Go see Invisible Nation in Taiwan this week

I'd been hearing about Invisible Nation (看不見的國家) since it came out in 2023, but been unable to see it as it hadn't been released in Taiwan. Then it got a widespread (if short) theatrical release in Taiwan, in a run which ends tomorrow as of writing, though this may be extended if it does well.

Update: I've heard from a few sources that its successful run in Taiwan has ensured that it will stay in theaters longer, so you have more time to see it. I don't know how long, so this weekend is probably the best option.

I saw it with friends and all I can say is: go. It's worth your time. 

This documentary film broadly covering former president Tsai Ing-wen (蔡英文)'s two terms as president, from 2016-2020, interspersed with contextualizing background. It's engaging throughout, avoiding the issues many documentaries have with getting all the information the creators want to include while keeping a tight pace and clear, coherent focus.

                    

While not a hagiography, the film does tend to look positively on Tsai's presidential tenure. To me, an ardent supporter of Taiwan independence and general admirer of President Tsai, I'd simply call it the truth. As Jon Stewart once famously said, though I paraphrase: the truth leans liberal. In this case, the truth leans toward Tsai Ing-wen having been one of the best presidents Taiwan has ever had, vying for the top spot with only Mr. Democracy himself, Lee Teng-hui. 

Tsai also led Taiwan through a fascinating era of Taiwan's political history. Eight years of an elected KMT president -- the only one since Lee, who by the end was seen as a turncoat or ideological traitor by his own party -- showed Taiwan exactly what it looked like to be governed by a pro-China party, although not everyone had realized yet that Ma wasn't just pro-China, he was (quietly, at the time) pro-unification as well.

What do you do with a country that's just been through a major social movement that turned its president into a lame duck well before his natural obsolescence, but whose biggest and arguably only enemy had invested in quite a lot to get their desired annexationist outcome? Invisible Nation seeks to answer this question, or at least provide the information viewers need to ruminate on it for themselves. 

All of the highlights are covered: the Sunflower Movement that helped usher in a new era of leadership, the fight for marriage equality (though this was handled far too quickly in my opinion; getting it passed was harrowing), dealing with China's threats, Han Kuo-yu's nonsense, the influence of the Hong Kong crackdowns, the pandemic response. 

The interviews with everyone other than Tsai come fast and quick-cut, but each is fascinating in their own right. Some are in Mandarin, some in English, but all are subtitled in both languages. Interviewees included diplomats, journalists, DPP and KMT politicians, analysts and academics. These include DPP political figures Enoch Wu, Audrey Tang, former foreign minister Joseph Wu and now-Vice President Hsiao Bi-khim, politician and black metal star Freddy Lim, former AIT director William Stanton, NCCU visiting professor Michelle Kuo, journalist Chris Horton and more. Having met some of them personally, it's a solid line-up. There are no weak links; everyone's contribution is valuable and on-point. 

Former president Ma Ying-jeou gives an interview as well, and KMT member Jason Hsu also gave the filmmakers some of his time. Nobody can say that the director Vanessa Hope and her team ignored Tsai's political opposition.

In this, Invisible Nation does gather voices from all sides, including widely-available remarks from Chinese leaders: ominous music tends to introduce these, but Xi Jinping does get his say. It's presented as-is -- that is, threatening and awful. The film doesn't say this exactly, but there's no other takeaway. The man is a monster. 

For people who already know Taiwan, there won't be many surprises in Invisible Nation, from the graceful introduction of the past few centuries of Taiwanese history to discussions of historical events. It's still worth your time, though, for the old footage from those eras, some of which I had never seen (childhood pictures of Freddy Lim anyone?) and some of which brought a genuine tear to the eye, such as Chen Chu ruminating on her time as a political prisoner. The film follows her to the Jingmei Human Rights Museum, where she finds what she believes is her old cell, and tells us why it's padded while showing us what all those democracy activists sacrificed during Taiwan's so-called "bloodless" revolution. 

It's only called that because there was no coup, no compact period of slaughter as there had been on 228. Don't let the term fool you, though: people absolutely did die so that Taiwan could not only have democracy, but have the sort of democracy that would elect a woman like Tsai. 

There are also bits of footage I didn't know existed or had perhaps blocked from memory, including Bill Clinton calling Taiwan Chinese (screw you, Bill), Henry Kissinger being the thank-god-he's-dead authoritarian bootlicker he always was, and Jimmy Carter announcing the switch in diplomatic recognition. What happened at the UN around that time was also fascinating, because the UN's exact words upon kicking out Taiwan have been either ignored or willfully misinterpreted in the decades since.

If you want loved ones who don't have that grounding in Taiwanese history to understand what this country went through between the Sunflower Movement and the pandemic, or just to understand the history of Taiwan a bit better, this is a solid recommendation. It doesn't exactly replace a history book, but it can review the basics and fill viewers in on what's happened since the classics like Forbidden Nation and A New Illustrated History of Taiwan were published.

It's also a good film for long-termers in Taiwan to show people who haven't visited what it's been like, politically, to have lived here through these events. It can be streamed, but I'm not entirely sure how. 

If I have any quibbles with the film, it's that it perhaps made the KMT look better than they are. It didn't paint Ma Ying-jeou as the bootlicker unificationist he is. It didn't show the full insanity of Han Kuo-yu. It was very, very kind to the opposition -- perhaps, in the name of seeming fair, too nice. This is a party that still wants to push towards a unificationist future that Taiwanese do not want.

Intense Chinese military build-up and grayzone tactics (such as the fake-news barrage that Taiwan has been under since disinformation on such a scale was possible) were also not given the time I felt they deserved. But, of course, in an hour and a half, you can't include everything.

It touched on Taiwanese considering themselves Taiwanese, but didn't back it up with numbers: there's long-term polling proof that Taiwanese don't generally identify as Chinese, and I'd have liked to have seen that mentioned. It did, however, showcase the clear line from former President Tsai that Taiwan doesn't need to declare independence, because it's already independent. 

For me, one of the most interesting lines in Invisible Nation came toward the end. I don't remember who said it, but to paraphrase, they noted that in the past, China has said they'd use force against Taiwan if it moved towards declaring independence. Now, however, they've changed their rhetoric to say that they'll use force against Taiwan if it doesn't actively move toward unification. 

That should send chills down your spine. As the film reminds us, nobody thought Putin would invade Ukraine because it wasn't in his interest. And it indeed wasn't, but he didn't know that because he's a dictator. 

Invisible Nation ends its run on June 19th, though there's a possibility it may stay in theaters if it does well. The show we went to, on a random Tuesday night, was pretty full, so I hope this happens. 

You Get What You Need

Bay of Kotor, Montenegro

As we rounded the boot of Italy, I cleared my plate of mostly Mediterranean-style grilled vegetables — eggplant, bell pepper, zucchini, tomato, all with visible sear marks but barely seasoned — and went back for another. I wasn’t sure if I was still hungry, but I heaped this fresh plate, still warm from the dishwasher, with more vegetables, cheeses, focaccia, cured meats. They made a real effort to offer some food representative of the region we were sailing through.

And to be honest, I could have eaten more.

They weren’t empty calories. Most of the food on our cruise was acceptable, if you ignored the “soft tortillas” that had been sitting under a heat lamp for so long they’d baked into a hard mass, the sugar-free iced tea that tasted like dirt or the watered-down coffee with nowhere near enough caffeine. You can get real coffee on a cruise ship, but you have to pay for it.

And yet, even with attempts at healthy choices, I just kept feeling hungry. I ate and ate, and wanted to eat some more. I could have just about anything I wanted, but none of it quite filled me up.

Talking about a Mediterranean cruise might seem like an odd choice for a Taiwan-focused blog, but I do think it’s relevant. Lao Ren Cha is intentionally named to represent a very slow brewing process, a take-your-time opening of the tea leaves: I’ve lived in this country for almost two decades, I am mostly self-taught in Mandarin (not perfectly, but well enough), I’ve visited every inhabited outlying island and spent time in every county on the Taiwan mainland, but I can’t say I fully and deeply understand Taiwan. There’s always more to learn.

My husband and I travel this way as well, or try to. My dream vacation is to find a tiny slice of a place and explore it as deeply as time will allow. I want at least two full days in any given city, even the “boring” ones. In fact, that’s usually not enough. Two weeks just for eastern Java? About the same for Georgia? Two months in Turkey? All wholly insufficient.

So why take a cruise stopping in five countries over ten days — Italy, Malta, Greece, Montenegro and Croatia? Would that not be far too little time in any one place?

We did it because it was the best way to organize a family trip with my in-laws, who prefer cruises, and my brother and sister-in-law, who don’t mind them. The in-laws have traveled our way (over land, spending more time in each place) more than once to spend time with us. It’s our turn to try their way. I was happy to do it. I still am. It might also be our last trip before WWIII or the resource wars break out. 

The port calls were indeed too quick, though. In and out, Sicily in a day. Pompeii in half a day. Crowds pouring in, making destinations more unpleasant than they needed to be. I got the feeling most of the places we visited were a lot more pleasant after we left. Yes, we -- I'm not better than the other visitors.

I can’t say the tea leaves opened for any one destination.

I haven’t disliked taking a cruise, though. It’s easy to hop on a high soapbox or higher horse and say cruises are always terrible, or aren’t really traveling, or look like miserable trips for miserable people. It’s easy to be a travel bougie and think that makes you better than the average tourist, but it doesn’t.

Dubrovnik, Croatia

It took a lot of convincing to get me to go, though. I worried about all sorts of things: where does the poop go? How could the food possibly be good? Isn’t a cruise ship basically a massive environmental disaster? Do they treat the crew well? 

The answers to these questions are complicated (except for the poop -- it's treated and dumped as 'gray water' in the open sea, away from conservation areas).

Environmentally, the fuel needed is questionable at best. It's a lot, but having seen the resources poured into and polliution pouring out of land-based tourist facilities, especially big resorts, cruise ships seem like they actually might be more efficient. No one who travels is entirely innocent, as airplanes are one of the worst polluters as well. If you travel, you pollute. But, there is a case to be made that cruises pollute more than other forms of travel.

Very little food is wasted: we see a lot of the same ingredients in different dishes. There are almost no single-use plastics. If passengers could be convinced to give up bottled water (also a problem in general, and not just with tourists), there would be none. Everything else is paper, wood or recyclable aluminum. 

And the waste? It's not good.

Labor conditions for everyone but officers would generally be considered unacceptable in the West -- more about that later.

Knowing this, we still decided to do the trip. Spending time with family does matter, and with two older travelers who have done things our way on previous trips, it was a trade-off we were willing to make.

What about other people, though?

Chania, Crete

One friend who has money to burn says she prefers them because you’re almost completely disconnected from the world if you don’t buy the overpriced wi-fi package. If she’s on a regular trip, she can’t quite shed her workaholic nature. “But if people are trying to reach me but I’m somewhere between Barbados and Curaçao with no service, there’s not much they can do, and I won’t feel compelled to get any work done,” she once told me.

I agree with this wholeheartedly. We chose not to buy the wi-fi either, thinking a digital detox would do us good. It has: we’re sleeping better, reading more and feeling more relaxed. I don’t even miss being on social media regularly.

It’s also easy to see exactly who cruises are for when, to put it bluntly, you look at who takes them. Our cruise was mostly older people, some families, and many disabled travelers. That is, people who’d spent their fittest years working and saved travel for retirement: anyone can arrange a trip on their own if they really want to, but it gets harder to lug backpacks or suitcases around as one gets older. For disabled travelers, it’s a lot easier to book a trip where you understand the accessibility in advance and won’t be surprised with a set of stairs you can’t climb, a long walk you can’t endure, or a set of meal options you can’t eat.

For others, it’s a way to keep kids happy and entertained — say whatever you want about how you’d parent differently, you don’t actually know what personality or needs your kid is going to have, or how difficult some kids can be until you try to travel with them. Another friend of mine did the full Mediterranean rigmarole because he and his wife wanted to see everything, they had plenty of money but not a lot of time, and their pre-teen son wasn’t interested in much of it. Cruise ships have options for situations like that.



Yet another friend who occasionally does cruises geared at families where one member has autism. It’s one way to travel while ensuring a predictable environment that may minimize, say, the chance of a meltdown.

Then there are the travelers who want a floating hotel room with excellent service that moves around, so they can visit lots of places. That, to be honest, is one of the most appealing draws of a cruise. You can unpack and stay unpacked. Also, to be blunt: the cocktails are very good and they don’t skimp. 

Mt. Aetna, Sicily

And yes, there are the ones who have no special circumstances but want to say they’ve traveled but also desire it to be as safe and sanitized as possible: food they know they’ll eat, entirely predictable bus trips, services they know they’ll have access to. I know many ‘intrepid traveler’ types (the ones who call themselves “travelers, not tourists” without an ounce of self-reflection) who would dismiss this final group as unworthy of the beauty of travel, but honestly, that’s unkind. You really never know who a person is inside, or why they’ve chosen the safe option, or what experience might open them up to some new possibility. A lot of these ‘I am the very best kind of traveler’ folks might try to practice the non-judgmentalism they preach.

Still, I felt a bit out of place on what is essentially a massive floating Disney World where every staff member is helpful and friendly, and constantly asks if you’re having a good time. I always felt like I had to say it was great — magical, amazing, wonderful — even when it wasn’t. 

Pompeii was a hot mess: herded through a “cameo factory” that was more of a glorified souvenir shop with a bathroom you could use, then racing through the ruins, seeing this and that, half a fresco maybe, the infamous phallus on the sidewalk pointing to a brothel. With thirty or so people in your group surrounding you, a little radio in your ear so you could hear the guide, sunglasses and a sun hat, every one of my senses was being assaulted and I didn’t really see anything. 

In 2018, I took a train from Rome with my sister. We wandered around Pompeii at our own pace and used Google to figure out what things were. We found entire rooms with the paint intact, and talked about what we were seeing or just interesting things in life. When we felt we’d feasted enough on what Pompeii had to offer, we caught the train back to Napoli for pizza, and then on to Rome.

That 2018 Pompeii visit was better, and it's not close. 

Others on our our said Sorrento was “wonderful” — were streets of souvenir shops all they wanted? Should I judge them for that? I felt I could have really liked the town if I’d gotten an Airbnb outside the “historical” (tourist) district and spent a week, not 90 minutes. 

The tour guide for this trip was a nice guy named Sal who clearly had a nasty cold and wanted nothing more than to be at home drinking restorative hot beverages while watching crappy TV and waiting for the meds to kick in.

“But I have to work, you know,” he said as I handed him a BronkAid.

I’m not sure how I feel about propping up that kind of economy.



                    

Valletta, Malta

Things improved on Mt. Aetna: it’s harder to get to, so a tour made sense, and the crater was truly impressive. What the excursions call “time on your own”, however, usually turned out to be 1-2 hours in a town, not enough to both eat and walk around (lunch is not usually provided, so you really must eat, and often the only eateries you have time to walk to are tourist traps with awful food). In Sorrento we gulped down an overpriced meal and then tried to walk around, only to find street after street of souvenir shops.

In Catania we decided to forgo the whole tourist trap nonsense. We had an hour, and there was no reasonable way to have fun in any city with that little time. I had data on land, so I hopped online and found a highly-rated restaurant where we lunched in a sun-drenched courtyard filled with just the right amount of Sicilian chaos. We had salty olives and horse steaks (yes, horse). I had home-made rigatoni so massive it flopped over, covered in a savory pistachio cream sauce and guanciale. Six euros for a half liter of white wine, and the most delicious little chocolate thing I’ve ever shoved in my face hole.

The salty olives mattered: nothing on the ship is sufficiently salted. I felt like the sultan in that old Arab fable about three daughters, where the third showed her love by bringing her father salt. He thought it was a worthless gift until he tried living without it — he was so miserable, his food so tasteless, that he proclaimed he’d give his kingdom for a few flakes of it.

My kingdom, for some salty fucking olives in the Mediterranean, of all places.

We left stuffed, but had to run back to meet our tour group. That one meal was the only thing we had time for in urban Sicily, and we had to leave before doppio espresso or grappa had even been a possibility. The Sicilian family running the place seemed confused about why we cut out so quickly; they didn’t seem to get a lot of cruise ship daytrippers.

I didn’t get a lot of Sicily, but that meal will stay with me, on my hips and in my mind. On the ship I can get anything I want, but actually spending time on land in a place, I may get what I need.

Once we stopped doing lots of excursions, my experience became dramatically more interesting. Malta and Crete were outstanding, because we were just a family walking around and having fun. That togetherness, not endless group tours, is what I wanted and needed from this trip. The Montenegro bus trip was only somewhat chaotic, and I ended up loving Kotor itself.

One of my favorite things to do in Europe is find a pretty cafe in a quiet lane and watch the world go by over a Campari spritz (an Aperol spritz is fine, but Campari is better). Nobody needs this exactly, but it’s my favorite kind of travel. I can have as many spritzes of any liqueur that I’d like on the ship. I don’t dislike being on the ship. But a Campari spritz at one of the bars isn’t quite the same as sipping it in a travertine-bricked, vine-covered cafe in some corner of Rome. It’s the same drink, but somehow less filling.

The other thing the ship has is a massive staff. They’re from around the world, but mostly the “Global South”, if you like that term. I don’t, but can’t put my finger on why. It reads as condescending. The large proportion seem to be from the Philippines. They all work very hard to keep every guest happy — if you even hint that you want something, the nearest worker will drop everything to help.

This creates a very comfortable experience which makes me a little uncomfortable. These are probably considered very good jobs, and people need jobs. The idealist in me cries out that nobody should have to work as support staff — servants, basically — to keep a gaggle of white, mostly American, travelers happy and sated. The realist in me wonders what exactly would happen if those jobs didn’t exist. It’s easy to say “socialism would fix it!!” but that’s insanely non-specific and none of the praxis for it has worked so far. 

Because a cruise ship is pure distilled capitalism, upsells and “events” mostly designed to entice you to spend money are common. It’s just as infuriating as the low-caffeine coffee.

As for my fellow ship-mates, they are mostly quite friendly. But as we’re being herded out to excursions, I feel like we’re all doughy cattle (yes, myself included) mooing and grunting off to truncated experiences. Some of them talk loudly about how “President Trump is stopping those illegal immigrants from coming over and getting free health care!” I want these people to see more of the world, but they seem happy with just one day. Not even a day: an hour here, an hour there. I doubt they’re learning much.

After Sicily, I soaked in one of the indoor hot tubs for awhile. A woman joined me; I learned quickly that she was Peruvian and spoke only Spanish. I marginally speak something that passes for half-remembered high school Spanish, which I picked up because my French teacher saw potential in my autodidactic language learning. We still chatted for about half an hour, don’t ask me how. This was her first cruise, and she was loving it — she explained that she was a bit shy to try to communicate across language barriers (I am not), but tours were usually available in Spanish, and it allowed her to visit lots of non-Spanish speaking countries.

Doing insane charades (don’t ask how I explain problems like a yeast infection) to negotiate meaning with people with whom I share not even a word doesn’t scare me, but who am I to judge those for whom that’s a real barrier to travel?

On our voyage I also kept running into a small group of well-tailored Filipina lesbians. The maitre’d at the dining room always greeted them with a compliment. After this, I noticed that my shipmates included not just older and disabled travelers, for whom the accessibility options on a cruise are a godsend, but a fairly large cohort of LGBT+ passengers from around the world. I imagine it must soothe some to know that they always have welcoming accommodation as they see the world.

We saw my husband's parents in their most relaxed state, which for them doesn’t include carting luggage to a series of hotels rooms, and it was wonderful. For various reasons, this may be our last family trip for awhile, and I valued it.

I'm also getting a bit of what I want: I started this trip by working remotely from my sister's apartment in London. I got to drink Campari spritzes in various Rome neighborhoods, and again in many other ports. We bookended the cruise with a few days in Rome and a few in Ljubljana, giving us time to see more of both cities. 

My intention is not to lay down a polemic about cruises. It’s not my preferred mode of travel, but I may take one again. There are true upsides: you do see a lot of different places. If you truly want to explore any one of them in-depth, it might plant a seed to encourage you to come back on your own. They go to places I doubt I’d ever make it to on my own, from the Shetland and Orkney islands to the tip of South America. That trip gives you just one day in Ushuaia, but that’s one more day than I’d be likely to get otherwise.

After Sicily, the port calls improved. We wandered around Valletta, Malta, eating rabbit stew for lunch and sending the in-laws back to the ship when they were ready to take a rest. I had my Campari spritz in an outdoor European cafe and followed them. We did much the same in Crete. The scenic drive in Montenegro was a bit of a mess, but everyone enjoyed the prosciutto, cheese and wine. As we approach Croatia, I’m a little sad that it’s coming to an end.

People often ask why I’ve stayed in Taiwan so long. What am I even doing there? I don’t know. All I can say is that it doesn’t always give me what I want, but that slow process of understanding and partially (never entirely) integrating into the local language and culture, and contributing to the best of my ability so that I’m a net positive as a presence there, is the sort of slow-brewed tea that gives me some ineffable thing I need.

On the second to last day of our trip, I was having trouble falling asleep and wanted some hot tea and fresh air. I threw on a sweatshirt and headed up to the buffet, where there was no food at such a late hour, but tea and coffee were always available. I took my mug of herbal tea, perhaps a brewed a little quickly but still satisfying and walked around the exterior upper decks of the ship. People were still hanging out in the closed bars, or watching Jurassic World on the Lido Deck. Different music played in each, some areas lit up, others darkened. A basketball game going on somewhere I couldn’t see. It was a little surreal.

Somewhere in my ramblings, I came across a dark side deck full of stargazers. A crew member had distributed headphones with an audio guide about the constellations. I arrived late and didn’t take one, but standing in a throng of silent shipmates, heads turned to the sky like churchgoers in a late-night Adriatic fever dream, I saw that there is indeed more to do on a cruise ship than eat mediocre food and get herded onto tour buses. I could also sit in the middle of a wine-dark sea and look at the heavens.

I sensed a new dimension of what it means not to judge. This doesn’t extend to the guy who wouldn’t stop lying about “illegals” getting free healthcare, but to everyone else, I get it. And I hope that one guy finds a better emotional support villain to blame for his unhappiness. 

I don’t care about Jurassic World, but you do. That’s great. I think we don’t spend nearly enough time in each destination, but you think the excursions are too long. You want a bus to take you everywhere, or maybe you need that for accessibility reasons. It’s not my first choice, but okay! It doesn’t quite fill me up — I’ve left each destination feeling like I could have spent a week or more there — but it’s also more than empty calories.

It’s easy to extend ‘to each their own’ to people whose choices we can on some level understand. It’s a lot harder when nothing about your preferences align with theirs, or you’ve forgotten that people have constellations of reasons why they don’t want to or simply can’t travel the way people like me might prefer. It's extremely easy when you don't hold yourself accountable for the ways you pollute and tolerate poor working conditions, or worse, think you've solved the problem of ethical consumption in your own life. I promise, you haven't. 

I didn’t always get what I wanted on the Majestic Princess, but even though it’s the exact opposite of slow-growing roots in a new country over decades, I got something I needed there too.

Starting a bleak year with a little joy in Taiwan

I am grateful that I had the time to attend an exhibition of Sanyu (常玉) works in December

It doesn't matter how you spin it or even if you try to make it cute -- a snake is a snake. And when your government has been overtaken by snakes, there's no way to frame that positively without coming across as disingenuous, brainwashed, bootlicking or just garden-variety stupid. 

I'm talking about the US here, but something similar could be said of the KMT-created constitutional crisis in Taiwan. If you don't see the similarities in tactics between them and President Rapist's crew, you're not paying attention. DPP legislators seem to be putting up more of a fight than US Democrats, but I do with President Lai would speak out more. 

Because of how the world is, Lao Ren Cha is probably going to get pretty dark. Uplifting words require hope, and we're currently veering down a slope on which my hope finds no purchase. We're not only sliding into fascism, we're doing it electorally. People actually chose this. I have nothing to offer them but contempt. 

It may seem as though I've hopped straight to the rending of the garments without much in between, but I've actually been attempting to keep a gratitude journal. The world is in a bad way, but I can't point to many problems in my personal life -- call it privilege, luck, perhaps a few good choices, but if the US weren't in some freaky simulation of 1930s Germany and China acting kind of like the old Japanese Empire, I might even be something approaching happy? Who knows. 

What I can do, though, is practice a little self-fortification and talk about some of the little things I'm grateful for. They're random and pretty inconsequential, but it calms the mind to do this. 

That, and I can't follow the news as closely as I'd like without my stomach curdling, and I've gotten at least two migraines from it, so I can't be the Taiwan politics blogger I want to be right now.

Although it has its flaws, and I have my criticisms, I'm grateful that I moved to Taiwan back in 2006. I half-joked at the time that I was doing it to get away from "King George II", which seems adorable now. In 2025, as I see more and more Americans talking about 'getting out' and trying to start lives abroad, I started one almost two decades ago. I have permanent residency, a comfortable home built up over a decade, a freelance career that's solid even when it feels a little unstimulating, and strong social ties in Taipei. 

I do worry that China will start a war here -- President Rapist isn't smart enough to understand Taiwan's strategic importance, and he isn't empathetic enough to understand the human rights implications of this issue. China must know it has a lot less standing in its way now. 

And yet, being here has given me a greater understanding of this part of the world. If I'd stayed in the US, it would have been easy to read about conflicts like the threats China is inflicting on Taiwan, and despite feeling empathy, see it all as 'foreign' or 'far away' -- even though such a war would affect not just Taiwanese people but the world. Every issue that's far off to us is local to someone else. Not that I didn't already know that, but knowing something and feeling it in one's bones because the death count might include you or people you care about -- I'm not grateful for the threat or the fear, what kind of monster would be? But it sure does induce clarity. 

There's a small part of me that regrets that I can't do more to fight for the future of the US. Perhaps the US doesn't deserve a future -- again, the electorate chose this -- but lots of people in it do. It has brought further clarity, though, that the US might be the country of my citizenship, and it's had a major impact on my cultural norms, but it's not really 'home' anymore and probably never will be again. 

Taiwan is my home, and it's worth fighting for. I've heard people here talking about running, trying to get away from a potential war. I'm a lot less sure. I don't know what help I could be, nor how I'd be able to stay just in terms of supporting myself, but if I'm not willing to stand up for my values and beliefs in my home, then I'm not willing to stand up for them anywhere. I don't know how I could live with myself if I ran. 

That sucks, but I suppose there's a sliver of gratitude in being able to put it so plainly. Knowing it is...something?

Here's how much the US is not my home: I'm reasonably committed to not visiting again while President Rapist and his sex pest goon squad are in power, and I don't know how long that will be. Four years? Two or less, if we can get all 1789 up in the White House? Undetermined? I don't feel any sadness about not going to that country, just at what it will mean for visiting loved ones there. How feasible is my stance with a wedding in September, a father who doesn't take long trips abroad, and wanting to spend Christmas with my in-laws next year? 

                       

My face while judging supporters of President Rapist

A friend asked me what precisely I was afraid of in terms of not visiting. I'm not sure. As a cisgender, heterosexual white woman who's probably past childbearing age, I'm not very high on their list of people to actively persecute. They're content with passive persecution of women like me who are still there by eroding all of their hard-earned human rights. Yet my guts rebel at the thought of setting foot on American soil: the leadership of a country do influence the culture, and right now the Rapey D and the Roofie Crew are ushering in a culture of misogyny that gives me the willies. Which random Manosphere Bro is gonna decide it's suddenly acceptable to threaten or assault me, because his Dear Leader did it without consequences? 

I also just don't want to be around people who think it's acceptable to attack, say, immigrants or trans women. I have friends in both groups and would rather live near them than their detractors.

Besides, I don't really know what to do to support my trans and nonbinary friends especially. It feels like performative allyship, but they're mostly American, and if they can't go back for safety reasons, perhaps I shouldn't either. 

In fact, I'm curious: if you're an American living abroad, are you intending to visit the US during this "administration"? No judgement either way, we all come to our own decisions for our own reasons. I just want to know. 

What were we talking about again? Oh yes, gratitude. I am indeed grateful to have a supporting husband and loving family (biological and in-laws) who are supportive and understand how much this has bothered me, because it bothers them, too. I'm at the point of cutting off anyone who supports the literal fascism we're facing now, and I am grateful that nobody in my closest circles is, well, a fascist. 

Here are some little things I'm grateful for:

I recently started up a writing project I'd abandoned a couple of years ago. It's going better this time and takes me out of time and place a little. That matters. It also means I'll likely be blogging less. 

I have a lovely side hustle going writing for various Taiwan travel magazines. You can see some of them republished by CommonWealth's online platform (not all of the results here are mine). Writing is a way to look at some other thing critically for awhile, rather than freaking out at the news all the time. 

In fact, all I think I can read these days is Sweets Weekly. 


                  

Sweets Weekly, your trusted source for news from Taiwan to Hamburg, Germany, which was originally a kind of fried steak. 

Here's one of their better pieces: 

Typified plus thick warm and cheerful grandmother, Tainan alleys hidden in a delicious good material. this is the most memorable I've eaten grilled sandwiches, plus skillful technologies raging fire fried egg. still retain moisture egg, like iron palm flip grilled toast Ruannen delicious, simple but most charming. 

Flip to the other side to read an insightful editorial about how sandwiches is placed in the middle of the bread. 

I am grateful for Sweets Weekly. 

In April, I'll leave Taiwan for a little over a month. Starting in London where I'll work remotely from my sister's place for a few weeks, I'll then head to Rome where I'll meet Brendan and my brother and sister-in-law for the weekend. Then we'll meet my parents-in-law for a Mediterranean and Adriatic cruise. I don't know if I am a cruise person; my typical travel is public transit, mid-range hotels, lots of faffing about drinking things in cafes and exploring old bookstores, maybe seeing a castle or church and joking about how this or that bishop put rubies on his hat instead of helping the poor. 

But family bonding matters, and I don't hate large boats (only small ones), and I get to go to Malta and Montenegro. At the end, we'll spend several days in Slovenia and I'll work remotely a bit from Ljubljana.

That's a privilege, and I'm grateful...well, not for the privilege exactly, but for the privilege of being able to go plus the understanding that it is indeed privilege.

Someday I might switch to a full-time job that will make it harder to do things like this, so I'm grateful that I get to do it now. Besides, who knows whether we'll be in the throes of World War III before I get my next chance? 

For this trip, I designed an 'ideal' travel day bag. Made with sturdy Japanese fabric and a water-resistant middle layer, it boasts a thick cloth crossbody, a zipper top and magnet-sealing flap for two layers of protection. It slides onto a rolling bag handle and has outer compartments for airport necessities and a water bottle. Inside, there are inner zip pockets and a keyring that can attach to anything you may want to secure. It has a dedicated laptop compartment and Kindle pocket. I daresay it is perfect, and it came entirely from my own head. 

                    

                    
I'm grateful for that spurt of creativity in a time when I feel creatively dead, and grateful to have a tailor in Taiwan who made it for me at a reasonable price. 

My cat -- the one who had the heart attack -- is still with us. He costs about NT$15,000/month between vet visits and medication, but his prognosis was 6-9 months. It's been 9 months now, so every day we have with him is a gift. I know there most likely won't be many more. I'm grateful for that at any price. 

Lastly, I recently asked my Taiwanese teacher to help me understand the full lyrics to Hometown at Dusk (黃昏故鄉). The most famous version is by Wen Hsia (文夏), but this version is the meditative one that calms me down. I'm grateful to have a teacher willing to help make the lyrics accessible, and grateful to have learned it. 

In a life where, thanks to a decision I made two decades ago, when I travel, the place of golden-hour nostalgia that I think of when I'm homesick isn't my actual hometown, nor where I spent most of my adult life in the US. It's Taiwan. 

I'm grateful for this perspective shift, and how permanent it seems to be.  

Oh, I almost forgot.

Remember that earthquake not long ago that caused a Dictator Chiang statue to fall into a lake? 

That was awesome. I'm grateful for that. 

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.