but not within perfect reach, lights off. In the US, that blanket would probably be a thick afghan or quilt. In Taiwan it's usually some thin linen drape. It doesn't matter; I just need to be covered. I don't even take away the throw pillows on the bed. Yes, I'm the sort of person who keeps throw pillows on her bed. 

I've found myself curling up this way more often in the past few months, as I've dealt with a fair bout of career anxiety. It's not just that I'd be making a lot more money if I lived in a number of other countries, but that I'd likely get to take my work in the direction I truly want it to go. 

Since 2011, I've been more or less consistently enrolled in some sort of teacher training program. First CELTA, then Delta, then a Master's program, plus a few short courses here and there. That first CELTA course changed the direction of my life; I didn't just go from someone who was teaching English "as a job" to someone who wanted to lead classrooms of adults as a career. I also became a full-throated convert to the power of good teacher training. 

Obviously, I wanted to be a better teacher myself. As good as I could possibly be -- which, as it turns out, is not perfect. I mess up too. But I also wanted to help other teachers develop their skills. I felt I could make a bigger impact on the world, or at least the education world, by doing so. I haven't loved every teacher training course I've led, but the direction, in general, has always felt right. 

And yet I've realized over the past year or so that there are limitations to this career path in Taiwan. There simply are not enough teacher training opportunities. Those that exist often get outsourced to international firms based in places like the UK. This is a direct result of people who have the power to decide whether to take a training contract choosing not to take one, and the organization needing the training looking elsewhere. 

This is exactly the sort of thing I was hoping to avoid by taking the freelance route. I struggle a lot with the idea that decisions might be out of my hands. I can work with a team but I am not a natural follower. I wanted quite specifically to be in charge of what classes I take and when I'm free to take them. I never want to be told by anything other than my bank account that I can't take this or that trip.

Instead, I've found that I'm too far removed from those decision-makers to be heard, and it probably wouldn't matter if I was heard. After all, it's not as if they aren't aware that teacher training in Taiwan should be sourced as locally as possible, to people who know the local context. 

Please don't misunderstand: I'm grateful for every teacher training opportunity that comes my way. I find most of them meaningful, impactful, intellectually challenging to plan and execute and personally satisfying. As with a great deal of impactful work, whether it improves the world in some tiny way has become more important to me than whether or not I enjoyed leading it. And yet, I do generally enjoy them.

Friends have recommended I start my own local training business. I don't want to do that -- first, I'd be in direct competition with people who've been in the field longer, whom I like, respect and have perhaps even acted as mentors. Second, I want to be a teacher, not a business owner. Running a business is its own job and skill set; a job I don't want to do, and a skill set I lack and am not terribly interested in acquiring. Reading books about Taiwan or studying two unrelated languages at the same time -- one of them through Mandarin -- are more attractive than learning to balance books or engage in marketing. 

In other words, as a teacher (or teacher trainer) I have the time and energy to learn Armenian and Taiwanese. As a business owner, I'd spend that time figuring out how to make and keep my business profitable. No thanks! 

It is a thin comfort that I know I'm usually very good at my job, and I learn from whatever mistakes I make. It's not enough of a comfort, though, when I think about what I could be doing if I weren't committed to Taiwan.

I have found other career outlets that satisfy me. This is another thin comfort. I've been doing a lot of work in language learning content development and online materials design recently. It scratches the same itch of being meaningful, impactful (one hopes -- it's not live yet) and intellectually challenging. In my own training I found that leading other teachers and creating materials were two strengths. I've also been doing a lot more paid writing, some of which you'll hear about soon. 

These frustrations and their associated comforts have caused me to consider moving in a new direction, out of the classroom and into full time materials development. I haven't found the right job in Taiwan, and most jobs abroad are no longer fully remote, but it's an idea on the horizon if I can't make a full career of teacher training -- and it looks increasingly like I can't.

I had a choice: Taiwan or my career, and I chose Taiwan. Potentially leaving the classroom for something different feels like leaving a religion, but here we are. It bothers me quite a bit that my complaint isn't about pay exactly, or finding a specific full-time job, but about being able to explore a career direction at all. 

This leads me to my final thin comfort, which I alluded to in my last post about staying in Taiwan. It may seem tangential to this post, but in my mind, it isn't. To take that kind of personal and professional hit, there must be a damn good reason. It can't all be night markets and 711! 

As I explored in that last post, despite its problems, Taiwan's fundamentals are solid -- democracy, a push for equality and open-mindedness, crucial services like public transit and national health insurance. Society moves generally in the right direction, and that makes it worthwhile to stay. 

What I realized from writing that post, however, isn't just that Taiwan has a lot of great things going for it. It's that what Taiwan gets right are also benefits that Taiwanese citizens enjoy. They matter because they're not just good for me -- they impact everyone positively. 

So many of those "best countries for expats" type articles talk about superficial benefits that really only apply to white foreigners. You know, how much an expat can make relative to the cost of living, what great homes they can rent or buy on the cheap, job and life opportunities that locals mostly cannot access.

I hear the same from the occasional older foreigner in Taiwan, waxing nostalgic about the "good old days" when Taiwan was "exciting" or opportunities where "everywhere". Usually, they're talking about the late 1980s or perhaps early 1990s. 

Okay, but a lot of my Taiwanese friends were children or young teenagers then, and were still being told by their parents not to even have, let alone express, an opinion lest they end up in prison or worse. A student once told me he was warned by his family not to say too much or even speak Taiwanese outside the family, or a "white truck would come in the night." Yikes. 

Who gives a shit about excitement or opportunities for foreigners when that's the local situation?

Of course, many Taiwanese look back with maudlin candor on the Chiang Ching-kuo era. Taipei elected a whole mayor based on it, and that's bullshit. Such an opinion does not cancel out what my local friends have said they experienced.

That's what Taiwan offers -- a better society than the one it had. For everyone, not just expats. Would my life as a white American be "better" in these ways in most of Southeast Asia? Yes, absolutely. But it would be a superficial improvement; it would make only my life better. 

In Taiwan, perhaps I cannot always feel the impact of things like "democracy" and "same-sex marriage" directly on my own life. After all, I could probably have the career I want in, say, Vietnam -- but Vietnam is not a democracy and does not have marriage equality. I might make more as a corporate rat racer in the US, but much of the US no longer recognizes my bodily autonomy and in some states, it's straight-up illegal for some of my friends to exist. 

In fact, if I hear Westerners talking about a country that's great to live in because you can make so much money, or it's a lot of fun for them or they can score more women than they could back home, it's a good sign that I shouldn't live there -- I'm not interested in a fever dream for white people.

If long-term foreigners are talking about the problems they and the country face and how life isn't always perfect for them, then it likely means their lives are at least a bit more like those of locals. It will never fully be the same, but it means the advantages that country offers are probably accessible beyond expat enclaves.

The benefits Taiwan offers are good for society, and it's better for everyone if everyone benefits. Even if I can't vote, it's better for me, for society and for those I care about that my Taiwanese friends can. My opinion might not matter, but again, it's better for everyone that my Taiwanese friends can protest and not disappear.

That's not to say Taiwan is perfect, but again, the fundamentals are good. 

Is that worth what I consider a major career sacrifice thanks to one of Taiwan's many imperfections? Is that blanket sufficient to comfort one in times of distress? 

It has to be. It has to be.