The White Roses

From yesterday's Taipei Times - something worth reading. I intend to go to the protest on the 31st not only to report on it on this blog but to also show my support for the women's movement in Taiwan. 

There was a brief discussion among friends on Saturday after our hike on which party is better for women's rights and women in general in Taiwan.


I still say it's the DPP. It's true that the KMT passed many laws in the late '90s that drastically improved women's legal rights, which has helped pave the way for women's social equality (which we're still working on, but it's getting better). This is right about the time that the rape and abortion laws changed to be, though not perfect, at least more favorable to women. 


One person said - and I don't disagree entirely - that neither party, no politician, around the world, actually cares about issues so you may as well vote for those who have done something about the issue you care about. He has a point, even though it's quite clear that the KMT passed those laws as they saw their chances of election slipping away in the face of the cultural force that was Chen Shui-bian (as much as I don't like the guy, he really was a cultural force) in an attempt to court the female vote. It also seems fairly clear to me that they were laws that would have been passed by the DPP once in power.


That was over a decade ago. Looking at the landscape now, I still see the DPP as the party of women's empowerment. Look at their high-level political figures. How many high-level KMT women can you name? I can't name any (maybe there are a few I haven't heard of, I admit, but I at least know the names of most prominent politicians in Taiwan). Now, how many high-ranking women can you name in the DPP? Tsai Yingwen, Chen Ju, Lu Xiulian...this is the party that is actually aspiring to put a woman in the highest office and the party that already put a woman in the 2nd highest office. This is the party of feminism - the women of the DPP have brought up women's rights as an important platform. 


On the other side, you have a judge nominated by Ma Yingjiu who dismissed a rape case against a six-year-old because she "didn't resist enough" (!!), a rapist let out on bail who then jumped said bail and has only now been apprehended, this mishandling of the Jiang Guoqing case both when it happened and now that the injustice has come to light. You have the party of inertia and seemingly purposeful ignorance and fecklessness. 


Back on the blue end, I hear a lot of rhetoric about how people from the south are "sexist" or "don't respect women" or "are too traditional" and expect women's roles to remain traditional. I don't like to link "south Taiwan" with "DPP" *too* much but, you know, I think in this case I can. It's true that there's still a lot of sexism across Taiwan and a lot of that is linked to traditional values (which you might see more of in the south). But it's also true that those "sexist" south Taiwanese are the ones supporting a female presidential candidate and who voted in a female vice president. And, on a softer more "anecdotal observation" note, considering the power that the obasans of southern Taiwan seem to yield, and the equal stakes that wives have in family business, I find it hard to believe that the "south Taiwanese" (ie those who vote green) "don't respect women" even if there are some ways in which traditional cultural mores could be improved.


So you bet I'll be at the protest, and I do hope to see the women's vote in 2012 coming out to support Tsai for President.

Day Hike to Yuemeikeng Waterfall (and Reason #23 to love Taiwan)

Yesterday we hiked to Yuemeikeng waterfall in Yilan - I have to say, very honestly, that this is not only the most beautiful waterfall I've seen in Taiwan: it's the most beautiful waterfall I've seen in person. Period. And that includes some spectacular falls in Guizhou, Sumatra and the Philippines. You can see for yourself how lovely it is - a spray of water falling down an etched rock face into an idyllic, swimmable pool surrounded by verdant cliff faces, approached from an idyllic gorge.

I can't give exact directions because I didn't lead the hike, although it's not a hard trail to follow. There is are links out there to posts by other hikers/bloggers that I thought I'd bookmarked, but haven't (J, if you want to provide a link in comments I'll link it in the post).

To get there, you begin at Wufengqi (also spelled Wufengchi and Wufongchi...whatever) in the hills above Jiaoxi in Yilan County. You can get there by taxi, a tourist shuttle or your own transportation. The tourist shuttle leaves from outside the train station approximately once every 15 minutes, at least on weekends.

I recommend going during the week if possible, and not on a holiday. The last blogger to pass through here said he felt that this gorgeous spot would soon be overrun with hiking groups and he'd like to see it remain pristine. Our experience is that it's pretty newly popular and full of hiking groups (we ran into several) and so...what's done is done. Weekends promise to be somewhat crowded, as do holidays, and the large hiking groups of which Taiwanese seem to be fond, while friendly, well...the sheer size of them does kind of ruin the peaceful atmosphere.

You do not want to do this hike in heavy rain or after it. Some parts of the trail are really not navigable when wet.

When you get to Wufengqi, head down the path along the river where the mini-dams are (people will probably be swimming) and after climbing the stairs above them, cross the river. This is not the first time you'll be wading in water - a good portion of the hike is essentially river tracing, so wear appropriate shoes (river tracing shoes would be the best choice, but we did it in Teva-style sandals).

There is a trail across the river - not really marked at all. Head up that and you'll walk a very gentle incline for awhile. You'll cross two bridges and pass a simple Tu Di Gong (earth god) shrine.

One of the bridges has a sign saying that only one person may cross at a time.

The trail goes up and down and only one section is a longer, steep climb. I'm not exactly a super-fit hiking maven, but I made it up, so you can too. Huffing and puffing, but I made it. You'll pass lots of lovely hanging branches and vines and a grove of green bamboo on the way up.

At two points you'll hit crossroads...this is where my directions get a little shoddy. For one of them (I believe the first one) you go right. The other path heads uphill and the one to the right is level/slightly downhill. For the other I believe you go left. I'm fairly sure that's the second one.

You'll start heading downhill quite sharply and then hit the stream, which is punctuated by several large boulders. It's a popular rest stop for large hiking groups - when we got there they'd all stopped in the stream and were starting up hot-pot style food. Right in the stream. Which is fine, and it all looked very festive, but we were looking for peace and quiet. 

I don't mean to be too harsh on the tour groups - clearly they enjoy the atmosphere that a large group brings, and they are extremely friendly. It's just...they're loud.  And they take up space. And they make their hot pot right on the trail. 

They also carry far too much gear. Here is a big cultural difference between hiking in Asia and hiking back home. We Crazy Foreigners show up in Tevas - well, fake Tevas from A-Mart - grody t-shirts and comfortable pants or shorts, a backpack with some water and snacks, and we go. They show up in wetsuits, with vests full of dangling gear, carabiners, rappelling ropes, helmets (why? "In case we fall and hit our head"), river tracing shoes and probably crampons and machetes as well (I'm joking about the crampons and machetes...sort of. It's hard to tell under all that rope). We get our shirts wet and whatever, it's cool. They look like they're about to start a deep-sea dive, except in a helmet.

Which is fine, I'm gently poking fun instead of mocking, because I am sure they gently poked fun at the "unprepared" Crazy Foreigners without helmets or rope that we honestly didn't need.

Crazy Foreigners!

At this point in the hike, you need to start following the stream, which means wading (or river tracing). Good shoes are a must - it's worth the money to by dork-tacular river tracing shoes although if you go in sandals with a good grip you'll be fine. Just watch out for slippery or unsecured rocks.

You'll get partway up and then reach a waterfall you may or may not be able to get over - I guess this is where the rope that the Taiwanese hikers had came in handy. There is a trail, though, up and over with ropes to help you. It's slippery, very narrow and if you fall you will probably break something, but I did it so you can, too.

You can, in fact, choose to take that trail - which is muddy, irritating, tiring and a bit dangerous - and skip the rest of the wading until you get to the end, but we found the wading to be more fun and actually easier.

See?

You might lose a shoe, though. 

After the 2nd mini-waterfall, which also has a trail up and around, you enter a small gorge and can see the top of Yuemeikeng over the trees. Even from that distance it is spectacular.

Didn't I tell you?

At this point I shouted "DUDE! We're HERE!" Even from a distance I could tell it was going to be stunning. 

You do have to start wading again, but it's not that challenging. This area can get dangerous after heavy rains, and flash floods are a concern, so do check the weather and precipitation before heading out.

The trail is populated with butterflies, including small cornflower-blue ones, and dragonflies. There are also a lot of spiders.

Anyway...

Dude.

Wufengqi itself - which is a tiered series of three waterfalls (only the final one of which is really impressive) reachable by an easy path pockmarked with stairs, has nothing on this place. If you have to choose between here and Wufengqi for time reasons, choose Yuemeikeng. Don't even bother with the more well-known Wufengqi. Yuemeikeng is just better.

See what I mean about the large number of people ruining the atmosphere for us smaller groups? Again, if one of us got into a serious spot or was injured - which was a possibility in some areas - you know they would have used their fancy equipment to help us (I will never say that Taiwanese are unfriendly or unhelpful) but we did appreciate having about 40 minutes of peace at Yuemeikeng before they arrived.

Also, note the bike helmet, the scooter helmet, the construction helmet...bring a helmet, any helmet seemed to be the directive from the group leader, who had a whistle and everything.

I would never want to hike like that, but good for them.

See how much nicer it is without a lot of people?

It started to rain on the way back - pretty heavily in fact. Fortunately the worst of it hit long after we'd left the more dangerous-when-wet parts of the trail. Ash had already changed into a dry shirt (we hadn't) so he put on his Giant Condom. Brendan, Joseph and I figured, well, we're already soaked, so whatever. We're not going to get any wetter.

Brendan and I changed in the bathrooms at the Wufengqi parking lot near where the shuttle picks up. Although my pants were quick-dry and my shirt was athletic clothing material, I was soaked to the bone and didn't want to get on the bus like that.

I have to say goodbye to the pants though - at many points on the trail I had to get there by scooting on my butt (I call it "ass hiking") and I got a huge tear in the right butt-cheek of my pants about halfway through: another reason to change before heading back to civilization.

In Jiaoxi we sought out some locally-brewed beer that we'd tried previously. This company makes three kinds of wheat beer and something called "green beer". We'd tried the dark wheat beer before and thought it tasted like Oreos - when we first tried it I thought it was pretty good. This time we got that and the Green Beer (below) and, well, it wasn't as good as I remembered. I could drink it, and it was certainly unique, but...well...it's green beer.

If you want to try it (don't say I didn't warn you: it's not that good, but it is an experience), go to the main intersection in Jiaoxi where the road to the train station hits the main road (Rt. 9), turn left and walk to the large blue building under construction. Next to that is a hot spring park with coffee, shaved ice, ice cream and this beer.

They also have snacks - fennel dried tofu, fennel cooked peanuts, smoked duck in a tasty sauce, edamame and more. The snacks, especially the duck, were delicious.

Yes, this is actually beer.

I'll leave you with this: if you live in Taiwan, and you are even reasonably fit, you have to try this hike. Go with a small group, bring good shoes, check the weather and try to go on a weekday, but do go. You won't be disappointed - Yuemeikeng is truly spectacular.

That brings me to my Reason #22 to love Taiwan - wherever you live, especially around Taipei, there are myriad day trip and day hiking options to get out of the city. When I lived in DC getting out of the metro area was an ordeal that required planning and a car. Sure, you could go to Annapolis, Harper's Ferry, Shenandoah, even the Blue Ridge Mountains if you wanted. You could go to Richmond, Baltimore Harbor or the Billy Goat Trail (or other hikes in the area), visit Mt. Vernon or do any number of other things.

The problem was that none of them - not even one - was remotely convenient or in some cases even possible without a car. They were expensive, too. Some of them (such as Harper's Ferry) were better suited to a weekend. Very few of them actually involved nature - most involved going to some other town. Nature was just too far away for a day trip, or close but inaccessible.

In Taipei, if I get up early enough I can do a satisfying hike through some breathtaking natural vistas (or just enjoy the breeze, butterflies, trees and earth) and I can do a different one every time. I could hike every other weekend for years and still not do every day hike available to me from Taipei. And for most of them I don't need a car - there's a bus that goes close enough, or a chartered taxi is in my price range (imagine getting a taxi to take you out to a hiking trail in the USA!). 

It's not that I didn't like hiking in the USA - and I did a lot of it in upstate New York where I grew up because that town really is in close proximity to a lot of day hikes - it's that in the USA if you live in an urban area and don't have a car...forget it. At least where I'm from - I don't claim to have been to every major urban area or spent enough time there to really know. Maybe things are different in another part of the country. 

Even if you do have a car it's hard to get out to a good day hike. From New York City you'd probably want to go to the Shawangunks which are a good 2 hours away. From DC there are precious few day hikes and by the time you get to the best mountains you're looking at an overnight stay in central Virginia. 

I complain a lot about how living in a city in a "basin" (surrounded on three and a half sides by mountains) creates pollution and bad weather, but I have to say that that basin is formed by some great mountains which are etched with some awesome trails - some of which are in Taipei City itself. And unlike China, not all of them are paved over with stairs!

Here, well, we pick a trail, we pack a bag, we catch a bus early enough and we go. And we're back in time for dinner. No car necessary and there are quite literally hundreds of choices.

The Path Is Made By Walking

Indeed it is. So walk it.

Disclaimer: it can’t be repeated enough times – so I’m sorry to beat you about the eyes with it – but I’m painting in very broad strokes in this post and trying, while acknowledging individuality and exceptions – to explore noticed trends. If you read something that you have not observed or don’t agree with, please do leave your own musings in the comments (but keep it polite), and keep in mind that just because others’ observations may be different doesn’t mean anyone’s are invalid.

I was talking to a student today about giving suggestions, recommendations and advice in English, and one question came up:

What would you recommend to a friend, colleague or subordinate who feels unmotivated?

We were taking turns, and it was my turn to respond, so I jokingly said “How about quitting your job?”

I know. Ha ha ha.

But really…we got to talking about motivation, passion and purpose in Taiwan. I mentioned that I always ask students how their weekends were and what they did, and I am fond of questions inquiring about hobbies, interests and life goals.

I said that I would tell that person to take some time to deeply self-reflect, to look at their current situation and try to pinpoint what it is that is sapping their motivation, and either to change it or to make a more drastic change. What’s more, I’d encourage them to take some time to ponder what it was they really wanted in life, and where they would like to be in five, ten or twenty years: not necessarily to plan and insist on that outcome, but to ponder what they might like.

And yet, when I ask a question like “So…what do you want?”, “What’s your goal?”, “What are you really interested in?” and “What would you do if you could do anything you wanted?”, I so often get shrugged shoulders, maybe a “dunno”.

My student had the same thought. She said (paraphrased, not an exact quote), “I think many Taiwanese would not be able to do that. Or if you ask them what could make them feel more motivated at work, they don’t know, because it’s just office work. It’s not special.”

To be fair, I see this in the USA, too, and no matter what country you’re in, knowing what you want and not doing it – at least not yet – is far less terrifying than feeling dispirited but having no idea what you want or what would motivate you, and staring at yet another work week in a job you don’t care about, or yet another weekend in which you sleep and watch TV and have no strong desire to pursue any other activity…especially if somewhere inside you feel as though you would like to have something to be passionate about…but just don’t.

I have to say, though, I get so many more of these “dunno” responses in Taiwan, and hear or see so many wistful comments along the lines of “I don’t know what I want” or “I don’t have any hobbies” or “I don’t know what I would do” or just…kind of…a shrug.

Or take a friend of mine for example – he said recently that in college, life was so free, the possibilities were endless, but that since he’s been working he feels as though life has been pre-ordained and he can’t choose another path.

“What do you like to do on the weekend?”

"I don't know - I like to sleep and watch TV."

I also see it a lot when I ask my students about their weekends, as I always do. I do have students who regularly answer with interesting stories of how they spent their free time, but I also get a lot of “I slept and I watched TV”, or “I don’t know…actually it wasn’t special so I forgot what I did on the weekend” or worse “I did some work, because I didn’t know what to do.”

I’m sure if you asked a group of Americans about their weekend you’d get a smattering of these ho-hum responses, but I also feel that generally speaking you’d get a higher percentage of interesting stories, or at least stories that speak to having done something with their free time.

I absolutely do not believe this is cultural, and I do not believe that it has to do with any lack of spark, creativity or imagination. I resoundly reject that line of reasoning.

I do, however, believe that it is the dejected offspring of a societal creation: the overworked kid – as well as the overworked kid’s sad morphing into an overworked adult.

There has been a lot of discussion on the different childhoods of American kids and Asian kids (for the sake of this post we’ll say “Taiwanese” although it applies to much of Asia, especially east Asia) – it’s fairly well understood that we American kids had more time to play, to fritter away time, to do nothing immediately useful. Americans will say that this along with different educational methodology is what helps American kids grow critical thinking skills and creativity. Asian parents will say that their system is what makes their kids so great at math, science and music and it breeds hardworking children who will succeed.

They’re both right, but really, I think the issue goes deeper.

When I was young, you bet I spent my free time having fun – I built blanket forts, tore up my mom’s garden, drew pictures, wrote stories, made crafts, took photos, read books, played games, played sports, took walks, hit things with sticks, tried my hand at cooking. I was expected to take part in some activities – learning an instrument, joining a soccer team or some such – but I as a child had a massive amount of control over what activities I did and while I was pushed to make an effort in anything I said I wanted to try, at the end of it the final decision about whether I liked something and would become good at it was mine.

My Taiwanese friends often tell me that as children, they didn’t have such choices – long hours at school, then cram school classes or tutoring, then homework. On the weekend they might be shipped off to still more classes, English school or music lessons or various other activities that they themselves have little control over. I’m not saying that Taiwanese kids have no free time – they do have time to play, just not as much as I did

I also had more control over my grades – sure, I was expected to do my homework and make an effort in school, but the extent to which I did that was, in the end, mine. If I wanted to do a half-assed job at school, get mediocre grades, have it affect my college choices (mostly regarding scholarships – one can get a perfectly good education at a university that will accept you with middling grades, but I had needed, and won, a scholarship to go to a school not under the State University of New York system)…well, the person who would pay the eventual consequences for that was me, and so I was expected to take responsibility for it from a surprisingly early age.

As a result, I had, all around, far more free time and self-direction than many Taiwanese kids I see, and more than many of my friends in Taiwan had as children. I do think my upbringing was similar enough to many American childrens’ that I can safely use it as an example, and I do feel the people I’ve talked to in Taiwan have had childhoods close enough to the norm to safely use them as examples, too.

I'll take the extreme example of one nephew of a former student. He would get up at 6 or 7 every morning for school, spend the day there and then go to cram school until 10pm. Then he'd ride the MRT home until 11pm, eat a quick, cold dinner and do his homework until midnight or later. Then he'd wake up and do it all again the next day. On the weekend, he'd catch up on extra homework and studying. When I used to teach in Wugu until 9:30pm twice a week, I'd be dropped off at Taipei Main at about ten and vie for a spot on the escalator and train with the hundreds of cram school students bustling home at that late hour, many with circles under their eyes. I can't say I've met many Taiwanese children with hobbies other than enforced music or sports lessons in fields the children themselves did not choose (although I can name two very bright exceptions in the girls I have "English Fun Time" with most Saturdays after lunch, who do have free time to play, imagine, dream or pursue hobbies).

“What are you good at? Why do you think you are good at it? Is it useful to have this talent?”

"I don't know. I never tried anything like art or any hobbies. I guess I like basketball."

So what did I get from all that free time? Many (not all!) Taiwanese parents might say “Nothing!”, but what it did give me was a strong sense of self, a lot of time to cultivate an imagination and a lot of different testing ground to try out new hobbies and explore developing talents.  My parents gamely – but within reason – paid for lessons for any activity I showed an interest in pursuing, which is how I managed from the age of 6 onwards to take classes in ballet, clarinet, tumbling and gymnastics. I had to finish the class, but if I didn’t like it and showed no special talent, I was not pushed to continue. I tried out soccer and eventually picked up the trumpet. My mom was happy to take me to Franklin’s, a crafting store chain similar to Michael’s but smaller that dotted the region, to buy me markers, pastels, sketch pads, calligraphy markers (the cheap kind), beads, yarn, embroidery thread or anything else I wanted to try out. I was given old scraps of fabric and bits and bobs of old jewelry and other goodies by my Grandma G., and encouraged to play with them: I made doll clothes, twisted together old jewelry into warped new designs and created paper confections iced with tremendous amounts of children’s glue and dripping with marker ink. I was allowed seeds and pots to try growing my own plants and occasionally given a disposable camera to futz around with. I wrote terrible children’s poetry and stories not much better than this and lovingly collected the marker-strewn sheets of scrap paper into a “book”. I was allowed to experiment with cooking under supervision. Back when I was made to be religious (my parents were big on church attendance) I taught Sunday school and realized I was good at managing and teaching a group.

It might seem as though no lasting good can be gained from dumping glitter on things and killing innocent plants that had the unfortunate fate of being “grown” by me, but really, I learned a lot from this pseudo-bohemian childhood.

I learned that while I can grow plants, I don’t have a natural green thumb. I learned that I am very good at music, pretty good at writing (you may not think so, dear reader, but I generally post first drafts of my writing on this blog – I don’t edit), possess some talent in art and crafting, enjoy photography and solitary outdoor sports such as hiking and biking, but not team sports. I learned that I am not very good at activities such as ballet and gymnastics, which require a build and natural athleticism and grace that I do not possess. I learned that I’m great at language and history/social studies, but can do well in math only if I work hard (which I never wanted to do, because I never enjoyed it). I’m pretty good at design – I did design my own wedding dress – but not that great at sewing. I learned that I love reading and hate soccer.

“What do you do for fun?”

"Sleeping! Ha ha ha."

This self-knowledge eventually fermented itself into interests and talents, and then abilities – because I stuck with the things I enjoyed and was good at, such as music, art and language. I cultivated a passion for good food and travel. Any one of them could have become a career – from musician (something I once seriously contemplated) to chef to artist to writer.

Of course, were I to become any of those things now, well, I couldn’t just up and do them: you have to choose your path and I didn’t choose one that included professional level training in any of those fields. I would need to get that training if I decided to pursue any of these hobbies on a professional level.

In college it was the same – I had free reign to choose a major and because I was given the time to figure out what I liked and had an aptitude for, I could choose something that suited me (and had the added bonus of being my own choice, which is its own reward).

“What was your favorite subject in school? Why did you like it?” “What was your major in university? Why did you choose it? Did you like it?”

"I don't have any opinion about that. I studied math and science hard because my parents told me. I didn't choose my major. My test scores told me my major."

My Taiwanese friends? Not so free to choose – their parents told them what subject to study most diligently, and their test scores determined what schools they could attend as well as what majors they could choose. Within that narrow range provided by test scores, parents will often push their children to choose one major over another. Education or accounting? Become an accountant. Medicine or engineering? Become a doctor (or engineer – they’re equally popular). History or language? Choose history. Math or biology? Math. The young adults themselves don’t get much of a say.

Perhaps in the past this was OK – having your path chosen for you has some benefits (no fear of being indecisive and no worry that you’ve chosen the wrong path out of many, because there never were many and you never did choose). It can lead to an inner confidence and bearing in knowing that you occupy your expected and correct place in your family and society, and that how you live your life is not entirely your own business or choosing. I can see how, while a bit clichéd, that could well have been the reason why a culture of “no free time, no childhood, no self-direction, no frivolous hobbies” has survived as long as it has. There’s nothing wrong with it, as long as it produces happy people. What I see it producing now, though, after industrialization and Westernization have shaken the foundations of the old system, are a lot of rudderless, tired people.

The life path I’ve chosen as a result, while not perfect, has been my own. This knowledge – that whatever I do is my own doing – has led to the deeper knowledge that whatever I haven’t done is also my own not-doing, and while some of it is “could-have-done”, it doesn’t matter: I have control of my future, at least as much as any person does, and it’s not as hard as one thinks to turn “could have done” into “can still do” and “will do”.  Time to play, to dream, to imagine and to learn your own abilities and from those choose your own path can also bestow a deeper confidence that your path can go (almost) wherever you want it to, as well as giving you ideas that bubble up from deep inside on where it is you might like to go. Or as one idiom goes: the path is made by walking.

I’m not saying that all Americans are supremely confident and self-aware – as Elizabeth Gilbert wisely noted in Committed, for many all that freedom, all those choices and all those paths can be anxiety-inducing and downright paralyzing, over fear of not being able to choose every path, or of choosing the wrong path. I also don’t mean that all Taiwanese are downtrodden and lack passion and self-awareness – they don’t, and I can name dozens of exceptions among my own circle of acquaintances (see disclaimer).

And then those college kids graduate into jobs where they earn too little money for too many hours, slaving for the entirety of daylight under fluorescent tubes, and are too tired on the weekend, if they have a full weekend at all, to consider pursuing anything else. If they do take time to think about it, they don’t have a solid foundation of childhood experience and trial-and-error hobbies to give them direction on what they might consider doing or might enjoy.

“What is your life goal? Where do you see yourself in ten years?”

"I don't know. Maybe making more money."

So, when I saw my friend’s Facebook comment about feeling as though possibilities were endless as a student but now he felt that his path was pre-ordained and nothing he could do would change it, it punched me in the heart just a little bit – because when I ask the questions used as headers in this post and get answers similar to the ones I’ve highlighted over and over again, well, isn’t it a sign that a lot of people feel this way? Is it a sign that it’s a problematic trend in Taiwan? The first generation of Taiwanese born into safety and prosperity, who have generally not known poverty, illiteracy or oppression, and who have been force-fed an education and told what their abilities and future careers must be, who were never given much free time or chances to try out their own aptitudes or self-reflect…has this become the fallout?  A nuclear winter of feeling like their paths are not made by walking, but are made for them to walk, of not knowing what they really want because they never had time to find out?

Granted, I don’t know if the friend who made the comment had a childhood in Taiwan like the one I outlined. I’m using that comment as a springboard to explore a host of issues and trends I’ve noticed, not to pinpoint one specific person.

When someone asks me, though, where I see myself in ten years, I can tell them. If someone asks me to think about how my current life situation motivates me or not, or what I really want in life, I can answer.

I see myself holding a Master’s degree in Applied Linguistics, speaking fluent Chinese and doing some tutoring or even training in that on the side, and continuing in the same realm of English teaching/corporate training, or possibly working at a university. I see myself writing a book, but will only do so if I ever feel sufficiently inspired regarding the subject matter. I see myself continuing to travel, improving my photography and cooking skills, and maybe someday buying a small townhouse or rowhouse in a funky urban area with Brendan, or staying in Taiwan. I see a lot of things that could happen and have the confidence that if life takes a different turn, that my path is still made by walking, and Brendan and I will be able to wind our own way through whatever happens.

I just don't get a lot of Taiwanese students who can answer that question, and almost none who can answer it with much conviction beyond wanting to retire after making more money (again, there are exceptions - students who want to travel, learn about art or become stellar photographers come to mind).

So when I answered that comment, I said something along the lines of – when I was in college, I didn’t know what I want and I kept looking for signs or for the world to tell me. But no stars shone, no omens came. Nobody was ever going to help me. It was up to me to make the most of life and expand my horizons. I know you believe in fate more than I do, though.”

(It sounds a bit overwrought in English, but this is translated from Chinese).

I want nothing more than to see more people in the world with that confidence – and while I hate to imply the superiority of Western culture (or any culture, in any regard) – I do think that giving children and young adults more free time and more self-direction can build a stronger self-confidence and inner motivation than what I often see in Taiwan. I do not believe that a test score can determine an appropriate major anywhere nearly as well as the person who will study that major. I do believe that choosing for yourself is its own reward and bestows its own decisiveness and confidence, and more people should be encouraged to do it. I’d like to see more people in Taiwan – and East Asia, and the world – with a stronger knowledge of what they enjoy and what motivates them, and to know that their paths, too, are made by walking.

Three Good Restaurants in Southern Taipei

Little Thailand Restaurant - 泰國小館

台北市汀州路糝段號
#219 Dingzhou Street Sec 3, Taipei
(02)2367-0739

This has to be the best Thai restaurant in Gongguan, right up there with Yangon Burmese restaurant (which is basically Thai, but "technically" Burmese). It looks like a small Southeast Asian supermarket on the outside, chock full of snacks for sale, but once you go in it's clearly a restaurant that happens to also sell packaged snacks and other items from SE Asia.

The food is really quite good - very much the same in flavor as I enjoyed during my brief excursion to Thailand years ago (I keep telling myself I'll go back, but there are so many other places to see, too!) - and they don't pull punches on the spice! The pork with green beans and papaya salad were fiery, and the other dishes were at a respectable spice level. They have the usual selection of beer, are always bustling, the walls are covered with pictures and textiles from Thailand, and I love the cheap day-market plastic clock with the picture of the King of Thailand and his many dogs ("he loves dogs and raises rescued strays," the owner told us. "Our King is so good") on the clock face.

We didn't get dessert, but they seemed to have a wider selection than is usually available.

Oh, and do get the shrimp pancake (月亮蝦餅) - it's the best I've had outside of SE Asia.


Weitzuman
台北市文山區景興路118號
#118 Jingxing Road, Wenshan, Taipei City (MRT Jingmei)

Taipei Times reviewed it before I had a chance to - although I may have mentioned it before - but we live very close to this place - maybe a ten minute walk, if that - and I have long been a devotee. It's a dirty-walled, Taiwanese-talkin', good-sake-servin' izakaya in a decidedly unpretentious neighborhood (ie, our neighborhood) with some really spectacular Japanese food and Japanese-style sunken tables.  I still have dreams about the yakitori (although the ones from Dako, above, provide good competition) and I love that this place just plain does good food, it doesn't try to be all hip, and for Japanese food it's quite affordable.

The Taipei Times said it better than I could, so I'll leave it there, but this place gets my stamp of approval!

Not Too Smart, Not Too Dumb

Update: my husband wrote another fascinating perspective (of course I think it's fascinating, I'm his wife) on his own blog that is definitely worth reading. Plus he said my Chinese was good several times, so, uh, thanks honey!

I came across this post on Laowiseass about locals asking you about your ability to speak Chinese.

Rather than leave a long, ranty comment I thought I’d post it here as a rebuttal.

Maybe, despite by blackened, cynical heart, I do have a redeeming beam of optimistic light shining through after all, but I like to think the best of people. The Taiwanese people, moreover, have given me so many reasons to think the best of them.

I absolutely do not get the feeling that, when asked about my Chinese, even at length, or complimented on it after a simple “ni hao”, the reaction of locals is one of either (a) being incredulous because foreigners are supposed to be to dumb to learn Chinese or (b) thinking Chinese is so deeply complex that a non-native speaker can’t possibly learn it.

I’m sorry, I don’t buy it – it’s a cliché I’ve heard before and I’m just not on board.

Rather, while it is true that most established long-termers do speak Chinese and often speak it well, the foreigners that many Taiwanese come into contact with, if they talk much to foreigners at all, are the transients – here for a year to teach English or take two semesters at Shi-da, and gone…or they’re expats of the “businessperson” variety, sent by their companies, who may stay for a few years but rarely learn much Chinese. Looking at my Taiwanese friends’ Facebook lists confirms this. For many, I am their only foreign friend. For others, they seem to be friends with one or two foreign colleagues who have visited and maybe a language exchange partner but that’s it (others have lots of foreign friends – it does vary somewhat). So while I am not denying that the established expats generally can speak decent Chinese, that doesn’t mean that the average local comes across them rather than, say, a cram school teacher or the resident expat in their office with whom they must speak English (as I do work in various offices, most of my Taipei acquaintances are white-collar office workers).

I also feel that the questions about my Chinese are more of a friendly variety – a conversation topic from someone who may be nervous and wondering what to talk to a foreigner about. Or a compliment, because other foreigners that person has met really couldn’t speak Chinese. Or just because they’re flattered that I have taken the time to learn their language.

Which is another point – for we Taiwan long-termers, this whole “learning Chinese” thing is normal, but it’s really only been in our generation (and even then not to any great extent) that we foreigners have taken a large-scale interest in studying Chinese at any level. Of course there have always been foreigners who have learned Chinese, but in my parents’ generation you generally studied European languages unless you were intending to move somewhere for work or become a linguist or anthropologist. Now it’s not that uncommon to have a non-Chinese or Taiwanese person who can teach a Chinese class or translate, but just a generation ago it would have been exceedingly rare. In the USA we don’t comment on how well foreigners speak English because (a) culturally it’s quite rude to do, but also (b) because it’s very common to meet foreigners who speak good English. It doesn’t necessarily hold true the other way – immigrants to the USA have been learning English for generations. It’s only been recently that there has been an uptick in foreigners coming to Taiwan and learning Chinese. You can’t hold them to the same etiquette rules or cultural background, because it is simply not the same.

So when I get a “you speak such good Chinese!” I take it as a “thank you for taking the time to learn our language and be interested in our culture, seeing as usually we’re the ones expected to take the time to learn English and understand the West”. I don’t take it as “Chinese is so hard / foreigners are so stupid”.

If anything, people I talk to will say that while writing Chinese is a bitch and a half (it is), learning to speak and understand it with its pared-down grammar and compact phrasing is, as they see it, probably easier for us than it is for them to learn English.

I’ve heard more “oh, no, English is what’s hard!” than “Chinese is so hard! How did you learn it?”

I have also not felt any assumption-laden comments implying that even if I studied Chinese at a university for four years, the second I graduate it’s expected that I’ll forget it all – if anything, living in Taiwan I encounter the expectation that once I show I can speak Chinese, that it is expected that if I can do so and have been here for five years that I had better speak it well, unless I’m lazy or don’t care.

Besides, how many of us learned a language in college that we have since forgotten? Taking classes in the USA or wherever you are from in a language, even for years, is not the same as actually living your life in and around that language. I studied French for seven years, spoke it very well upon graduation from college, and now can barely stammer out a sentence (although when I ran into some French travelers in India, much of it came back in twenty minutes of chatting). I think Chinese, which I have barely studied formally and mostly learned on my own, is much more drilled into my head because I learned it in an immersion environment. If I had gone to a French-speaking country upon graduation the situation would be different. It would not surprise me to learn that someone who had studied a language in college was not able to speak it even five years later. College classes are not an optimal environment.

So please, let’s dispense with tired clichés about how Chinese speakers view their language or view foreigners. It does nobody any favors and only widens the cultural divide.

"Honey, I'm going to China for business"

The American perspective:


So you've just been told you're going to Shanghai on business. If you're pretty new in the business travel game, you're kind of excited, if not, you know that you'll have a comfortable trip regardless. You'll fly business class and be picked up at the airport. You'll probably be put up in a decent hotel - a Sheraton, Hyatt or Marriott at the least, something much fancier depending on your position and the importance of the trip. You'll attend a few meetings, possibly even held in your posh hotel, have a few business-related meals in good restaurants and have all that great food reimbursed by the company. You'll probably have a day or two to go sightseeing, or be able to extend your trip by two or three days with personal leave (paid by you) if you're interested in a mini-vacation. You'll have time to walk the Bund and do some shopping, hit up a swank bar or two, and you'll fly back, again in business class. You'll bring back enamel chopsticks for your kids who will be excited to hear about Mom or Dad's trip to China. You'll meet new people, do some networking, maybe have to deal with a cultural gaffe or two that will make a good story later. People will ask you about your life and work back home and share stories of their own trips or time spent working in the USA.

The Taiwanese perspective:


You've just been told you're going to Shanghai on business. You'll fly economy class and maybe get picked up - it depends. You have to write "Chinese" on your immigration form - if you write "Taiwan" or "Republic of China" you'll be denied entry. You'll head out past Shanghai to Kunshan, where you'll stay in a factory dormitory/guesthouse. There's nothing to do - Kunshan is an industrial zone. You'll be handling factory issues all day, attending meetings, and racing around like a madman or madwoman. No time for shopping and you won't be anywhere near anything interesting in Shanghai itself. You're so tired out after ten- to fourteen-hour days in the factory that if there is a day off - and there rarely is, because you often have to handle work issues through the weekend - you have the energy to flip on the TV in your room and sleep, and nothing more. You'll get asked about Taiwan all the time, with the added implication that don't you agree it's a part of China? Everybody knows that. Nobody will want to hear any other opinion on the matter and to say as much could get you into a fight, so you have to deflect those questions rather than stand up for your country. The factory workers, if they meet you, probably dislike you for being their Taiwanese boss. You get no more sleep or free time than you would in Taiwan. When you fly back nobody asks you about your trip - they all know that a "business trip to China" doesn't mean high-rise hotel bars and networking at business dinners in Hong Kong, Shanghai or Beijing. It means a week in a factory dorm in Kunshan, Tianjin, Shenyang or Dongguan. You fly there and back on your own time, not company time. You eat crappy food. You go to work the next day, not even a few hours to recuperate. Back to the meetings, back to the fluorescent lights.



Of course, it's not always like this - I am sure there are American businesspeople who endure awful trips to China with back-to-back meetings and hostile negotiations, and I have students who go to China and have a posh time of it in downtown Shanghai, Hong Kong or Beijing.

I'm just talking generally about what I've noticed, comparing the majority of my students' trips to China and those I know in the USA who regularly travel there on business.

I thought of this after a taxi driver told me yesterday, "so you are American? Why are you going to this office building? Are you a boss?" "No. I do corporate training - business English, business skills." "But you are American. I think Americans are the boss and the Taiwanese are workers. So you should be the boss."

This comment really bothered me, I must say. I don't necessarily think the driver approved of the situation, but it was uncomfortably accurate (although in a way that was more true even ten years ago and is slowly starting to fade) and painfully self-deprecating and neo-colonialist.

And I can't help but wonder when there'll be some great shift in the world economy that makes it so the dividing line between business class and the W Hotel and a factory guesthouse in Dongguan isn't so sharply divided along racial lines.

Reason #22 to Love Taiwan

Every Wednesday morning, at least for now, I teach a class out in Tucheng Industrial Park. That means getting up earlier than I would normally prefer to, but it's fine because I enjoy the class itself.

In the lobby of the building where I teach, there's a small setup by a tea company (they also have other products but seem to specialize in tea). They're the ones who produce the famous Fushoushan Evergreen tea served at Presidential banquets, and they have an office on the 2nd floor. There is often, but not always, a man staffing the area, which includes shelves of tea for sale and other tea products. In front is a table with an electric heater and traditional tea-making implements with a draining board.

When my class finishes at 10:30am, if the guy is there he invites me to sit and drink for awhile, and will tell me about what he's brewing, but without the annoying pressure of a sales pitch. He knows from our chats that I already have a lot of tea at home and much of it is from his company; I'm hopelessly addicted to the super-expensive Fushoushan tea. The front desk and security guys often come over and chat as well, and teach me a little Taiwanese and have some tea with us, which the guy replenishes in their large steel mugs. Today, he brewed a ridiculously caffeinated red-colored "old tea", not unlike Pu-erh, but definitely not Pu-erh itself. It had a slightly sour taste, similar to Oriental Beauty, but from aging, not from insect saliva (if you've ever wondered where the unique flavor of Oriental Beauty comes from, it's the saliva of the insects that eat the tea leaves unless one of my students is REALLY yanking my chain).

And that's what I love about Taiwan - that in the lobby of a ho-hum office building in a ho-hum industrial park in ho-hum Tucheng, there's a guy who brews traditional tea to showcase his company products, and I can sit there drinking it like I'm at Wistaria House, chatting with him, chatting with the guards and having an all-around good time drinking fabulous, high-quality tea.

Try doing that in some bland office building in Scranton, PA.