The Taiwanese Are...

Awhile back my husband said something interesting on his blog:

Lurking within the psyches of Western expats in Asia is the dark figure of the local who has absolutely no clue how to deal with the fact that there are foreigners living in their country. Most often this takes the form of a local who is absolutely determined not to understand anything a foreigner says, even if the foreigner does an excellent job speaking the local's native language. Rather like the running gag in the movieAnchorman, where Will Ferrell's character can't understand Hispanic people speaking English, because he 'doesn't speak Spanish'.


I don't deny that such people exist, although I do suspect they are rather less common in real life than they are in expats' imaginations.


Here is my plea:


Let those people be batty, illogical individuals. Don't smear their individuality all over the culture they came from. Don't use some variation on 'Oh well. People in this country haven't had much contact with foreigners.' Everybody has a right to have foibles.


I like this – not only because my husband wrote it (BOOYAH!) but because it indirectly makes a point that’s been on my mind recently. It’s been on my mind because it’s been lobbed at me recently, both as an expat and as a woman: generalizing vs. stereotyping.

It’s not really important how it has affected me recently, as those events were merely the catalyst for my thinking about the issue, but suffice it to say I’d heard enough of comments along the lines of “Well that’s because women are/do X”, and on another front, a student who made a comment about foreigners that, while it might be true of many foreigners, was certainly not true of all of them. A well-meaning (Asian, if it matters) Facebook friend made a comment about how Asian women accept second-class status and don’t stand up for themselves, which I countered with something along the lines of it’s true that many women don’t and that it’s a problem especially in Asia, but I know plenty of Taiwanese women who kick ass and demand what they’re worth.

I firmly believe that generalizing has a time, a place and a use: making a broad observational statement about a noticed trend is nothing to be ashamed of or avoid, as long as it’s consciously done as such and not used to implicate individuals. Using anecdotes and snippets of conversations with people you know fairly well – something I do frequently on this blog – to make points about Taiwan as a whole – is a useful tool as well.

One thing that makes this more palatable is to acknowledge or clarify that the statement being made may be true on a general level but cannot be applied to individuals, or that the anecdotal evidence is just that: your observations based on experiences that don’t begin to constitute “data”. Words like “many” or “on a general level” or “I’ve noticed” or “my experience has been that…” or “often” help, as well.
The point is that I hear this constantly in expat circles in Taiwan – and in other countries – regarding locals (and from locals regarding foreigners, to be fair) and it really pisses me off.

I’ve heard statements along the lines of “but the Taiwanese don’t care about X” or “The Taiwanese don’t understand their own language” or “The Taiwanese don’t want to be friends with foreigners” or “The Taiwanese are shy” or The Taiwanese X or they Y or they Z.

I get the feeling that some of these beliefs are picked up while socializing with other expats – they hear enough opinions from enough expats (and at the risk of stereotyping I’m going to say that many times those expats are limited to people their own age, male, with Taiwanese girlfriends and not a lot of variation) that they start to believe them despite having no similar direct experience, and from taking a few isolated incidents and using them to project a massive – and often wrong – generalization-turned-stereotype on the Taiwanese themselves.

One such example was a recent letter in the Taipei Times. Kevin Larson – who clearly stewed angrily for several years over a minor incident in which a Taiwanese woman who treated him rudely – took an anecdote about one rude woman:

A few moments later, I ran out of my own supply so I went back to the young boy and asked him if he could give me a small handful of the feed for my son. The boy’s mother saw this and was quick to admonish me, hysterical body language and all.


She yelled at me, saying: “Go buy your own.”
However, when I tried to explain that it was I who bought the feed — expecting an apology — she only grabbed her child by the arm and, in a huff, took him away. She had lost face and did not know how to deal with it.

…and turned it into a truth he believes about all Taiwanese people:

Criticism, and mine was merely a factual observation, turned her plain ugly. However, do not blame the Taiwanese, blame the Taiwanese education system….


How, exactly, did he go from “this woman was so rude” to “blame the Taiwanese educational system”?

He went from “this woman was rude” to “this woman lost face” to “this woman is Taiwanese” to “Taiwanese become rude when they lose face”.

Which I have found not to be true, by the way: I’ve noticed that in Taiwanese culture the tendency is to become reticent, even silent, and beat a hasty retreat or become quite distant when face is lost, after a slapdash effort to preserve some sense of harmony on the surface even when all parties involved know there’s roiling waters beneath.

I have an anecdote that makes my point: I was given insufficient, confusing and incorrect information at work, I screwed up a work-related thing as a result, I lost my temper over it, this caused the boss to lose face, but in the end we pretended to ‘see where the other was coming from’ and shook hands, knowing that the other was still angry and neither of us did in fact see the other’s point at all. I hesitate to flesh that story out, though, because it might seem contrary to my point that such an anecdote cannot be inflated to include All Taiwanese and Their Sense of Face. My boss is just my boss, and yes, I do believe that his actions were indicative of a broader trend or cultural norm, but that still doesn't make my boss any less of an individual and his actions do not speak for all Taiwanese.

I will say one thing in Larson’s defense: it’s true that he used several good modifiers in the beginning – “seems to me” and “many Taiwanese” among them. Only later on does he take one crazy woman and extrapolate her actions to cover All Taiwanese.

When, really, my husband is right. Doing this takes away individuality. It creates a tendency to refuse to see people from other cultures as individual people who are capable of being rude just because they are rude, not because All Taiwanese are rude, or crazy just because they’re crazy, not because All Taiwanese are crazy. It takes away their right, as independent entities, to be kind, caring, insane, temperamental, sexist, wrong, stupid, shy, hardworking, lazy, illogical, straight-laced, inexperienced, promiscuous or any of the myriad of adjectives one might use in a drunken rant about All [X People].

It’s no more OK than “my ex-wife was a bitch so all women are bitches” – err, no, maybe it was just your ex-wife. Or “all New Yorkers are rude because this guy was rude to me” – maybe that guy was just a douche. People are individuals, and they are not any less individuals just because they belong to a cultural or ethnic group different from your own.

Which, as I’ve said, I do this to some degree and I have thought about the limits of how much or whether it’s acceptable: I frequently tell stories and give anecdotes about my social encounters in Taiwan here, and I often do spin thoughts and ideas about Taiwanese culture from them, like cotton candy around a paper tube. I do have to remind myself occasionally not to fall into the trap of “my friend is this way, so all Taiwanese are this way” and that between the slender filaments of my observations is a heck of a lot of air and quite a lot of potential stickiness.

I have to keep in mind the difference between an interesting anecdote and a story that indicates a trend, and be careful to note that neither can be used too bluntly. To stop doing so completely would take away a tool I value in cultural observation, plus, hey, I like to tell stories.

Related but from another angle, there’s generalizing about an entire people and then applying it to individuals (which happens a lot to women – “all women love shopping so you must love shopping!” style) – something else I see in the expat community here. I mostly see it regarding Taiwanese women – Taiwanese girls are sweeter or more accommodating than Western ones so expat so-and-so is going to go off and find himself a Taiwanese girlfriend because presumably she’ll be that way, too. Ugh. Or that Taiwanese bosses are manipulative, dishonest and money-grubbing so I’m going to go into this job assuming that my boss is that way. Or Taiwanese are shy so I am going to assume that this person is shy (and if you think all Taiwanese are shy, come meet my friends Lilian, Sasha or Cathy someday).

Catherine of Shu Flies not long ago said it best: in the comments of this post she noted that she “prefer[s] to avoid making statements that begin with "the Taiwanese are" because it veers too close to crossing the line from cultural analysis to cultural stereotyping for [her] comfort.”


And that’s the crux of it right there. I hope both expats and locals stop doing this regarding each other. It hinders individual friendships and real exchange. Maybe that's too much to ask for, though.

Book Review - Expat: Women's True Tales of Life Abroad

I've decided that I'll very occasionally review books that I feel would be of use to women living abroad or traveling long-term, even if the books themselves are not directly related to Taiwan. I do believe this aids my goal of writing not just about Taiwan and women's issues here but female expat issues generally. All unasked-for and unpaid, simply because I feel the books I write about will be useful to female expats in Taiwan and worldwide.

Expat: Women's True Tales of Life Abroad is a collection of short nonfiction by - you guessed it - female expats in a panoply of countries, there for a variety of situations and experiencing life abroad in myriad ways. I do strongly recommend it for any woman about to move abroad or who has already made the move - there isn't a lot of "advice" in this book as there was in my last review (Expat Women: Confessions) but there are a lot of different experiences and perspectives to draw on. It makes for a good coffeeshop read, especially if you are feeling a little lonely or homesick or just want to feel connected to women who have traveled the expat road as you have, because as we all know, it can sometimes be hard to meet female expats in person.

Some stories that resonated with me: Emmeline Chang's Beautiful New World, Leza Lowitz's Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackboard, Angeli Primlani's When The Skinheads Start to Grow Hair, It's Time to Leave Town, Deryn P. Verity's The Long Conversation and Sadie Ackerman's Growing Season. I single these stories out, but really all of them were well-written and interesting, thoughtful and worth reading.

I especially recommend Beautiful New World to any female expats in Taiwan, as it is written from the perspective of an American-born Taiwanese (Emmeline) who returns to Taipei and wrangles with dueling cultural loyalties as she figures out her life here. Growing Season is a good one to read for anyone who has experienced or is experiencing reverse culture shock - captured beautifully in this post on Kath's blog, and When Skinheads Start to Grow Hair... for anyone who is not white, but who is Western, and living abroad (Angeli describes how she was harassed and often mistaken for a gypsy in Prague, despite her being an American of South Asian origin).

All in all a fine book. Not a handbook, but very much a worthwhile read and a book that I feel, in mnay of the stories and in many respects, captures my own feelings about life abroad. It might help another female traveler or expat out there who is feeling down about life rediscover her sense of adventure or get in touch with her own feelings about being abroad, choosing a life of travel, dealing with life as a woman in a country that doesn't necessarily accord women the respect she's accustomed to at home, or who is just plain sick of the cringeworthy, mostly male expat scene that - despite all I say about not buying into stereotypes, is sometimes too packed with stereotypes for its own good.

Which, unrelated but it reminds me. I was joking with a student about those stereotypes and said "you know, people say that when a white guy gets off the plane in Asia he's basically handed a government-issued Asian Girlfriend at the airport.

Student (a Taiwanese man): "WOW! So cool." Me: "Really?" (laughing, because I know he's a good guy and doesn't seriously agree with chauvinist attitudes and it's just joking around). Him: "Yeah! You can imagine it. You get off the plane - 'oh, here is your girlfriend. You don't like her? Here, we give you another one!' I wish I could do like that!"

I think that's a fine place to end my post, so enjoy!

Shocked. Shocked!

Interesting, but also kind of sad, post on YFFM (a blog I don't always like, and don't always agree with, but does offer up some food for thought on relationships in Taiwan).


Taiwanese Man or Western Man?


Yes, this is a group of women aged 16-18, so I can't expect their views to be fully mature on what would make a good husband and marriage, but at the same time I'm letting my post stand because I do hear these views repeated in Taiwanese society (I also hear them back home - some ideas transcend culture I guess). I also remember as a 18-year-old having views that I, in my not-so-humble opinion, would say are more mature than what these women are saying.


What makes it sad is that so many bad, bad, bad reasons to marry or date a Western (or Taiwanese) guy are mentioned here. That's not the fault of the blogger - he clearly just posted exactly what the women were saying. I'm not out to shoot the messenger.


But really: "...he can talk easily to my Mom … my parents can get along with him easier … they (Taiwanese husbands) value family and they obey their wife"?


I have a great relationship with my in-laws, but I certainly hope "she can talk easily to my Mom" was not a reason why Brendan married me! I do realize that family bonds, especially between parents and children, are stronger in Taiwan than in the West but I do believe it is unhealthy to choose to marry someone on the basis of family approval. Better to marry the person you want to spend your life with and agree together on how to fit your new family unit into the greater family whole. Your spouse becomes your new first priority.


(and)

"We don’t need to take plane to see each other … although they could not be as tall as western man … I don’t like the man whose hair is too much … but I really want a foreign child, maybe I’ll adopt one with my husband.”

I will ignore the fact that you wouldn't need to take a plane to see each other if you were married - you could live in the same place. But in such a short paragraph about preferred spouses, I am kind of gobsmacked that body hair and a "foreign child" (gag me - all children are beautiful except the really evil ones) are the things she chose to highlight.

Although she also mentions more fluent communication and a shared understanding of homeland and culture, which I can respect. 

Then there's this: "I think a western man would be better because I think they’re hot" - honey, hotness transcends ethnicity. 


Hotness also transcends looks - if you're saying a Western man is better because you think he's better looking, well, it's your right to think white guys (because you know by "Westerner" one so often means "white" despite that not being how things actually are) are hotter than Taiwanese guys, but true hotness comes from chemistry - both physical and mental - and a sense of connection. It comes from a shared building of a strong relationship together. True hotness comes from kindness, generosity, ethics and humor. For these reasons, my husband is #1 on the hotness scale (also, he's pretty darned good-looking).

(and)

"If we get married, we’ll have many cute kids that they look like lovely dolls … if we have a baby he or she will be very handsome or beautiful"

Gag, gag, gag, gag. 

I realize this is just one girl discussing her views, but still - gag. How your kids will look is not a reason to get married. I mention this because it is so prevalent in Taiwan (and  other parts of Asia and the world) to think this way. I hear it far more often here than back home, where the "oh we'd have such lovely kids" is a rare statement and often one made offhand, not meant to be a part of the core reasons for marrying someone. In Taiwan it's frighteningly common to believe that it's better to marry a Westerner because "mixed babies are so beautiful!"

And...gag. The problem here is not "should I marry a Westerner or a Taiwanese man?" but "we need to knock some sense into people about what's really important in marriage".

Waaaay too much emphasis on looks, and that's scary. That needs to change. But then it needs to change around the world - I only say it for Taiwan because my blog focuses on Taiwan.

However, "Western man is more gentlement [sic] and considerate" - I have met many Taiwanese men who are gentle and considerate and either are or will be excellent husbands. There are plenty who are not, and there is still a cultural undercurrent in which, despite greater numbers of women in the workforce, men still do not shoulder their fair amount of responsibility at home, there is more acceptance of marital infidelity and generally speaking, I can see why a Taiwanese woman would say this when faced with so many romantic prospects with outmoded, chauvinistic views and unrealistic standards for female behavior and beauty. But those men exist in the West, as well, and to be honest, much of the bottom of the Western Man barrel ends up in Asia teaching English so you're not that likely to get a better catch by dating a Western guy. (This is not to say that all Western guys here teaching English are awful, or that all awful Western guys come to Asia to teach English. I don't mean that).


But, at the core of it, gentleness (being a gentleman?) and being considerate are two very good things to consider when looking to marry, regardless of the cultural background of the person you marry. I can't fault that.


There's also this: "I think Western man are more handsome but Taiwanese is ok … but if Taiwanese have much money, I will change my mind.  The most important thing is money.  Second is appearance.”


Do I really have to say anything about this? You can basically fill in the blank, like Mad Libs:

This is a giant pile of ______(noun)_________ because ____(clause)_______, ___(clause)________ and also _______(clause)__________.


Have fun with that.


So, I realize these are just observations from a few women, and that they don't represent all Taiwanese women. I realize that the evidence is purely anecdotal. I realize that it probably isn't entirely fair to rip them all a new one for their views. I'm doing it anyway, because these are short pieces written by women and in such brief paragraphs, I'm bothered by what they chose to include as the most important reasons behind their preferences. A few good things get thrown around, but where are the real issues: chemistry, compatibility, shared values and life goals, strong ethics, kindness, generosity?


I also do see a lot of the same views in Taiwanese society - I also see a lot of the same shallow ideas back home - and it worries me that these would really be reasons why Taiwanese women would marry or date a man. Well, to be fair, I believe you can and should date someone for whatever reason you wish and it need not be serious. When the marriage talk starts, though, things like "we'll have beautiful babies", "they are rich" and "they have beautiful eyes" starts to get scary - are these really the priorities that women have in Taiwan or around the world? How is this not terrifying? 


I do want to emphasize that these less substantial reasons are perfectly OK, if not ideal, reasons to date and have fun (even if they wouldn't be my choices) - it's only when the marriage discussion gets started that it bothers me.


So, before I just throw my hands up and condemn the entire institution of marriage to Hades, I would like to point out the final, neutral piece on that blog:

“I think a person who is match with you is the most important, no matter where he’s from or how does he look like, personalities matter … the most important of all, that man must have to love me and really care about me … true love come I will not refuse, even though he is Taiwanese or Western … finding the person you really love is very important … So maybe I wont obey them (my parents).  Because it’s my life.  I have right to decide what kind for boyfriend or husband I want to have."

THANK YOU.


But then she goes and ruins it with this:

"The most important of all, is if he has enough money, is responsible and is handsome enough … they are both good …  Taiwanese BF/HB is good at normal situations, no culture fights and it’s convenient to communicate.  Western BF/HB is good at if I want to have children, they’ll be very pretty and my language will get well.  I can also travel to his country without reason.  Of course, they (Taiwanese and western men), should all have a villa, a car – audi – and not too poor because if he wants to propose I can’t accept without house and diamond.”


Oh no. No no no. Is it cruel of me to be so dismissive of other women's priorities in a mate? Maybe, but this is my blog, these are my views and that's what it is. But really - no. Just no.


I do hope some other ideas worm their way into Taiwanese and world culture (which includes the USA and other Western countries): better priorities regarding who to marry and why.


I do want to add that I realize not all Taiwanese women are like this. I know so many mature, thoughtful, intelligent and insightful Taiwanese women who are wise and have a good sense of priorities. I'm responding only to the quotes on YFFM and the fact that I hear similar things said by other women - grown women, no less! - in Taiwan. It is not meant as a reflection on all Taiwanese women.

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.