The Day After

I don't have a good cover photo, so here's a relaxing picture I took of a beach in the Maldives. 

A pretty strong content warning on this. I'll be talking about hate speech by transphobes on the right and left. Suicide comes up. If that's not something you want to be around right now, I will never know and never care if you choose to skip this post. In fact, I'll respect you for your choices regarding your own wellbeing.

I also want to clarify that I know I'm not saying anything new. Trans activists have been talking about these issues for ages; it's just that I still see transphobia popping up around me, so maybe someone will read this and re-think. All I can really do is speak from a cis woman's perspective, so I try to keep to that. If you want to hear trans perspectives, I thoroughly enjoy the podcast Cancel Me, Daddy.

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International Women's Day was this past Wednesday, and I really want to have cared.

I remember a time when Lao Ren Cha was specifically aimed at foreign women -- especially, but not exclusively, Western women in Taiwan. The experiences of that demographic most closely matched my own; it was an easy and frankly needed angle to take. At that time I would have written up something from that angle for something like International Women's Day without hesitation. 

At times I think about going back to that narrower focus. But, over the last decade-plus, as life in Taiwan has become simply life, not some exciting new immigrant or expat journey, what I have to say isn't always categorizable by gender. I'm also no longer sure that my experiences are similar enough to the average foreign female newcomer.

Of course I remain an ardent feminist even as my blogging focus has shifted: there isn't much about my personality that is reducible to my gender, and I believe as any reasonable person does that everyone should be considered as individuals, not an agglomeration of stereotypes about how "men" or "women" should think or act. 

When I came here as a starry-eyed twentysomething who believed that women, who bear so much sexism from society, could all come together in solidarity to end it. I believed then that valuable and meaningful discussions are possible with those I don't always agree with or like.

I still want to believe that's true. To some extent, I do: the idea that everyone is set in every belief is too simplistic. People can and do say things in the moment that, on further reflection, they realize are problematic, don't reflect their core values, or that they don't truly believe. I've certainly done it! Some people aren't open to new ideas, but many are.

And yet, there I sat two days ago -- a feminist blogger simply unable to write a single thing on International Women's Day. I don't generally attach great importance to specific days, but at the very least I believe that day should be one of raising each other up, not woman-on-woman conflict.

That does feel like women's rights discourse has become, however. We've always had to deal with reactionaries shouting down the concept of women having full human rights (like, say, the right to all forms of health care, including abortion), or treating women like human beings rather than some gaggle of mysterious sirens whose primary role is ornamental.

Now, however, it's clearer than ever that some of the misogyny has always come from inside the house. It feels impossible to simply engage with other feminists without having to listen to some trash talk about who is and isn't a woman (according to them), portraying some women as enemies or worse, predators, based on zero evidence -- simply because they were not assigned 'female' at birth. 

In short, I'm sick of transphobes shouting about how feminism is necessarily transphobic. This is a perspective I thoroughly reject. In fact, I find that ideology embarrassing in its hatefulness, and I hope everyone clinging to it is thoroughly abashed just like so many anti-gay folks who sure panicked a few years ago, but now realize they sounded like particularly bigoted turnips. (Not all of them have repented, but there has been a change in the overall discourse.) 

On International Women's Day, I seethed about it. I can really only speak from a cis perspective, but I felt genuine anger at the idea of women celebrating that day, but including only the women they deem "acceptable". I tweeted, but I didn't really write. The day after that, I started to question whether I could still truly justify that lofty ideal of solidarity. 

The day after, I decided that perhaps it was time to be clear about the fact that Taiwan, at least among Western women, has a TERF problem. 

I don't just mean transphobia, but specifically women who think of themselves as feminists, but exclude trans women from any discussion of women. To me, that's not feminist at all. It's not empowering; it's just exclusionary. The problem isn't limited to Taiwan expat communities: if you've listened to any of the rhetoric coming out of the West, it's everywhere. But it exists here too, and I live here, and I do not like it one bit. 

Certainly, transphobia also exists in local society as well. I don't think one post can really address that, nor do I think I'm the best person to do so. Perhaps it's because my primary language of communication is English, but when I go online most of the Taiwan-based anti-trans vitriol I see being spewed is from other Westerners. There are more of them than I would have guessed, and they're difficult to avoid if one wants to participate in feminist spaces.

Transphobic cis women will insist that women's spaces should segregate on the basis of...I'm not sure really. Genitals? Chromosomes? All sorts of things that are not always clear at birth? Something. They seem to truly believe that cis women are in general consensus on this, and "women's spaces" should therefore be for cis women only. 

I reject this. As a cis woman, let me be clear: there is no such consensus.

I as a cis woman refuse to be a part of any "women's space" that excludes trans women. If a group, event, meeting, club, activity, discussion or anything else is meant for only cis women, the creators might think it's for women like me, but it's not. I will not dignify the existence of spaces that claim to be for all women, but exclude some women regardless.

At that point, you don't have a "women's space" or a "feminist space", you have a transphobe space. Cis women like me who believe in inclusion for all women want nothing to do with you, so it's really just the TERFs who remain. 

And why would I want to be a part of any space that claims it must exist as it does to keep women "safe", as though trans women are inherently dangerous? (They are not.) Why would I want to be around people who talk big about that safety, but don't care at all about the safety of an entire demographic of women -- the ones they seek to exclude?

I won't awkwardly smile and try to make the best of it. I won't check my disgust at the door. I won't legitimize it with my presence. I won't pretend that these are just "differences of opinion" when the TERFs sound indistinguishable from the right-wingers and their ideology does real harm. 

It positions trans people as criminals when they're more likely to be the victims of crimes. It results in bullying, harassment and assaults on trans people. That, in turn, drives attempted suicide among trans people. It allows for the dissemination of disinformation targeted as "they're trying to trans your kids!", which can lead to the restriction of age-appropriate affirming care due to incorrect beliefs about such care. It allows essential care for women to deny access to some women.

All of it is in service to exactly one belief: that the problem is the penis and women with vaginas are therefore justified in excluding women with penises. 

Although penises are hilarious (have you seen them? What the hell?) I just don't think a body part is the problem. Patriarchal systems are the problem, and patriarchal systems are inherently anti-trans. They are cruel to trans people, as they are cruel to cis women. Perhaps the details differ, but the cruelty remains the point. So, hey, if you want to support the patriarchy, by all means continue to be a transphobe! 

That's not a difference of opinion. These are human lives. Trans people are more likely to die because of the way society treats them. I think beliefs that perpetuate this treatment are, in a word, sick.

I won't pretend that harm is acceptable in any feminist space I participate in. I will never agree that to be safe for me, a "women's space" must include only cis women. No, I don't feel unsafe in restrooms, because I have no reason to. In fact, being committed to inclusive women's spaces, I'm more interested in keeping them transphobe-free. At least then, we're telling people they're not welcome based on their ideology, not their fundamental personhood. 

I'm a liberal because I care about all people, even those who aren't like me. I'm a feminist because I care about equal opportunity for all women. I'm not interested in so-called liberal or feminist ideas that sound exactly like the right-wing reactionaries with whom I so profoundly disagree. 

Are you really a feminist if you sound just like the guy at CPAC who called for transgender people to be "eradicated from public life entirely"? Because the end goals are the same: restrict gender-affirming care, make it unacceptable to be publicly trans (especially a trans woman), make it very acceptable to demonize and bully trans people.

You can tell because the same "they're trying to steal our kids!" panic is prevalent in both the conservative and "feminist" forms of this ideology. And you can tell because even when the reactionaries say something that even the TERFs know is truly ridiculous ("trans people have no hobbies") or post memes alluding to trans suicide, the "feminists" never call it out. They're too busy screaming at trans people to stop for a moment and say "hey that meme is shitty and cruel". 

Why would I want to be included in "feminist" discourse or spaces where they sound exactly like Michael Fucking Knowles talking to Republicans?

And where does that leave me, a cis woman in Taiwan?

Well, it's hard to know where to find that coveted solidarity. I want no solidarity with bullies. I can't just assume something billed as "for women" will necessarily include and support all women; it's important carefully check every women's group, meetup or event to confirm. I've lost "friends" over it; that's fine, I broker no peace with disinformation-spewing transphobes posting cherry-picked predator memes. It's extremely hard to know when a transphobe-y comment is some thoughtless crap that can be challenged with some hope of success, or indicative of a deeper worldview that legitimizes exclusion and promotes bullying.

I also watch out for transphobes welcomed into otherwise inclusive spaces. I understand the impulse to welcome everyone, and I do think it's possible to change some minds with interaction. However, they are part of an effort to push transphobia into feminist spaces in Taiwan, and I just can't countenance that. I only participate if I think my presence as a cis woman trying to be a trans ally will turn that tide. 

It's important as well to keep an eye on the guys. Every once in awhile I hear a well-meaning dude in the Taiwan foreignersphere say or retweet some anti-trans garbage thinking he's being supportive of "women" because transphobic women he respects have told him so. The only way to counter that is to push back and be clear that not every cis woman agrees; some of us believe that respecting women means respecting all women.

As the moderator of an inclusive Facebook women's group, I have had no issues with trans women causing problems, but I must always keep an eye out for transphobes spewing hate against our very welcome trans members.

And finally, as the author of a long-running blog that once focused on women in Taiwan and now focuses on whatever I please, I feel that there is not enough trans-affirming discourse among Western residents of Taiwan. 

Certainly, the wider media landscape seems to be pushing an anti-trans narrative: you hear a lot about controversy over what transphobes say -- they seem to love interviewing transphobes all het up that kids are being dipped in hormone tanks without counseling, or whatever moral panic tropes they're buying into this week -- but not much at all on what it's like to just be a normal trans person living one's life. The exposure to the idea of trans individuals just being seems so rare. You hear a lot of "ARE THEY SALIVATING OVER MY KIDS???" talk, presented as Just Asking Questions but clearly seeking to terrify, and not nearly enough "oh hey I met her at a party, she was cool". 

I'm small potatoes media. Lao Ren Cha is literally just my blog that I do for free and for fun, on Blogspot of all godforsaken places because I'm too lazy to move to a better platform. So sure, this is like a warm, friendly piss in an ocean of ice-cold hate. 

But I can try, so here it is: as a cis woman, I reject anti-trans bigotry and discrimination. I reject right-wing talking points presented as somehow revolutionary and left-wing. They are not. I reject transphobe-welcoming spaces. This may mean I reject solidarity. This is unfortunate, but acceptable: I may not know how to bridge the divide, but I do know what my feminism stands for, and it stands for inclusion.

One final plug: if you are a woman or nonbinary (basically, not a man) and want to be part of an inclusive women's group that leans explicitly feminist and trans-welcoming, check out Super Awesome Taiwan Women. There is also the Feminist Study Group Meetup (I'm not in this, but I have it on good authority that they are inclusive). 

Blood Sugar Hex Magic

                       

Yes, it's a punny title, but I won't change it. 

It felt like magic when I began losing weight without trying. Several months out from COVID recovery, I'd changed exactly one habit: I was drinking an average of two liters of water per day. Before COVID I had a small water bottle for going out; by the time I'd sipped it dry I could usually find a place ot refill it. Now, I could down that thing in three gulps, and was instead bringing a full liter everywhere I went. I'd have to refill that as well. I assumed that my wholesome new drinking habit was the driver of the weight loss. 

I had to have pants taken in and shirts re-tailored. I bought a belt. Even my shoes fit a little looser. From July to November, I lost a dress size. By January, it was a size and a half. As of now, it might be two.

I won't lie: it felt great. I didn't have any other issues or symptoms, so I just kept on assuming it was all that water. It's no secret that I'm -- what are we calling it these days? Curvy? -- and it was thrilling to be dropping pounds. Who wouldn't want that, especially with very little effort? 

Most cultures these days seem to be weight-conscious. People will say it's about health but it's really not. It's straight-up "NO FATTIES" judgmentalism. If you're fat and healthy that's still insufficient. If you're thin and sick, you should handle that, but it's ultimately better than being fat. There are people who will argue with the idea that this is totally fucked up, and that's fucked up too. 

Taiwan is no different. Taiwanese society's obsession with weight isn't even unique: you'll find pills and horrible diets and people -- mostly women -- taking on unhealthy habits and getting surgery in every other Asian country and many, if not most, places beyond. Although the country of my birth is somewhat fatter on average, all of these things exist there too. If you needed any evidence that none of it works, there it is: the United States has the juice cleanses, the disgusting powders, the gross teas and the weird contraptions too, and Americans aren't getting any thinner. 

The main difference I've found is that Taiwanese standards for being thin are far stricter: you have to be a stick to even fit into the clothing sizes available. Large-size stores exist, but they don't work for me as I'm too tall for the hemlines and the cuts don't take curves into account.

People (usually women) who are average or even slender have told me that they're regularly called fat. One told me a guy walked away because he believed he should be able to wrap his hands around her waist and have his fingers touch, which is some eating-disorder level bullshit.  I've heard far too many people commenting on weight as though it's a moral failing in an infuriatingly matter-of-fact way, and include people who are simply not fat in that definition (not that it would be any more acceptable if they didn't). 

If you're a foreign woman, it's unlikely that you'll meet these size standards. Even thin Western women I know have said they feel like giants here. Trust me, it's even harder when you're a Big Foreign Sasquatch. In addition to local messaging, there's a big community of misogynist Western dudes who have the "no fatties!" mindset. Fortunately, they mostly ignore expat women they deem overweight. They don't seem to realize they're handing us a gift.

It's to the point that seeing a doctor can be an exercise in stress, when medical professionals ought to focus on treatment. It felt like being cursed, or hexed: presenting for care, being told to lose weight and possibly receiving substandard care from a doctor who assumed weight loss was the only possible treatment, feeling like trash about it, and avoiding seeking further care. People say being overweight can lead to lower life expectancy, but I wonder if seeking medical treatment less often, and receiving insufficient treatment when one does, might lead to medical conditions spinning out of control that didn't need to be life-threatening in the first place.

Although I don't really want to speak Mandarin when there's a contraption that looks like a wine key stuck up my vagina, I quit one English-speaking OB-GYN and sought out another, because her only suggestion for treating my cystic ovaries was to lose weight. Of course, the cystic ovaries probably contribute to the weight in the first place. 

When I got COVID, I asked for Paxlovid as I was feeling weird in the general heart area, which is generally not considered to be a good thing. I have a family history of heart problems (though as far as I know, I'm fine), but that wasn't enough. The telemedicine doctor said it didn't qualify. So I said "oh, but I'm fat!" and got the drugs: having a likely predisposition to vascular issues was insufficient, but weight was. The doctor also said that heart problems were associated with obesity, and I didn't have it in me to reply my family members with heart issues were not fat, with no exceptions. 

I don't want to single out Taiwan, though. Fat people are treated like crap by society and medical professionals around the world. A doctor in the US whom I saw because I tested positive for tuberculosis exposure (I never developed the disease) exhorted me to lose weight, in college, when I wasn't fat. The main difference is that in the US people will talk about "fatties" (or "fat chicks", because this is mostly aimed at women) in derogatory ways to no-one in particular. In Taiwan they'll be more straightforward about it, but are more likely to say it to your face. 

In Taiwan, my tailor and one doctor congratulated me on my weight loss. Foreign friends said I should get checked out as my water consumption was atypical, others didn't see a concern: drinking that much of a calorie-free substance is a common weight-loss tactic!

Here's the truly unhealthy part: I didn't want this to be a problem. Of course no one does, but specifically I was quite happy to continue slimming down. A tiny voice in the back of my head kept prodding me -- you know they're right. Water or not, my rate of weight loss wasn't normal or healthy. And yet, as much work as I've done to simply love myself and focus on being a person rather than a number on a scale, I wanted to keep losing it. Going to the gym hadn't worked. Eating better never worked either. Why not take this gift being handed to me?

It gets worse: walking around in my slimmer body, I didn't just feel better about myself, I felt healthy. After all, losing weight is healthy, right? Slimmer people are healthier, no?

This was in fact extremely dangerous. I was not healthy. But when society tells you that dropping a size or two is good for you, it's extremely hard to break away and say no, something's wrong.

I visited the US recently, and it took an old college friend to really hammer it home: I needed to see a doctor. Excessive water consumption and unexplained weight loss were the most common symptoms of high blood sugar and diabetes. Even then, thinking back on years in Taiwan being matter-of-factly told I was fat, with insane diets and life-consuming exercise regimes suggested as a "cure", I secretly hoped that I would be able to "keep" the weight loss.

And yes, I did find the anti-fat messaging in Taiwan more damaging. That could just be me: it's easy to ignore Internet chuds in the US screeching about "fat chicks", usually with some assumption that said fat chicks would be single forever. Who cares? I'm not single!

It's harder to not let oneself be affected by a straight-up proclamation that you are fat and that is bad. The advertising affected me more too. It's harmful enough that the US has re-vamped all its weight-loss marketing as "wellness" or "health" (I'm sorry but nasty drinks and no food are not healthy, period). In Taiwan, well, you are fat and that is bad.

For someone who's worked hard to break free of mindsets like these, it really shows how deeply this societal messaging runs, and how damaging it can be. I came very close to not seeking care because I thought of weight loss as an unequivocal good! 

I should have known better. You know who else lost a lot of weight because she was sick? My mother, just before the cancer came back. She's no longer with us.

I did make an appointment with an endocrinologist after returning to Taiwan. You know what it took to do that? A friend treating my new body as a warning sign rather than something to be congratulated. I should not have needed that hard a push. I also massively cut down my sugar intake and reduced my carbohydrate intake, although it's hard to sustain that with no clear diagnosis. It was especially hard as my first week doing this was in Mexico, where the chocolate and the churros are delicious. 

You know what? Even then, I fretted about it the day before and morning of, simply because I wasn't in a good mental place to be told yet again that I am fat and that is bad, with the implied message that I'm a moral failure, or lazy, or a bad person because I am fat, which is what I suspect a lot of people truly believe. 

Nobody should have to feel that way when doing something as normal as going to the doctor. Everybody, in every country, should feel empowered to present for care without judgment. 

This story has no ending, as I'm still waiting for my blood sugar results. I can't imagine I'll be told I'm fine. 

There is one happy conclusion, however: unlike so many doctors before her, the endocrinologist didn't say a word about my weight. I told her I'd had COVID about six months ago, and the symptoms began immediately after. I'd had my blood sugar checked before I got sick, and there was no issue. She pointed out that there is some evidence that COVID can actually cause diabetes in rare cases, so I was right to be spooked. She asked me if I had a family history of diabetes, which I do.

She did not exhort me to exercise or eat less. That's a good thing. There is no overweight person in the world who is unaware of it, who hasn't already been told this, who doesn't know. It's never new information. It's not helpful. 

She did her job: ordered the necessary blood tests and told me how to fast and eat before each one. We'll discuss the results next week. 

I only wish every other doctor in my life had approached it that way.

If I had to offer any general advice, it would be the same for Taiwan as for the US: stop. Just stop. Leave people alone. You don't know their lives, you don't know their health, and the "I'm just concerned about your health" concern trolling is actively harmful -- but you knew that. Treat health issues as health issues in and of themselves, and don't tie moral rectitude or assumptions about health to weight. Every single thing you want to say, everyone already knows, and it does not help. Listen to Maintenance Phase and just...stop. 

The Fissure

                       

When I first moved to Taiwan, I didn't have a lot of free time. Like most buxibans, my first workplace expected six-day work weeks. A coworker rightly described this sort of job as "not really being teachers, it's the education industry equivalent of working at The Gap." He wasn't wrong.

The only real upside was public holidays: on those preposterous work/school "make up days", we didn't have Saturday classes. Feeling a bit trapped in Taipei -- you can't really do much when you work six days a week -- I decided to use one of these to check out Taroko Gorge. 

I did this with the wisdom and forethought of a turnip. I used none of my intelligence in applying my experiences in China to my expectations for Taiwan. Namely, that one can turn up close to a destination and pay someone a small amount of money to just take you there. So, instead of getting off the train at Hualien and taking the bus through the gorge like any other young person on a budget, I hopped off at Xincheng because it's geographically much closer to Taroko. 

I found no transport and walked -- walked! -- the several kilometers to the park entrance. I even walked most of the Shakadang Trail. Realizing my mistake, I then grabbed the bus to Hualien and got a bed in a hostel, having seen almost none of the actual gorge. I did get a very nice view of Asia Cement's, um, cement garden. Local children laughed at me. I deserved it. 

Years later, I told students what I’d done. They laughed at me too. I still deserved it. 

“Never do this!” I said. 

“We never would,” one of them shot back. 

On my next trip, we hired a taxi. I wanted to go to the Qingshui cliffs in addition to Taroko, but he wouldn't take us. My Mandarin wasn't good enough yet to really communicate much. It rained, and I had a headache. On the third trip, I rented a car with friends and for whatever reason we ended up driving over the North Cross-Island Highway first (don't ask). It was gorgeous, but we were too tired the next day to truly appreciate the beauty of our actual destination. We picked out a random local hotel with terrible beds and thin walls; someone was having a great time spanking their boyfriend in the next room. Good for them, but not fun for us.

We drove back, in the rain, over the cliffs but it was getting late and we didn't really get to appreciate those, either. 

Years later, despite all that bad luck, I wanted to take my in-laws. They'd been to Taiwan a few times but never really gotten to see the country's natural beauty. So we bought tickets -- to Hualien this time -- on the Puyuma Express and I hired a private driver through KKDay who promised to include the cliffs. I asked local friends for a hotel recommendation, and booked Just Sleep. We had a marvelous time, and I was able to manage the family trip in Mandarin with no issue. I was able to replicate this travel itinerary with my sister years later. This time, our KKDay-booked driver was named Bread. Not Brad (I asked). He wanted the universe to fill his life with bread, he explained. 

This little walk through time is metaphorically related to what I want to say, but I'll let you decide on exactly how.

But here is where it begins: while my sister and I gazed up at those impossibly steep marble walls, I reflected on all the criticism I’ve heard recently about Taiwan.

The traffic is horrible. Raising a family in Taiwan’s drudgery-heavy work culture is so impossible that many people either aren’t doing it, or have moved abroad. Salaries are too low. The banking system has long been the subject of mockery. There is no real path to citizenship for most of us permanent folks. 

Friends complain (quite rightly) that “make-up days” for extra days off are ridiculous; Taiwanese people already have some of the longest working hours in the world — just give them the day off! Even my sister, who used to live here, said that she left initially because she felt she’d “outgrown” Taipei. What she seems to have meant was that there were no useful career opportunities, and that meant it was time to go.

Worst of all, I remember watching coverage of abuses against migrant workers in Qatar preceding the World Cup and couldn't help but think, the system we're all pointing fingers at there doesn't sound much different from what goes on in Taiwan. It's a glaring issue, and the main systematic problem that makes it impossible to say that Taiwan is a wholly wonderful country.

I considered all of the upcoming critical posts that I haven’t written yet. They’re pretty diverse — one discusses the new and absolutely hellish system for sending packages abroad. Another is more personal, about health issues I’ve been facing that are somewhat related to my reduced blogging output. 

Is Taiwan really that bad? I thought. Is it so horrible that people are pushing to get out, and nothing works as it should?

It’s difficult to accept this, even when the various criticisms are either correct, or debatable but not wrong per se. Traffic problems really don’t compare well to, say, Japan. The banking system is indeed archaic; I’m unlikely to ever be a homeowner because I’m seen as more of a flight risk than some rich Taiwanese asshole who actually would flee the country to avoid debt. Like I could do that! I’ll probably never be a citizen and am not satisfied with “change is slow” explanations. Salaries are low. Work culture is unacceptable. People do leave. Career opportunities are not particularly robust. Even as a teacher — the easiest career path for an English L1 user — I could make more in many other countries in Asia. I stay in Taiwan because I want to be in Taiwan. 

But then I look up again at all that beauty and have a hard time accepting that it really is that bad. Of course, I’m not Taiwanese and I’ll never know what it’s like to live here as a local. The closest I’ll ever get is an approximation as a person with a middle-class income (and no local support beyond the friends I’ve made). 

Despite issues surrounding citizenship and securing the basics of a normal middle class life — like, say, a mortgage — it’s hard to argue that Taiwan has been bad. I can’t imagine I ever would have become a teacher, let alone a teacher trainer, in the US. In Taiwan I’ve built a career I’m happy with, enjoyed a wonderful marriage, made good friends both local and foreign, and had the opportunity to travel extensively. 

Of course, as a foreigner, I can never say that’s the whole story. There’s surely some selection bias, but local friends and students have also expressed a love for Taiwan that’s impervious to criticism. Life is more affordable here than Singapore or Japan, they say. Some have lived in China for a stint, or spent extensive time there for business. It sucks, they say. Taiwan is so much better. No one harasses you for being Taiwanese or not wanting to be part of China. They ask how Americans cope with our garbage “health care system”. 

“We mostly don’t,” I say. “Basically either you’re lucky or you die too soon.”

They ask how we cope with Gun Culture. 

“We mostly don’t,” I repeat. “If you’re white you’re probably fine. Otherwise every day, every traffic stop, every public festival, is a gamble.” 

“Yikes,” they reply. They’re right. 

Compared to China’s authoritarianism, Japan’s sexism, Singapore’s cost of living, and America’s various dangers, unruly traffic just…doesn’t seem that bad? The banking system is annoying but not life-destroying. I don’t know what to say about low pay and horrendous work culture. But it’s not like other countries are problem-free. Most say they have no real desire to leave Taiwan. It’s not perfect but it’s a pretty good place to live, they insist. They don’t think it’s puzzling that I’d leave the US and decide to live here. 

That said, it’s not as though the criticisms are incorrect. Every last one makes a salient point. 

And yet, despite all this plus my own personal criticisms, I just can’t bring myself to spend all day slamming Taiwan. I visit other countries, including the country of my birth, and in most ways, Taiwan compares favorably. Occasionally I land in other cities that, in another life, I might have considered home. Istanbul was glorious (but as an Armenian, I’m just not sure how I’d feel about it long-term). I’m writing this from Mexico City. I could live here, but ultimately I know I won’t leave Taiwan. 

Why? Seriously, why, despite all the valid criticism? Well, I often get asked why I came to Taiwan, and I can’t answer that. I was curious, and not planning to live there forever. That changed, and I can answer why I chose to stay. 

My ideal home would have a few key points in its favor: it has to be a democracy with basic human rights enshrined in law (I understand that no country on earth makes these rights perfectly accessible). I tried living in a country that lacked this -- China -- and it turned out to be untenable.  Taiwan isn’t perfect in this regard (no country in the world is), but it's on a trajectory of progress.

I also want to feel comfortable as a woman. All countries struggle with endemic sexism, but compared to the rest of Asia, Taiwan offers pretty solid women's equality.

Health care is important too; I left the US in part because I didn't want to wake up one day and find out The Machine decided I was too poor and deserved to die.

I want to live in what might typically be called an advanced or developed country (I don’t think a politically correct way of expressing this exists). Maybe I’m a bit of a princess, but I do want to live somewhere where things generally work. 

And, of course, I want to live in a country that is at least making progress toward liberal ideals. I don't think any country has actually gotten there yet, but again, compared to the rest of Asia, Taiwan is doing alright.

Taiwan checks all those boxes. It’s not perfect, but it’s not the screaming shithole many portray it to be. And over the years, as my local competencies have improved, and my understanding of Taiwan increased, I feel far more affection for the country than dislike. That’s true even when I have sincere criticisms. 

Back in the early 20th century, my problematic fave described her first view of Taiwan: 

Formosa, that little-known island in the typhoon-infested South China Sea, so well called by its early Portuguese discoverers - as its name implies - "the beautiful". Indeed, it was the beauty of Formosa that first attracted me....I shall never forget the first glimpse that I caught of the island as I passed it...there it lay, in the light of the tropical sunrise, glowing and shimmering like a great emerald, with an apparent vividness of green that I had never seen before, even in the tropics. During the greater part of the day it remained in sight, apparently floating slowly past - an emerald on a turquoise bed…

Most likely, she was off the coast not far from the gorge I was standing in when I began to think about all of this. After all, is there a more beautiful sight of the Taiwanese coast than the Qingshui cliffs?

It’s preposterous to dismiss valid criticisms of a country because, hey, there are some beautiful views! At the same time, it’s exactly those views that can make one feel ever so small compared to the ebb and flow of history.

Considering the ways Taiwan rose from inheriting mostly disadvantages, told one authoritarian government to get bent, is now refusing to bend to another, and still managed to (more or less) get rich with (again, more or less) low wealth inequality, it's hard to declare that it's really so awful. 

I want to except human rights abuses against migrant workers here, as there is simply no excusing that. Everything else is as terrible as it is valid, but I have a hard time thinking of a country that doesn't have problems that are equally horrifying, or worse. Like any other country, Taiwan isn't perfect or terrible; it's messy and complicated and difficult to put into words. 

Of course I'd say all this: I chose Taiwan, and choose it every day I wake up in Taipei. I wasn't born here, and a big chunk of my life is steeped in white privilege. Theoretically, I could leave.

But then my local friends run businesses, cultivate interests, fall in love, get married and have children here. Plenty of people I know have left for a time to study or work, but I rarely meet people who want to build a whole new permanent life abroad. They seem more proud of Taiwan's success than they are interested in bashing it.

That doesn't mean there's no need to address the problems that do exist, just that Taiwan simply isn't an intractable garbage heap. 

In other words, maybe Taiwan isn't always great, but it isn't all bad, either. 

The anti-war position, and what I no longer hear

                  

I'm not here to start a war with China. This should be obvious. My anti-war position ought not to be considered unconventional, and yet it so often is.

What do I mean? Well, to me, the only sensible anti-war position for Taiwan is to porcupine itself into an undesirable conquest for China -- call it "avoiding war by preparing for war" if you want, but I consider it to be "making the attack that China has fixated on seem as untenable and costly as possible".

This is especially vital when it's become apparent that there is no diplomatic solution acceptable to both China and Taiwan. China will only accept complete authority over Taiwan. Taiwan will never accept any Chinese authority over its sovereignty. There's no middle ground; one side isn't going to get what they want and if we care at all about democratic norms and human rights, that side must be China.

It also means engaging with the international community through any channels that present themselves. This means engagement with the much-reviled United States and normalizing visits from high-level officials. 

It means noticing the difference in China's tone when it's an official visitor they assume the world won't care about, vs. Nancy Pelosi. Pelosi's visit didn't antagonize China: China chose to act aggrievèd when they could have simply...not. If China got poked in the eye, then they picked up the stick and did it to themselves.

It means doing these things even as China whorls and wails and fustigates in anguish that the world would dare to disagree with them that Taiwan is not, indeed, their territory.

If anything deters China from an attempt at brutal annexation, it will be these steps. Preparation, international solidarity, normalization of Taiwan's status (including through unofficial channels), standing firm as the shills and quislings crackle and wail in despair. 

Don't back down, do prepare yourselves, don't let China decide the shape of the fight because they will certainly red-line you into a corner: this is the anti-war position. 

What's the pro-war position -- the support for a series of events that will certainly lead to a Chinese invasion of Taiwan? Appeasing the CPC. Respecting every red line it throws down as sacrosanct. Moving away from international engagement because it's always a "move likely to anger China", not challenging China's attempt to dominate the discourse and lexis of how the world talks about Taiwan ("split in 1949" and "reunification" reporters, I am indeed looking right at you.) Taiwan not preparing itself because that "raises tensions". Insisting that Taiwan's current sovereignty does not constitute independence, when it absolutely does.

This is often cloaked in the language of "engaging China" or "diplomatic solutions" It's called the "anti-war" position, but it's the opposite. It's really just appeasement -- letting China draw its lines wherever it wants like a sugared-up kid with an Etch-a-Sketch and a bad attitude. Telling Taiwan to make itself metaphorically smaller as the lines cut closer, because keeping what it already has also "raises tensions". And somehow, someway, that's read as Taiwan's fault. 

You want a bloody subjugation of Taiwan? Because all that appeasement is exactly how you get it.

All that said, imagine my utter lack of surprise when people -- and this has happened more than once -- shoot back that people like me, with the true anti-war position, are encouraging the war machine over a conflict we won't be fighting, in a nation we won't be defending. 

There's an easy parry for me, personally: it's wrong. I fully intend to stay and defend Taiwan. I'm not sure how, as I'm not much of a fighter, but surely volunteers will be needed to grow sweet potatoes, make Molotovs and do basic nursing. 

But there's a more difficult moral divide here that I'm not sure gets explored enough: the whole insult -- you want to plunge Taiwan into war when you won't be around to fight that war -- begs the question. It assumes that people like me (pro-Taiwan long-term foreigners) generally advocate for war.

But we don't. 

Appeasement is far more likely to lead to that conflict than deterrence. Appeasement is quite literally easing China's way toward invasion. We know this because China, not the US or Taiwan, will start that war when they feel that victory is achievable. Why make it easier for the CPC?

I might not feel this way if a diplomatic solution existed, but none does. So either China is deterred, or there is a war. I prefer that China be deterred: the anti-war position.

There's a third problem, too: deciding to stay and fight or escape is morally fraught. Less so for me -- I don't have children I'd need to get to safety, and my loved ones in the US are well cared-for. But I do worry about how I would be able to afford to live in a war-torn land where I am not a citizen, presumably when my job's just been blown up. I don't have local relatives to help out. I do have friends, but they'll have their own stresses. And it is a rather larger commitment than most people realize: pledging to defend a country that doesn't offer most long-termers dual nationality, which it readily extends to ROC citizens.

And yet, I've said I'll fight, and I stick by that. Perhaps it's wise to stop judging others, though: they have their own moral compasses, and you don't know their circumstances. 

It doesn't do anyone any good to get finger-waggy at long-termers in Taiwan as though it's assumed we'll all run. You don't know what life circumstances are guiding everyone's decisions.

Finally, when long-termers in Taiwan say they believe in international engagement (yes, including with some dodgy people), a strong defense and an understanding that the only way to win the CCP's "red line temper tantrum" games is not to play them, they are echoing the Taiwanese government line. 

I hope you believe that Taiwan can govern itself competently and has the intelligence on the Chinese government that it needs to make these kinds of decisions. So, when foreigners in Taiwan say that China is the aggressor, scoffs at diplomacy, and cannot be trusted, there's a reason for it. We've been living through what that attitude looks like.

We may not be echoing analysts in other countries who have some blinkered ideas about the power of diplomacy with a genocidal dictatorship, but we are echoing stance of the Tsai administration, and the majority of Taiwanese who do say they'll fight. This may not be a reliable indicator of who would actually be on the front lines, but it is a decent gauge of the extent to which Taiwanese people do not want to simply hand their country to China or compromise on their sovereignty.

With all this in mind, I've decided that I simply do not hear this any longer. You want to say I wouldn't fight for Taiwan? Or that any long-termer wouldn't, and thus forfeits the right to an opinion you don't like (but which happens to be in line with the Taiwanese government stance)? 

I think that's stupid, but I won't tell you what you can and can't say.

Yet I'm not interested in hearing it. I expect writing this won't stop people from holding silly opinions, but they're gonna 左耳進右耳出, and that's that. 

In quarantine, who can hear you scream?

My teeth are like these chairs

My teeth and I have a somewhat adversarial relationship. I just want teeth that work and don't disintegrate. If they stayed in my mouth and met that most basic criteria, they could be brushed twice a day with a sustainable toothbrush and fancy Italian toothpaste that gives one's breath a whiff of sweet jasmine. 

Sadly, it was not meant to be. I don't like my teeth, mostly because they don't like me. The devils just won't stop acting up. They develop problems at the worst possible times: in Singapore on vacation, while I have COVID, in the middle of proficiency test examining.

So, I just wanted to write a little about my experience in quarantine -- specifically, what happens if you develop a bit of a dental drama at a time when no one can help you.

It seems I've developed a severe toothache. This tooth has bothered me for awhile; I actually need an implant, but the dentist says to keep on keepin' on until there's no alternative. Implants are expensive and the procedure takes awhile to complete. That, and every time I think about a screw going into my jawbone I squirm and tear up and he sees it. I know it's not supposed to hurt, but tell my lizard brain that. 

This round of tooth pain is so unbearable that I am afraid to take more painkillers, as I've already reached the 24-hour hard limit. Ice helps but only briefly. I have numbing gel and clove oil and they do not work. I can barely eat and I'm sleeping poorly.

Knowing that they will let you out of quarantine for medical emergencies, I called 1922. They gave me the city government phone number, which I called this morning. 

The city government worker who answered said that the whole "emergency quarantine leave" thing is only for the actual emergency room. If there's one thing I know from my dental troubles, it's that emergency rooms do not include dental care unless you've been in, say, a major car accident and your face is messed up in a very urgent way. 

"Nobody's going to be able to treat you," she said, not unsympathetically. "The best they'll do is give you more pain medication."

You mean the pain medication I am quite literally in danger of overdosing on, which still doesn't work? 

Yep.

Even though I tested myself this morning and at the 10-minute mark stated by the testing procedures, it came up negative? (After another 15 minutes a faint T-line appeared; perhaps I am not as COVID-free as I'd thought when the timer went off). 

Yep.

I understood the minute she said permission to leave was only for emergency room services. Like in the US, the health system acts as though your teeth are somehow not part of your body -- any other pain might be an emergency but nobody will help you with your teeth. Taiwan's health insurance covers fillings and root canals, but not crowns or implants. Teeth, apparently, don't matter and tooth pain doesn't really count. 

I couldn't really be angry about this. Upset, unhappy and in pain? Sure. But "angry" isn't fair: if you were still under a government-mandated quarantine anywhere in the world, would a dentist see you? I mean, that's the kind of doctor you breathe on the most!

The only real differences between Taiwan and the US in this regard seem to be that Taiwan enforces quarantine a lot more strictly, and in Taiwan you can actually call someone to ask what your options are. If you're lucky, you might even get help in English -- I no longer need this, but there was a time when I did. I feel for newcomers who are now in the same position. I feel even more for the majority of foreigners whose native language isn't English, who may have even more difficulty accessing information and help. 

An American friend said it seemed unfair: if I wanted treatment it should be my right to break quarantine and seek it. I understand that perspective, but the Taiwanese perspective that I could cause the dentist to fall ill and potentially create an outbreak in a medical office made sense. Taiwan wasn't going to let me die of a brain infection, but I would potentially have to endure some pain for a few days longer than I'd like. 

I did not want that pain, but I understood the general principle. I'd also learned that naproxen, or a combination of ibuprofen and acetaminophen, were more effective than either ibuprofen or acetaminophen alone, that sucking on whole cloves worked better than the oil, and that if I iced it for longer I could calm the pain somewhat. It wouldn't be fun but it would be survivable. 

I made an appointment at a hospital for Wednesday morning, the minute I am out of quarantine. No private clinic would see me until 14 days after a positive test. I could make it until Wednesday, but not the week after. 

And then...a miracle. 

When I reported to Ren'ai Hospital that my tooth pain was severe enough that I wanted to see a specialist and could not easily wait, I thought the phone number they gave me was a dead end unless I actually developed sepsis. 

But no! A hospital staffer unexpectedly called me today to say they'd gotten a report of my situation and asked if I wanted to go to the emergency room. I said I would be willing to, but if a dentist wouldn't see me, what would be the point? 

So she looked around and found a dentist willing to do online consultation. It's not perfect -- dentistry really requires a better examination of one's teeth than a phone can provide -- but it's someone, willing to do something. She even added me on her own Line to help me set up the consultation with the dentist.

That all worked out (though the process was a little confusing). I still haven't figured out how to get pharmacies to deliver to my home, so a friend came by, picked up my NHI card and some money, ran it up to the dentist, got my drugs and ran them back, all without coming face-to-face with anyone in the House of Plague.

I don't know if it would have rolled out differently if I'd been anything other than a white woman. Would a local have gotten such help? (Would they have needed it, knowing the language and having better connections than I ever could?) How about a foreigner who wasn't obviously Western? I have no way of knowing, I can only relate the experience I had. 

Perhaps I was helped because I happened to go through Ren'ai Hospital, and someone there happened to take my issue seriously enough to step in. Would I have gotten care if I'd reported another way? I have no way of knowing. 

Honestly, this was better than anything I could have pulled off in the US (without lying about my COVID status there). I understand worry about putting your health in the hands of a big government system -- what if they prohibit the path that's best for you? Yet, I can't say that's what happened. Yes, Taiwan can force you to stay in quarantine and the US can't. But would anyone in the US have thought to call me up and get me what I need like that? Doubt it. I'd have been on my own.

This isn't to say I prefer all-powerful, paternalistic or authoritarian governments. I don't. I would not have gotten what I needed in most such governments. Could you imagine things working out this way in China? I can't. 

Rather, I prefer governments that at least make an effort, even two years into a pandemic. I know that's hard to do in larger countries like the US, but the US also has more resources. They could try to meet residents' needs while having stronger policies to fight COVID. They just...don't. Maybe it's a cultural thing -- I feel like in the US the service you'd get would be very much dependent on your ZIP code. But from here, it looks like giving up.

My experience didn't deliver a perfect solution, but now I have what I need to make it to an appointment. I'm still in pain but I hope it will start subsiding. I feel pressure in my tooth from swelling or (not to get too gross about it) pus. But I got necessary drugs, and I won't be putting any doctors at risk.

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

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

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

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

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

Before you test

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Testing positive

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

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

I strongly recommend that you do this online instead. 

Using EUCare

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taipei City Hospital (for Taipei residents)

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



The options, in order are:

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Local Clinics

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

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

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

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

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

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

After confirmation

The confirmed case form

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

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

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

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

The phone calls

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Other advice

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What's worth fighting for?

The events of the past week have been flustering and paralyzing; I'm flooded with barely-concealed anxiety. I don't have a hot take on Ukraine, nor to what extent Taiwan is in a comparable situation. And why should I? The obvious answer is "not very, but there are some parallels and it'd be foolish to think Xi Jinping isn't taking stock of the situation."

I could talk about the inherent racism of media coverage of international conflicts, but others have said it better (at the ten-minute mark). 

It has brought out a lot of thoughts and feelings, though, and where else to share them but one's personal blogging space? 

Once again, I'm reminded of the fact that I'm not exactly a pure winged dove: while certainly anti-war, it bothers me the extent to which I think war is a very bad option, but not necessarily the worst. For both Taiwan and Ukraine, war is the second-worst option. The worst would be annexation.

Beyond that, I've been thinking a lot about the role of writing vs. doing. Writing is nice, but I've long known it doesn't accomplish much, at least for a blogger like me. It's easy to write and gain visibility, but it's more important to do, public profile be damned. I'm not sure exactly what to do (though donating through either of these platforms is a start), but writing hasn't felt as compelling a use of my time recently.

It's also brought to the fore all of my internal back-and-forth about the role of the West -- specifically, the United States. In my lifetime and for some decades before, pretty much every US military involvement has been an imbroglio or a disaster, and I have no interest in defending that.

That's on the one hand, anyway. On the other, is it truly worse for the US to get involved than for, say, Russia to take Ukraine or China to take Taiwan? I don't know, but I can say quite certainly that if China were to knock on our door, I'd rather have US backup than not. I've dropped friends over this: but nobody wants Taipei to be another Fallujah, they said. True, but China would be the one doing that,  I replied. They seemed unable to grasp the notion that another government could actually be worse than the United States, that perhaps another country's missiles were a bigger threat to someone they knew personally than any US offense. We don't talk anymore. 

Most of all, however, what this week has drawn out has been the simple question that's taken up so much of my internal dialogue -- my dove and my hawk, battling it out:

What's worth fighting for?

In other words, if China did invade Taiwan, what would I do, exactly, and why?

I maintain that nobody really knows how they'd react until they're in that situation. The best we can do is engage ourselves in inner discourses working through the options and their rationales. 

Is a country worth fighting for? Yes, possibly, but plenty of people have put their faith in national values which turned out to be wrong. What's more, I'm a non-citizen with little chance of gaining Taiwanese nationality (there is no meaningful path for me).  Is it right, or wise, to put my life on the line for a country that won't even give me a passport?

Is a piece of land, or the idea of a country worth fighting for? Well, I do love this country, and that includes the land. But I've never been one for patriotism, especially the blind sort. I disliked the country I'm actually a citizen of enough to leave permanently! Taiwan is not only beautiful, but the land itself is one part of Taiwanese identity. I'm not Taiwanese, though. 

Are people worth fighting for? Certainly, they are. As another friend put it, he's never loved a place enough to risk his life for it, yet he would do just that for people he cares about.

But to what extent am I centering myself in the struggle of others if I entertain the delusion that I, specifically, am needed to physically fight for or with people whose identity and culture I don't share? Is there a smidge of white saviorism in the sentiment? There's no clear answer to that.

And yet, despite all these arguments, despite myself, I can't imagine not fighting for Taiwan. If people were in Taipei basements making Molotovs, it's difficult to envision not being there to help add to the pile. A life in which I run away and live safely in the US or Canada doesn't feel like a life worth living. 

Why, though? I wasn't born here. I live here, but I'm not of here.

What is worth fighting for?

Part of the answer comes back to people: I have the means to leave, but a lot of people I care about deeply would not. What kind of person cuts and runs and leaves behind almost all of their friends, their built community, their local ties, and people they don't know but who deserve life, liberty, peace and justice as much as anyone else? Safely back in the US while the people you care about face the attack?

What kind of person does that after decades here, building a life and a home, benefiting from and enjoying what Taiwan has to offer -- a situation which is of course dyed deep in white privilege? 

It's understandable for some. Children they need to protect, or expats who weren't planning to stay forever. People who haven't been here long, or haven't fully committed to Taiwan as home. But I have. What would it say about my character if I ran?

There's more. 

The Taiwan I believe in -- the Taiwan I call home -- isn't some jingoistic blind-allegiance nationalism thing. It's not a bloodline or heritage thing. I don't care for self-determination arguments based on DNA, ethnicity or culture. Even history is too often manipulated and propagandized. It's not really about a piece of land, or borders. 

If what makes a country is a blend of desire for self-determination, cohesive society and respect for shared values, then those values they key. 

While imperfect, Taiwan does stand for things that matter: democracy, liberty, human rights, self-determination. I'm not from here, but these are our common ideals. They're not just cooked up by Westerners, and they don't apply only to Westerners. They're universal. We know that because they're valued in many non-western societies. 

As another friend put it: it's not about Western values or Asian societies. People around the world want to be able to say what they think, do more or less what they want without hurting others, decide who governs them and criticize that same government...and not get shot for it. Period. 

I believe in that. Taiwan believes in that. On this, our values are shared.

If I'm not willing to stand and fight for those values in the country I call home, then what are my values worth? 

This isn't to judge all the refugees who do choose to leave. Life is valuable, and it's not wrong to not want to die. It's human and understandable to care about values, but care more about your own life, and that of your family. I won't say a word against those who do.

But I not only transplanted myself to a new country and decided to call it home; I also spend a lot of time crowing about what I think and believe in. In this way, my values are neither fungible nor mutable. If I'm going to blog on about war being the second-worst option, that carries with it some understanding that running if it happens shows an alarming dearth of character.

Perhaps I have no specific obligation to a country that won't give me citizenship. Perhaps a piece of land, on its own, is not worth human life. Jingoistic patriotism certainly isn't. Perhaps my own friends would try to leave and think me deluded for not following suit.

Values, however, are worth it. That's not diminished by the possibility that the front line will be my home, even if it's not the place I'm from. Death is terrifying; the only thing worse is not standing up for what you believe in. If we all did that, then we might as well let turdbaby dictators take over the world.

So if you ask whether I've got plans lined up to exit Taiwan if things get bad, the answer is no. I can't say for sure what I'd do; nobody knows that. But I have no plans to leave. I've never made a Molotov, but I think I'd rather learn than run.