Eric posted his ad for someone to study and practice Chinese with him, then a few months later he was sure he had found paradise. Until it all came crashing down...
Eric turned his head and looked at Hsing-Cheng: “So you are saying the reason why there are always fights in the legislature is because of frustration; to show they are doing something. Am I saying it right?”
“Yes. No problems,” she replied. “Your Chinese is improving everyday.
“That is really interesting. Fascinating,” said Eric.
Background: apart from the stamp on the back of all products, ‘Made in Taiwan’ - Taiwan is best known for the mass brawls in the parliament that have made international news around the world over the years. The answer to why they never used to be able to talk out a problem was based on Taiwan’s rather undemocratic makeup at the time: when Chiang Kai-Shek was defeated by the communists and brought the Nationalist Army over from China, suppressing the 4 million Taiwanese who were already there, he was pretending to be a democrat, but there was a twist on his style of democracy: he claimed to the government of the whole of China, and so declared the honourable members of Nanjing, Xian, and Beijing that came with him needed to stay in the parliament to make policy for the little island of Taiwan, otherwise it wouldn’t be representative of the views of the whole of China. And, at the same time, those honourable members could only stand for re-election when they could return to China and face their respective electorates…Forty years later, the political climate had thawed such that Taiwanese wouldn’t simply be shot on the spot for a dissenting voice, and the number of seats for Taiwanese in the Taiwanese parliament had increased to maybe 20%. Still the honourable members for Xian and Beijing who were still alive were being wheeled into parliament with their drips – and pressing the buzzer on their chairs to rubber stamp anything Chiang Kai-Shek’s son Chiang Jing-Gwo wanted and block anything beneficial to the Taiwanese. Understandably the democratically elected and young Taiwanese members decided to take out their frustration, and show their electorate they were doing something, by taking a few pot shots at the old guys in the chairs.
Eric smiled to himself because life was great. He had put that advert for someone to practice his Chinese with and luck had fallen on him. Well, not immediately – there was the girl who had spoke English all the time, and replied, Oh, I thought you were joking when you said you wanted to speak Chinese. Then there was the one who answered the door in her underwear. He had been about to give up when he met Hsing-Cheng. Two months had passed in which she had happily taught him Chinese, not speaking a word of English.
He sat up straight on the bed, picking up the condom next to him. “You want a drink?”
Of course they were sleeping together - he had been wrong about many things in Taiwan but he knew no girl would give away free Chinese lessons unless she had an ulterior motive.
On the third lesson, after they had talked for many hours in Chinese, and he found out what a selfless, nice girl she was - he decided to initiate a ruse to get her back to his. She had initially seemed coy but he knew for a fact that they all were; he had learnt that you are supposed to ignore this otherwise nobody would ever sleep with anyone. He wasn’t culturally stupid on this one anymore.
Since then things had been even more perfect: she came around two or three times a week; she didn’t want to go for dinner or coffee; she never talked about their relationship or seeing each more often. She was just perfect.
“You are quiet today,” said Eric.
“You know we must stop this soon,” said Hsing-Cheng.
I see, thought Eric. The time had to arrive and I am not bothered. I am happy to say I am her boyfriend.
“I would love to have you as a girlfriend. Sorry, I should have said earlier,” said Eric.
“No,” she said starting to cry. “It is not right, I have a boyfriend.”
Eric wasn’t that surprised. He readjusted for the fact she was in an unhappy relationship with some Taiwanese guy her parents had introduced her to.
“It is okay. You can finish with him. I really like you and I am prepared to make a commitment,” he replied.
“No, you don’t understand. I love him. I will marry him soon.”
“So…uh….why?” said Eric switching to English; wanting to understand the explanation with no room for errors.
“I feel sorry for you. I like to help foreigners in Taiwan to pay back for when people help me in Canada. I know you want a girlfriend, but you should be honest in those columns. Not waste people’s time. I know you are shy, but you will find one. Taiwan girls are very easy…Hmm, I think best we don’t see each other again. ”
Eric wasn’t sure if he got off his bed again that day.
Showing posts with label Eric. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Eric. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 16, 2014
Friday, March 27, 2009
Taiwan characters: Eric and studying Chinese IV
Eric and Joanne split up a couple of months later, because his Chinese was getting too good for her to dominate the conversation.
He decided his next move was to try the classifieds for his perfect language exchange.
A few evenings later we were in John’s room in the love hotel, drinking a few beers before going out.
“Can you fucking belief these things?” said Eric getting a piece of paper out of his back pocket and handing it to Pierre. He had printed out the classified section for a couple of online dating and friendship sites in Taiwan, where locals could meet foreigners.
“You see what it says, ‘Like to go dancing and sing songs…Would like to meet young western man for friendship and to practice my English.’ There are dozens similar.”
“So?” said John.
“I mean how fucking selfish can you get. Why the fuck could they possibly think some guy wants to sit in a bar and talk boring shit about colleges in the West, and correct their fucking grammar for nothing. She knows that she is supposed to deliver as her end of the bargain.”
"You know they like to practice their English," said John, "And they are assuming that you have no interest in learning Chinese, like me and most guys, and you want to spend a little time talking about your homeland. At some point in the future they will return the favor - But I have fucking told you this a dozen times. "
John continued,“You want to practice your Chinese. Why waste your time looking?”
"Hold on," I said. “You have just been on a date with one of these girls, haven’t you?”
He admitted he had, and it hadn't gone well:
“Could you recommend one of these colleges to me, I don’t know whether I want to live on the east coast or west,”said Joy Chou his date.
Eric had already answered how to spell his unusual surname (Vorseck). He knew how many points Joy had got on her TOEFL, but that she did think her spoken English was good enough yet. He had explained the meaning of ‘curriculum’ and ‘progressive’ from the college brochures she believed he wanted to see – for presumably the same reason she believed he was interested in any of this. And, he had corrected her pronunciation too many times to remember. From her first question, he had been trying to keep the phrase ‘stupid, boring American loving bitch’ unarticulated, but it was getting harder and harder.
He decided the only way was to try and change the conversation. "When did martial law end? Was it ’87?”asked Eric. He knew the answer but he needed to not talk about the American education system for twenty minutes.
“What is martial law?” Eric explained and she continued, “Just a moment, I need a pen - how to spell martial law?”
“In what state in the US do they have martial law?- Is my question right? You can correct me if you want.”
I don’t want, that is okay, he thought. "Anyway, yes to your first question, but not America, Taiwan!”
“Taiwan!?” She gasped and wiped the cold water from her face.
How dare he wake her from her trip to America.
"I don’t know,” she answered quickly. “Have America to ever martial law?”
Eric brought himself back from his brink by reminding himself he was on to dessert, and another half-hour and she would be back to his.
“So why do you want to go to America?” He asked through clenched teeth.
“I need to broaden my horizons, develop the international perspective and creativity skills that living in diverse and open American society will give me - And improve my English.”
Eric interrupted,“Sorry, uh, you’ve not finished yet: continue from the top of the next page.”
Eric was referring to the Dream America Agency study pamphlet on preparing for interviews with American universities. He knew because he wrote it when he was desperate for cash.
“Only joking! Take it easy.”
“So why do you like foreigners? If I don’t already know...” She didn’t understand the last part of the question, but was too eager to answer the first to care. “I want to practice my English.”
“Figure getting on your back for a couple of months taking hot rod is cheaper than intensive English classes. Cool! You get to practice your English and I get a regular fuck; which is all good, because I don’t have enough money to date,” he said too quickly for her to understand.
“Let me get the bill.”
“We go dutch. That is American way, yes?”
Maybe, she is not so bad after all, he thought.
“Okay, let’s go back to mine.”
“No! We are friends right! Call me.”
Having told his story he was still angry.“Can you believe that? - The bitch bores me senseless for three hours and then isn’t in the mood. Does she think I am in the mood after talking to her, but I am still prepared to do it," he raged.
“Some are like it and some are not. That is what she said she wanted so why challenge that. I know because you saw it there and you just had to see if it was true,”I said.
“How do you know, man?” said Eric.
“Anyway what is the difference between that and the girls in the bar?” asked Pierre.
“The girls in the bar understand the bargain,”said Eric.
“Of course, so now you just look stupid.”
“Anyway, why don’t you put an advert there? – Want someone to practice your Chinese on," I said. "What are you doing for teachers at the moment?”
“I have a few language exchanges at the moment.” Eric intermittently went to visit the Chinese language schools to see if there was a good teacher in any of the classes. At the moment he was back signing on at the school with no classrooms just to get a visa.
“Dude, I have told you they are a waste of time,” said Josh, who had just arrived. “Their average salary per hour for a one-to-one is 250 NT; yours for teaching English is 600 – 700. You are better off paying at a school and getting three hours for your one of teaching.”
“I know but they always teach badly and speak English and it makes me angry when I am paying.”
“And do the language exchanges do a good job?”
“Don’t get me started - I had to fire one yesterday for speaking English all the way through my hour of Chinese. It is a battle to exploit me.”
“At least you have to arrange a time ratio based on your relative earning potentials. Not one hour for one hour.”
“I know, but I ain’t a capitalist like you,” replied Eric. "It is so embarrassing to directly tell someone they are not worth as much as me."
“Anyway, why don’t you put the ad for someone to speak Chinese to?” said Pierre.
“I don’t know, man. I suppose for the same reason I am so disgruntled by the people who put the ad to practice their English: I don’t like exploiting people. I feel extremely guilty because I am bringing nothing to the equation.”
“Didn’t you teach English as a volunteer to immigrants in New York?” asked John. “What were you getting out of that?”
“Pleasure in helping people.”
“There you go.”
“Yes…but…I just kind of feel it is much easier to allow myself to be exploited, but not exploit others.”
“Buy them a present at the end - Whatever…make it up to them in some way,” said John.
“I leave it up to the individual to decide if they are being exploited,” said Pierre.
“Presumably if they do respond they really are only looking for a boyfriend. I mean nobody teaches for nothing,”continued Eric.
“Again, some will and some won’t,” said John. “Let’s go to the bar.”
Eric counted up the number of drinks he had had over the last hour knowing he couldn’t afford to buy more than one in the bar. “Hey, I have not drunk enough yet.”
“You don’t need that much dutch courage here?”
“I am not drinking for that reason...” replied Eric.
An hour later.
“Eric is an American,” shouted John to the three girls at the table they had just approached.
“Really?” said Tina who was to his left. “Very nice.”
“Thanks,” said Eric.
“Where in America?” said Tina.
“New York.” Eric toasted her half-heartedly and then stood swigging desperately from his bottle of Budweiser, wondering why it was letting him down. He had had four cans of Taiwan beer and then taken one, then a second, then a third shot of vodka before leaving John’s room. It had been for the express purpose of making this conversation easier. After the disappointment earlier with the girl who wanted to practice her English he was frustrated. In fact the arrangement of that date had been part of a recent cycle: he refused to talk to girls who wouldn’t speak Chinese, he hated having that conversation about his stereotypes, he got desperate after a few weeks and got drunk and broke his rules. Tonight all he had to do was ask her if she had been to America, tell her she would like it, make small talk about her liking the bars and discos, and exploit her disaffected young sensibilities and everything would be okay. He overheard John – “Yes, a gentleman” - and then laugh as he always did because he thought the stereotype wildly inaccurate. Pierre was talking about romance. He wished he could play up his stereotypes. He had been threatened and punched more in the last eighteen months than the previous twenty-three years. He would love life to go smoothly. He wished he could ignore the racism, and ignorance. He wished he could see the positives. He wished he could subvert it subtly instead of arguing.
It was tough being him. And especially so as he would be staying for another couple of years. His Chinese wasn’t good enough yet, and once you have studied it to not get a job and use it was a crime. There was a volunteer job for foreigners at the National Palace Museum. There was translation work he would like to do. He was still fascinated by Chinese things and the opportunity to study whatever he wanted. That was the thing about Taiwan, in theory it was still perfect: great food, wonderful mountains, unlimited casual work in the form of teaching, and great women. If he wanted to study something back home it would mean working in low wage job which still demanded his emotional input. He was incredibly free to pursue whatever he wanted. And that was the final reason why he was going to stay: He kind of recognized there was a hypocrisy in his position, and he really wanted to create a balance. He wanted to know where the truth lied.
He made up his mind he was going to put that advert for someone to practice his Chinese with, and see what happened.
He looked at Tina. She was sat nervously looking at him, and he prepared himself to ask her if she had been to America. To listen to her talk about her flowering in the land of freedom.
Hmm, I’ll get another beer first, he thought.
He decided his next move was to try the classifieds for his perfect language exchange.
A few evenings later we were in John’s room in the love hotel, drinking a few beers before going out.
“Can you fucking belief these things?” said Eric getting a piece of paper out of his back pocket and handing it to Pierre. He had printed out the classified section for a couple of online dating and friendship sites in Taiwan, where locals could meet foreigners.
“You see what it says, ‘Like to go dancing and sing songs…Would like to meet young western man for friendship and to practice my English.’ There are dozens similar.”
“So?” said John.
“I mean how fucking selfish can you get. Why the fuck could they possibly think some guy wants to sit in a bar and talk boring shit about colleges in the West, and correct their fucking grammar for nothing. She knows that she is supposed to deliver as her end of the bargain.”
"You know they like to practice their English," said John, "And they are assuming that you have no interest in learning Chinese, like me and most guys, and you want to spend a little time talking about your homeland. At some point in the future they will return the favor - But I have fucking told you this a dozen times. "
John continued,“You want to practice your Chinese. Why waste your time looking?”
"Hold on," I said. “You have just been on a date with one of these girls, haven’t you?”
He admitted he had, and it hadn't gone well:
“Could you recommend one of these colleges to me, I don’t know whether I want to live on the east coast or west,”said Joy Chou his date.
Eric had already answered how to spell his unusual surname (Vorseck). He knew how many points Joy had got on her TOEFL, but that she did think her spoken English was good enough yet. He had explained the meaning of ‘curriculum’ and ‘progressive’ from the college brochures she believed he wanted to see – for presumably the same reason she believed he was interested in any of this. And, he had corrected her pronunciation too many times to remember. From her first question, he had been trying to keep the phrase ‘stupid, boring American loving bitch’ unarticulated, but it was getting harder and harder.
He decided the only way was to try and change the conversation. "When did martial law end? Was it ’87?”asked Eric. He knew the answer but he needed to not talk about the American education system for twenty minutes.
“What is martial law?” Eric explained and she continued, “Just a moment, I need a pen - how to spell martial law?”
“In what state in the US do they have martial law?- Is my question right? You can correct me if you want.”
I don’t want, that is okay, he thought. "Anyway, yes to your first question, but not America, Taiwan!”
“Taiwan!?” She gasped and wiped the cold water from her face.
How dare he wake her from her trip to America.
"I don’t know,” she answered quickly. “Have America to ever martial law?”
Eric brought himself back from his brink by reminding himself he was on to dessert, and another half-hour and she would be back to his.
“So why do you want to go to America?” He asked through clenched teeth.
“I need to broaden my horizons, develop the international perspective and creativity skills that living in diverse and open American society will give me - And improve my English.”
Eric interrupted,“Sorry, uh, you’ve not finished yet: continue from the top of the next page.”
Eric was referring to the Dream America Agency study pamphlet on preparing for interviews with American universities. He knew because he wrote it when he was desperate for cash.
“Only joking! Take it easy.”
“So why do you like foreigners? If I don’t already know...” She didn’t understand the last part of the question, but was too eager to answer the first to care. “I want to practice my English.”
“Figure getting on your back for a couple of months taking hot rod is cheaper than intensive English classes. Cool! You get to practice your English and I get a regular fuck; which is all good, because I don’t have enough money to date,” he said too quickly for her to understand.
“Let me get the bill.”
“We go dutch. That is American way, yes?”
Maybe, she is not so bad after all, he thought.
“Okay, let’s go back to mine.”
“No! We are friends right! Call me.”
Having told his story he was still angry.“Can you believe that? - The bitch bores me senseless for three hours and then isn’t in the mood. Does she think I am in the mood after talking to her, but I am still prepared to do it," he raged.
“Some are like it and some are not. That is what she said she wanted so why challenge that. I know because you saw it there and you just had to see if it was true,”I said.
“How do you know, man?” said Eric.
“Anyway what is the difference between that and the girls in the bar?” asked Pierre.
“The girls in the bar understand the bargain,”said Eric.
“Of course, so now you just look stupid.”
“Anyway, why don’t you put an advert there? – Want someone to practice your Chinese on," I said. "What are you doing for teachers at the moment?”
“I have a few language exchanges at the moment.” Eric intermittently went to visit the Chinese language schools to see if there was a good teacher in any of the classes. At the moment he was back signing on at the school with no classrooms just to get a visa.
“Dude, I have told you they are a waste of time,” said Josh, who had just arrived. “Their average salary per hour for a one-to-one is 250 NT; yours for teaching English is 600 – 700. You are better off paying at a school and getting three hours for your one of teaching.”
“I know but they always teach badly and speak English and it makes me angry when I am paying.”
“And do the language exchanges do a good job?”
“Don’t get me started - I had to fire one yesterday for speaking English all the way through my hour of Chinese. It is a battle to exploit me.”
“At least you have to arrange a time ratio based on your relative earning potentials. Not one hour for one hour.”
“I know, but I ain’t a capitalist like you,” replied Eric. "It is so embarrassing to directly tell someone they are not worth as much as me."
“Anyway, why don’t you put the ad for someone to speak Chinese to?” said Pierre.
“I don’t know, man. I suppose for the same reason I am so disgruntled by the people who put the ad to practice their English: I don’t like exploiting people. I feel extremely guilty because I am bringing nothing to the equation.”
“Didn’t you teach English as a volunteer to immigrants in New York?” asked John. “What were you getting out of that?”
“Pleasure in helping people.”
“There you go.”
“Yes…but…I just kind of feel it is much easier to allow myself to be exploited, but not exploit others.”
“Buy them a present at the end - Whatever…make it up to them in some way,” said John.
“I leave it up to the individual to decide if they are being exploited,” said Pierre.
“Presumably if they do respond they really are only looking for a boyfriend. I mean nobody teaches for nothing,”continued Eric.
“Again, some will and some won’t,” said John. “Let’s go to the bar.”
Eric counted up the number of drinks he had had over the last hour knowing he couldn’t afford to buy more than one in the bar. “Hey, I have not drunk enough yet.”
“You don’t need that much dutch courage here?”
“I am not drinking for that reason...” replied Eric.
An hour later.
“Eric is an American,” shouted John to the three girls at the table they had just approached.
“Really?” said Tina who was to his left. “Very nice.”
“Thanks,” said Eric.
“Where in America?” said Tina.
“New York.” Eric toasted her half-heartedly and then stood swigging desperately from his bottle of Budweiser, wondering why it was letting him down. He had had four cans of Taiwan beer and then taken one, then a second, then a third shot of vodka before leaving John’s room. It had been for the express purpose of making this conversation easier. After the disappointment earlier with the girl who wanted to practice her English he was frustrated. In fact the arrangement of that date had been part of a recent cycle: he refused to talk to girls who wouldn’t speak Chinese, he hated having that conversation about his stereotypes, he got desperate after a few weeks and got drunk and broke his rules. Tonight all he had to do was ask her if she had been to America, tell her she would like it, make small talk about her liking the bars and discos, and exploit her disaffected young sensibilities and everything would be okay. He overheard John – “Yes, a gentleman” - and then laugh as he always did because he thought the stereotype wildly inaccurate. Pierre was talking about romance. He wished he could play up his stereotypes. He had been threatened and punched more in the last eighteen months than the previous twenty-three years. He would love life to go smoothly. He wished he could ignore the racism, and ignorance. He wished he could see the positives. He wished he could subvert it subtly instead of arguing.
It was tough being him. And especially so as he would be staying for another couple of years. His Chinese wasn’t good enough yet, and once you have studied it to not get a job and use it was a crime. There was a volunteer job for foreigners at the National Palace Museum. There was translation work he would like to do. He was still fascinated by Chinese things and the opportunity to study whatever he wanted. That was the thing about Taiwan, in theory it was still perfect: great food, wonderful mountains, unlimited casual work in the form of teaching, and great women. If he wanted to study something back home it would mean working in low wage job which still demanded his emotional input. He was incredibly free to pursue whatever he wanted. And that was the final reason why he was going to stay: He kind of recognized there was a hypocrisy in his position, and he really wanted to create a balance. He wanted to know where the truth lied.
He made up his mind he was going to put that advert for someone to practice his Chinese with, and see what happened.
He looked at Tina. She was sat nervously looking at him, and he prepared himself to ask her if she had been to America. To listen to her talk about her flowering in the land of freedom.
Hmm, I’ll get another beer first, he thought.
Taiwan characters: Eric and studying Chinese III
The fastest route to learning Chinese is to get a local girlfriend who doesn't speak English. But, as i say, if you a newly graduated college boy used to dating middle class college girls, the downside is they will not only speak good English but want to practice - good English is there status symbol.
A year or so after being in Taiwan Eric was hoping his girlfriend Fiona Li would be interested in working with him so they could improve each others language levels. She had other ideas.
Eric got off the bed, where he had been sitting listening to Fiona practice her English on his room mates for twenty minutes now. Sitting in his living room talking to his room mates had started at around the same time as he started talking to her in Chinese. She furiously denied it of course, but she should know he was soft not stupid.
Anyway, he had to go to work early the next morning, and the last two or three times she came back, she had sat in the living room until two or three and there hadn't been any sex. He went to the doorway, today would be different, he was going to put his foot down. He went to the kitchen and got himself another drink, he would give her another twenty minutes.
About half an hour later. "Sorry, Fiona, would you like another drink?” he said.
“Hey, Fiona, good talking to you…Again - but I have to go to bed,” said his room-mate, Mike - It was the code signal Eric had given him to let him know.
Fiona took her glass of wine and sat down on Eric’s bed.
“Hey, I bought a frame. What do you think?” said Eric.
“Very nice. Now you just need to get a proper job. You can’t just do nothing all your life.”
Eric was shocked her directness, but he reassured himself with the knowledge that he was a foreigner and so he had told her to be direct. Maybe, it was a little crude, but learning to be direct was a process and he couldn’t expect her to get it right immediately. But he wasn’t surprised: the Taiwanese were money orientated people and he realized he had to get things together if he was going to stay with one of them.
Eric leaned across and began to fumble.
“I am tired, I need to get up early tomorrow,” she said.
“We haven’t had sex for two weeks now - What’s up?”
“I said I am tired. I can’t just turn the feeling on you know.”
“I think after this much time the feeling would be turned on.”
“You are so direct – You know when you talk to the Taiwanese girl, you shouldn’t be so direct.”
“So it is alright for you to be direct with me.”
“But you are the foreigner.”
Eric wanted to say I think we should use one method or the other – directness or indirectness – in approaching talking to each other. Ideally, it would be directness. This was another gripe but he would leave this for now.
He got out a Chinese newspaper he was reading. "Ok," he said. "Can i ask you a question? Can I say - "
"Eric, i am tired. It is late and now you want to ask me questions about Chinese."
"It is the only time i get to speak to you - as you only sit in my living room..."
"Don't i help you with your Chinese now? Let you speak to me in Chinese?"
"You - " Eric cut himself short guessing the futility of saying what he wanted to say: You let me speak in Chinese but never correct me or listen whereas I correct you all the time.
"I am sorry," said Eric. "It is just after a couple of weeks..."
“We are Taiwanese girls. It is not all about sex,”she replied.
Eric rubbed his eyes. It was that comment again. He had meet many girls for whom it was all about that. Weren’t they in a relationship so there was nothing wrong anyway? He read that article that said Taiwanese women were more interested in shopping than sex. It wasn’t his experience from the past. He kind of thought that was because they were in bad marriages to some guy there parents had introduced them to. They were afraid to get divorced. They were being coy. They hadn’t been fucked properly. There was a commonsense answer to pull together, but the cultural soundbites were swirling and changing direction too fast.
He sat back on the bed and began to mope.
“Come here,”she said pulling him out of his boxers, and rather matter-of-factly starting to relieve him. He was sure she was reading the front page article on the local English newspaper that he had left on the bed, and it briefly occurred to him she was not interested. Still as things were under way sincerity on her part was not necessary.
He shuffled himself back down next to the newspaper.“That is better, eh. Don’t want you to get a stiff neck,” he said.
Ten minutes later. “Okay, now,” she said one hand wiping her mouth and with the other briefly rubbing the top of his thigh before giving it a pat, like a mother consoling her spoilt kid.
“You have to be soft with us Taiwanese girls, you know.”
A year or so after being in Taiwan Eric was hoping his girlfriend Fiona Li would be interested in working with him so they could improve each others language levels. She had other ideas.
Eric got off the bed, where he had been sitting listening to Fiona practice her English on his room mates for twenty minutes now. Sitting in his living room talking to his room mates had started at around the same time as he started talking to her in Chinese. She furiously denied it of course, but she should know he was soft not stupid.
Anyway, he had to go to work early the next morning, and the last two or three times she came back, she had sat in the living room until two or three and there hadn't been any sex. He went to the doorway, today would be different, he was going to put his foot down. He went to the kitchen and got himself another drink, he would give her another twenty minutes.
About half an hour later. "Sorry, Fiona, would you like another drink?” he said.
“Hey, Fiona, good talking to you…Again - but I have to go to bed,” said his room-mate, Mike - It was the code signal Eric had given him to let him know.
Fiona took her glass of wine and sat down on Eric’s bed.
“Hey, I bought a frame. What do you think?” said Eric.
“Very nice. Now you just need to get a proper job. You can’t just do nothing all your life.”
Eric was shocked her directness, but he reassured himself with the knowledge that he was a foreigner and so he had told her to be direct. Maybe, it was a little crude, but learning to be direct was a process and he couldn’t expect her to get it right immediately. But he wasn’t surprised: the Taiwanese were money orientated people and he realized he had to get things together if he was going to stay with one of them.
Eric leaned across and began to fumble.
“I am tired, I need to get up early tomorrow,” she said.
“We haven’t had sex for two weeks now - What’s up?”
“I said I am tired. I can’t just turn the feeling on you know.”
“I think after this much time the feeling would be turned on.”
“You are so direct – You know when you talk to the Taiwanese girl, you shouldn’t be so direct.”
“So it is alright for you to be direct with me.”
“But you are the foreigner.”
Eric wanted to say I think we should use one method or the other – directness or indirectness – in approaching talking to each other. Ideally, it would be directness. This was another gripe but he would leave this for now.
He got out a Chinese newspaper he was reading. "Ok," he said. "Can i ask you a question? Can I say - "
"Eric, i am tired. It is late and now you want to ask me questions about Chinese."
"It is the only time i get to speak to you - as you only sit in my living room..."
"Don't i help you with your Chinese now? Let you speak to me in Chinese?"
"You - " Eric cut himself short guessing the futility of saying what he wanted to say: You let me speak in Chinese but never correct me or listen whereas I correct you all the time.
"I am sorry," said Eric. "It is just after a couple of weeks..."
“We are Taiwanese girls. It is not all about sex,”she replied.
Eric rubbed his eyes. It was that comment again. He had meet many girls for whom it was all about that. Weren’t they in a relationship so there was nothing wrong anyway? He read that article that said Taiwanese women were more interested in shopping than sex. It wasn’t his experience from the past. He kind of thought that was because they were in bad marriages to some guy there parents had introduced them to. They were afraid to get divorced. They were being coy. They hadn’t been fucked properly. There was a commonsense answer to pull together, but the cultural soundbites were swirling and changing direction too fast.
He sat back on the bed and began to mope.
“Come here,”she said pulling him out of his boxers, and rather matter-of-factly starting to relieve him. He was sure she was reading the front page article on the local English newspaper that he had left on the bed, and it briefly occurred to him she was not interested. Still as things were under way sincerity on her part was not necessary.
He shuffled himself back down next to the newspaper.“That is better, eh. Don’t want you to get a stiff neck,” he said.
Ten minutes later. “Okay, now,” she said one hand wiping her mouth and with the other briefly rubbing the top of his thigh before giving it a pat, like a mother consoling her spoilt kid.
“You have to be soft with us Taiwanese girls, you know.”
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Taiwan characters: Eric and studying Chinese II
This is one of Eric's funniest stories about studying Chinese. He was driving around lost, looking for a school; obsessing over finding someone to ask directions who wouldn't speak English to him.
That guy has a suit on so will try and speak English. Couple of young girls in jeans and T-shirts. Students. Will try and speak English. A betelnut stand manned by a middle-aged woman in surfing shorts, t-shirt and flip-flops. Okay.
He stopped at the roadside in front of her stall.
“Chong Kai Road, Lane 26. You know where it is?”
She looked at him in horror, and a chunk of confidence went.
“Chong Kai Road, Lane 26. You know where it is?”
“Ah, a foreigner speaking Chinese,” she shouted loudly. "Now he is leaving when I want to tell him where to go. Why he bother to stop?”
Eric drove on fuming.
He saw a young boy, maybe sixteen.
They won’t speak English with a gun to their heads, and maybe he is shocked to see me but I won’t know: their expression never changes.
“Chong Kai Road, Lane 26. You know where it is?”
“I’m sorry. My English is not so good. It is a sad story. My parents push me to learn but I had no interest. I’m sorry,” he said before hurrying off into a shop.
Twenty minutes later and he would have to ask anyone if he didn’t want to be late. He saw a smartly dressed woman in a business suit - late-twenties walk by. She would definitely speak good English. He didn’t have time anymore to give people lectures about speaking to him in Chinese so he decided to speak English and get this over with.
“Chong Kai Lu. Ne jer dao zi na li,(Do you know where it is?)” said Eric.
She lifted up her sun glasses and shielded her eyes with her left hand.“Oh. Hi!” she said. "You go straight until you get to a gas station, and then turn right.”
“And then?” interrupted Eric in Chinese trying to let her know to speak it.
“It is about two blocks down on the right. What are you looking for?”
“A school,” said Eric now speaking English. “Hey, what is the matter with you Taiwanese - See a white man and assume you have to practice your English? That is the way you stereotype us?”
“I was born in Canada. Fuck you,”she replied.
Eric desperately tried to quell feelings of self-loathing by telling himself he wasn’t to know, and it was in fact her fault because she should appreciate issues of racial sensitivity and identity where she was from.
That guy has a suit on so will try and speak English. Couple of young girls in jeans and T-shirts. Students. Will try and speak English. A betelnut stand manned by a middle-aged woman in surfing shorts, t-shirt and flip-flops. Okay.
He stopped at the roadside in front of her stall.
“Chong Kai Road, Lane 26. You know where it is?”
She looked at him in horror, and a chunk of confidence went.
“Chong Kai Road, Lane 26. You know where it is?”
“Ah, a foreigner speaking Chinese,” she shouted loudly. "Now he is leaving when I want to tell him where to go. Why he bother to stop?”
Eric drove on fuming.
He saw a young boy, maybe sixteen.
They won’t speak English with a gun to their heads, and maybe he is shocked to see me but I won’t know: their expression never changes.
“Chong Kai Road, Lane 26. You know where it is?”
“I’m sorry. My English is not so good. It is a sad story. My parents push me to learn but I had no interest. I’m sorry,” he said before hurrying off into a shop.
Twenty minutes later and he would have to ask anyone if he didn’t want to be late. He saw a smartly dressed woman in a business suit - late-twenties walk by. She would definitely speak good English. He didn’t have time anymore to give people lectures about speaking to him in Chinese so he decided to speak English and get this over with.
“Chong Kai Lu. Ne jer dao zi na li,(Do you know where it is?)” said Eric.
She lifted up her sun glasses and shielded her eyes with her left hand.“Oh. Hi!” she said. "You go straight until you get to a gas station, and then turn right.”
“And then?” interrupted Eric in Chinese trying to let her know to speak it.
“It is about two blocks down on the right. What are you looking for?”
“A school,” said Eric now speaking English. “Hey, what is the matter with you Taiwanese - See a white man and assume you have to practice your English? That is the way you stereotype us?”
“I was born in Canada. Fuck you,”she replied.
Eric desperately tried to quell feelings of self-loathing by telling himself he wasn’t to know, and it was in fact her fault because she should appreciate issues of racial sensitivity and identity where she was from.
Taiwan characters: Eric and studying Chinese I
Taiwan doesn't get many western visitors - A tiny number of whom actually come to study the language and live for a long time. They have been taught it is polite to speak to the foreigner in English. Many have studied abroad and already speak good English. They want to practice their English. They are afraid of their English ability so run off. They are not used to hearing their language with a strange accent. In short, when you are in the early stages of studying Chinese, it could be difficult to get the opportunities to speak.
Most of us weren't in any great hurry to learn the language. Others found their methods: Pierre only dated girls who worked in department stores, running the gauntlet of them laughing out loud at everything he said because they were embarrassed at being with the foreigner. Most of us dated upwardly mobile middle-class girls who came and found us, the downside was they spoke good English - and it automatically became the language you spoke in.
Eric was in a hurry to learn and had taken the above as a personal slight. He had thrown himself out of every school in Taipei, and now he was refusing to speak to people unless they spoke Chinese.
First, he had started to argue with people:
“I can speak Chinese,” he said.
“I can speak English,” came the reply.
“We are in Taiwan.”
“But you are an American.”
To which he usually replied, “Are you ashamed of your language? Or just a racist?”
Then he started to pretend to be French or German.
“So where are you from?” said the woman next to him in the breakfast shop.
“Fa Gwo (France),” said Eric.
“Really? Where in France?” she asked.
“Why are you speaking to me in English? I am French so speak French or Chinese.”
“Sorry,” she replied and quickly left.
Picked the wrong foreigner to exploit for English practice bitch.
Eric turned his attention to the guys opposite and started listening to their conversation. They were talking about the local elections and he was surprised, he could understand what they said. The election was fascinating as outside the environment was transformed: every bridge, grass divider between sides of the road, intersection, roundabout, building, and private apartment that it was possible to put a candidate flag on had one; otherwise giant-sized pictures of candidates adorned the front of buildings, buses taxis and trains; flyers were being handed out everywhere; rallies held everyday in football stadiums.
He could join this conversation. He would love to. The signs were good: they were men in their late forties; two of them were wearing the traffic volunteer orange armbands suggesting they were taxi drivers (At every intersection across Taipei at rush hour armies of volunteers stood blowing whistles to stop people going through the red lights). He could hear they were also supporters of the DPP. It would love to hear some stories of protest or imprisonment. The chances are they didn’t speak any English. He thought about joining their conversation - Just going over there and sitting down. They would make a few stupid comments about him being a foreigner at the start but then would just let him join in. These kind of guys always did: they were loud but essentially harmless ...Eric got out his textbook and started to learn a few more characters instead.
“Hey. Hello,” said the woman he had been rude to before. She was back with a young pretty girl. “This is my friend’s daughter. She is studying French. Uh, maybe, you can speak to her for a while. Let her practice.”
“Did I say French? Sorry, my Chinese is not so good. I meant to say Spanish.” Eric packed up his things and looked longingly back at the group of guys discussing the election. Once outside it occurred to him the questions about his identity were worth it to join the conversation, but he wasn’t going back now. Besides, he didn’t have time because he had an interview at a new school, and he needed to get this job.
Most of us weren't in any great hurry to learn the language. Others found their methods: Pierre only dated girls who worked in department stores, running the gauntlet of them laughing out loud at everything he said because they were embarrassed at being with the foreigner. Most of us dated upwardly mobile middle-class girls who came and found us, the downside was they spoke good English - and it automatically became the language you spoke in.
Eric was in a hurry to learn and had taken the above as a personal slight. He had thrown himself out of every school in Taipei, and now he was refusing to speak to people unless they spoke Chinese.
First, he had started to argue with people:
“I can speak Chinese,” he said.
“I can speak English,” came the reply.
“We are in Taiwan.”
“But you are an American.”
To which he usually replied, “Are you ashamed of your language? Or just a racist?”
Then he started to pretend to be French or German.
“So where are you from?” said the woman next to him in the breakfast shop.
“Fa Gwo (France),” said Eric.
“Really? Where in France?” she asked.
“Why are you speaking to me in English? I am French so speak French or Chinese.”
“Sorry,” she replied and quickly left.
Picked the wrong foreigner to exploit for English practice bitch.
Eric turned his attention to the guys opposite and started listening to their conversation. They were talking about the local elections and he was surprised, he could understand what they said. The election was fascinating as outside the environment was transformed: every bridge, grass divider between sides of the road, intersection, roundabout, building, and private apartment that it was possible to put a candidate flag on had one; otherwise giant-sized pictures of candidates adorned the front of buildings, buses taxis and trains; flyers were being handed out everywhere; rallies held everyday in football stadiums.
He could join this conversation. He would love to. The signs were good: they were men in their late forties; two of them were wearing the traffic volunteer orange armbands suggesting they were taxi drivers (At every intersection across Taipei at rush hour armies of volunteers stood blowing whistles to stop people going through the red lights). He could hear they were also supporters of the DPP. It would love to hear some stories of protest or imprisonment. The chances are they didn’t speak any English. He thought about joining their conversation - Just going over there and sitting down. They would make a few stupid comments about him being a foreigner at the start but then would just let him join in. These kind of guys always did: they were loud but essentially harmless ...Eric got out his textbook and started to learn a few more characters instead.
“Hey. Hello,” said the woman he had been rude to before. She was back with a young pretty girl. “This is my friend’s daughter. She is studying French. Uh, maybe, you can speak to her for a while. Let her practice.”
“Did I say French? Sorry, my Chinese is not so good. I meant to say Spanish.” Eric packed up his things and looked longingly back at the group of guys discussing the election. Once outside it occurred to him the questions about his identity were worth it to join the conversation, but he wasn’t going back now. Besides, he didn’t have time because he had an interview at a new school, and he needed to get this job.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Taiwan Culture Shock: It is hard being the superior sex IV
Eric hadn’t called back Diane. Once he woke up in the morning he had decided this was his first time dumping a girl based on looks and so, of course, it had been hard. He shouldn’t unilaterally declare himself unable to be a stud but give himself a few more opportunities to adjust. He might be able to get used to being the superior sex. Get over his culture shock.
He had been dating Emily – the introduction from John - for a few weeks now. She was beautiful, interesting and fun. His fears had been unfounded. He knew he had to view things differently; in Taiwan he could get hot girls and he knew he shouldn’t question that. Just enjoy. He put on that smart shirt he had bought when they started dating, thinking he would have to buy a new one soon - and he changed out of his shorts. He really missed his goatee. Finally, he checked his wallet and went out the door to meet Emily for dinner.
“You are not having a sweet?” asked Emily.
Eric calculated the cost of the dinner in his head. “No thanks.” His main course had been four hundred NT dollars, and when you added in the cost of the starters and drinks it would go over fifteen hundred dollars - Nothing if he was back in New York, but he wasn’t. He was in Taiwan where good food could be had for sixty in a basic eatery, and a set meal for a hundred and fifty in a nice teashop. Today the bill was high because they were eating at an Italian restaurant. He preferred to eat Chinese or some other Asian food, but if you have a hot woman who was interested in you because you were a foreigner he presumed this was the price you have to pay.
“I will pay you know. You don’t always have to. Please let me today,” said Emily. “I know you are a student and you don’t have much money. You know we Taiwanese girls are not interested in the money, but feeling. Feeling is most important. We support our man. You know, my ex-boyfriend wanted to set up a business so I lent him one million NT, and he never paid it back. You are a good guy. I know you are young and studying Chinese because you are interested in Chinese things. You are very hard working. I know you will do very well in future.”
Jesus, thought Eric, don’t you know I am a neurotic fucker. You have just given me enough to obsess over the rest of my life.
Still he tried to focus on the issue that had started her diatribe. ‘Ok’, would be a good answer, but then he felt guilty – beautiful, interesting, and sharing paying for dinner.
“It is ok. I am the man – I will pay.”
Eric took a look around the restaurant discreetly. It was filled with white guys like him trying to impress Taiwanese girls with conversation about the thin-crust pizza, that was authentic Italian pizza; that the Pizza hut chains across the city were not proper pizza, and stick with them and you could learn what Americans are really doing.
What fucking bullshit. There were fucking thousands in Pizza Hut in America selling the same shit they were here.
Emily didn’t get a sweet because Eric was paying and he got the bill. They walked down the lane looking in the window of restaurants heading in the direction of the main road, Chong Hsaio East Road. This stretch starting at Sogo at Chung Hsiao East and Fu Hsing South roads’ intersection then continuing on Chung Hsaio in an easterly direction for about twenty minutes to Guang Fu South road, was unofficially declared downtown.
He had asked why this was considered downtown and it seemed the answer the number of department stores. Back home towns and centers of populations grew up around a river or a hill or a church, here it was the department store. A hundred years ago most of the city was slum housing, or rice fields, so don’t expect to find any Westminster Abbeys or Versailles Palaces, the department stores are the nicest looking buildings around. Since Diane had told him it was the department stores he had questioned several people: What about Nan Jing and Chung Shan Roads, Hsimenteng, the area around the Warner Village in the very new Hsin Yi District, and Tienmu? But everyone was sure there were more square inches of makeup counters, escalator rungs, wooden racks, mirrors and changing booths per person in this area than any other part of the city - maybe the world. Along with the department stores were the KTVs ( family and adult), offices, high street brands from around the world, small boutiques, tea houses, fast food joints, gymnasiums, coffee shops and upscale restaurants all with music blaring.
Off the main road the lanes sprawling south to RenAi and north to Civil Boulevard were all restaurants, teashops and small boutiques on the first floor, and apartments above. This was still prime residential real estate despite the noise.
“Wow, can we stop?” said Emily spotting a stall selling sweet bean curd with peanuts and sweets.
“Of course.”
They ordered and sat down on the round metal stools, elbows perched on the edge of the stall next to their polystyrene bowls; scooters shooting past them. “You know this is what I miss most in America, Taiwanese snacks. I know you are an American and I should get used to eating American food, but I don’t really like it. Next time can we go to the night market? It will be fun,” she said.
What a fucking arsehole, thought Eric. That is about six thousand in dinners I have paid for. I could have avoided working for a week…I could have paid for a trip down south for a few days…Fuck.
She leaned forward. “We don’t always have to go out you know. I like to just buy some food and eat at home...More time to make love. I know you like the massage.”
“I got the picture. You can have an overload of salt to heal a wound…I think…”said Eric.
“So you don’t like America,” he continued.
“I like America very much. Hmm, very free.”
I see – I knew this was too good to be true: want the passport, don’t you girl! I ain’t going to be your green card then dumped, thought Eric pleased he hadn’t been entirely wrong about her.
“I could have stayed in America. My boyfriend want to marry me, but I think not many job opportunities. It was so sad. I loved him so much, but here I am the manager.”
“There are still good opportunities in America for you.”
“I know but my English is not perfect. I don’t do the MBA for nothing.”
Emily paid for the sweets, then asked: “Can we go to the bar for a drink? We have never been together. John introduced us and we should buy him a drink to say thank you.”
Eric got excited by the prospect of walking into the bar with one of the best looking girls…He started to worry about what would happen if some guy came to hit on his woman. “John is not out tonight. Next time, ok,” he said.
* * *
An hour later they were at a love hotel making love.
Suddenly Emily started to cry. “Sorry. I am sorry I got inside too quickly,” said Eric. “No excuses. I am too rough.”
Eric started massaging her breasts and manoeuvre his head between her legs.
“What are you doing? I am crying,” she said.
He negotiated another wave of self-loathing and moved back up next to her.
“I’m sorry. What is wrong?”
“I think you a shame of me. You won’t take me to the bar to meet your friends. You won’t take me to your apartment…And…”
She went silent.
“What?”
“I know I shouldn’t say. I am maybe not so pretty, and so interesting compare to the American girl. My mother say I won’t ever marry because I too bad-tempered …don’t respect man -”
Eric blinked: “One thing at a time, please. Ok, I am listening.”
“If you are a Taiwanese man, maybe I say nothing, but you say I can tell you anything if I have a problem; that you American men will listen. I think you don’t respect me. You only want to see me once a week. You don’t ask me where I want to eat. You say you like the American way but you don’t let me pay for dinner. I don’t feel like the proper girlfriend…”
Eric explained she hadn’t come to his house because he had a mattress on the floor and no furniture…He took her to a good restaurant because he was trying to impress…That they only met once a week because he didn’t have any money to take her other times. The question of why he didn’t take her to the bar went unexplained because he didn’t want to sound like a wimp.
They made love and then as he lied on the bed watching TV, he decided again that he had to accept that it was a different dynamic. As Josh said, it was about supply and demand and there weren’t many whiteys like him in Taiwan.
He looked at her sleeping naked next to him. She was different from Diane because all he had had to say was - “You look fantastic, and I would like you to sleep naked”- and the next day, he didn’t see those pyjamas again. She did look fantastic. He preferred a girl to have breasts. If she put on five kilos or so she would look even better, and would have something that would feel cuddly and soft rather than tight contours. It would be nice, if he couldn’t feel bones against his crotch when they made love. If her nipples were dark and large, rather than small and light pink it would be amazing. A little suntan and she would be perfect.
Anyway, he couldn’t exactly finish with her for being over-emotional. As a Taiwanese woman in this society she no doubt had a hard life, suppressed a lot of emotions. He felt sorry for her that no Taiwanese man would accept her just for speaking out what she felt. He should be forgiving that, perhaps, she was letting out a lot of emotions now she felt safe to do so with a foreigner. Still he would have to watch to see she didn’t get carried away. He didn’t know about the future however now he had found out she was extremely bad-tempered. She had to understand a western man didn’t let you get away with everything; there was responsibility with the freedom he offered…
He had been dating Emily – the introduction from John - for a few weeks now. She was beautiful, interesting and fun. His fears had been unfounded. He knew he had to view things differently; in Taiwan he could get hot girls and he knew he shouldn’t question that. Just enjoy. He put on that smart shirt he had bought when they started dating, thinking he would have to buy a new one soon - and he changed out of his shorts. He really missed his goatee. Finally, he checked his wallet and went out the door to meet Emily for dinner.
“You are not having a sweet?” asked Emily.
Eric calculated the cost of the dinner in his head. “No thanks.” His main course had been four hundred NT dollars, and when you added in the cost of the starters and drinks it would go over fifteen hundred dollars - Nothing if he was back in New York, but he wasn’t. He was in Taiwan where good food could be had for sixty in a basic eatery, and a set meal for a hundred and fifty in a nice teashop. Today the bill was high because they were eating at an Italian restaurant. He preferred to eat Chinese or some other Asian food, but if you have a hot woman who was interested in you because you were a foreigner he presumed this was the price you have to pay.
“I will pay you know. You don’t always have to. Please let me today,” said Emily. “I know you are a student and you don’t have much money. You know we Taiwanese girls are not interested in the money, but feeling. Feeling is most important. We support our man. You know, my ex-boyfriend wanted to set up a business so I lent him one million NT, and he never paid it back. You are a good guy. I know you are young and studying Chinese because you are interested in Chinese things. You are very hard working. I know you will do very well in future.”
Jesus, thought Eric, don’t you know I am a neurotic fucker. You have just given me enough to obsess over the rest of my life.
Still he tried to focus on the issue that had started her diatribe. ‘Ok’, would be a good answer, but then he felt guilty – beautiful, interesting, and sharing paying for dinner.
“It is ok. I am the man – I will pay.”
Eric took a look around the restaurant discreetly. It was filled with white guys like him trying to impress Taiwanese girls with conversation about the thin-crust pizza, that was authentic Italian pizza; that the Pizza hut chains across the city were not proper pizza, and stick with them and you could learn what Americans are really doing.
What fucking bullshit. There were fucking thousands in Pizza Hut in America selling the same shit they were here.
Emily didn’t get a sweet because Eric was paying and he got the bill. They walked down the lane looking in the window of restaurants heading in the direction of the main road, Chong Hsaio East Road. This stretch starting at Sogo at Chung Hsiao East and Fu Hsing South roads’ intersection then continuing on Chung Hsaio in an easterly direction for about twenty minutes to Guang Fu South road, was unofficially declared downtown.
He had asked why this was considered downtown and it seemed the answer the number of department stores. Back home towns and centers of populations grew up around a river or a hill or a church, here it was the department store. A hundred years ago most of the city was slum housing, or rice fields, so don’t expect to find any Westminster Abbeys or Versailles Palaces, the department stores are the nicest looking buildings around. Since Diane had told him it was the department stores he had questioned several people: What about Nan Jing and Chung Shan Roads, Hsimenteng, the area around the Warner Village in the very new Hsin Yi District, and Tienmu? But everyone was sure there were more square inches of makeup counters, escalator rungs, wooden racks, mirrors and changing booths per person in this area than any other part of the city - maybe the world. Along with the department stores were the KTVs ( family and adult), offices, high street brands from around the world, small boutiques, tea houses, fast food joints, gymnasiums, coffee shops and upscale restaurants all with music blaring.
Off the main road the lanes sprawling south to RenAi and north to Civil Boulevard were all restaurants, teashops and small boutiques on the first floor, and apartments above. This was still prime residential real estate despite the noise.
“Wow, can we stop?” said Emily spotting a stall selling sweet bean curd with peanuts and sweets.
“Of course.”
They ordered and sat down on the round metal stools, elbows perched on the edge of the stall next to their polystyrene bowls; scooters shooting past them. “You know this is what I miss most in America, Taiwanese snacks. I know you are an American and I should get used to eating American food, but I don’t really like it. Next time can we go to the night market? It will be fun,” she said.
What a fucking arsehole, thought Eric. That is about six thousand in dinners I have paid for. I could have avoided working for a week…I could have paid for a trip down south for a few days…Fuck.
She leaned forward. “We don’t always have to go out you know. I like to just buy some food and eat at home...More time to make love. I know you like the massage.”
“I got the picture. You can have an overload of salt to heal a wound…I think…”said Eric.
“So you don’t like America,” he continued.
“I like America very much. Hmm, very free.”
I see – I knew this was too good to be true: want the passport, don’t you girl! I ain’t going to be your green card then dumped, thought Eric pleased he hadn’t been entirely wrong about her.
“I could have stayed in America. My boyfriend want to marry me, but I think not many job opportunities. It was so sad. I loved him so much, but here I am the manager.”
“There are still good opportunities in America for you.”
“I know but my English is not perfect. I don’t do the MBA for nothing.”
Emily paid for the sweets, then asked: “Can we go to the bar for a drink? We have never been together. John introduced us and we should buy him a drink to say thank you.”
Eric got excited by the prospect of walking into the bar with one of the best looking girls…He started to worry about what would happen if some guy came to hit on his woman. “John is not out tonight. Next time, ok,” he said.
* * *
An hour later they were at a love hotel making love.
Suddenly Emily started to cry. “Sorry. I am sorry I got inside too quickly,” said Eric. “No excuses. I am too rough.”
Eric started massaging her breasts and manoeuvre his head between her legs.
“What are you doing? I am crying,” she said.
He negotiated another wave of self-loathing and moved back up next to her.
“I’m sorry. What is wrong?”
“I think you a shame of me. You won’t take me to the bar to meet your friends. You won’t take me to your apartment…And…”
She went silent.
“What?”
“I know I shouldn’t say. I am maybe not so pretty, and so interesting compare to the American girl. My mother say I won’t ever marry because I too bad-tempered …don’t respect man -”
Eric blinked: “One thing at a time, please. Ok, I am listening.”
“If you are a Taiwanese man, maybe I say nothing, but you say I can tell you anything if I have a problem; that you American men will listen. I think you don’t respect me. You only want to see me once a week. You don’t ask me where I want to eat. You say you like the American way but you don’t let me pay for dinner. I don’t feel like the proper girlfriend…”
Eric explained she hadn’t come to his house because he had a mattress on the floor and no furniture…He took her to a good restaurant because he was trying to impress…That they only met once a week because he didn’t have any money to take her other times. The question of why he didn’t take her to the bar went unexplained because he didn’t want to sound like a wimp.
They made love and then as he lied on the bed watching TV, he decided again that he had to accept that it was a different dynamic. As Josh said, it was about supply and demand and there weren’t many whiteys like him in Taiwan.
He looked at her sleeping naked next to him. She was different from Diane because all he had had to say was - “You look fantastic, and I would like you to sleep naked”- and the next day, he didn’t see those pyjamas again. She did look fantastic. He preferred a girl to have breasts. If she put on five kilos or so she would look even better, and would have something that would feel cuddly and soft rather than tight contours. It would be nice, if he couldn’t feel bones against his crotch when they made love. If her nipples were dark and large, rather than small and light pink it would be amazing. A little suntan and she would be perfect.
Anyway, he couldn’t exactly finish with her for being over-emotional. As a Taiwanese woman in this society she no doubt had a hard life, suppressed a lot of emotions. He felt sorry for her that no Taiwanese man would accept her just for speaking out what she felt. He should be forgiving that, perhaps, she was letting out a lot of emotions now she felt safe to do so with a foreigner. Still he would have to watch to see she didn’t get carried away. He didn’t know about the future however now he had found out she was extremely bad-tempered. She had to understand a western man didn’t let you get away with everything; there was responsibility with the freedom he offered…
Taiwan culture shock: It is hard being the superior sex III
Eric looked at Diane through the steam coming off the pot in the middle of the table. They were at a Korean barbeque -- Eat as much as you want. Eric was getting ready to be the superior sex.
It would be appropriate for his final memory of her to be in one of these restaurants because they had been to so many. At the back of the restaurant in refrigerators were trays of soft shell crabs, prawns, clams, squid; every kind of meat, blood pudding, tofu, dumplings, and vegetables which you went to collect and then either cooked in the pot in the middle of your table or on the grill surrounding the pot. Finally you dipped it in a mixture of barbeque sauce, spring onion, garlic, chilies, soy and egg white – which you stirred together.
“You are not eating too much tonight?” said Diane.
“I am taking it slow.”
Eric then put a couple more pieces of squid and bacon on the grill around the pot.
Diane certainly could eat. Experience had told him if you wanted your money’s worth you stuck to grilling because one mouthful of the soup kicked in the sleep fuse for an overloaded stomach. Not her, she drank the soup - which after an hour or so of vegetables, blood pudding, meat and seafood giving up their fat and nutrition to its saturated molecules could solve world famine – like she had a desert thirst.
They had been together for eight months now, but he was going to finish with her tonight. He should have finished with her a couple of weeks ago because he had started to date another girl, an introduction from John. Emily was stunning; beautiful and it seemed she wanted to be his girlfriend. He really couldn’t turn down that opportunity: That is why he had come to Taiwan.
He wondered why he was feeling so bad, considering he had never expected to marry Diane. He still planned to be out of Taiwan in now just over a year and he was young. It had been a relationship of convenience, and he had made that all clear. Suddenly, he couldn’t think of a reason why didn’t he just continue with her until he left Taiwan. She had done nothing wrong after all, apart from not being fantastically attractive. I am not a fucking jock. He looked back on days when he didn’t have to make those decisions.
“Are you finished?” That was a drawback of her eating skills, he thought, they had been in the restaurant for almost three hours. But he had to let her have her way today.
“Let’s go for a walk,” he said as they left the restaurant. He had brought her to this restaurant because he knew there was a community park one lane over. Somewhere neutral they could talk.
He found a bench as far away from the old men still playing Mahjong as possible.
“Diane, I am sorry. I think we should break up. I will leave in a while and I don’t want you to get too attached.”
She sat silent for what seemed like hours to Eric.
Presumably she doesn’t have to answer, he thought, but I don’t know I can just walk off.
“I would like us to remain friends. I should walk you back to your scooter….Sorry,” said Eric slapping his leg; regretting wearing shorts as there were a lot of mosquitoes in the park. “Nothing…” He wanted to say, “I always get bitten easily” but personal anecdotes were not appropriate.
“Wait. This is the shock. I need some time to think about this.”
He held back from telling her he didn’t need her approval.
“I know you don’t love me. If you wait until you leave I will be sad, but I can accept it - I know you are the American. Now it hurts because you finish with me for no reason. I don’t like to be finished with. I do nothing wrong.”
“What can I say? I am sorry.” Eric didn’t understand most of that, and was afraid to get an explanation he didn’t like.
“I get dumped, and what about my face. You have met my family and friends now.”
Why are you making it easier for me? he thought. You are giving me reasons to not feel guilty.
“I thought I was your English teacher?” he replied.
“You know the Taiwan family. They just call you that. They really know.”
“I don’t think they will feel so bad. Anyway, this is not a discussion, and I hope you can leave me with a good impression of you.”
They arrived and after a couple of minutes of standing around, she headed to her scooter.
“Hey…I’m sorry. I’ll give you a call,”
God, it was so crass and Neanderthal being a stud, he thought. He walked off thinking about how hard that had all been. How he really didn’t have the energy to do it again. How he wasn’t cut out to play the field. If he wasn’t going to do it again, then it had been pointless to do it this once. Diane was a nice girl, and this new girl was uncharted territory. Maybe, he should just call Diane back in the morning and say he had made a mistake. He would sleep on it.
It would be appropriate for his final memory of her to be in one of these restaurants because they had been to so many. At the back of the restaurant in refrigerators were trays of soft shell crabs, prawns, clams, squid; every kind of meat, blood pudding, tofu, dumplings, and vegetables which you went to collect and then either cooked in the pot in the middle of your table or on the grill surrounding the pot. Finally you dipped it in a mixture of barbeque sauce, spring onion, garlic, chilies, soy and egg white – which you stirred together.
“You are not eating too much tonight?” said Diane.
“I am taking it slow.”
Eric then put a couple more pieces of squid and bacon on the grill around the pot.
Diane certainly could eat. Experience had told him if you wanted your money’s worth you stuck to grilling because one mouthful of the soup kicked in the sleep fuse for an overloaded stomach. Not her, she drank the soup - which after an hour or so of vegetables, blood pudding, meat and seafood giving up their fat and nutrition to its saturated molecules could solve world famine – like she had a desert thirst.
They had been together for eight months now, but he was going to finish with her tonight. He should have finished with her a couple of weeks ago because he had started to date another girl, an introduction from John. Emily was stunning; beautiful and it seemed she wanted to be his girlfriend. He really couldn’t turn down that opportunity: That is why he had come to Taiwan.
He wondered why he was feeling so bad, considering he had never expected to marry Diane. He still planned to be out of Taiwan in now just over a year and he was young. It had been a relationship of convenience, and he had made that all clear. Suddenly, he couldn’t think of a reason why didn’t he just continue with her until he left Taiwan. She had done nothing wrong after all, apart from not being fantastically attractive. I am not a fucking jock. He looked back on days when he didn’t have to make those decisions.
“Are you finished?” That was a drawback of her eating skills, he thought, they had been in the restaurant for almost three hours. But he had to let her have her way today.
“Let’s go for a walk,” he said as they left the restaurant. He had brought her to this restaurant because he knew there was a community park one lane over. Somewhere neutral they could talk.
He found a bench as far away from the old men still playing Mahjong as possible.
“Diane, I am sorry. I think we should break up. I will leave in a while and I don’t want you to get too attached.”
She sat silent for what seemed like hours to Eric.
Presumably she doesn’t have to answer, he thought, but I don’t know I can just walk off.
“I would like us to remain friends. I should walk you back to your scooter….Sorry,” said Eric slapping his leg; regretting wearing shorts as there were a lot of mosquitoes in the park. “Nothing…” He wanted to say, “I always get bitten easily” but personal anecdotes were not appropriate.
“Wait. This is the shock. I need some time to think about this.”
He held back from telling her he didn’t need her approval.
“I know you don’t love me. If you wait until you leave I will be sad, but I can accept it - I know you are the American. Now it hurts because you finish with me for no reason. I don’t like to be finished with. I do nothing wrong.”
“What can I say? I am sorry.” Eric didn’t understand most of that, and was afraid to get an explanation he didn’t like.
“I get dumped, and what about my face. You have met my family and friends now.”
Why are you making it easier for me? he thought. You are giving me reasons to not feel guilty.
“I thought I was your English teacher?” he replied.
“You know the Taiwan family. They just call you that. They really know.”
“I don’t think they will feel so bad. Anyway, this is not a discussion, and I hope you can leave me with a good impression of you.”
They arrived and after a couple of minutes of standing around, she headed to her scooter.
“Hey…I’m sorry. I’ll give you a call,”
God, it was so crass and Neanderthal being a stud, he thought. He walked off thinking about how hard that had all been. How he really didn’t have the energy to do it again. How he wasn’t cut out to play the field. If he wasn’t going to do it again, then it had been pointless to do it this once. Diane was a nice girl, and this new girl was uncharted territory. Maybe, he should just call Diane back in the morning and say he had made a mistake. He would sleep on it.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Taiwan culture shock: It is hard being the superior sex II
Being able to date above our league, the superior sex, unleashes fear and doubt in all of us which you have to get over. Eric particularly so - after a year he was still saying the same culture shock nonsense that we used to justify being with our first girlfriend.
He claimed to be interested in the women but had then kept his girlfriend, Diane, for one year.
Diane was maybe fifty-five kilos, a little over weight, but definitely not fat. She was one of the girlfriend/secretary combos that were popular when you first arrive. A big step up from what we are used to, but after a couple of months our sights would adjust and we would move on.
For these girls, picking a guy as he got off the plane was a high-risk strategy - not least because he was usually a moaning, sanctimonious, homesick prick - but sooner or later they would come across an unsure of himself simple boy from Ohio, they could make their own. Next week, I was going to the wedding of the secretary from my school and a good young All-American boy who’s trainers were still clean and shorts pressed. I reckoned he would be going to Eric’s wedding next.
Whenever, we attempted to introduce him, it was always the same thing.
“Hey, man! I ain’t falling for that get myself a young beautiful chick shit! Walk down the street with her proud, but have nothing to say,” he would reply.
"I don’t know why a woman can’t be beautiful and intelligent," I would say. "That is actually pretty sexist."
Eric hated the idea of being sexist, so he would immediately change tact: “Anyway, they will dump you soon. These beautiful ones cannot be trusted.”
"Your evidence for this? And you were planning to marry her?"
That evening Diane had also come to the bar with some friends.
"So bring her over," said John. "Let's be charmed by her intellect and conversation."
"Man, I ain't going to do that - I have to speak to her later to get sex."
He claimed to be interested in the women but had then kept his girlfriend, Diane, for one year.
Diane was maybe fifty-five kilos, a little over weight, but definitely not fat. She was one of the girlfriend/secretary combos that were popular when you first arrive. A big step up from what we are used to, but after a couple of months our sights would adjust and we would move on.
For these girls, picking a guy as he got off the plane was a high-risk strategy - not least because he was usually a moaning, sanctimonious, homesick prick - but sooner or later they would come across an unsure of himself simple boy from Ohio, they could make their own. Next week, I was going to the wedding of the secretary from my school and a good young All-American boy who’s trainers were still clean and shorts pressed. I reckoned he would be going to Eric’s wedding next.
Whenever, we attempted to introduce him, it was always the same thing.
“Hey, man! I ain’t falling for that get myself a young beautiful chick shit! Walk down the street with her proud, but have nothing to say,” he would reply.
"I don’t know why a woman can’t be beautiful and intelligent," I would say. "That is actually pretty sexist."
Eric hated the idea of being sexist, so he would immediately change tact: “Anyway, they will dump you soon. These beautiful ones cannot be trusted.”
"Your evidence for this? And you were planning to marry her?"
That evening Diane had also come to the bar with some friends.
"So bring her over," said John. "Let's be charmed by her intellect and conversation."
"Man, I ain't going to do that - I have to speak to her later to get sex."
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