One of the things you suffer from in those early years when you haven’t decided if you are going home or not, is ‘to buy or not to buy’ syndrome.
At the start, when you first arrive, it is easy: you rent yourself a small room, you buy the minimal furniture and lifestyle accessories to fry yourself an egg and wash yourself and all is ok. After all, you will be leaving in a year and then you will buy that really nice armchair you want and a fancy set of cupboards. Then you hit your 2nd year extension and it starts to get painful, for a number of reasons:
1) You are already feeling bad because you have his funny feeling in the pit of your stomach that tells you there wasn’t any sense to your extension, and you are setting yourself up for the long haul in Taiwan. Still you are not able to deal with that at the time so it just leaves you feeling a little insecure.
2) You have probably extended because you like Taiwan, or your job, or a girlfriend, and you have begun the slippery slide into settling down, becoming domesticated.
3) You have already started driving around the city with your girlfriend having conversations about: ‘yeah, if I was going to stay in Taipei long-term, I would live here…’
What happens then it that you do what you have been resisting for years, you allow the girlfriend to take you to Ikea and other furniture shops and home comfort purchase crisis sets in.
What is purchase crisis? It is the period between when you don’t make any home comfort purchases and when you give up and accept you are staying in Taiwan. This is a painful time, because you start to buy home comforts and you are torn because you are in Taiwan to save money and frankly you know this is a total waste.
You start small by just buying a few wine glasses justifying it by saying: ‘so what if I can’t take them home, they are only cheap.’ But shopping is an addictive thing so on the way to the wine glasses you see the tables, chairs, and sofas, and it burns you inside. You arrive at the checkout with a lamp, and some prints in your trolley, and it is hurting because you know it is a complete waste of money, but you keep repeating to yourself: ‘It is not really very expensive. I might be able to sell it one day.’ Once purchased and at home it feels good, but also unsatisfied because you didn’t really want these items, you wanted the sofa and table.
One year later your apartment is filled with lots of small items, half of which you don’t really want. In particular, the prints that you knew were naff when you bought them, and too many rugs, drapes and all those disposable plant type things like Ikea sells to give you instant style to your room. You bought them not because you were lazy but because, by being fast food furniture and not requiring effort or love to install, they allowed you not to feel guilty about putting down roots. Still it dawns on you that all that crap you don’t want actually costs more than the sofa you did, and you are still sitting on that old sofa that someone gave you; that you hate.
Why didn’t you buy the sofa? Obviously, it can’t be packed into your suitcase, it is a large one-off purchase, and it, most importantly, signifies putting down roots --When you buy a sofa you always talk about it lasting you several years.
At this point you get even more depressed by your rootless existence, and double up your efforts to decide if you are going to stay in Taiwan or leave. In order to give yourself time to decide you resolve not to buy any more home comforts, but throw your money into buying DVDs because they can be taken with you.
About six months later you buy that sofa and get married…
Showing posts with label Expat culture in Taiwan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Expat culture in Taiwan. Show all posts
Friday, October 25, 2013
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Expat Culture in Taiwan: Definition of Independence
The Taiwanese are not independent is a recurring expat discussion in Taiwan - along with, and because of it, the frustration why we are not catapulted to instant success.
It comes from their family relationships. You will here a 40-year old man say he has to ask his parents if he can go on holiday and you will explode at his immaturity.
Over the years you will then witness the contradictions to this: Same 40-year old man will mortgage his home, teach himself English, set up a business from scratch, gamble everything and succeed. Inspite of this you will still insist he is not independent and you will get even more frustrated because you haven't made your fortune.
Before the argument below I also suffered from my ingrained definition of independence...Until that is i had my eyes opened...
One afternoon, a couple of months after being in Taipei, I was sat in the hostel with Mike, a Canadian, Chris, an Australian, and John, an Englishman (who would later become a good friend). I didn't know much about these guys other than that John was supposedly ex-army and in Taiwan to try and stay out of trouble.
"Listen to that John,” said Mike pointing at his girlfriend next to him. “Christine wanted to go and study in Canada last year. She had saved her money. Arranged her course, and her father said no. She is twenty-five. You tell her in the West we are more independent. We would do it anyway. You know, I have told her if she wants to survive in the modern world she has to make up her own mind - be independent.”
“Hmm,” said John turning to Christine. "How do you put up with listening to this daily crap about your country? I doubt his dick is really that big."
John could say these kind of things because he was six-two, about fifteen stone - and basically looked you straight in the eye making it clear he would do more than just blow hot air.
“What, man?” asked Chris then turning to his girlfriend Roxy. “They lack independence these people - they are afraid to make decisions. You tell him Roxy.”
Roxy had a wry, earnest smile. She had had this conversation before; she knew what the foreigners liked to hear. “You know my brother lives in the house with my parents. He have the girlfriend before that he really love. Hmm, they together six years, but my parents say no, don’t let them marry.”
Chris was now pumped up.“What sort of fucking limp-dick doesn’t stand up to his parents, and marry the girl he loves?”
"Why didn't he marry her?" asked John.
Roxy answered,“You know that is a funny story. My father tell my brother, he have the good friend who is looking for the husband for his daughter. If my brother marry her, he can the high position in that company. Company is part of the Yuan He group. It is a very good opportunity .”
“Obviously a limp-dick who is selfish and cold-hearted, not lacking independence,” replied John.
“Nonsense mate," said Chris before turning to Roxy and suddenly changing the subject. "Hey, did you phone the police station about my visa? I only have a couple of days left and I have to leave?"
"There you go," said John. "You fucking moaners - Your girlfriends double as personal secretaries: ordering pizza, making calls, solving your visa or money transfer problems, writing Chinese on little pieces of paper so you can get around town in taxis, advising on schools to work at and places to go. When they are not available you sit around like a couple of spare tools...Not true, you always sit around like a couple of spare tools. You are more dependent on their girlfriends to function in Taiwan than an unborn baby is to its umbilical cord. Now who lacks independence, pricks?!”
Chris and Mike looked at each other scoffing at the ridiculously of what they had just heard.
Chris replied, “How can you compare the two? I ask my girly to order a pizza and that makes me as bad as the person who lives at home until they are thirty?”
“Yes, moaner. The definition of independence isn’t the ability to tell your parents and authority to fuck off.”
It was a revelation and the answer. People are complicated and capable of all sorts of weird and wonderful things. The 40-year old Taiwanese guy who set up his business from nothing will, if his mother requests, run down the high street wearing a pink frock, high heels and wig, screaming i love hairy bottoms. Get used to it. It is a different culture. Things are done differently here.
Years later John defined his ability not to fall for most of the stereotypical misjudgements as thus: "I am not a poncey college boy that covers my lack of social confidence by rejecting family, relationships and all things emotional. I didn't sit and watch 'Neighbours' every lunch time just to laugh in a condescending way."
It comes from their family relationships. You will here a 40-year old man say he has to ask his parents if he can go on holiday and you will explode at his immaturity.
Over the years you will then witness the contradictions to this: Same 40-year old man will mortgage his home, teach himself English, set up a business from scratch, gamble everything and succeed. Inspite of this you will still insist he is not independent and you will get even more frustrated because you haven't made your fortune.
Before the argument below I also suffered from my ingrained definition of independence...Until that is i had my eyes opened...
One afternoon, a couple of months after being in Taipei, I was sat in the hostel with Mike, a Canadian, Chris, an Australian, and John, an Englishman (who would later become a good friend). I didn't know much about these guys other than that John was supposedly ex-army and in Taiwan to try and stay out of trouble.
"Listen to that John,” said Mike pointing at his girlfriend next to him. “Christine wanted to go and study in Canada last year. She had saved her money. Arranged her course, and her father said no. She is twenty-five. You tell her in the West we are more independent. We would do it anyway. You know, I have told her if she wants to survive in the modern world she has to make up her own mind - be independent.”
“Hmm,” said John turning to Christine. "How do you put up with listening to this daily crap about your country? I doubt his dick is really that big."
John could say these kind of things because he was six-two, about fifteen stone - and basically looked you straight in the eye making it clear he would do more than just blow hot air.
“What, man?” asked Chris then turning to his girlfriend Roxy. “They lack independence these people - they are afraid to make decisions. You tell him Roxy.”
Roxy had a wry, earnest smile. She had had this conversation before; she knew what the foreigners liked to hear. “You know my brother lives in the house with my parents. He have the girlfriend before that he really love. Hmm, they together six years, but my parents say no, don’t let them marry.”
Chris was now pumped up.“What sort of fucking limp-dick doesn’t stand up to his parents, and marry the girl he loves?”
"Why didn't he marry her?" asked John.
Roxy answered,“You know that is a funny story. My father tell my brother, he have the good friend who is looking for the husband for his daughter. If my brother marry her, he can the high position in that company. Company is part of the Yuan He group. It is a very good opportunity .”
“Obviously a limp-dick who is selfish and cold-hearted, not lacking independence,” replied John.
“Nonsense mate," said Chris before turning to Roxy and suddenly changing the subject. "Hey, did you phone the police station about my visa? I only have a couple of days left and I have to leave?"
"There you go," said John. "You fucking moaners - Your girlfriends double as personal secretaries: ordering pizza, making calls, solving your visa or money transfer problems, writing Chinese on little pieces of paper so you can get around town in taxis, advising on schools to work at and places to go. When they are not available you sit around like a couple of spare tools...Not true, you always sit around like a couple of spare tools. You are more dependent on their girlfriends to function in Taiwan than an unborn baby is to its umbilical cord. Now who lacks independence, pricks?!”
Chris and Mike looked at each other scoffing at the ridiculously of what they had just heard.
Chris replied, “How can you compare the two? I ask my girly to order a pizza and that makes me as bad as the person who lives at home until they are thirty?”
“Yes, moaner. The definition of independence isn’t the ability to tell your parents and authority to fuck off.”
It was a revelation and the answer. People are complicated and capable of all sorts of weird and wonderful things. The 40-year old Taiwanese guy who set up his business from nothing will, if his mother requests, run down the high street wearing a pink frock, high heels and wig, screaming i love hairy bottoms. Get used to it. It is a different culture. Things are done differently here.
Years later John defined his ability not to fall for most of the stereotypical misjudgements as thus: "I am not a poncey college boy that covers my lack of social confidence by rejecting family, relationships and all things emotional. I didn't sit and watch 'Neighbours' every lunch time just to laugh in a condescending way."
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Expat Culture in Taiwan: Pierre and the restaurant I
Pierre did actually open his French restaurant; lower priced French food aimed at the TGI market had always been a good idea, the only thing we had been worried about was whether he would pull it off.
He did. It was a big pity.
It was already three months since the restaurant opened and we had eaten there five or six times a month. If you wanted to meet Pierre he insisted it had to be in the restaurant. We ate for free in exchange for having to say how much we liked the food every two minutes, tell him what a good job he had done, and agree that they were lucky that he had reserved a table for us. There was a game: although he had invited us, he would look surprised, then stressed because ‘he had promised the table to someone else’, make us stand for twenty seconds, and then he would miraculously find us a table. While he sat he would stand at the bar surveying the scene with an extremely serious look on his face, and, every time he caught one of our eyes he would shake his head, and then seek recognition for the fact that it was all just too fucking busy and, yeah, it was lucky he was there. Finally, he would come to the table every twenty minutes and apologize profusely for the fact that he was unable to sit down for long. He didn’t say why, just pulled his take a fucking look around you face.
“I am thinking about expanding soon,” he said. “I am starting to look for other sites…four within the year. I think that is possible.”
It was fortunate he only ever had five minutes at a time because his tales of success had made him insufferable. First night he had spent 10,000 NT on flowers as was the tradition for a newly opened business, his partners had got an appropriate date and lucky gold characters from a fortune teller, and then he had made the unprecedented step of hiring a queue of people to stand outside – Taiwanese have a magnetic attraction to queues – and business had boomed since, even making his name in the local papers.
“What about your partners?” I asked. “What do they think?”
“They follow everything I want to do. They know who has made them successful,” Pierre replied.
“Have you got a contract sorted out yet? Man, you know these people fuck each other over all the time,” asked Eric, probably right on this one, but not through any balanced judgment of his own.
“Ours is a verbal one. You know contracts are no use in this country,” he replied.
“Well, yes and no, man,” pushed Josh not learning from the mistakes he made with his girlfriends about trying to help.
The truth was illegal work and non-contract work was still extremely common – When you arrive and teach you probably have one legal contract job but then all your privates, advertising work, translation, and other small bits of this and that are all cash in hand. But that is only half the story as it is not a story of marginalized foreigners having no choice. In fact, the locals were as equally guilty of not getting contracts: almost all small businesses didn’t give contracts to employees and few had contracts within partners. It was horrifying and mind-boggling to hear the stories because almost everyone had one of how they invested 10,000 US dollars in a business and the partner ran off. It was a kind of tax in itself: the at least once in your life, rip-off tax.
The common misconception is the idea that, for the older generation they were brought up in an era when it really was the case that the contract was no use. This is not entirely the truth as there has always been a legal system in place for these kind of small cases, especially the last twenty years or so, and while it may not be perfect it is not much worse than most countries – Bear in mind that getting your money back is a long and usually difficult process anywhere in the world, yet we all insist on contracts.
I don’t pretend to have all the answers for why they did it, but here are a few factors.
It can be pretty feudal at times - Things are usually simple and what makes the Taiwanese so friendly and nice also proves to be their downfall in business. Talk to them and they always refer to their business partner as their friend, insisting on muddying clear business relationships with personal connections. Go for an interview at a small company and their No.1 priority is to try and work out if you are a nice person or not, whether you will fuck them over in future. (Tip for getting a job: They want the guy who appears stable, not the hot shot). It is a disease for them: they will have a dispute with a business partner and it is all the more hard to separate because they intertwined their families, but a nasty bust-up will happen. They will talk about keeping the next relationship strictly business, then you will see them, and they will introduce their next business partner. For example: “Uh, this is Mr. Chang…He is a really good man…You know his great grandfather used to live in the village next to my mother’s aunt. He has two sons and a daughter, I have already fixed up his second son with Little Mei…You know, my sister’s daughter. You know both his sons went to such-and-such University they are very smart. Mr. Chang is a Pig (Chinese zodiac animals) and that really fits into my animal. Mr. Chiang lost a lot of money in China and he talks about how lucky he is to meet us. He now calls me step-mother. I went to see a fortune teller and he says that October is a good time for us to launch the business…”
I would go and bang my head against the wall very hard.
The economic miracle effect – For those just arriving in Taiwan this is hard to understand as Taiwan has changed dramatically in the last fifteen years. When I first arrived the country had just had twenty years of 8% economic growth and there was an incredible optimism. They would tell you how they had lost a fortune and made it back several times and such was life. It was clear: as long as you could get hold of a pile of money to invest and networked an opportunity would arise. If said opportunity wasn’t offering you a contract then you thought about it for a while and invested anyway, because only a fool would miss this opportunity. After all you had met his family and he seemed a good guy.
Chao and confusion doesn’t equal clarity – While ego, self-interest and damn right dishonesty did play a part in the disappearance of your funds, the answer often wasn’t so intentionally evil. Take two or three or four people who don’t know much about business, invest their savings together, don’t sign a contract, and are too polite to hammer out key issues of who handles finances, division of labor, responsibilities and company direction, appealing each time to their friendship or skirting issues. The result isn’t organization. And then when you are about to lose your house you grab what is left first and run for the door.
What about for the young people? Well, just because you know what your parents did wrong, it doesn’t mean you can stop yourself repeating their mistakes. If you are thirty or more you grew up with these tales of how all you had to do was work hard, take a risk, and the money would come in. How your father was introduced to this guy who was had been looking to meet a good man. How they both liked Johnny Walker whiskey and they shared the same radical in the third character of their name. And they made a fortune together. There might be contradictory evidence in front of you as your father was now driving a taxi and you were paying the mortgage and the costs of his fancy imported American anti-depressants. Circumstances hadn’t quite gone your way because you graduated from university but then, just as daddy was going to help you pay for that degree in America he lost everything. Now you are just an ordinary college graduate without that all-important foreign degree to break into the international companies and the really big leagues. You still know your father is talking nonsense but to admit that to yourself is not being a good son - besides, delusion rescued you from the knowledge that all your money for the next twenty years would be going on paying your father’s mortgage. Roll the dice. Give it a go.
So what has this got to do with Pierre? Well, like any system in the world there was a positive angle to their particular way of doing things. In this case, it involved lots of: back-slapping and arms around shoulders, deals in late night drinking dens, talk of how you were going to beat the system, large piles of cash changing hands, hand shakes and talk of trust and friendship; it was romantic, it was very gangster film, and it didn’t involve spreadsheets. In the old days the atmosphere was infectious and we were affected to some lesser degree. Pierre loved this idea, but he was also broke and lazy, meaning he had no choice but to go out on a limb.
Back to the conversation:
“You ain’t going to be able to kick the fucker’s asses,” said John. “It is their country so when push comes to shove they always have more gangsters than you.
“You have naked photos of their wives? Anything similar?” John liked to tell us a story about the security camera video of him with the manager of the Kindergarten in the playpen one evening. That was his bargaining chip if he had any problems. We assumed he was lying about their being a video, but he had told his manager the story, the event happened, and there was no way she was going to question the security guard. This, of course, is the other way you make sure you get your money and have no problems.
“But you don’t know how to handle the Taiwanese like I do. Make them your friend and it is okay. Besides, they need me they wouldn’t be so stupid as to squeeze me out,” said Pierre bullishly before downing half his bottle of beer and pulling far too many facial expressions.
We sat saying nothing before its was Josh’s turn to air his neuroses.
“Pierre, isn’t that your ex behind the counter? You gave her a job…And she isn’t…giving you problems?” he asked.
“Of course,” replied Pierre. “Why should she?”
“They are not all crazed stalkers,” said John. “You were unlucky, get over it.
“Besides, there is always usually a way out. This week I had to let one go so I started speaking Chinese to her – Wo. Yao. Xue. Jong. Wen. She stopped answering my calls.”
“But that was a little –,” said Josh.
“Sneaky. Yes. But think about it – If she was so sincere she would surely have been happy to speak to me in Chinese.”
“Hmm,” said Josh.
“Hmm, what?” said John. “You want to tell us what a pathetic bleeding heart liberal you are.”
Half an hour later we were in the taxi into the center. Josh was sat in the front seat repeating to himself: ‘they broke up and are now friends.’
I was struck by the image of Pierre seeing us to the taxi and looking a bit like a mother when her children leave.
“He is fucked,” said John.
“Nah, we don’t know that,” I replied.
“Have to find somewhere else for dinner on a Saturday,” we both sighed.
He did. It was a big pity.
It was already three months since the restaurant opened and we had eaten there five or six times a month. If you wanted to meet Pierre he insisted it had to be in the restaurant. We ate for free in exchange for having to say how much we liked the food every two minutes, tell him what a good job he had done, and agree that they were lucky that he had reserved a table for us. There was a game: although he had invited us, he would look surprised, then stressed because ‘he had promised the table to someone else’, make us stand for twenty seconds, and then he would miraculously find us a table. While he sat he would stand at the bar surveying the scene with an extremely serious look on his face, and, every time he caught one of our eyes he would shake his head, and then seek recognition for the fact that it was all just too fucking busy and, yeah, it was lucky he was there. Finally, he would come to the table every twenty minutes and apologize profusely for the fact that he was unable to sit down for long. He didn’t say why, just pulled his take a fucking look around you face.
“I am thinking about expanding soon,” he said. “I am starting to look for other sites…four within the year. I think that is possible.”
It was fortunate he only ever had five minutes at a time because his tales of success had made him insufferable. First night he had spent 10,000 NT on flowers as was the tradition for a newly opened business, his partners had got an appropriate date and lucky gold characters from a fortune teller, and then he had made the unprecedented step of hiring a queue of people to stand outside – Taiwanese have a magnetic attraction to queues – and business had boomed since, even making his name in the local papers.
“What about your partners?” I asked. “What do they think?”
“They follow everything I want to do. They know who has made them successful,” Pierre replied.
“Have you got a contract sorted out yet? Man, you know these people fuck each other over all the time,” asked Eric, probably right on this one, but not through any balanced judgment of his own.
“Ours is a verbal one. You know contracts are no use in this country,” he replied.
“Well, yes and no, man,” pushed Josh not learning from the mistakes he made with his girlfriends about trying to help.
The truth was illegal work and non-contract work was still extremely common – When you arrive and teach you probably have one legal contract job but then all your privates, advertising work, translation, and other small bits of this and that are all cash in hand. But that is only half the story as it is not a story of marginalized foreigners having no choice. In fact, the locals were as equally guilty of not getting contracts: almost all small businesses didn’t give contracts to employees and few had contracts within partners. It was horrifying and mind-boggling to hear the stories because almost everyone had one of how they invested 10,000 US dollars in a business and the partner ran off. It was a kind of tax in itself: the at least once in your life, rip-off tax.
The common misconception is the idea that, for the older generation they were brought up in an era when it really was the case that the contract was no use. This is not entirely the truth as there has always been a legal system in place for these kind of small cases, especially the last twenty years or so, and while it may not be perfect it is not much worse than most countries – Bear in mind that getting your money back is a long and usually difficult process anywhere in the world, yet we all insist on contracts.
I don’t pretend to have all the answers for why they did it, but here are a few factors.
It can be pretty feudal at times - Things are usually simple and what makes the Taiwanese so friendly and nice also proves to be their downfall in business. Talk to them and they always refer to their business partner as their friend, insisting on muddying clear business relationships with personal connections. Go for an interview at a small company and their No.1 priority is to try and work out if you are a nice person or not, whether you will fuck them over in future. (Tip for getting a job: They want the guy who appears stable, not the hot shot). It is a disease for them: they will have a dispute with a business partner and it is all the more hard to separate because they intertwined their families, but a nasty bust-up will happen. They will talk about keeping the next relationship strictly business, then you will see them, and they will introduce their next business partner. For example: “Uh, this is Mr. Chang…He is a really good man…You know his great grandfather used to live in the village next to my mother’s aunt. He has two sons and a daughter, I have already fixed up his second son with Little Mei…You know, my sister’s daughter. You know both his sons went to such-and-such University they are very smart. Mr. Chang is a Pig (Chinese zodiac animals) and that really fits into my animal. Mr. Chiang lost a lot of money in China and he talks about how lucky he is to meet us. He now calls me step-mother. I went to see a fortune teller and he says that October is a good time for us to launch the business…”
I would go and bang my head against the wall very hard.
The economic miracle effect – For those just arriving in Taiwan this is hard to understand as Taiwan has changed dramatically in the last fifteen years. When I first arrived the country had just had twenty years of 8% economic growth and there was an incredible optimism. They would tell you how they had lost a fortune and made it back several times and such was life. It was clear: as long as you could get hold of a pile of money to invest and networked an opportunity would arise. If said opportunity wasn’t offering you a contract then you thought about it for a while and invested anyway, because only a fool would miss this opportunity. After all you had met his family and he seemed a good guy.
Chao and confusion doesn’t equal clarity – While ego, self-interest and damn right dishonesty did play a part in the disappearance of your funds, the answer often wasn’t so intentionally evil. Take two or three or four people who don’t know much about business, invest their savings together, don’t sign a contract, and are too polite to hammer out key issues of who handles finances, division of labor, responsibilities and company direction, appealing each time to their friendship or skirting issues. The result isn’t organization. And then when you are about to lose your house you grab what is left first and run for the door.
What about for the young people? Well, just because you know what your parents did wrong, it doesn’t mean you can stop yourself repeating their mistakes. If you are thirty or more you grew up with these tales of how all you had to do was work hard, take a risk, and the money would come in. How your father was introduced to this guy who was had been looking to meet a good man. How they both liked Johnny Walker whiskey and they shared the same radical in the third character of their name. And they made a fortune together. There might be contradictory evidence in front of you as your father was now driving a taxi and you were paying the mortgage and the costs of his fancy imported American anti-depressants. Circumstances hadn’t quite gone your way because you graduated from university but then, just as daddy was going to help you pay for that degree in America he lost everything. Now you are just an ordinary college graduate without that all-important foreign degree to break into the international companies and the really big leagues. You still know your father is talking nonsense but to admit that to yourself is not being a good son - besides, delusion rescued you from the knowledge that all your money for the next twenty years would be going on paying your father’s mortgage. Roll the dice. Give it a go.
So what has this got to do with Pierre? Well, like any system in the world there was a positive angle to their particular way of doing things. In this case, it involved lots of: back-slapping and arms around shoulders, deals in late night drinking dens, talk of how you were going to beat the system, large piles of cash changing hands, hand shakes and talk of trust and friendship; it was romantic, it was very gangster film, and it didn’t involve spreadsheets. In the old days the atmosphere was infectious and we were affected to some lesser degree. Pierre loved this idea, but he was also broke and lazy, meaning he had no choice but to go out on a limb.
Back to the conversation:
“You ain’t going to be able to kick the fucker’s asses,” said John. “It is their country so when push comes to shove they always have more gangsters than you.
“You have naked photos of their wives? Anything similar?” John liked to tell us a story about the security camera video of him with the manager of the Kindergarten in the playpen one evening. That was his bargaining chip if he had any problems. We assumed he was lying about their being a video, but he had told his manager the story, the event happened, and there was no way she was going to question the security guard. This, of course, is the other way you make sure you get your money and have no problems.
“But you don’t know how to handle the Taiwanese like I do. Make them your friend and it is okay. Besides, they need me they wouldn’t be so stupid as to squeeze me out,” said Pierre bullishly before downing half his bottle of beer and pulling far too many facial expressions.
We sat saying nothing before its was Josh’s turn to air his neuroses.
“Pierre, isn’t that your ex behind the counter? You gave her a job…And she isn’t…giving you problems?” he asked.
“Of course,” replied Pierre. “Why should she?”
“They are not all crazed stalkers,” said John. “You were unlucky, get over it.
“Besides, there is always usually a way out. This week I had to let one go so I started speaking Chinese to her – Wo. Yao. Xue. Jong. Wen. She stopped answering my calls.”
“But that was a little –,” said Josh.
“Sneaky. Yes. But think about it – If she was so sincere she would surely have been happy to speak to me in Chinese.”
“Hmm,” said Josh.
“Hmm, what?” said John. “You want to tell us what a pathetic bleeding heart liberal you are.”
Half an hour later we were in the taxi into the center. Josh was sat in the front seat repeating to himself: ‘they broke up and are now friends.’
I was struck by the image of Pierre seeing us to the taxi and looking a bit like a mother when her children leave.
“He is fucked,” said John.
“Nah, we don’t know that,” I replied.
“Have to find somewhere else for dinner on a Saturday,” we both sighed.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Taiwan Expat Culture: Western women and the unspoken discussion
Western women made up a tiny percentage of the western population here for one good reason: the men dated Taiwanese girls almost exclusively, and you had to get used to be celibate. Most stuck it out a year or so before the desire to get looked at on the street and some self-respect took over.
When you were talking therefore to a western girl the subject was best left untouched – like with Taiwanese guys – for obvious reasons: if they were nice you were rubbing it in, if they were suffering from sour grapes an argument would ensue.
This wasn’t Thailand where we were buying the girls, so in most situations western girls liked to console themselves with the idea that Taiwanese women were a walk over. This was also far from the truth but, still, the subject was best left alone.
On this occasion a drunk Australian girl decided to give the subject an airing while we were at a BBQ. This was a long time ago when Pierre was still trying to prove he was different from everyone else. He dated lots of Taiwanese girls but every time there was a party he would bring a western date just to prove he could, and tell us we were sad bastards. It was a little awkward because most of us had actually forgotten how to speak to them and so would spend our time trying to get away and speak to someone else.
The BBQ was on a rooftop and an hour or two into it we were already drunk, when Pierre promptly brought her over again, and promptly left.
“So, Danielle, I hear you are leaving Taiwan soon?” I said trying to make small talk.
“Yeah, I have had enough. It is horrible here,” she replied.
“I know what you mean,” said Eric. “The racism can get you down.”
“Well, it is a different culture,” replied Josh. “It is not for everyone.”
“No, it is not that,” she replied. “You guys…With the young girls…And you are fat…It is disgusting.”
“I think you have the wrong country,” I said. “Yes, we play a couple of leagues above our status, but this ain’t Thailand. Most guys are with a girl just a couple of years difference who is probably their teaching assistant.”
“So why you think you can have a girl a couple of leagues above you? Is that right?”
Josh interrupted, “It is just a supply and demand issue. Don’t take it too seriously.”
“What is this supply and demand?” she said. “That is a pathetic excuse to cover your arrogance. Supply and demand means you can take and steal what you want? Is that moral?”
Josh continued, "As long as you don't lie to the girl and cheat her the rest is ok."
"No, it is disgusting."
John finally lost his patience. “Look, love. If you were shipwrecked on a desert island populated by Brad Pitts and Tom Cruises you would have laid your beach towel and not got off your back since. It is not moral or immoral, just the way of the world….Take for example this evening - because Pierre is an arrogant so-and-so you are going to get laid. You take the breaks as they come..."
When you were talking therefore to a western girl the subject was best left untouched – like with Taiwanese guys – for obvious reasons: if they were nice you were rubbing it in, if they were suffering from sour grapes an argument would ensue.
This wasn’t Thailand where we were buying the girls, so in most situations western girls liked to console themselves with the idea that Taiwanese women were a walk over. This was also far from the truth but, still, the subject was best left alone.
On this occasion a drunk Australian girl decided to give the subject an airing while we were at a BBQ. This was a long time ago when Pierre was still trying to prove he was different from everyone else. He dated lots of Taiwanese girls but every time there was a party he would bring a western date just to prove he could, and tell us we were sad bastards. It was a little awkward because most of us had actually forgotten how to speak to them and so would spend our time trying to get away and speak to someone else.
The BBQ was on a rooftop and an hour or two into it we were already drunk, when Pierre promptly brought her over again, and promptly left.
“So, Danielle, I hear you are leaving Taiwan soon?” I said trying to make small talk.
“Yeah, I have had enough. It is horrible here,” she replied.
“I know what you mean,” said Eric. “The racism can get you down.”
“Well, it is a different culture,” replied Josh. “It is not for everyone.”
“No, it is not that,” she replied. “You guys…With the young girls…And you are fat…It is disgusting.”
“I think you have the wrong country,” I said. “Yes, we play a couple of leagues above our status, but this ain’t Thailand. Most guys are with a girl just a couple of years difference who is probably their teaching assistant.”
“So why you think you can have a girl a couple of leagues above you? Is that right?”
Josh interrupted, “It is just a supply and demand issue. Don’t take it too seriously.”
“What is this supply and demand?” she said. “That is a pathetic excuse to cover your arrogance. Supply and demand means you can take and steal what you want? Is that moral?”
Josh continued, "As long as you don't lie to the girl and cheat her the rest is ok."
"No, it is disgusting."
John finally lost his patience. “Look, love. If you were shipwrecked on a desert island populated by Brad Pitts and Tom Cruises you would have laid your beach towel and not got off your back since. It is not moral or immoral, just the way of the world….Take for example this evening - because Pierre is an arrogant so-and-so you are going to get laid. You take the breaks as they come..."
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Expat Culture in Taiwan: Breaking yellow fever IV
The American girl, Denise, who John had taken for dinner had called him back after two weeks saying she had had time to think and she wanted to give things a go - The fundamental clash of ideologies they had over favorite colour could be resolved by agreeing to disagree.
That evening he was meeting her for dinner.
“Sorry, I am late!” he said.
“I have been waiting for 10 minutes,” she replied.
“Yeah, sorry,” he repeated.
“What does that tell you about what you think about me? How do you think I feel?” she hadn’t finished.
“Sorry! The traffic was bad. I’ll buy dinner.”
“You think you can buy me with dinner to make up? That is not the kind of relationship I am looking for.”
“Not my point. I was trying to make up.”
“Anyhow, we always split the check, that way we won’t complicate the relationship.”
“Your right!” He gave her a wink and a grin.
John had expected the sudden verbalization of feelings that a Taiwanese girl would have denied and then slowly made you apologize for by silent treatment. He was actually looking forward to that but Denise had too many feelings. Denise watched too much Sex and the City psycho-babble and now she needed to know how she felt about everything; to be in-touch with herself, aware of her feelings. Denise was also unquestionably smart, ambitious and quick to learn, meaning she had succeeded in this area beyond her wildest expectations, her understanding of her feelings taking on a momentum of their own. John admitted it was important to deal with one’s emotions, however, she appeared to look for emotions to deal with and be affected by; little things she could ignore, that wouldn’t scar her in future - events do have a pecking order of impact and the death of a relative did warrant downing tools and thinking again, but not every ‘fuck off’ or ambiguous response. There are always going to be trials and tribulations on a journey and if you stop to analyze how you feel about them all, you will never achieve anything; and then that lack of success proves to be a scar in itself. Sometimes you had to just give yourself a slap around the face and get on with it.
A few weeks later, after having to analyze the implications of his every move in terms of his ability to socialize with the opposite sex, he had had enough.
“You wouldn’t believe it,” said John. “Break up with the girl and the bitch gives me a head trip that your Maggie would have thought too much.
“Just goes to show for all the theorizing and cultural fuckin’ analysis it is the basic emotions that come to the fore when the economics of want kick-in - She was desperate, gonna miss her shag, and no amount of feminist teaching was gonna keep her mouth shut…Moaned about Taiwanese girls all the time, too!”
That evening he was meeting her for dinner.
“Sorry, I am late!” he said.
“I have been waiting for 10 minutes,” she replied.
“Yeah, sorry,” he repeated.
“What does that tell you about what you think about me? How do you think I feel?” she hadn’t finished.
“Sorry! The traffic was bad. I’ll buy dinner.”
“You think you can buy me with dinner to make up? That is not the kind of relationship I am looking for.”
“Not my point. I was trying to make up.”
“Anyhow, we always split the check, that way we won’t complicate the relationship.”
“Your right!” He gave her a wink and a grin.
John had expected the sudden verbalization of feelings that a Taiwanese girl would have denied and then slowly made you apologize for by silent treatment. He was actually looking forward to that but Denise had too many feelings. Denise watched too much Sex and the City psycho-babble and now she needed to know how she felt about everything; to be in-touch with herself, aware of her feelings. Denise was also unquestionably smart, ambitious and quick to learn, meaning she had succeeded in this area beyond her wildest expectations, her understanding of her feelings taking on a momentum of their own. John admitted it was important to deal with one’s emotions, however, she appeared to look for emotions to deal with and be affected by; little things she could ignore, that wouldn’t scar her in future - events do have a pecking order of impact and the death of a relative did warrant downing tools and thinking again, but not every ‘fuck off’ or ambiguous response. There are always going to be trials and tribulations on a journey and if you stop to analyze how you feel about them all, you will never achieve anything; and then that lack of success proves to be a scar in itself. Sometimes you had to just give yourself a slap around the face and get on with it.
A few weeks later, after having to analyze the implications of his every move in terms of his ability to socialize with the opposite sex, he had had enough.
“You wouldn’t believe it,” said John. “Break up with the girl and the bitch gives me a head trip that your Maggie would have thought too much.
“Just goes to show for all the theorizing and cultural fuckin’ analysis it is the basic emotions that come to the fore when the economics of want kick-in - She was desperate, gonna miss her shag, and no amount of feminist teaching was gonna keep her mouth shut…Moaned about Taiwanese girls all the time, too!”
Friday, October 2, 2009
Expat Culture in Taiwan: John and breaking yellow fever I
This summary is not available. Please
click here to view the post.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Expat Culture in Taiwan: Canadian English Teachers Show II
On this particular episode of the Canadian English teachers show one of the ‘stars’ is talking about how he plans to get out of teaching and set up a business. He has some outlandish idea of something he thinks is lacking from the market – and buoyed up by his superiority complex, too many years without being challenged by his peers, he is determined to get an investor for his idea.
It is hard to not go through this stage - Remember the locals think we foreigners are all creative and so we begin to believe in our stereotype. You forget that an idea is worth shit without a plan to make it work, but, depending on how deeply you have fallen, it takes a while to remember.
Next the star of the show was on the phone to one of his student’s fathers pitching him his business idea; he didn’t have a business plan, a power point, or an intention to invest any money himself, just a reasonably well thought through idea about something that might work.
He then announces to the camera that he is pretty psyched because the father has invited him to lunch on Sunday to discuss things - Also secretly happy because he avoided having to take the guy to an expensive dinner to talk about the idea.
“What an asshole,” shouted Josh. “He makes me ashamed to be a Canadian.”
“What’s up?” said Pierre. “Seems like a good way.”
“Are you going to tell him, man? He listens to you,” said Josh to John.
John spoke: “Pierre you know I don’t like to call you a daft cunt, but…”
We all knew instinctively that you have to invite the other person if you want to be taken seriously. Don’t beg. Go with an agenda. If, after twenty minutes, you are talking about the differences between France and Taiwan and where to go on vacation in France, get up and walk out. We had all been through that stupidity when we started teaching: we didn’t know what we were doing so we talked to students for hours hoping they would sign up. This was no different: in business, if all you have is an idea, and not the belief to make it work, then you spend a lot of time clutching at straws.
Pierre still hadn’t given up. “Guys, you have been here a few years but you still don’t understand the Taiwanese. It is good for him to go to his house. Do you know why? Because he will be more relaxed, he will play with his kids and show him he can trust him, he can’t say ‘no’ to him in front of his wife, kids and probably his grandmother. He will lose face…I would do it that way.”
Twenty minutes later and the show was playing out a rather awkward scene at the house. Unfortunately, the guy’s plan of inviting our Canadian star back saying ‘No’ in front of his family, hopefully so he wouldn’t get too angry was backfiring.
“The lying bastard…wasting my time,” says our Canadian star giving his opinion to the camera.
Then it was the narrator’s turn to say about the perils of trying to set up a business in Taiwan. Pity he didn’t say about the real perils: letting your commonsense go out the window when your ego is massaged by well meaning foreigners.
It is hard to not go through this stage - Remember the locals think we foreigners are all creative and so we begin to believe in our stereotype. You forget that an idea is worth shit without a plan to make it work, but, depending on how deeply you have fallen, it takes a while to remember.
Next the star of the show was on the phone to one of his student’s fathers pitching him his business idea; he didn’t have a business plan, a power point, or an intention to invest any money himself, just a reasonably well thought through idea about something that might work.
He then announces to the camera that he is pretty psyched because the father has invited him to lunch on Sunday to discuss things - Also secretly happy because he avoided having to take the guy to an expensive dinner to talk about the idea.
“What an asshole,” shouted Josh. “He makes me ashamed to be a Canadian.”
“What’s up?” said Pierre. “Seems like a good way.”
“Are you going to tell him, man? He listens to you,” said Josh to John.
John spoke: “Pierre you know I don’t like to call you a daft cunt, but…”
We all knew instinctively that you have to invite the other person if you want to be taken seriously. Don’t beg. Go with an agenda. If, after twenty minutes, you are talking about the differences between France and Taiwan and where to go on vacation in France, get up and walk out. We had all been through that stupidity when we started teaching: we didn’t know what we were doing so we talked to students for hours hoping they would sign up. This was no different: in business, if all you have is an idea, and not the belief to make it work, then you spend a lot of time clutching at straws.
Pierre still hadn’t given up. “Guys, you have been here a few years but you still don’t understand the Taiwanese. It is good for him to go to his house. Do you know why? Because he will be more relaxed, he will play with his kids and show him he can trust him, he can’t say ‘no’ to him in front of his wife, kids and probably his grandmother. He will lose face…I would do it that way.”
Twenty minutes later and the show was playing out a rather awkward scene at the house. Unfortunately, the guy’s plan of inviting our Canadian star back saying ‘No’ in front of his family, hopefully so he wouldn’t get too angry was backfiring.
“The lying bastard…wasting my time,” says our Canadian star giving his opinion to the camera.
Then it was the narrator’s turn to say about the perils of trying to set up a business in Taiwan. Pity he didn’t say about the real perils: letting your commonsense go out the window when your ego is massaged by well meaning foreigners.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Expat Culture in Taiwan: The Canadian English teachers show
There was a popular Canadian TV show called ‘English Teachers in Taiwan’. It was an awful show trying to make drama out of a pretty undramatic situation: in Taiwan you are treated like Gods, there is plenty of work, and the major cause of you messing up is usually yourself. Still, as the human being has a tendency to like to blame others it was easy to make up stories. In one or two episodes the camera followed our intrepid teachers as they tried to get an apartment, and the following huge drama unfolded.
Said English teachers find an apartment they like, but there are other people who want the apartment so the landlord asks them to put down a deposit on the deposit as a show of commitment. They have one week to get the rest of the deposit together or they will lose the ‘commitment payment’. Over the next week they all sit around squabbling and bickering about who is to blame for the fact that none of them has the rest of the money, while the narrator paints a picture of peril in the dodgy renting industry in Taiwan. The narrator tries to make it seem that they are somehow victims in this process, which is nonsense: they shouldn’t have given over the money if they didn’t know where the rest was coming from. They were stupid.
In the end, after the deadline passes and they don’t have the money, the narrator tells us about the terrible lesson the poor English teachers have learnt – only for the landlord to reduce the deposit and let them pay it off slowly. She was kind and generous.
As I say in Taiwan you are usually your own biggest enemy…
Said English teachers find an apartment they like, but there are other people who want the apartment so the landlord asks them to put down a deposit on the deposit as a show of commitment. They have one week to get the rest of the deposit together or they will lose the ‘commitment payment’. Over the next week they all sit around squabbling and bickering about who is to blame for the fact that none of them has the rest of the money, while the narrator paints a picture of peril in the dodgy renting industry in Taiwan. The narrator tries to make it seem that they are somehow victims in this process, which is nonsense: they shouldn’t have given over the money if they didn’t know where the rest was coming from. They were stupid.
In the end, after the deadline passes and they don’t have the money, the narrator tells us about the terrible lesson the poor English teachers have learnt – only for the landlord to reduce the deposit and let them pay it off slowly. She was kind and generous.
As I say in Taiwan you are usually your own biggest enemy…
Friday, September 4, 2009
Expat culture in Taiwan: Paranoid forum rambling
There were numerous forums set up to help people in Taiwan. These sites, set up by people who generously gave up their time to contribute back; were unfortunately, hijacked by moaning stupid foreigners.
A quick look through showed page after page filled with comments about how there was actually no need to follow this tradition. That it could be done another way because it was in Hong Kong.
Ironically, it was always the same monikers in these forums and not so close inspection would reveal their rants the previous week about how they hated Hong Kong because it was an uncultured hellish modernity.
It proved to them that the Taiwanese didn’t care as much their about fellow man and the environment as we did back home, that it told us something was inherently bad about the Taiwanese character, and if only they let foreigners run the government…but they don’t because they are racists…and that was another story…And don’t get them started on that because they didn’t want to waste anymore time on the subject after having to give their advice on it yesterday in the discussion thread entitled, ‘What is your favourite Taiwanese food?’
Eric was strange – he was either giving you detailed information on the history of Taiwan that suggested he would be the first to the battlefield or complaining about the place. He liked to trawl these forums for support for his ideas.
“I am not the only one who is prepared to say some things are wrong here. Look!” said Eric.
Eric had printed out one of forums about burning paper money and how it is bad for the environment, like he had found the smoking gun.
Eric continued, “It is so clear man, back home we wouldn’t allow some tradition to go on if it wrecked the environment.”
“What about Christmas dumb ass. We chop down enough trees to crowd a couple of small minorities and a bunch of endangered species out of their share of the oxygen supply; then we string lights everywhere burning electricity and causing safety hazards…” said Pierre.
“The wrapping paper as well…trees and incineration,” said John.
“Yes. American, looks like you fucked up again!” For the 14,314 time he promised not to open his big mouth. He was serious this time.
We wondered how it was both possible to be so interested in, love and know so much about a country; and complain about it all the time. But that was the answer – He felt done enough to be accepted as a Taiwanese and he couldn’t accept they wouldn’t call him thus.
A quick look through showed page after page filled with comments about how there was actually no need to follow this tradition. That it could be done another way because it was in Hong Kong.
Ironically, it was always the same monikers in these forums and not so close inspection would reveal their rants the previous week about how they hated Hong Kong because it was an uncultured hellish modernity.
It proved to them that the Taiwanese didn’t care as much their about fellow man and the environment as we did back home, that it told us something was inherently bad about the Taiwanese character, and if only they let foreigners run the government…but they don’t because they are racists…and that was another story…And don’t get them started on that because they didn’t want to waste anymore time on the subject after having to give their advice on it yesterday in the discussion thread entitled, ‘What is your favourite Taiwanese food?’
Eric was strange – he was either giving you detailed information on the history of Taiwan that suggested he would be the first to the battlefield or complaining about the place. He liked to trawl these forums for support for his ideas.
“I am not the only one who is prepared to say some things are wrong here. Look!” said Eric.
Eric had printed out one of forums about burning paper money and how it is bad for the environment, like he had found the smoking gun.
Eric continued, “It is so clear man, back home we wouldn’t allow some tradition to go on if it wrecked the environment.”
“What about Christmas dumb ass. We chop down enough trees to crowd a couple of small minorities and a bunch of endangered species out of their share of the oxygen supply; then we string lights everywhere burning electricity and causing safety hazards…” said Pierre.
“The wrapping paper as well…trees and incineration,” said John.
“Yes. American, looks like you fucked up again!” For the 14,314 time he promised not to open his big mouth. He was serious this time.
We wondered how it was both possible to be so interested in, love and know so much about a country; and complain about it all the time. But that was the answer – He felt done enough to be accepted as a Taiwanese and he couldn’t accept they wouldn’t call him thus.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Expat Culture in Taiwan: The embarrassment of seeing other foreigners on TV
As I say Taiwan wasn’t a multi-racial society – at least not one that included westerners. When a white face popped up on the TV you paid attention.
On this occasion we were at John’s place having a few beers when a couple of large people suddenly arrived on a variety show.
“Jesus, we are strange,” said Josh suddenly feeling awkward, embarrassed at the sight of these white people on a local TV show.
He knew he shouldn’t care, but he had a good job in a Taiwanese company so he found himself watching them to make sure they didn’t enforce too many stereotypes, that they had enough wisdom to show they understood the country they were in, and could fit in. Yes, he also knew he shouldn’t be thinking like this, because he was a minority and minorities should be respected for what they are, encouraged to show their diversity. In the west this PC approach was the prevailing philosophy of the educated of his generation – but in Taiwan it was different: his attitude now was the product of being an immigrant pioneer, and the ambassadorial responsibilities it carried. It was no wonder so many like Eric, brought up in the era of empowered ethnic minorities got so frustrated.
“Yeah, now I know how those in the black community felt, watching a couple of their own on Opportunity Knocks when I was a lad.” said John.
“I knew at the time! I felt with them,” replied Eric who was self-conscious for others as well as himself.
Pierre sat silently. He was actually thinking about the subject; he was thinking he didn’t like being a member of a minority group because it gave you certain obligations, it was much better to be an individual in the majority half because you could fuck up, behave like a dick, and everyone just blamed you and your character, they didn’t try and wrongly blame everyone in your group.
On this occasion we were at John’s place having a few beers when a couple of large people suddenly arrived on a variety show.
“Jesus, we are strange,” said Josh suddenly feeling awkward, embarrassed at the sight of these white people on a local TV show.
He knew he shouldn’t care, but he had a good job in a Taiwanese company so he found himself watching them to make sure they didn’t enforce too many stereotypes, that they had enough wisdom to show they understood the country they were in, and could fit in. Yes, he also knew he shouldn’t be thinking like this, because he was a minority and minorities should be respected for what they are, encouraged to show their diversity. In the west this PC approach was the prevailing philosophy of the educated of his generation – but in Taiwan it was different: his attitude now was the product of being an immigrant pioneer, and the ambassadorial responsibilities it carried. It was no wonder so many like Eric, brought up in the era of empowered ethnic minorities got so frustrated.
“Yeah, now I know how those in the black community felt, watching a couple of their own on Opportunity Knocks when I was a lad.” said John.
“I knew at the time! I felt with them,” replied Eric who was self-conscious for others as well as himself.
Pierre sat silently. He was actually thinking about the subject; he was thinking he didn’t like being a member of a minority group because it gave you certain obligations, it was much better to be an individual in the majority half because you could fuck up, behave like a dick, and everyone just blamed you and your character, they didn’t try and wrongly blame everyone in your group.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Expat Culture in Taiwan: Anti-mainstream with a budweiser
"Man, that is an expat bar. I ain't one of those guys who needs my hand held while i am here."
This is something you will hear often from the just-left-college-want-to-sound-anti-mainstream expat types. Just like back home where these people won't be seen dead in a swanky busy night club because they don't follow the crowd, in Taiwan they won't be seen in expat bars or doing expat things.
But have you noticed back home there is nothing more different about their motives than those of the 'plebs' they are criticising: go to one of their watering holes and behind the black clothes, covered flesh, and unrythmic dancing, you will see them getting pissed out of their brains and trying to pick up the girl next to them.
While they are abroad it is no different: they don't speak Chinese, want to drink American beer and are there to pick up girls - but, if you are going to appeal to their particular sensibilities and get them into your bar, you have to create that suspension of mainstream that they need.
One particular bar in Taiwan had managed this to perfection. Firstly, they hid their Western food at the back of the menu behind the Chinese, making sure you could applaud yourself loud and hard that you had managed to find the picture of the sandwich amongst all those Chinese characters. Second, was the minimalist, student bar design. Third was the curt, unpolished staff who didn’t appear interested in you being a foreigner and always answered your requests with a one word grunt instead of a sentence of good English. Fourth, was the scarce use of English on the walls. And finally there was the boss: long dank hair, permanently miserable and unfriendly, he solidified his and the bar’s image with the notice he had over the DJ booth: ‘DJ’s Music Choices Are Final, Don’t Trouble Him.'
With it the illusion he didn’t set up to that the bar to baby sit foreigners was complete, leaving them to drink their bottles of Budweiser, talk about the game, and patronise some young enthusiastic girls who came to practice their English.
This is something you will hear often from the just-left-college-want-to-sound-anti-mainstream expat types. Just like back home where these people won't be seen dead in a swanky busy night club because they don't follow the crowd, in Taiwan they won't be seen in expat bars or doing expat things.
But have you noticed back home there is nothing more different about their motives than those of the 'plebs' they are criticising: go to one of their watering holes and behind the black clothes, covered flesh, and unrythmic dancing, you will see them getting pissed out of their brains and trying to pick up the girl next to them.
While they are abroad it is no different: they don't speak Chinese, want to drink American beer and are there to pick up girls - but, if you are going to appeal to their particular sensibilities and get them into your bar, you have to create that suspension of mainstream that they need.
One particular bar in Taiwan had managed this to perfection. Firstly, they hid their Western food at the back of the menu behind the Chinese, making sure you could applaud yourself loud and hard that you had managed to find the picture of the sandwich amongst all those Chinese characters. Second, was the minimalist, student bar design. Third was the curt, unpolished staff who didn’t appear interested in you being a foreigner and always answered your requests with a one word grunt instead of a sentence of good English. Fourth, was the scarce use of English on the walls. And finally there was the boss: long dank hair, permanently miserable and unfriendly, he solidified his and the bar’s image with the notice he had over the DJ booth: ‘DJ’s Music Choices Are Final, Don’t Trouble Him.'
With it the illusion he didn’t set up to that the bar to baby sit foreigners was complete, leaving them to drink their bottles of Budweiser, talk about the game, and patronise some young enthusiastic girls who came to practice their English.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Expat Culture in Taiwan: How to be authentic
Most foreigners weren't in Taipei working for big banks in expat jobs, they had gone to Taiwan to: find themselves, or have a year or so out of the rat race - or pursue interests; in other words they were suffering from very high levels of needing to be authentic to themselves.
And, if you wanted to be authentic to yourself you had to get out of teaching whether you liked it or not: teaching was our immigrant job and 99% of people were English teachers.
We shouldn't be complaining too much: Chinese immigrants died building railways in the States, Filipinas have to clean floors and our old people; in the history of immigrant jobs English teacher has to about the cushiest number ever - but then again we weren't poor people trying to pay for a starving family but self-important, young middle-class westerners with degrees.
Unfortunately, because 99% of work for foreigners was teaching or editing the English language it was difficult to be authentic to yourself. Inevitably like the waitress in LA who was an actress, years later you would be telling people about your plan to get out of teaching.
The number one way to be authentic to yourself was to open a bar or restaurant. We foreigners went to all the western restaurants opened by the local Taiwanese and complained and criticised about something that wasn’t perfect – but wasn’t actually bad – they could, of course, do better. The number of foreigners who could open a better bar, restaurant or night club than the locals, stood as a higher percentage than the number of English men after eight pints who could do a better job than the England football manager.
Opening a restaurant wasn’t quite as cool as bar, but it was pretty much the next best thing you could do considering the independent, be your own boss lifestyle consciousness that dominated here. Opening a restaurant didn’t seem to hold the stereotypical position that opening a Chinese or Indian restaurant did for immigrants in England: the market was still new, and not so many foreigners had done it because we were outsiders, needing to get Taiwanese business partners and negotiate our way around government legislation and licenses; it involved a lot of hard work and risk.
The position of number one stereotype was given to opening a language school; everyone sniggered at these people – while they themselves were inevitably teaching English but telling themselves they were looking for something else. For example, after five years in Taipei when John had opened a school making lots of money, people would still ask him when he was going to start doing something he wanted. He would occasionally explode: "What the f...? I am not some stupid middle-class boy who criticizes the Taiwanese for having face problems all day but then has bigger ones of his own. Don't you understand the basics of life? - The pride of earning a wage to pay for a family and a nice sofa. To not being a loser having to drink beer from the 7/11 every night?"
John's comment had some truth. Inevitably if you wanted to show you weren't a real teacher you had to do several things that resulted in you not saving or having a lot of money:
1) Don't work too many hours a week.
2) Don't get promoted and actually improve as a teacher.
3) Don't stay at the same school for too long.
4) Have long breaks away in Thailand or somewhere that show how free spirited you are.
5) Don't get a work permit but fly to Hong Kong every two months to get a tourist visa and work illegally.
6) Spend lots of money on Chinese classes.
7) Apply, pay the fees, but never finish an online qualification from a university back home.
8) Sign up at a kung fu school and become quite good.
9) Try your hand at journalism and editing work which was still being employed for your English but paid extremely poorly compared to teaching.
10) Turn down all those opportunities to invest in or open a language school.
11) Tell yourself you want to keep your options open; you might be leaving soon, while secretly knowing you will never leave.
Of all the foreigners in our little group Pierre suffered worst from this.
And, if you wanted to be authentic to yourself you had to get out of teaching whether you liked it or not: teaching was our immigrant job and 99% of people were English teachers.
We shouldn't be complaining too much: Chinese immigrants died building railways in the States, Filipinas have to clean floors and our old people; in the history of immigrant jobs English teacher has to about the cushiest number ever - but then again we weren't poor people trying to pay for a starving family but self-important, young middle-class westerners with degrees.
Unfortunately, because 99% of work for foreigners was teaching or editing the English language it was difficult to be authentic to yourself. Inevitably like the waitress in LA who was an actress, years later you would be telling people about your plan to get out of teaching.
The number one way to be authentic to yourself was to open a bar or restaurant. We foreigners went to all the western restaurants opened by the local Taiwanese and complained and criticised about something that wasn’t perfect – but wasn’t actually bad – they could, of course, do better. The number of foreigners who could open a better bar, restaurant or night club than the locals, stood as a higher percentage than the number of English men after eight pints who could do a better job than the England football manager.
Opening a restaurant wasn’t quite as cool as bar, but it was pretty much the next best thing you could do considering the independent, be your own boss lifestyle consciousness that dominated here. Opening a restaurant didn’t seem to hold the stereotypical position that opening a Chinese or Indian restaurant did for immigrants in England: the market was still new, and not so many foreigners had done it because we were outsiders, needing to get Taiwanese business partners and negotiate our way around government legislation and licenses; it involved a lot of hard work and risk.
The position of number one stereotype was given to opening a language school; everyone sniggered at these people – while they themselves were inevitably teaching English but telling themselves they were looking for something else. For example, after five years in Taipei when John had opened a school making lots of money, people would still ask him when he was going to start doing something he wanted. He would occasionally explode: "What the f...? I am not some stupid middle-class boy who criticizes the Taiwanese for having face problems all day but then has bigger ones of his own. Don't you understand the basics of life? - The pride of earning a wage to pay for a family and a nice sofa. To not being a loser having to drink beer from the 7/11 every night?"
John's comment had some truth. Inevitably if you wanted to show you weren't a real teacher you had to do several things that resulted in you not saving or having a lot of money:
1) Don't work too many hours a week.
2) Don't get promoted and actually improve as a teacher.
3) Don't stay at the same school for too long.
4) Have long breaks away in Thailand or somewhere that show how free spirited you are.
5) Don't get a work permit but fly to Hong Kong every two months to get a tourist visa and work illegally.
6) Spend lots of money on Chinese classes.
7) Apply, pay the fees, but never finish an online qualification from a university back home.
8) Sign up at a kung fu school and become quite good.
9) Try your hand at journalism and editing work which was still being employed for your English but paid extremely poorly compared to teaching.
10) Turn down all those opportunities to invest in or open a language school.
11) Tell yourself you want to keep your options open; you might be leaving soon, while secretly knowing you will never leave.
Of all the foreigners in our little group Pierre suffered worst from this.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Expat Culture in Taiwan: Even the dogs are smarter
Taiwanese don't drive well. It has got better over the years, but they are still guilty of not stopping at crossing etc. But that is just the way it is, put up with it or leave. Like all things in life weigh up the pros and cons and make a positive decision. Most westerners did but there were a few people who just procrastinated in negativity. Eric was one. Even the dogs were smarter than Eric.
“Look, man even the friggin’ dogs have got more sense than you!” I shouted at Eric, as we crossed the road. On our inside for its own protection was one of thousands of stray dogs that wandered the city. It was a strange thing to get used to seeing, like some sort of super breed of street smart dog, these dogs had learned to use the pedestrian crossing and wait at the lights. In this case, the dog had spotted the car turning right selfishly and illegally cutting across the green man, and had stopped to let it go. Eric of course did not – one arm up, palm out, the other pointing to the green man, Moses-like – and also requiring divine intervention to succeed - he strode against the cars pouring across the crossing. The more mannered or aware would stop at his out stretched hand, but the rest would slam on their brakes and angrily spin the wheel of their car and attack another point in the crowd of pedestrians crossing the street. Anywhere else was fine because almost all the Taiwanese stopped and gave way to the cars. They knew how dangerous, reckless and selfish their fellow man was behind the wheel and they were not interested in arguing. Eric, armed only with his sense of right and wrong, felt that he was scoring little victories, but it was only a matter of time he stopped a group of young guys and then a hospital trip would be necessary.
I pulled him back determined it wasn't going to be when i was there.
“Look, man even the friggin’ dogs have got more sense than you!” I shouted at Eric, as we crossed the road. On our inside for its own protection was one of thousands of stray dogs that wandered the city. It was a strange thing to get used to seeing, like some sort of super breed of street smart dog, these dogs had learned to use the pedestrian crossing and wait at the lights. In this case, the dog had spotted the car turning right selfishly and illegally cutting across the green man, and had stopped to let it go. Eric of course did not – one arm up, palm out, the other pointing to the green man, Moses-like – and also requiring divine intervention to succeed - he strode against the cars pouring across the crossing. The more mannered or aware would stop at his out stretched hand, but the rest would slam on their brakes and angrily spin the wheel of their car and attack another point in the crowd of pedestrians crossing the street. Anywhere else was fine because almost all the Taiwanese stopped and gave way to the cars. They knew how dangerous, reckless and selfish their fellow man was behind the wheel and they were not interested in arguing. Eric, armed only with his sense of right and wrong, felt that he was scoring little victories, but it was only a matter of time he stopped a group of young guys and then a hospital trip would be necessary.
I pulled him back determined it wasn't going to be when i was there.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Expat Culture in Taiwan: My first Christmas
In the old days there was actually a day off for Christmas day, not because it was Christmas, but it was officially constitution day. Around 2000 they dropped constitution day and since then we haven’t even had a day off – unless you booked it of course. I had only been in Taiwan six months or so, and being a young university graduate was reveling in the idea I was simply not going to have a Christmas; that is was going to be hot. I had gone to a card shop and bought a bunch of Christmas cards with Santa sitting on a deckchair on the beach, and sent them off thinking I was so cool and subversive.
Christmas was a strange time in Taiwan as all the big department stores put up huge Christmas trees and played the usual carols. Taiwanese went and took photos of themselves in front of the tree, or sat in the sledge, and then completely ignored it. I cannot state that strong enough: they just don’t celebrate Christmas.
Anyway, as a teacher of the American language, I had to teach the children all about the great traditions they would never follow, culminating in cards and presents and me dressing up in a santa suit. After getting over my embarrassment at shouting ‘ho, ho’ for a couple of hours, I realized the whole thing had touched my immature heart and I suddenly felt it wasn’t so cool not to celebrate Christmas.
I got on the phone to the guys.
“Man, it is only Christmas day. Capitalist junk”
“Only good if you are a kid or have kids.”
“Man, can’t you miss it for one year... It’ll come around next year.”
“Nah, I ain’t wasting money on a bad Christmas dinner in some big hotel”
It seemed nostalgia hadn’t got the better of the others. I knew one person who would be celebrating Christmas so I gave him a call.
“Hey, John, what are you up to tomorrow?” I asked.
“I have booked to go to the Hyatt for lunch. I booked two places – I am still thinking about which bird to go with because I know you college boys won’t be coming…You want to come?”
I know the big hotels always had Christmas dinner for the expat crowd, but they could be a little pricey. “How much?”
“1800 a ticket.”
“Hmm, make sure she is really hot,” I replied.
I wasn’t that nostalgic – well, I was but I was also too tight to pay that much.
My student Michael’s family – the ten year-old boy I was supposed to be preparing to go to the UK – had invited me to their house. It wasn’t my first choice to go to my student’s house on Christmas Day, but I figured the alternative was to sit at home lonely watching Christmas day celebrations from around the world on CNN. I called them back to accept the invitation.
“Happy New Year!” shouted Michael’s family when I arrived. Taiwanese just couldn’t get Christmas was the more important day of the two.
“My brother, his wife, their child…1,2 children…yes…children. We have…Christmas party for you,” said Michael’s father pleased with himself, showing his English in front his family.
“Here is your Christmas card and present,” said Michael.
“See I write…Uh, very good eh!” announced Michael. “You sit here.”
I had had dinner at the house many times, Michael’s mother insisting on feeding me almost every time I came.
There wasn’t any turkey, but the thought was already enough. By the end of the day we had been Tenpin bowling, to eat snacks in a night market, and to another brother’s house, and then to KTV, because everyone wanted to sing.
The most popular family sport across Taiwan at the time was ten pin bowling. If the family couldn’t think of anything to do, they went bowling. And, as I was a foreigner – and by connection American - they assumed I liked bowling.
9:00 pm – I was back at the hotel waiting for Josh and Eric, regretting leaving my student’s family to drink with my mates when the atmosphere had been so warm and family orientated. They had been so kind, and even though I missed England, I was feeling upbeat and reflective:
Not bad…alcohol consumption down from the half bottle of vodka a day to several pints.
Have decided to sleep well again when I leave.
Don’t talk to my mates in my sleep anymore, or call out to people on the street because I think they are my friends.
Idea that I will be here for a while is not breaking me out in cold sweats.
Don’t get frustrated and walk off, so often, when required to repeat myself twice.
Beginning to be able to spot “Britishisms” I speak, and change into dull American English.
Fuck I miss Desmond Lynam and Andy Gray’s voices for the footie. Never thought I would say, I would miss that Scottish bastard’s voice - But I suppose the Japanese porn channels on the cable goes someway to making up.
Grateful for the veneer of privacy my room provides - once I turn the TV up loud, can actually forget the thickness of the walls leaves me you forever prepared for someone to walk straight through them, apologize for taking a wrong turning, then go straight back out.
After being woken by the motorbikes outside, am able to go back to sleep within half an hour
The mad Aussie guy next door has stopped having the same argument every night, in which he threatens to send his girlfriend back to the Philippines….Ah, that is because I head-butted him so can’t really add to the Adapted and Became Tolerant Of list.
Language still impossible - Tonight I desperately wanted to tell Michael’s mother how much I appreciated things, but all I could do was keep saying ‘Xiere, xiere’ knowing I was probably saying go die in hell or something worse. Tonal languages meant extra opportunities to fuck up, and the development of a habit of saying every word many times (xiere, xiere, xiere,xiere) in the hope you might have got it right once, but they never told you if you had it right so you tended to say it just a few more times for safety’s sake. We are often confused and misunderstood in our own language, but then, at least, you can make your point and blame the other person for the misunderstanding. Here, you just looked like a cunt.
“Hey man are you there?” It was Eric at the door with his Taiwan beer, closely followed by John and Pierre.
“Did you treat someone hot for lunch?” I asked John.
“Ok, I suppose. Preferred to have given you the ticket on reflection, but I guess I am just not Taiwanese enough yet.”
“What about you guys? Get up to anything?” I asked Eric and Pierre.
“Nothing,” they replied.
We had all been in Taiwan for about a year now, and as it was Christmas day, and although, the others denied it their parents had all called them and a couple of reflective thoughts had crept in. Eric, Josh, and Pierre shared one thing in common, separate from John: they choose to come to Taiwan and had been looking forward to the experience, but from there experiences diverged. Josh was not such a flurry of pride and confusion at the environment because he had already been on the road for three years, with stays in Australia, Thailand and Europe. He had got most of the basics of loss and disorientation out of his system a long time ago. He didn’t think too much about the culture beyond what he had to understand to do business, which was minimal – this wasn’t Japan, where supposedly not following certain etiquette could make or break a deal, the Taiwanese were very forgiving to westerners. He loved the small business, ‘can do’ culture of the Taiwanese. And, after a rocky start with the women, he was sure he had found his segment and it would be plain sailing after this. Besides, he would be gone back to Canada in a couple of years, Taiwan a distant, but happy memory.
Eric and Pierre had both come here straight out of college and were still dizzy, but then one was having the time of his life and the other disillusioned. In Taiwan you were always the foreigner. And it kind of showed how important your desires and goals were on your immigrant experience: Pierre wanted something for nothing and loved his status as the outsider, the center of attention; Eric was working furiously to belong, fit in, and wanted to be rewarded for his efforts to do so. Eric was particularly in a hurry to learn Chinese because he had figured he had a couple of years in Taiwan, before the pull of family got the better of him. Daddy was desperately trying to set him up with a good corporate job back home.
John, on the other hand, was still denying how much he loved Taiwan and where his destiny lay.
Christmas was a strange time in Taiwan as all the big department stores put up huge Christmas trees and played the usual carols. Taiwanese went and took photos of themselves in front of the tree, or sat in the sledge, and then completely ignored it. I cannot state that strong enough: they just don’t celebrate Christmas.
Anyway, as a teacher of the American language, I had to teach the children all about the great traditions they would never follow, culminating in cards and presents and me dressing up in a santa suit. After getting over my embarrassment at shouting ‘ho, ho’ for a couple of hours, I realized the whole thing had touched my immature heart and I suddenly felt it wasn’t so cool not to celebrate Christmas.
I got on the phone to the guys.
“Man, it is only Christmas day. Capitalist junk”
“Only good if you are a kid or have kids.”
“Man, can’t you miss it for one year... It’ll come around next year.”
“Nah, I ain’t wasting money on a bad Christmas dinner in some big hotel”
It seemed nostalgia hadn’t got the better of the others. I knew one person who would be celebrating Christmas so I gave him a call.
“Hey, John, what are you up to tomorrow?” I asked.
“I have booked to go to the Hyatt for lunch. I booked two places – I am still thinking about which bird to go with because I know you college boys won’t be coming…You want to come?”
I know the big hotels always had Christmas dinner for the expat crowd, but they could be a little pricey. “How much?”
“1800 a ticket.”
“Hmm, make sure she is really hot,” I replied.
I wasn’t that nostalgic – well, I was but I was also too tight to pay that much.
My student Michael’s family – the ten year-old boy I was supposed to be preparing to go to the UK – had invited me to their house. It wasn’t my first choice to go to my student’s house on Christmas Day, but I figured the alternative was to sit at home lonely watching Christmas day celebrations from around the world on CNN. I called them back to accept the invitation.
“Happy New Year!” shouted Michael’s family when I arrived. Taiwanese just couldn’t get Christmas was the more important day of the two.
“My brother, his wife, their child…1,2 children…yes…children. We have…Christmas party for you,” said Michael’s father pleased with himself, showing his English in front his family.
“Here is your Christmas card and present,” said Michael.
“See I write…Uh, very good eh!” announced Michael. “You sit here.”
I had had dinner at the house many times, Michael’s mother insisting on feeding me almost every time I came.
There wasn’t any turkey, but the thought was already enough. By the end of the day we had been Tenpin bowling, to eat snacks in a night market, and to another brother’s house, and then to KTV, because everyone wanted to sing.
The most popular family sport across Taiwan at the time was ten pin bowling. If the family couldn’t think of anything to do, they went bowling. And, as I was a foreigner – and by connection American - they assumed I liked bowling.
9:00 pm – I was back at the hotel waiting for Josh and Eric, regretting leaving my student’s family to drink with my mates when the atmosphere had been so warm and family orientated. They had been so kind, and even though I missed England, I was feeling upbeat and reflective:
Not bad…alcohol consumption down from the half bottle of vodka a day to several pints.
Have decided to sleep well again when I leave.
Don’t talk to my mates in my sleep anymore, or call out to people on the street because I think they are my friends.
Idea that I will be here for a while is not breaking me out in cold sweats.
Don’t get frustrated and walk off, so often, when required to repeat myself twice.
Beginning to be able to spot “Britishisms” I speak, and change into dull American English.
Fuck I miss Desmond Lynam and Andy Gray’s voices for the footie. Never thought I would say, I would miss that Scottish bastard’s voice - But I suppose the Japanese porn channels on the cable goes someway to making up.
Grateful for the veneer of privacy my room provides - once I turn the TV up loud, can actually forget the thickness of the walls leaves me you forever prepared for someone to walk straight through them, apologize for taking a wrong turning, then go straight back out.
After being woken by the motorbikes outside, am able to go back to sleep within half an hour
The mad Aussie guy next door has stopped having the same argument every night, in which he threatens to send his girlfriend back to the Philippines….Ah, that is because I head-butted him so can’t really add to the Adapted and Became Tolerant Of list.
Language still impossible - Tonight I desperately wanted to tell Michael’s mother how much I appreciated things, but all I could do was keep saying ‘Xiere, xiere’ knowing I was probably saying go die in hell or something worse. Tonal languages meant extra opportunities to fuck up, and the development of a habit of saying every word many times (xiere, xiere, xiere,xiere) in the hope you might have got it right once, but they never told you if you had it right so you tended to say it just a few more times for safety’s sake. We are often confused and misunderstood in our own language, but then, at least, you can make your point and blame the other person for the misunderstanding. Here, you just looked like a cunt.
“Hey man are you there?” It was Eric at the door with his Taiwan beer, closely followed by John and Pierre.
“Did you treat someone hot for lunch?” I asked John.
“Ok, I suppose. Preferred to have given you the ticket on reflection, but I guess I am just not Taiwanese enough yet.”
“What about you guys? Get up to anything?” I asked Eric and Pierre.
“Nothing,” they replied.
We had all been in Taiwan for about a year now, and as it was Christmas day, and although, the others denied it their parents had all called them and a couple of reflective thoughts had crept in. Eric, Josh, and Pierre shared one thing in common, separate from John: they choose to come to Taiwan and had been looking forward to the experience, but from there experiences diverged. Josh was not such a flurry of pride and confusion at the environment because he had already been on the road for three years, with stays in Australia, Thailand and Europe. He had got most of the basics of loss and disorientation out of his system a long time ago. He didn’t think too much about the culture beyond what he had to understand to do business, which was minimal – this wasn’t Japan, where supposedly not following certain etiquette could make or break a deal, the Taiwanese were very forgiving to westerners. He loved the small business, ‘can do’ culture of the Taiwanese. And, after a rocky start with the women, he was sure he had found his segment and it would be plain sailing after this. Besides, he would be gone back to Canada in a couple of years, Taiwan a distant, but happy memory.
Eric and Pierre had both come here straight out of college and were still dizzy, but then one was having the time of his life and the other disillusioned. In Taiwan you were always the foreigner. And it kind of showed how important your desires and goals were on your immigrant experience: Pierre wanted something for nothing and loved his status as the outsider, the center of attention; Eric was working furiously to belong, fit in, and wanted to be rewarded for his efforts to do so. Eric was particularly in a hurry to learn Chinese because he had figured he had a couple of years in Taiwan, before the pull of family got the better of him. Daddy was desperately trying to set him up with a good corporate job back home.
John, on the other hand, was still denying how much he loved Taiwan and where his destiny lay.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Expat Culture in Taiwan: Shameless exploiting our name II
Us expats in Taiwan liked to exploit our name and play up our stereotypes for personal gain.
On this occasion we had gone to an all you can eat and drink wine and European buffet at a French wine importer's warehouse in Tien Mu, the old ex-pat area of Taipei. It was 600NT a head, but the wine on offer was cheap and there was no sign of good brie or camembert. Pierre was staring disdainfully with the corners of his mouth turned up and a told you so look.
"Sorry, mate," said John. "Even I don't think this is good cheese."
We looked around and the funny thing was still 50% of people in the party were French. “Man, this must be a nightmare for you. I know how I would feel hanging around in a place filled with fat Americans watching baseball,”said Eric to Pierre.
Pierre looked around at his countrymen bravely stomaching the wine and cheese for their own personal higher purpose: some were so homesick they wanted any excuse to hang around with other French people and talk about the old country; while, he knew most were with girlfriend, friends, or colleagues in tow, sipping the wine and offering their ‘expert’ judgment, desperately trying to show off - while the Taiwanese listened intently not knowing, or too polite to tell them they were full of bullshit.
"They are trying to get laid," replied Pierre.
John was thinking about Eric’s analogy about being stuck in a room with a bunch of fellow English watching the game.
"Now i am depressed," he said.
On this occasion we had gone to an all you can eat and drink wine and European buffet at a French wine importer's warehouse in Tien Mu, the old ex-pat area of Taipei. It was 600NT a head, but the wine on offer was cheap and there was no sign of good brie or camembert. Pierre was staring disdainfully with the corners of his mouth turned up and a told you so look.
"Sorry, mate," said John. "Even I don't think this is good cheese."
We looked around and the funny thing was still 50% of people in the party were French. “Man, this must be a nightmare for you. I know how I would feel hanging around in a place filled with fat Americans watching baseball,”said Eric to Pierre.
Pierre looked around at his countrymen bravely stomaching the wine and cheese for their own personal higher purpose: some were so homesick they wanted any excuse to hang around with other French people and talk about the old country; while, he knew most were with girlfriend, friends, or colleagues in tow, sipping the wine and offering their ‘expert’ judgment, desperately trying to show off - while the Taiwanese listened intently not knowing, or too polite to tell them they were full of bullshit.
"They are trying to get laid," replied Pierre.
John was thinking about Eric’s analogy about being stuck in a room with a bunch of fellow English watching the game.
"Now i am depressed," he said.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Expat Culture in Taiwan: I don't want a Taiwan girl who wants a foreigner
As i say after a few years in Taiwan and the culture shock begins to wear off, you start to work out the stupidity of some of the things you believed. I don't want to date a Taiwan girl who wants a foreigner was one of them.
We go through this spell when we refuse to go to the foreigner bars - and we only date a girl who doesn't speak English. We sit around in groups complaining about girls who only want to date foreigners. I remember we justify it with cries of them being groupies - and us wanting an authentic experience with a local girl. It was nonsense of course stimulated by culture shock.
John refreshingly didn't suffer from this, mainly because he didn't speak any Chinese - and never forgot it was a different culture. Slowly, after several mishaps, I started to go back to the bar where the girls went to meet a foreigner, but the attitudes of new arrivals hadn't changed.
"I got to get out of here," would say X new arrival. "Look at these girls, they only want to date a foreigner. It is sad."
"Sure, but you only want to date Taiwanese girls," I would answer.
Said foreigner: "It is different - There are only Taiwanese girls here."
"No, there are not. There are hundreds of white women. Nobody wants them so you can take your pick."
"Exactly, man. "
"Exactly what? It is tough being young and ungrateful. I know i have been there."
(I only said the last part if the person concerned was smaller than me.)
And I had been there and it was about wanting something that didn't want you.
We go through this spell when we refuse to go to the foreigner bars - and we only date a girl who doesn't speak English. We sit around in groups complaining about girls who only want to date foreigners. I remember we justify it with cries of them being groupies - and us wanting an authentic experience with a local girl. It was nonsense of course stimulated by culture shock.
John refreshingly didn't suffer from this, mainly because he didn't speak any Chinese - and never forgot it was a different culture. Slowly, after several mishaps, I started to go back to the bar where the girls went to meet a foreigner, but the attitudes of new arrivals hadn't changed.
"I got to get out of here," would say X new arrival. "Look at these girls, they only want to date a foreigner. It is sad."
"Sure, but you only want to date Taiwanese girls," I would answer.
Said foreigner: "It is different - There are only Taiwanese girls here."
"No, there are not. There are hundreds of white women. Nobody wants them so you can take your pick."
"Exactly, man. "
"Exactly what? It is tough being young and ungrateful. I know i have been there."
(I only said the last part if the person concerned was smaller than me.)
And I had been there and it was about wanting something that didn't want you.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Expat Culture in Taiwan: Shameless exploiting our name I
I first realized how we expats shamelessly exploited our name as i surveyed the scene around an Italian restaurant while on a date.
It was filled with white dudes like myself trying to impress Taiwanese girls with conversation about the authentic thin-crust pizza, and proper salad dressing, bread and tiramisu; that the Pizza chains across the city were not proper pizza. The message was clear: stick with them and you could learn what Americans were really doing.
What fucking bullshit. There were fucking thousands of Pizza Huts in America selling the same unauthentic shit they were in Taiwan.
But it was part of a bigger picture of bullshit: I could hear the guy next to me start the conversation that I would be having later.
Girl: "So why did you come to Taiwan?"
Foreigner: "I just wanted to take it easy, have an adventure."
Girl: "Oh, that is so good. In Taiwan our parents wouldn't let us."
Foreigner: "In the west children make their own decisions from an early age. What does it have to do with our parents? Anyway, they support what we want to do."
Hmm, every western parent is a fucking hippy who doesn't care if their kid drops out of school...
While i was listening our thin crust pizza arrived. She looked at it funny so i told her that this was authentic Italian pizza - and i always ate it like this.
"So you say you want to study in America?" I asked.
Girl: "Yes. Hmm, I really admire the way that teach in America. We Taiwanese need to learn to question and think for ourselves."
"That is right. We chose exactly what we want to study from a very young age..."
It was filled with white dudes like myself trying to impress Taiwanese girls with conversation about the authentic thin-crust pizza, and proper salad dressing, bread and tiramisu; that the Pizza chains across the city were not proper pizza. The message was clear: stick with them and you could learn what Americans were really doing.
What fucking bullshit. There were fucking thousands of Pizza Huts in America selling the same unauthentic shit they were in Taiwan.
But it was part of a bigger picture of bullshit: I could hear the guy next to me start the conversation that I would be having later.
Girl: "So why did you come to Taiwan?"
Foreigner: "I just wanted to take it easy, have an adventure."
Girl: "Oh, that is so good. In Taiwan our parents wouldn't let us."
Foreigner: "In the west children make their own decisions from an early age. What does it have to do with our parents? Anyway, they support what we want to do."
Hmm, every western parent is a fucking hippy who doesn't care if their kid drops out of school...
While i was listening our thin crust pizza arrived. She looked at it funny so i told her that this was authentic Italian pizza - and i always ate it like this.
"So you say you want to study in America?" I asked.
Girl: "Yes. Hmm, I really admire the way that teach in America. We Taiwanese need to learn to question and think for ourselves."
"That is right. We chose exactly what we want to study from a very young age..."
Friday, March 13, 2009
Expat Culture in Taiwan: Being authentic to yourself even if it kills you
One of my all time favorite losers was a Scottish guy called Steven Johnson. He had too deeply bought into the culture of trying to be authentic to himself. If I was feeling down on myself about work or Taiwan I would give him a call for a drink and pretty soon the glass would be back to half full and then other flowing.
“I’m sorry mate, but I am a bit strapped lately…my luck hasn’t held out,” said Steven because it was his round.
“That is alright,” I replied because he never had any money.
“Cheers, you’re a real mate. You know, so many guys have let me down lately – betrayed me. Even Simon, I ‘ave known that guy for years, I helped him out when he came, and now, he is asking for the fifty thou back he lent me…Fucking traitor, he knows I am having a hard time at the moment,” said Steven.
Steven was permanently on the slide; a loser and a whinger - and with no recourse to reason and common sense possible, he had to couch everything in terms of luck and loyalty.
“So what are you doing for cash, now?” I asked.
“It is a nightmare, mate. I am just gonna concentrate on my dancing from now on, I am not cut out to be an English teacher – I ‘ad a nice little job in a kindy up to about three weeks ago, but the screaming kids and the bullshit from the management everyday telling me how to teach, complaining that I hadn’t shaved…Nah, mate, the fuckers broke me, and anyway it is just not me - a man has to respect himself…I trained to be a dancer, you know. I’m professional,” he said as if nobody else had ever trained to do anything ever before.
Eric had joined us about two minutes ago. He was only catching the end of Steven’s point, had never met him before, but wasn’t going to let that get in the way of taking the foreigner’s side: “Interesting,” said Eric. “Can’t be easy to break into that field here. You are a white man, dude, and this isn’t a multiracial country. They are gonna look after their own.”
“Fucking right! The racist cunts I have had to deal with: don’t want to arrange a work permit for me, complain because I don’t speak Chinese - I was unemployed and I came here to create a new life for myself…I’ve ‘ad my dream torn to shreds, my heart broken.”
Later when Steven sensed there would be no more beers forthcoming: “I have to go, man – a case…Say, you don’t know where I can score some weed do you? I need it just to get through the day, these days.”
I nodded to Eric, and he frowned, before putting his hand in his pocket and then shook it with Steven.
“He is a dancer, man. An artist. It is a hard thing to give that up,” said Eric sympathetically.
“Sometimes you really can be clueless – You think he is a good dancer? Why the fuck did he need to come here?” I replied. “I tell you what he is: he is a thick, ignorant, low-class, lazy, uneducated, fucking piece of skanky loser shit, who was sitting on the couch in his parent’s council house in Glasgow with his future mapped out: daytime TV, followed by evening TV, then getting some bird up the duff so he got his own council house. Here, if he kept his mouth shut, he could earn 300 quid a week tax free for teaching English – which he can’t speak it - get a tasty bird and have some self-respect and he blew it sky fuckin’ high. It takes a lot to fuck up here if I managed to get it together.”
“He is Scottish?”
“Typical Scottish. The fuckin’ Scottish motto is, “I was robbed.” Take for example, the Scottish football team – they run their ginger haired arses off for ninety minutes – they lose of course – then when the final whistle goes, they wander around the pitch crying, shaking their heads about how unlucky they are because they had so much possession. You think the Germans, or the Italians, or the Brazilians think they should have won because they were more willing than the other team? Like fuck, their only question is: why didn’t we win? And, the Scottish will go on losing because they remember that they were robbed, not the fact that they ‘aven’t got any skills and need to work on that.”
“Man, this stuff is close to your heart. You got any Scottish relatives?” said Eric.
But it wasn’t that: my time away had given me insights into my own people from the outside (I was talking about England too) and I reluctantly recognized a few errors.
I cared passionately. I wanted to help.
“I’m sorry mate, but I am a bit strapped lately…my luck hasn’t held out,” said Steven because it was his round.
“That is alright,” I replied because he never had any money.
“Cheers, you’re a real mate. You know, so many guys have let me down lately – betrayed me. Even Simon, I ‘ave known that guy for years, I helped him out when he came, and now, he is asking for the fifty thou back he lent me…Fucking traitor, he knows I am having a hard time at the moment,” said Steven.
Steven was permanently on the slide; a loser and a whinger - and with no recourse to reason and common sense possible, he had to couch everything in terms of luck and loyalty.
“So what are you doing for cash, now?” I asked.
“It is a nightmare, mate. I am just gonna concentrate on my dancing from now on, I am not cut out to be an English teacher – I ‘ad a nice little job in a kindy up to about three weeks ago, but the screaming kids and the bullshit from the management everyday telling me how to teach, complaining that I hadn’t shaved…Nah, mate, the fuckers broke me, and anyway it is just not me - a man has to respect himself…I trained to be a dancer, you know. I’m professional,” he said as if nobody else had ever trained to do anything ever before.
Eric had joined us about two minutes ago. He was only catching the end of Steven’s point, had never met him before, but wasn’t going to let that get in the way of taking the foreigner’s side: “Interesting,” said Eric. “Can’t be easy to break into that field here. You are a white man, dude, and this isn’t a multiracial country. They are gonna look after their own.”
“Fucking right! The racist cunts I have had to deal with: don’t want to arrange a work permit for me, complain because I don’t speak Chinese - I was unemployed and I came here to create a new life for myself…I’ve ‘ad my dream torn to shreds, my heart broken.”
Later when Steven sensed there would be no more beers forthcoming: “I have to go, man – a case…Say, you don’t know where I can score some weed do you? I need it just to get through the day, these days.”
I nodded to Eric, and he frowned, before putting his hand in his pocket and then shook it with Steven.
“He is a dancer, man. An artist. It is a hard thing to give that up,” said Eric sympathetically.
“Sometimes you really can be clueless – You think he is a good dancer? Why the fuck did he need to come here?” I replied. “I tell you what he is: he is a thick, ignorant, low-class, lazy, uneducated, fucking piece of skanky loser shit, who was sitting on the couch in his parent’s council house in Glasgow with his future mapped out: daytime TV, followed by evening TV, then getting some bird up the duff so he got his own council house. Here, if he kept his mouth shut, he could earn 300 quid a week tax free for teaching English – which he can’t speak it - get a tasty bird and have some self-respect and he blew it sky fuckin’ high. It takes a lot to fuck up here if I managed to get it together.”
“He is Scottish?”
“Typical Scottish. The fuckin’ Scottish motto is, “I was robbed.” Take for example, the Scottish football team – they run their ginger haired arses off for ninety minutes – they lose of course – then when the final whistle goes, they wander around the pitch crying, shaking their heads about how unlucky they are because they had so much possession. You think the Germans, or the Italians, or the Brazilians think they should have won because they were more willing than the other team? Like fuck, their only question is: why didn’t we win? And, the Scottish will go on losing because they remember that they were robbed, not the fact that they ‘aven’t got any skills and need to work on that.”
“Man, this stuff is close to your heart. You got any Scottish relatives?” said Eric.
But it wasn’t that: my time away had given me insights into my own people from the outside (I was talking about England too) and I reluctantly recognized a few errors.
I cared passionately. I wanted to help.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Expat Culture in Taiwan: Moaning the Taiwanese are unprofessional I
Other cultures do things differently; they have their own unique hypocricies. Stupid foreigner syndrome happens when you believe a foreign country is inherently more dishonest or stupid than another.
Another pet expat moan is that the Taiwanese are unprofessional.
After several years in Taiwan you begin to get over your alienation and spot the bullshit. It is then that you start to worry about striking up new conversations in the bar.
This particular new guy had seen the guys in the motorbike repair shops watching the stock channel - and had flipped through the cable and worked out there were about thirty channels with stock advice.
“Man it is crazy here, absolutely anyone is allowed to give stock information. Back home you have to have the training and the education, and people only trust the big banks, reputable companies,” he said on hearing Chris was a broker for a large western financial institution.
Chris was great. He was young but had a healthy cynicism to his occupation: “Man, that is bullshit, we are all con-artist in suits whose greatest achievement was to convince the people that there was some skill to what we are doing. We are mostly wrong; we talk up stocks when we shouldn’t; we ignore all the financial basics in favor of hype - Look at the dot.com bubble...Look at the employment situation: we get fired for performing badly all the time, but rehired by other firms.”
Said new guy stared at Chris lost for words because his 'you have been here too long' defence wasn't going to work: Chris had only been here a couple of years.
Chris disproved our theory that all new foreigners were stupid; gave us confidence to speak to new people. He excelled himself that evening:v“What is it you always say John? – Ah, yes...Now fuck off!”
Another pet expat moan is that the Taiwanese are unprofessional.
After several years in Taiwan you begin to get over your alienation and spot the bullshit. It is then that you start to worry about striking up new conversations in the bar.
This particular new guy had seen the guys in the motorbike repair shops watching the stock channel - and had flipped through the cable and worked out there were about thirty channels with stock advice.
“Man it is crazy here, absolutely anyone is allowed to give stock information. Back home you have to have the training and the education, and people only trust the big banks, reputable companies,” he said on hearing Chris was a broker for a large western financial institution.
Chris was great. He was young but had a healthy cynicism to his occupation: “Man, that is bullshit, we are all con-artist in suits whose greatest achievement was to convince the people that there was some skill to what we are doing. We are mostly wrong; we talk up stocks when we shouldn’t; we ignore all the financial basics in favor of hype - Look at the dot.com bubble...Look at the employment situation: we get fired for performing badly all the time, but rehired by other firms.”
Said new guy stared at Chris lost for words because his 'you have been here too long' defence wasn't going to work: Chris had only been here a couple of years.
Chris disproved our theory that all new foreigners were stupid; gave us confidence to speak to new people. He excelled himself that evening:v“What is it you always say John? – Ah, yes...Now fuck off!”
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Expat Culture in Taiwan: The 7/11 bar
The 7/11 was a major expat hangout in Taiwan.
Before i came to Taiwan I had actually had a reasonably well-paid job; time was precious so, after work, i hit the pub before getting the last train. In Taiwan convenience stores every hundred yards stocked full of beer that could be bought at anytime of night; guys who were trying to get by on as little money as possible; and nightlife that went until eight in the morning, meant things were done differently.
The first stage of the evening inevitably meant drinking beer from the convenience store in someone's apartment, and this could go on until two or three. Then they would have to have another beer at the convenience store next to the bar. Being used to drinking in the bar i continually pushed them to go in earlier.
"I think we have an appointment at the 7/11," replied Eric
"Guys...The bar...You promised..."
"We are still thirsty. You don't expect us to pay 200 NT for a beer do you?"
I had to admit beer in Asian bars was expensive compared to back home, but still: "It Friday night - If we go in at two it is so late. We will miss all the fun..."
They stared at me letting me know the holes in my argument: Even if we got in the bar at two we would indeed still be going at seven in the morning, and five hours was long time inside.
"The girls...The music..." I persisted.
"There are girls here," Pierre replied. This was also true: It wasn't only cheap foreigners who drank in the convenience store, almost all the locals also thought the beer was expensive in the bar, and so would supplement their evening's drinking with something cheap; there was quite a decent crowd gathered on the pavement. Anyway, as this place was just a few doors down from the bar you could hear the music and watch all the girls getting off their scooters and out of taxis.
"What do you want to drink," asked Eric seeing me deflate a little.
"A Taiwan beer you bastards," I replied taking up my place against the large glass window of the 7/11.
Before i came to Taiwan I had actually had a reasonably well-paid job; time was precious so, after work, i hit the pub before getting the last train. In Taiwan convenience stores every hundred yards stocked full of beer that could be bought at anytime of night; guys who were trying to get by on as little money as possible; and nightlife that went until eight in the morning, meant things were done differently.
The first stage of the evening inevitably meant drinking beer from the convenience store in someone's apartment, and this could go on until two or three. Then they would have to have another beer at the convenience store next to the bar. Being used to drinking in the bar i continually pushed them to go in earlier.
"I think we have an appointment at the 7/11," replied Eric
"Guys...The bar...You promised..."
"We are still thirsty. You don't expect us to pay 200 NT for a beer do you?"
I had to admit beer in Asian bars was expensive compared to back home, but still: "It Friday night - If we go in at two it is so late. We will miss all the fun..."
They stared at me letting me know the holes in my argument: Even if we got in the bar at two we would indeed still be going at seven in the morning, and five hours was long time inside.
"The girls...The music..." I persisted.
"There are girls here," Pierre replied. This was also true: It wasn't only cheap foreigners who drank in the convenience store, almost all the locals also thought the beer was expensive in the bar, and so would supplement their evening's drinking with something cheap; there was quite a decent crowd gathered on the pavement. Anyway, as this place was just a few doors down from the bar you could hear the music and watch all the girls getting off their scooters and out of taxis.
"What do you want to drink," asked Eric seeing me deflate a little.
"A Taiwan beer you bastards," I replied taking up my place against the large glass window of the 7/11.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
