Living in a society where they are treated as the lesser sex, Taiwanese women have some wonderful ways of defining themselves as the victim.
The wife came back from KTV at 4.30 in the morning drunk and determined not to wake me up. “I was out with Helen tonight. She told me something, but you mustn’t tell anyone,” she said.
“Go on!” I was impatient because this ‘I have to be sure you won’t tell before I tell you’ stage was so pointless: If I said, ‘I am going to get on the phone to Helen and tell her everything the moment you have finished’ she would wait five minutes and blurt it out anyway.
“She fucked her friend’s husband. She tells me everything you know.”
“She is a naughty girl, eh.”
“No, don’t say that - She is our friend.”
“I know. However, she is the secret girlfriend of a guy who has been engaged for three years and now -”
“That guy wanted it you know. What could she do?”
“Now you put it like that I see the logic – Just a moment. Now I am awake pass me the phone. I need to call Helen to get round here and fuck me. She is a nice girl and I want so she couldn’t possibly say no. In fact she is bringing herself closer to heaven with her generous act.”
I paused for a moment. “So you would do that?”
“Of course not! Hey, by the way, she loves that guy. You know it is not easy for Taiwanese girls.”
Yes, indeed, it wasn’t easily for some Taiwanese girls. Still two wrongs don’t make a right, I thought.
“Maybe,” I replied. “But you do have one thing going for you - the ability to absolve yourself of all responsibility so easily.”
Showing posts with label Taiwan women. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Taiwan women. Show all posts
Monday, August 24, 2009
Friday, July 17, 2009
Taiwan lifestyle: Going to the Filipino disco to get an Indonesian
Sundays in Taiwan were usually a haze of hung over self-reflection and rest, starting at two or three in the afternoon – The disco in Taipei ended at eight in the morning meaning you were either there until the end desperately trying to pick up or you had done…Either way, you were getting up late – but this week was different. John had stayed in on the saturday night desperately trying to arrange a romantic date to offset the loneliness from knowing he had been in Taiwan three years.
The date had back fired and now he was insisting we had to go with him to the Filipino disco on the Sunday afternoon.
“Come on, we are taking you to the Filipino disco to get an Indonesian,” said John.
If you hadn’t been successful on the Friday or Saturday, then there was still a chance on a Sunday. John had first discovered the Sunday afternoon Filipino disco concept by accident in Hong Kong a few years ago - After going to Neptunes in Wanchai at the normal time and taking a girl to a hotel, he had been racked by guilt and agreed to her request to meet her back at the same disco at three p.m. the following afternoon. The request to meet her inside bothered him, but he dismissed it as assuming she meant outside - both were unfamiliar to Hong Kong and language was a problem so why not choose a place they knew, he rationalized. It took a while to convince himself, but after standing outside for 20 minutes he accepted that the place was open, perhaps as a restaurant during the day – and besides it was hot on the street and he was getting a lot of strange stares so he decided to go down for ten minutes. It was not pleasant inside...
The Chinese girls like us in Taiwan, so he hadn't thought about whether the equivalent existed here. Then about a couple of months ago Matt (the whore accountant) had knocked on his door to inform him he had found a ‘great disco’ and ‘would he like to see what he had met there?’ “Amy, turn around once, please. Man, it like being with a whore again,” had said a proud Matt, a tear in his eye.
The disco was in the old part of town near the combat zone. We checked nobody we knew was around and then bolted down the stairs, before finding a table.
“It is a little lowlife,” said Eric for all of us. Our sensibilities were being assaulted by the sight of so many dark-skinned middle-aged women happily dancing away to Filipino techno music; women who you only normally saw in the street or in the park pushing 90 year-old pyjama-wearing Taiwanese people with drips and oxygen masks around in wheel chairs; worried faces for very good reason that their charge might croak at any minute and they would be blamed.
Just to clarify, said Eric. “On our part, that is! We are the lowlife.”
John spoke, “Boys, this is easy compared to Hong Kong. First time I went down those stairs out of the light and saw a packed disco of big fat old lairily grinning white foreigners in rugby shirts, dancing badly with the girls who were still there from the night before because they hadn’t scored yet, I had to summon all my reserves of scuzziness to hang around. Here there are not many foreigners - besides Matt of course. Give yourself a couple of minutes to get over the acute embarrassment and self-loathing at your own sadness and you should be able to get yourself something good.”
“Why is it the Filipino disco? Surely it should be the Indonesian disco,” asked Eric, hoping he could get a serious discussion topic going, and thus ignore where he was.
“Filipinos are the pioneers of the Sunday afternoon disco…” John started to explain.
His point was two-fold: all maids used to Filipino before, and, Filipinos are the blacks of Asia known for their laid back, outgoing nature and love of music and dance (a brief look at the traditional culture of surrounding countries and it is easy to see why) Because of this Filipinos have cornered the ‘Live Band’ market – in Shanghai, Hong Kong, all over Japan and in Taiwan pubs proudly display signs for ‘Filipino Live Band’, because it will bring in the punters like a picture of a blonde white guy outside your English school. Now, popular culture means everyone can sing and dance and the majority of maids are Indonesian because they are supposed to be more conservative, but “…still any shifting of the feet on the Lord’s day of rest in Asia will be affectionately referred to by its flipper heritage. Now, go and get something.”
Matt had just arrived with exactly what you would expect him to on his arm. “I have been with her for a while now. I like her,” mused Matt. That could have been the end, a sufficient reason for his going out with her, but once what he had considered what he had said his expression changed to I’m sorry, that is not a very good explanation and he felt compelled to continue, “She is low maintenance – only has Sunday off – she’ll clean my apartment and bring me food. If I come here with her, she’ll only want one drink…Oh, and I have to buy her a phone card once every two weeks. That is acceptable for a girlfriend I think?” He was genuinely concerned to get confirmation on the last part.
“So I am bored, give me today’s history lesson. I can see you have something to say, and I doubt it is a good joke you heard,” said John to Eric. He wasn’t going to go to the dance floor, because he knew we would disappear home at the first chance of seeing him not looking or busy. Eric always tried desperately to educate us all about Taiwan’s history.
“Man, I bought this book last week…You know it is bullshit that Taiwan has always been a part of China. A brief history goes like this. Up until the 1600’s the island was populated by people of Malay and Polynesian descent, the aboriginals, then the Dutch took the island briefly, but were driven out by a small Ming dynasty army, which had fled the mainland because the Ming had been defeated by the Ching – much like Chiang Kai-Shek and the commies. The Ching came then to defeat the Ming, but did not occupy or annex Taiwan, because they were not really interested in the island, just getting rid of the remnants of the Ming. Over the next 200 years, Chinese from Fukkien province emigrated to Taiwan because of starvation. They weren’t sent by the Chinese government but had come seeking opportunities much like the Europeans going to the new world. And they inter bred with the aboriginals.
In 1887 the China government formally declared Taiwan part of its territory for no other reason than they expected Japan to annex it, and they wanted to stop Japanese expansion. Eight years later they lost the Sino-Japanese war and signed Taiwan over to the Japanese forever. Up until then the Taiwanese had been living in a state of de-facto independence for 200 hundred years and, when they knew they were going to be given to the Japanese, they declared the Republic of Taiwan; so, for a long time they have had a sense of national identity.”
Josh: “And where did you get this information from? I don’t think from KMT or Chinese Communist Party sources.”
“Of course! You have to search hard for the suppressed truth.” Perversely, Eric’s support for Taiwanese independence was as strong as his hatred of people who like to practice their English.
“But they were whipped by the Japanese? – When they tried to declare independence.” John only liked to deal in hard cynical facts.
“Brutally and swiftly! Yes, of course, but that is not the point, anyway…Taiwan was only ever a part of China for 8 years is the point. Josh, you are an immigrant, too. Your ancestors moved to a new land to give themselves a chance.”
“Didn’t the Taiwanese butcher the native population? I have no sympathy until they redress this injustice,” said Josh.
“Native populations get wiped out. Look at our own countries. Anyway, the government is trying to do something.”
“And I don’t live in Canada in protest. Next time tell us about what the government is doing for the aboriginals then we might listen to your claims of Taiwanese moral superiority.” John and Pierre were realists but they nodded anyway because they knew it made Eric angry!
I was feeling uneasy for another reason. There had been a sizeable earthquake a few week ago and the paranoia hadn't settled down yet. “I feel uncomfortable here – if the big one comes my soul ain’t gonna rest easy knowing my crushed body was dragged from the rubble of the Sunday Afternoon Flipper Disco,” I sighed. "I mean, presumably, getting dragged broken and bleeding from the night-time disco next to a girl in a mini wouldn't be fantastic, but at least i would be going out next to something young and hot. This...Hmm...Ah...This is just a little above being found in the ruins of a whorehouse.
“I ‘ave set up an immigration agency to advise on emigrating to, or studying in France. I know it will succeed! As a side business!” announced Pierre, with another business idea and not wanting to be left out.
“What the fuck do you know about emigrating to France?” John pointing out the obvious.
“Not a bad idea, man, but I think this is already a competitive market with sophisticated structures in place. You need to generate a lot of contacts in France. Meet some lawyers there. It is going to take a while and a lot of money to establish a credible brand name, but an interesting challenge.” John and Eric frowned having no idea why Josh bothered to consider Pierre's ideas.
‘Anyway!’ dismissed Pierre his expression asking John and Eric why Josh had to couch business in such bullshit ways when it was simple. “I have already figured it all out. I already have a friend of mine going to all the other agencies, pretending to be interested in immigrating. Once I know the procedures and costs I under cut them. I cannot afford advertising, but I have my contacts at the French school and I will keep it small. Let the word of mouth of what I am doing spread. You know I don’t mind talking to people…You know what the real fuckin’ clincher is – I am really sending them to England, but going via France because it is easier to get in.” Of course, nobody else had actually thought of this.
“Sounds a bit like a foreigner job to me,” spat out John who was in a bad mood. "After teacher it is a few small steps to agency for sending students to your country, and then helping Taiwanese emigrate. You aren't even stretching the sides of the cultural straight jacket."
“Not at all. Most companies in this industry are Taiwanese and I am not telling people I can do this, or you should work with because I am a foreigner. I go to them and say, “me being a foreigner offers you nothing, but I am offering you a better deal as a person. It is better for you to work with me.” Nauseated we all turned around to try and take our attention off, what Pierre said.
“You want to sit here?” said the pretty Filipino at the next table to John. There were still a few left in the Filipino disco.
“You are not with those guys?” he asked because they were large Africans.
“No, they are bastards. I hate Indians and Africans, coming here trying to pick us up. What do they think they are?" she said. "Hey. It is unusual to see white guys here. I bet you have a Taiwan girlfriend, don’t you? Why you like the Taiwan girl?”
Coming here hadn’t worked out how she had expected – her cousin had got married to an Australian she met in Hong Kong and she had expected something similar; she had been told Chinese girls didn’t like white men, but this was Taipei not Hong Kong. Everyday she did a shit, menial job for Taiwanese and then at the weekend, she had her 2nd class status shoved in her face again, having to spend it getting hit on by huge Africans in white suits and sneakers who could dance or middle-aged married Indian businessmen who couldn’t. And, the worse of it all was she was a passionate colorful Filipino, so how could the westerners prefer dull Chinese girls?
"Don't worry, we invented most of the world's sports but we are crap at them now," said John.
"What?" she replied. Then going back to her original subject. “I always want to go Hong Kong.”
“There at least you could have been taken the piss out of and used by guys worth being exploited by eh?”
“What?”
“Nothing…Anyway, would you like to go to a hotel?”
The date had back fired and now he was insisting we had to go with him to the Filipino disco on the Sunday afternoon.
“Come on, we are taking you to the Filipino disco to get an Indonesian,” said John.
If you hadn’t been successful on the Friday or Saturday, then there was still a chance on a Sunday. John had first discovered the Sunday afternoon Filipino disco concept by accident in Hong Kong a few years ago - After going to Neptunes in Wanchai at the normal time and taking a girl to a hotel, he had been racked by guilt and agreed to her request to meet her back at the same disco at three p.m. the following afternoon. The request to meet her inside bothered him, but he dismissed it as assuming she meant outside - both were unfamiliar to Hong Kong and language was a problem so why not choose a place they knew, he rationalized. It took a while to convince himself, but after standing outside for 20 minutes he accepted that the place was open, perhaps as a restaurant during the day – and besides it was hot on the street and he was getting a lot of strange stares so he decided to go down for ten minutes. It was not pleasant inside...
The Chinese girls like us in Taiwan, so he hadn't thought about whether the equivalent existed here. Then about a couple of months ago Matt (the whore accountant) had knocked on his door to inform him he had found a ‘great disco’ and ‘would he like to see what he had met there?’ “Amy, turn around once, please. Man, it like being with a whore again,” had said a proud Matt, a tear in his eye.
The disco was in the old part of town near the combat zone. We checked nobody we knew was around and then bolted down the stairs, before finding a table.
“It is a little lowlife,” said Eric for all of us. Our sensibilities were being assaulted by the sight of so many dark-skinned middle-aged women happily dancing away to Filipino techno music; women who you only normally saw in the street or in the park pushing 90 year-old pyjama-wearing Taiwanese people with drips and oxygen masks around in wheel chairs; worried faces for very good reason that their charge might croak at any minute and they would be blamed.
Just to clarify, said Eric. “On our part, that is! We are the lowlife.”
John spoke, “Boys, this is easy compared to Hong Kong. First time I went down those stairs out of the light and saw a packed disco of big fat old lairily grinning white foreigners in rugby shirts, dancing badly with the girls who were still there from the night before because they hadn’t scored yet, I had to summon all my reserves of scuzziness to hang around. Here there are not many foreigners - besides Matt of course. Give yourself a couple of minutes to get over the acute embarrassment and self-loathing at your own sadness and you should be able to get yourself something good.”
“Why is it the Filipino disco? Surely it should be the Indonesian disco,” asked Eric, hoping he could get a serious discussion topic going, and thus ignore where he was.
“Filipinos are the pioneers of the Sunday afternoon disco…” John started to explain.
His point was two-fold: all maids used to Filipino before, and, Filipinos are the blacks of Asia known for their laid back, outgoing nature and love of music and dance (a brief look at the traditional culture of surrounding countries and it is easy to see why) Because of this Filipinos have cornered the ‘Live Band’ market – in Shanghai, Hong Kong, all over Japan and in Taiwan pubs proudly display signs for ‘Filipino Live Band’, because it will bring in the punters like a picture of a blonde white guy outside your English school. Now, popular culture means everyone can sing and dance and the majority of maids are Indonesian because they are supposed to be more conservative, but “…still any shifting of the feet on the Lord’s day of rest in Asia will be affectionately referred to by its flipper heritage. Now, go and get something.”
Matt had just arrived with exactly what you would expect him to on his arm. “I have been with her for a while now. I like her,” mused Matt. That could have been the end, a sufficient reason for his going out with her, but once what he had considered what he had said his expression changed to I’m sorry, that is not a very good explanation and he felt compelled to continue, “She is low maintenance – only has Sunday off – she’ll clean my apartment and bring me food. If I come here with her, she’ll only want one drink…Oh, and I have to buy her a phone card once every two weeks. That is acceptable for a girlfriend I think?” He was genuinely concerned to get confirmation on the last part.
“So I am bored, give me today’s history lesson. I can see you have something to say, and I doubt it is a good joke you heard,” said John to Eric. He wasn’t going to go to the dance floor, because he knew we would disappear home at the first chance of seeing him not looking or busy. Eric always tried desperately to educate us all about Taiwan’s history.
“Man, I bought this book last week…You know it is bullshit that Taiwan has always been a part of China. A brief history goes like this. Up until the 1600’s the island was populated by people of Malay and Polynesian descent, the aboriginals, then the Dutch took the island briefly, but were driven out by a small Ming dynasty army, which had fled the mainland because the Ming had been defeated by the Ching – much like Chiang Kai-Shek and the commies. The Ching came then to defeat the Ming, but did not occupy or annex Taiwan, because they were not really interested in the island, just getting rid of the remnants of the Ming. Over the next 200 years, Chinese from Fukkien province emigrated to Taiwan because of starvation. They weren’t sent by the Chinese government but had come seeking opportunities much like the Europeans going to the new world. And they inter bred with the aboriginals.
In 1887 the China government formally declared Taiwan part of its territory for no other reason than they expected Japan to annex it, and they wanted to stop Japanese expansion. Eight years later they lost the Sino-Japanese war and signed Taiwan over to the Japanese forever. Up until then the Taiwanese had been living in a state of de-facto independence for 200 hundred years and, when they knew they were going to be given to the Japanese, they declared the Republic of Taiwan; so, for a long time they have had a sense of national identity.”
Josh: “And where did you get this information from? I don’t think from KMT or Chinese Communist Party sources.”
“Of course! You have to search hard for the suppressed truth.” Perversely, Eric’s support for Taiwanese independence was as strong as his hatred of people who like to practice their English.
“But they were whipped by the Japanese? – When they tried to declare independence.” John only liked to deal in hard cynical facts.
“Brutally and swiftly! Yes, of course, but that is not the point, anyway…Taiwan was only ever a part of China for 8 years is the point. Josh, you are an immigrant, too. Your ancestors moved to a new land to give themselves a chance.”
“Didn’t the Taiwanese butcher the native population? I have no sympathy until they redress this injustice,” said Josh.
“Native populations get wiped out. Look at our own countries. Anyway, the government is trying to do something.”
“And I don’t live in Canada in protest. Next time tell us about what the government is doing for the aboriginals then we might listen to your claims of Taiwanese moral superiority.” John and Pierre were realists but they nodded anyway because they knew it made Eric angry!
I was feeling uneasy for another reason. There had been a sizeable earthquake a few week ago and the paranoia hadn't settled down yet. “I feel uncomfortable here – if the big one comes my soul ain’t gonna rest easy knowing my crushed body was dragged from the rubble of the Sunday Afternoon Flipper Disco,” I sighed. "I mean, presumably, getting dragged broken and bleeding from the night-time disco next to a girl in a mini wouldn't be fantastic, but at least i would be going out next to something young and hot. This...Hmm...Ah...This is just a little above being found in the ruins of a whorehouse.
“I ‘ave set up an immigration agency to advise on emigrating to, or studying in France. I know it will succeed! As a side business!” announced Pierre, with another business idea and not wanting to be left out.
“What the fuck do you know about emigrating to France?” John pointing out the obvious.
“Not a bad idea, man, but I think this is already a competitive market with sophisticated structures in place. You need to generate a lot of contacts in France. Meet some lawyers there. It is going to take a while and a lot of money to establish a credible brand name, but an interesting challenge.” John and Eric frowned having no idea why Josh bothered to consider Pierre's ideas.
‘Anyway!’ dismissed Pierre his expression asking John and Eric why Josh had to couch business in such bullshit ways when it was simple. “I have already figured it all out. I already have a friend of mine going to all the other agencies, pretending to be interested in immigrating. Once I know the procedures and costs I under cut them. I cannot afford advertising, but I have my contacts at the French school and I will keep it small. Let the word of mouth of what I am doing spread. You know I don’t mind talking to people…You know what the real fuckin’ clincher is – I am really sending them to England, but going via France because it is easier to get in.” Of course, nobody else had actually thought of this.
“Sounds a bit like a foreigner job to me,” spat out John who was in a bad mood. "After teacher it is a few small steps to agency for sending students to your country, and then helping Taiwanese emigrate. You aren't even stretching the sides of the cultural straight jacket."
“Not at all. Most companies in this industry are Taiwanese and I am not telling people I can do this, or you should work with because I am a foreigner. I go to them and say, “me being a foreigner offers you nothing, but I am offering you a better deal as a person. It is better for you to work with me.” Nauseated we all turned around to try and take our attention off, what Pierre said.
“You want to sit here?” said the pretty Filipino at the next table to John. There were still a few left in the Filipino disco.
“You are not with those guys?” he asked because they were large Africans.
“No, they are bastards. I hate Indians and Africans, coming here trying to pick us up. What do they think they are?" she said. "Hey. It is unusual to see white guys here. I bet you have a Taiwan girlfriend, don’t you? Why you like the Taiwan girl?”
Coming here hadn’t worked out how she had expected – her cousin had got married to an Australian she met in Hong Kong and she had expected something similar; she had been told Chinese girls didn’t like white men, but this was Taipei not Hong Kong. Everyday she did a shit, menial job for Taiwanese and then at the weekend, she had her 2nd class status shoved in her face again, having to spend it getting hit on by huge Africans in white suits and sneakers who could dance or middle-aged married Indian businessmen who couldn’t. And, the worse of it all was she was a passionate colorful Filipino, so how could the westerners prefer dull Chinese girls?
"Don't worry, we invented most of the world's sports but we are crap at them now," said John.
"What?" she replied. Then going back to her original subject. “I always want to go Hong Kong.”
“There at least you could have been taken the piss out of and used by guys worth being exploited by eh?”
“What?”
“Nothing…Anyway, would you like to go to a hotel?”
Taiwan dating: Top 10 list of things to say and do to charm a Taiwanese girl
John’s list of Top Ten Ways to be Romantic, Charm the Pants off a Taiwanese Girl and Get Her in the Mood:
1. Get here to take you to where she lived when she was young.
2. Get her to show you all her old schools.
3. Tell her repeatedly you bet she is a good daughter/friend/mother.
4. Ask to see any awards she received as a student.
5. Tell her you are sure she works extremely hard in school/for her company.
6. Ask her to show you where her company is.
7. Tell her she will make it to America to study one day – and she will thrive there.
8. Ask to see pictures of her family. When she says she isn’t carrying any, insist she brings some next time.
9. Show her pictures of yours, especially anything of child age that will get her broody.
10. Take them for coffee or to a bookshop, even better coffee in a bookshop.
Finally with her swooning and dreamy from having her Taiwanese buttons pressed, he would say: “You know you don’t really behave like a Taiwanese person” and she would get excited and ask “Why not?” and he would reply, “The things you like to do, I suppose. An attitude. You are more open and unpredictable. I don’t know.”
“John knew it was different, but he was used to it now. He didn’t mind being the teacher; it was kind of old-fashioned and sweet, igniting those me man, you woman instincts which were not exactly buried very deep anyway. And, most importantly, it kept his alcohol consumption down.
He stopped his scooter by the side of the road to pick up Phoebe. "So what would you like to do?"
"Hmm, no plan."
"Ok. Maybe, you can show me where you lived when you were young?"
Really...But it is in Taipei County. Quite far,” answered Phoebe.
"I am fine," said John.
She put on the helmet and got on the back of his scooter. “Maybe, we can also pass by my old elementary school. It is on the way.”
“I would love to. Let’s get going, it should be a long day…”
1. Get here to take you to where she lived when she was young.
2. Get her to show you all her old schools.
3. Tell her repeatedly you bet she is a good daughter/friend/mother.
4. Ask to see any awards she received as a student.
5. Tell her you are sure she works extremely hard in school/for her company.
6. Ask her to show you where her company is.
7. Tell her she will make it to America to study one day – and she will thrive there.
8. Ask to see pictures of her family. When she says she isn’t carrying any, insist she brings some next time.
9. Show her pictures of yours, especially anything of child age that will get her broody.
10. Take them for coffee or to a bookshop, even better coffee in a bookshop.
Finally with her swooning and dreamy from having her Taiwanese buttons pressed, he would say: “You know you don’t really behave like a Taiwanese person” and she would get excited and ask “Why not?” and he would reply, “The things you like to do, I suppose. An attitude. You are more open and unpredictable. I don’t know.”
“John knew it was different, but he was used to it now. He didn’t mind being the teacher; it was kind of old-fashioned and sweet, igniting those me man, you woman instincts which were not exactly buried very deep anyway. And, most importantly, it kept his alcohol consumption down.
He stopped his scooter by the side of the road to pick up Phoebe. "So what would you like to do?"
"Hmm, no plan."
"Ok. Maybe, you can show me where you lived when you were young?"
Really...But it is in Taipei County. Quite far,” answered Phoebe.
"I am fine," said John.
She put on the helmet and got on the back of his scooter. “Maybe, we can also pass by my old elementary school. It is on the way.”
“I would love to. Let’s get going, it should be a long day…”
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Taiwanese girls and close family relationships
Taiwanese women had very close relationships with their family - and sometimes that could translate itself in strange ways.
“Is this the bedroom?” I asked. It was five in the morning and I was dead drunk and tired with only the prospect of pathetic, meaningless, quick and unmemorable sex keeping me awake.
“Just a moment,” said Carol tapping on the bedroom door. “Ge ge, Ge ge (Older brother) are you asleep?”
Someone grunted from inside and she turned to me face lit up. “Wow, my brother is home. You can meet him.” I was thinking this wasn’t an absolute necessity, but remembering I was drunk, and could be overly rude and impatient in that state, decided not to complain.
We walked into the room and her brother finished up his sentence about not minding if ‘he was 15, I think we have so much to talk about’ in the chat room, and looked up from the computer screen: “Nice to meet you. Where are you from?” he said.
“Bristol, England.”
“Can you speak Chinese?”
“No! Sorry! Have you been to England?”
“No, Ireland.”
We then beamed polite warm smiles at each other and made small talk for what would have felt like forever – if I had the ability to feel - one of us determined not to be a rude host and the other not out done in the politeness stakes by a Taiwanese.
Carol finally ended the standoff. “Hey, lets go,” she said tugging my arm.
“I think your sis’ wants it…Sorry,” I said, thinking there was no point in me being embarrassed if she wasn’t.
I shook myself having almost forgotten why I was here.
Her brother stood up and started to give a slight bow while extending his hands. “Please. Go,” he said. “Nice talking to you.”
“And you mate,” I said while cracking my shoulder on the door frame.
We moved to her bedroom and she immediately got down on her knees and started unzipping my flies. “Isn’t he such a nice guy,” she said while looking up at me. “You know I really love my brother. My parents are not in Taiwan and so he looks after me….Like a father and a friend - I need to be driven somewhere or breakfast…”
Half an hour later she was still going on about her brother: how he had comforted her when he had had a pregnancy scare… I didn’t mind listening to this sort of thing - the alternative was to leave Taiwan - but there was a time and a place: like on the date, or when you have switched to post-coital daydream mode and are busy taking that special, precious moment that only two can share, comparing it to all that have gone before, replaying match highlights and wondering what the experience would have been like if she had bigger breasts, slimmer ass or so-and-so’s face. However, she had started on this rich vein of expression while she was unzipping my pants, it had then proceeded to upset her oral rhythm, and even now, even though she had to turn her head to speak to me, saw no sign of abating.
“I like him too,” I said. “Do you think you could save up all those wonderful thoughts about your brother for the next hour or so - better still organize them so you don’t miss any when you tell me later…Ok?”
“You like him too,” she said now twisting around to look at me; so much I thought she would flip onto her back. “I am in a good mood, now.”
“Excellent. Plan your speech.”
…
A knock at the door a few hours later: “Wow, my brother has got some breakfast for us. Isn’t he nice?”
“Fuckin’ star,” I replied not happy to be woken up.
“Hah, I have to get up soon. I am going to Canada to visit my parents for a few months. You want to come to the airport with me? - My brother is driving.”
“I thought he might be.”
She saw I was looking reluctant. “Don’t worry. Stay here and sleep. You can talk to my brother when he gets back.”
“I know - he is an interesting, guy,” I said, thinking that perhaps I will have disappeared before the brother got back.
God, Taiwan was a wonderful place.
“Is this the bedroom?” I asked. It was five in the morning and I was dead drunk and tired with only the prospect of pathetic, meaningless, quick and unmemorable sex keeping me awake.
“Just a moment,” said Carol tapping on the bedroom door. “Ge ge, Ge ge (Older brother) are you asleep?”
Someone grunted from inside and she turned to me face lit up. “Wow, my brother is home. You can meet him.” I was thinking this wasn’t an absolute necessity, but remembering I was drunk, and could be overly rude and impatient in that state, decided not to complain.
We walked into the room and her brother finished up his sentence about not minding if ‘he was 15, I think we have so much to talk about’ in the chat room, and looked up from the computer screen: “Nice to meet you. Where are you from?” he said.
“Bristol, England.”
“Can you speak Chinese?”
“No! Sorry! Have you been to England?”
“No, Ireland.”
We then beamed polite warm smiles at each other and made small talk for what would have felt like forever – if I had the ability to feel - one of us determined not to be a rude host and the other not out done in the politeness stakes by a Taiwanese.
Carol finally ended the standoff. “Hey, lets go,” she said tugging my arm.
“I think your sis’ wants it…Sorry,” I said, thinking there was no point in me being embarrassed if she wasn’t.
I shook myself having almost forgotten why I was here.
Her brother stood up and started to give a slight bow while extending his hands. “Please. Go,” he said. “Nice talking to you.”
“And you mate,” I said while cracking my shoulder on the door frame.
We moved to her bedroom and she immediately got down on her knees and started unzipping my flies. “Isn’t he such a nice guy,” she said while looking up at me. “You know I really love my brother. My parents are not in Taiwan and so he looks after me….Like a father and a friend - I need to be driven somewhere or breakfast…”
Half an hour later she was still going on about her brother: how he had comforted her when he had had a pregnancy scare… I didn’t mind listening to this sort of thing - the alternative was to leave Taiwan - but there was a time and a place: like on the date, or when you have switched to post-coital daydream mode and are busy taking that special, precious moment that only two can share, comparing it to all that have gone before, replaying match highlights and wondering what the experience would have been like if she had bigger breasts, slimmer ass or so-and-so’s face. However, she had started on this rich vein of expression while she was unzipping my pants, it had then proceeded to upset her oral rhythm, and even now, even though she had to turn her head to speak to me, saw no sign of abating.
“I like him too,” I said. “Do you think you could save up all those wonderful thoughts about your brother for the next hour or so - better still organize them so you don’t miss any when you tell me later…Ok?”
“You like him too,” she said now twisting around to look at me; so much I thought she would flip onto her back. “I am in a good mood, now.”
“Excellent. Plan your speech.”
…
A knock at the door a few hours later: “Wow, my brother has got some breakfast for us. Isn’t he nice?”
“Fuckin’ star,” I replied not happy to be woken up.
“Hah, I have to get up soon. I am going to Canada to visit my parents for a few months. You want to come to the airport with me? - My brother is driving.”
“I thought he might be.”
She saw I was looking reluctant. “Don’t worry. Stay here and sleep. You can talk to my brother when he gets back.”
“I know - he is an interesting, guy,” I said, thinking that perhaps I will have disappeared before the brother got back.
God, Taiwan was a wonderful place.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Taiwan culture: Communication Taiwan-style
I once had a Taiwanese male room-mate. At the time I was having problems communicating with a Taiwanese girlfriend - She just stayed in every evening watching TV and wouldn't go out. I tried compromising but she wasn't having anything so I asked my room-mate what to do.
He replied: 'Just take the plug off the TV - Show her that you are serious.’
It sounded so childish, but still I tried it. We fought standing over the plug for an hour and then I gave up, let her watch the TV. I went back to the guy and said it hadn’t worked.
To which he replied, 'Then you haven't found the problem. Why is she watching the TV?’
I replied, ‘I don’t know. She won’t tell me.’
To which he replied, ‘Of course, she is too polite to tell you. You have to work it out.’
I thought about the fact that we weren't actually getting along and I was aware of it.
'I don't think she is interested in me," I said to the room-mate. 'But i mentioned to her before if she was not happy we could break up.'
He stared at me disdainfully.
I continued, 'Okay...Um...Yes, I know what you mean - the signs are there: she is being passive-aggressive...but still it means I have to unilaterally identity problems, and take action on it. What if I am wrong?'
'Welcome to Taiwan,' he replied.
He replied: 'Just take the plug off the TV - Show her that you are serious.’
It sounded so childish, but still I tried it. We fought standing over the plug for an hour and then I gave up, let her watch the TV. I went back to the guy and said it hadn’t worked.
To which he replied, 'Then you haven't found the problem. Why is she watching the TV?’
I replied, ‘I don’t know. She won’t tell me.’
To which he replied, ‘Of course, she is too polite to tell you. You have to work it out.’
I thought about the fact that we weren't actually getting along and I was aware of it.
'I don't think she is interested in me," I said to the room-mate. 'But i mentioned to her before if she was not happy we could break up.'
He stared at me disdainfully.
I continued, 'Okay...Um...Yes, I know what you mean - the signs are there: she is being passive-aggressive...but still it means I have to unilaterally identity problems, and take action on it. What if I am wrong?'
'Welcome to Taiwan,' he replied.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Taiwan culture shock: It is hard being the superior sex III
Eric looked at Diane through the steam coming off the pot in the middle of the table. They were at a Korean barbeque -- Eat as much as you want. Eric was getting ready to be the superior sex.
It would be appropriate for his final memory of her to be in one of these restaurants because they had been to so many. At the back of the restaurant in refrigerators were trays of soft shell crabs, prawns, clams, squid; every kind of meat, blood pudding, tofu, dumplings, and vegetables which you went to collect and then either cooked in the pot in the middle of your table or on the grill surrounding the pot. Finally you dipped it in a mixture of barbeque sauce, spring onion, garlic, chilies, soy and egg white – which you stirred together.
“You are not eating too much tonight?” said Diane.
“I am taking it slow.”
Eric then put a couple more pieces of squid and bacon on the grill around the pot.
Diane certainly could eat. Experience had told him if you wanted your money’s worth you stuck to grilling because one mouthful of the soup kicked in the sleep fuse for an overloaded stomach. Not her, she drank the soup - which after an hour or so of vegetables, blood pudding, meat and seafood giving up their fat and nutrition to its saturated molecules could solve world famine – like she had a desert thirst.
They had been together for eight months now, but he was going to finish with her tonight. He should have finished with her a couple of weeks ago because he had started to date another girl, an introduction from John. Emily was stunning; beautiful and it seemed she wanted to be his girlfriend. He really couldn’t turn down that opportunity: That is why he had come to Taiwan.
He wondered why he was feeling so bad, considering he had never expected to marry Diane. He still planned to be out of Taiwan in now just over a year and he was young. It had been a relationship of convenience, and he had made that all clear. Suddenly, he couldn’t think of a reason why didn’t he just continue with her until he left Taiwan. She had done nothing wrong after all, apart from not being fantastically attractive. I am not a fucking jock. He looked back on days when he didn’t have to make those decisions.
“Are you finished?” That was a drawback of her eating skills, he thought, they had been in the restaurant for almost three hours. But he had to let her have her way today.
“Let’s go for a walk,” he said as they left the restaurant. He had brought her to this restaurant because he knew there was a community park one lane over. Somewhere neutral they could talk.
He found a bench as far away from the old men still playing Mahjong as possible.
“Diane, I am sorry. I think we should break up. I will leave in a while and I don’t want you to get too attached.”
She sat silent for what seemed like hours to Eric.
Presumably she doesn’t have to answer, he thought, but I don’t know I can just walk off.
“I would like us to remain friends. I should walk you back to your scooter….Sorry,” said Eric slapping his leg; regretting wearing shorts as there were a lot of mosquitoes in the park. “Nothing…” He wanted to say, “I always get bitten easily” but personal anecdotes were not appropriate.
“Wait. This is the shock. I need some time to think about this.”
He held back from telling her he didn’t need her approval.
“I know you don’t love me. If you wait until you leave I will be sad, but I can accept it - I know you are the American. Now it hurts because you finish with me for no reason. I don’t like to be finished with. I do nothing wrong.”
“What can I say? I am sorry.” Eric didn’t understand most of that, and was afraid to get an explanation he didn’t like.
“I get dumped, and what about my face. You have met my family and friends now.”
Why are you making it easier for me? he thought. You are giving me reasons to not feel guilty.
“I thought I was your English teacher?” he replied.
“You know the Taiwan family. They just call you that. They really know.”
“I don’t think they will feel so bad. Anyway, this is not a discussion, and I hope you can leave me with a good impression of you.”
They arrived and after a couple of minutes of standing around, she headed to her scooter.
“Hey…I’m sorry. I’ll give you a call,”
God, it was so crass and Neanderthal being a stud, he thought. He walked off thinking about how hard that had all been. How he really didn’t have the energy to do it again. How he wasn’t cut out to play the field. If he wasn’t going to do it again, then it had been pointless to do it this once. Diane was a nice girl, and this new girl was uncharted territory. Maybe, he should just call Diane back in the morning and say he had made a mistake. He would sleep on it.
It would be appropriate for his final memory of her to be in one of these restaurants because they had been to so many. At the back of the restaurant in refrigerators were trays of soft shell crabs, prawns, clams, squid; every kind of meat, blood pudding, tofu, dumplings, and vegetables which you went to collect and then either cooked in the pot in the middle of your table or on the grill surrounding the pot. Finally you dipped it in a mixture of barbeque sauce, spring onion, garlic, chilies, soy and egg white – which you stirred together.
“You are not eating too much tonight?” said Diane.
“I am taking it slow.”
Eric then put a couple more pieces of squid and bacon on the grill around the pot.
Diane certainly could eat. Experience had told him if you wanted your money’s worth you stuck to grilling because one mouthful of the soup kicked in the sleep fuse for an overloaded stomach. Not her, she drank the soup - which after an hour or so of vegetables, blood pudding, meat and seafood giving up their fat and nutrition to its saturated molecules could solve world famine – like she had a desert thirst.
They had been together for eight months now, but he was going to finish with her tonight. He should have finished with her a couple of weeks ago because he had started to date another girl, an introduction from John. Emily was stunning; beautiful and it seemed she wanted to be his girlfriend. He really couldn’t turn down that opportunity: That is why he had come to Taiwan.
He wondered why he was feeling so bad, considering he had never expected to marry Diane. He still planned to be out of Taiwan in now just over a year and he was young. It had been a relationship of convenience, and he had made that all clear. Suddenly, he couldn’t think of a reason why didn’t he just continue with her until he left Taiwan. She had done nothing wrong after all, apart from not being fantastically attractive. I am not a fucking jock. He looked back on days when he didn’t have to make those decisions.
“Are you finished?” That was a drawback of her eating skills, he thought, they had been in the restaurant for almost three hours. But he had to let her have her way today.
“Let’s go for a walk,” he said as they left the restaurant. He had brought her to this restaurant because he knew there was a community park one lane over. Somewhere neutral they could talk.
He found a bench as far away from the old men still playing Mahjong as possible.
“Diane, I am sorry. I think we should break up. I will leave in a while and I don’t want you to get too attached.”
She sat silent for what seemed like hours to Eric.
Presumably she doesn’t have to answer, he thought, but I don’t know I can just walk off.
“I would like us to remain friends. I should walk you back to your scooter….Sorry,” said Eric slapping his leg; regretting wearing shorts as there were a lot of mosquitoes in the park. “Nothing…” He wanted to say, “I always get bitten easily” but personal anecdotes were not appropriate.
“Wait. This is the shock. I need some time to think about this.”
He held back from telling her he didn’t need her approval.
“I know you don’t love me. If you wait until you leave I will be sad, but I can accept it - I know you are the American. Now it hurts because you finish with me for no reason. I don’t like to be finished with. I do nothing wrong.”
“What can I say? I am sorry.” Eric didn’t understand most of that, and was afraid to get an explanation he didn’t like.
“I get dumped, and what about my face. You have met my family and friends now.”
Why are you making it easier for me? he thought. You are giving me reasons to not feel guilty.
“I thought I was your English teacher?” he replied.
“You know the Taiwan family. They just call you that. They really know.”
“I don’t think they will feel so bad. Anyway, this is not a discussion, and I hope you can leave me with a good impression of you.”
They arrived and after a couple of minutes of standing around, she headed to her scooter.
“Hey…I’m sorry. I’ll give you a call,”
God, it was so crass and Neanderthal being a stud, he thought. He walked off thinking about how hard that had all been. How he really didn’t have the energy to do it again. How he wasn’t cut out to play the field. If he wasn’t going to do it again, then it had been pointless to do it this once. Diane was a nice girl, and this new girl was uncharted territory. Maybe, he should just call Diane back in the morning and say he had made a mistake. He would sleep on it.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Taiwan culture shock: It is hard being the superior sex II
Being able to date above our league, the superior sex, unleashes fear and doubt in all of us which you have to get over. Eric particularly so - after a year he was still saying the same culture shock nonsense that we used to justify being with our first girlfriend.
He claimed to be interested in the women but had then kept his girlfriend, Diane, for one year.
Diane was maybe fifty-five kilos, a little over weight, but definitely not fat. She was one of the girlfriend/secretary combos that were popular when you first arrive. A big step up from what we are used to, but after a couple of months our sights would adjust and we would move on.
For these girls, picking a guy as he got off the plane was a high-risk strategy - not least because he was usually a moaning, sanctimonious, homesick prick - but sooner or later they would come across an unsure of himself simple boy from Ohio, they could make their own. Next week, I was going to the wedding of the secretary from my school and a good young All-American boy who’s trainers were still clean and shorts pressed. I reckoned he would be going to Eric’s wedding next.
Whenever, we attempted to introduce him, it was always the same thing.
“Hey, man! I ain’t falling for that get myself a young beautiful chick shit! Walk down the street with her proud, but have nothing to say,” he would reply.
"I don’t know why a woman can’t be beautiful and intelligent," I would say. "That is actually pretty sexist."
Eric hated the idea of being sexist, so he would immediately change tact: “Anyway, they will dump you soon. These beautiful ones cannot be trusted.”
"Your evidence for this? And you were planning to marry her?"
That evening Diane had also come to the bar with some friends.
"So bring her over," said John. "Let's be charmed by her intellect and conversation."
"Man, I ain't going to do that - I have to speak to her later to get sex."
He claimed to be interested in the women but had then kept his girlfriend, Diane, for one year.
Diane was maybe fifty-five kilos, a little over weight, but definitely not fat. She was one of the girlfriend/secretary combos that were popular when you first arrive. A big step up from what we are used to, but after a couple of months our sights would adjust and we would move on.
For these girls, picking a guy as he got off the plane was a high-risk strategy - not least because he was usually a moaning, sanctimonious, homesick prick - but sooner or later they would come across an unsure of himself simple boy from Ohio, they could make their own. Next week, I was going to the wedding of the secretary from my school and a good young All-American boy who’s trainers were still clean and shorts pressed. I reckoned he would be going to Eric’s wedding next.
Whenever, we attempted to introduce him, it was always the same thing.
“Hey, man! I ain’t falling for that get myself a young beautiful chick shit! Walk down the street with her proud, but have nothing to say,” he would reply.
"I don’t know why a woman can’t be beautiful and intelligent," I would say. "That is actually pretty sexist."
Eric hated the idea of being sexist, so he would immediately change tact: “Anyway, they will dump you soon. These beautiful ones cannot be trusted.”
"Your evidence for this? And you were planning to marry her?"
That evening Diane had also come to the bar with some friends.
"So bring her over," said John. "Let's be charmed by her intellect and conversation."
"Man, I ain't going to do that - I have to speak to her later to get sex."
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Josh and Taiwan girls: No means no - and yes means no too
As i have said people are complicated, varied and filled with the capacity to surprise. However, you can draw some rough guidelines, and with the women in Taiwan i would draw these: they are averagely more coy, demure, committed, downtrodden and less direct than in the west - Now, if you are a good, middle-class college boy from the west brought up on Mike Tyson date rape trials and 'no means no' campaigns, it can be a little daunting at first. If you then add to the mix an overly neurotic desire to be honest and upfront so as not to hurt other people, you can get yourself in a lot of trouble meeting Taiwanese girls.
Six months ago, Josh had had a girlfriend who said she loved him after one month. We all do, it is not a cause for panic. You just have to ask a Taiwanese female friend what is means and she will tell you the girl is just trying to create a romantic atmosphere. It is actually a little more than that: the culture emphasises friendship and the Taiwanese compete to say nice things to each other all the time, viewed from that perspective you can take it with a pinch of salt.
Josh, unfortunately, had panicked. He had since told every date before the starter had finished that - "I must tell you I am not looking for anything serious” - and six months later he was still sexless.
Finally, we had convinced him that if she didn't ask, then he was not obliged to answer; that, in fact, he was not obliged to know if he was in love and committed to the relationship within a month - and he could take his time. More importantly, he was unquestionably getting his date's back up by taking such a position.
Half convinced he went on another date. Slowly over the next few months he revealed how badly it went...
His date for the evening was Candies Lien, a late twenties account executive for Christian Dior who had a degree from Canada.
"You are a little quiet," said Candies now they had finished the main course.
"Yeah, sorry, a few things on my mind," said Josh.
For twenty minutes now he had been trying to analyse if she was going to fall in love with him or not. Whether he needed to tell her the truth.
“Are you busy?” he said.
“Yes, of course. I have to earn money,” she replied.
He sighed and hissed because he knew it had been another time-wasting question.
“Okay,” said Josh, aware that things were dragging and he was the one with his heels to the ground. "Hmm, so - "
“So, you know I am a foreigner.”
Fuck, that is stupid, he thought.
“You know we foreigners have a reputation,” he said referring to the one Westerners had for loving and leaving in most of the world.
“I know,” she said smiling.
“And?”
“Hmm…Just I know. What can I do?”
She smiled and then pushed out her bottom lip and hunched her shoulders. He was sure he caught her flick an inviting look…but then a moment later he was unsure.
“So, you know and that means??”he replied.
She went through the same set of body moments and gestures, and for a fleeting moment he was sure and unsure again.
“I see you know...” he said, presuming he was beginning to make himself unappealing to even a Taiwanese girl. “Hey…Nothing…Again...”
He stared at her hard trying to will an answer out of her that he wanted to hear: Don't worry, i know life is complicated. He was frustrated because he kind of guessed she had given him the answer he wanted, but she hadn’t put it up on a big neon sign - The minimum he required at this stage.
He looked her up and down again – She had soft features, pleasant manner, unassuming; if she had heavy eye shadow, an aggressive manner; her tone of voice pleasant not snappy, this would be easy.
He decided he had to tell her.
“I am just gonna go to the bathroom,” said Josh. “Sorry.”
He walked through the curtain next to the coke machine on the back wall, and he opened the door to the left with the Chinese characters for bathroom. It was small, barely a meter and a half wide and a couple meters long. He couldn’t swing a cat. It was tiled white. No carpet. Carpet was a rarity in homes in Taiwan and definitely nowhere to be found in toilets. It was unisex with a urinal on the back wall on the left opposite the door and a squat toilet on the right. Squat toilets were bedded in a set of bricks so that further limited his ability to pace. It was smelly. It had no air conditioner. He wanted to be out of there quickly. He paced up and down from the bricks around the urinal to the floor below, considering what was said. Presumably, he told himself, even though he was no expert on Chinese culture, he could relax. She was saving face and not directly giving her answer. It was pretty basic, he made up his mind. He would head back to his seat. Hold on, he thought. He still didn’t have the answer to that look. After all she just said he understood what we were like, she didn’t say she agreed. She was still going to love him. He thought of ways to ask her whether she agreed, but he was too nervous already. He had been in the bathroom too long.
I’ll decide on the way out, he thought.
She gave him a fake smile. “Everything okay?”
‘No problem. Thank you,” he said knowing he looked anything but like he didn’t have a care in the world.
“So, Candies…” He stalled.
"What?"
“So, do you want to go back to mine?” he asked.
She didn’t answer, but started to put her coat on to go with him. Still Josh needed to find out if he was sending her to his home or hers. She didn’t answer.
“It is okay? You want to come to mine?” He asked again. She had made it easy for him so many times already so he felt a little harrying might get her to give him the answer he wanted and save any guilt.
She didn't answer but they got on his scooter, her behind.
“Are you okay?”he asked again.
She registered what he meant and started to get annoyed: This was her first time to go back to a guy’s place so quickly, and she was embarrassed, and she really wanted him to respect her feelings as a ‘lady’ and be more subtle.
Still, she wanted to do this, and so decided the question could be perceived as checking if she was alright on the back of his scooter.
“Yes...thank you,” she answered putting her arms around his chest. "We Taiwanese are used to riding on the motorbike.”
He fell silent because he knew she wasn’t answering the question he asked. He knew she was going to fall in love with him.
For the next twenty minutes until they arrived at his house, he said nothing and she began to feel uncomfortable the result of his negatives vibes; starting to feel dirty instead of caught up in the moment.
He parked his scooter outside his apartment buildings, turned off his engine, sat facing forward for a second, then turned his head.
“If you don’t want to do this just say?” he blurted out.
I am already outside your apartment you stupid boy, she thought, I thought you foreigners were sex maniacs.
She got off the back of the motorbike, and stood saying nothing; trying to block out that ever dissipating enthusiasm.
“You know if we have sex tonight, it is just sex, it doesn’t make you my girlfriend, nor does it mean I love you. It takes a long time to know if you love someone,” said Josh.
She felt humiliated. She wanted to be romanced, given a break from reality, lied to if necessary; instead she was left feeling the next move was to slap on rubber gloves and press hard on each other’s anal G-spots.
“If I have sex with someone, it is very important to me. It means I care about that person very much,”she said.
Ten minutes later in the taxi back home reflection had set in for both of them, and they were kicking themselves hard.
. . .
A week later Jasmine was sat on Josh’s bed watching the TV, waiting...
Two days ago she had called up. “Hello,” she said. “Um, I am sorry about last time.”
“No, my fault,” he said and invited her to come round.
About an hour before she arrived the nerves had started to kick in, and he started to feel bad again: The poor girl was that desperate. He had bullied her into coming. He had lied to her. Now she was going to have sex with him and he was going to break her heart.
She hadn’t had a big beaming smile when she entered the door – and he noted that and got more nervous.
He got her a glass of wine, and remembered she might just be being shy. Then led her into the bedroom – He shared an apartment with two other Canadians and he didn’t want her sitting in the lounge and them coming back when he made his move.
He psyched himself: just relax because she wouldn’t be here if she didn’t want to, take the lead because she was shy, don’t keep asking and don’t wait.
Candies was sat on the bed with her knees tucked up to her chest. He flashed her a smile, she didn’t respond to. She was sitting on a strange man’s bed after all – she knew she shouldn’t make it too easy for him. She remembered her nationality: what men expected of their women.
She straightened her legs out when she remembered he was a foreigner – they don’t look down on girls for sleeping around, she told herself – and smiled.
He took up position next to her.
Fuck, he thought. It was that dating show – the Taiwanese version of Blind Date. He had heard almost every couple on the show got married.
“Why don’t we watch MTV,” he said.
She looked sad, but said nothing as she didn’t want to appear argumentative or selfish.
He turned his head to kiss her because he wanted things over - Just a few moments later, he started to try to remove her top. She watched him desperately trying to remove her top by pulling it up over her breasts. After a minute or so it was hurting her as, in his attempts to get it up without moving her or putting his hand inside, meant he was pulling it outwards taunt against her back, scraping along. It was also her favourite Dior t-shirt and she didn’t want it ruined. She arched her back slightly, hoping it was enough to give him a hint what to do, not enough so he could take the top off completely, because that was his job to man-handle her. Finally, he moved her enough to remove the outer layers of clothing – the skirt, tights and t-shirt.
The bra went, and then he went for the underwear. “What are you doing?” she said, partly annoyed at the speed of all this, partly as an instinctive action she was already regretting.
He sat up.
A few moments passed and she felt awkward sat topless on the bed.
“Kiss me,” she said grabbing him.
They kissed with him spending more time thinking, and the pants went. He massaged and kissed, and procrastinated as he doubted whether he should put her through this life changing experience.
He thought about going down on her, but he guessed he was only hard now because he was pressed up against her thigh, and taking that physical pressure away would mean victory of the mental pressure over his apparatus.
“Bu yao la (I don’t want!)” she said as he tried to enter her.
He sat up straight immediately. Doubts were drowning out the registration of devilment in her voice and the lack of volume in her protestations. He knew it could be explained by culture factors, but he suppressed that immediately – cultural issues were putting his head in a spin. At this stage - 'fuck me now, fuck me hard’ - would have been interpreted as an attempt by her to get the act over as quickly as possible so she could go home soon and start mending her broken heart. He was hoping she would rape him.
“You are not interested, right? Okay, I get you a taxi,” he said.
She covered herself with the duvet and lay on the bed unmoved, a little puzzled, she realized that he actually was going to get her a taxi, and she started to sniffle and fumble for her clothes.
Overwhelmed with anger and shame, he put on his boxers and headed to the living room to make a call. As it dawned on he had completely messed up anyway, he might as well tell the truth.
“Candies, I am sorry. I am a fucking goof - that is idiot. I don't know if i am looking for anything serious. I have to be honest to you.”
“I know,” she said, reacting positively to his new soft approach.
“What do you mean, ‘you know’,” he replied thinking there should be more words said than that.
“I know you will leave me one day. I can feel, but I want this opportunity. I don’t regret…Hmm, show me your hand,” she said.
He looked at her strange, but a sense of fairness was kicking in – he had behaved like the idiot – and he followed along.
“See this line - It means you will be very successful at work. And this shows you will have many lovers. I know now it is my fate.”
Again, he looked at her strange. It just sounded too weird for him. He knew the Taiwanese were superstitious and religious people: there were temples everywhere, the priests in the orange and brown robes; people were always burning paper money for some ghost or festival, or for dead relatives to spend in the afterlife. He wasn’t interested in these things. He had intended to ignore this aspect of the culture. Now it was dawning on him they really did take it seriously.
They made love – passionate, romantic love like you do when you have just come to an understanding.
A few hours later they were relaxing watching TV. They were both feeling fantastic: Candies hadn’t had a boyfriend for a year and was happy to just feel wanted; Josh was excited because he could find a girl on his terms.
Candies leaned over and looked him in the eye. "I love you," she said.
Josh started to run for the door before he realised it was his home.
Six months ago, Josh had had a girlfriend who said she loved him after one month. We all do, it is not a cause for panic. You just have to ask a Taiwanese female friend what is means and she will tell you the girl is just trying to create a romantic atmosphere. It is actually a little more than that: the culture emphasises friendship and the Taiwanese compete to say nice things to each other all the time, viewed from that perspective you can take it with a pinch of salt.
Josh, unfortunately, had panicked. He had since told every date before the starter had finished that - "I must tell you I am not looking for anything serious” - and six months later he was still sexless.
Finally, we had convinced him that if she didn't ask, then he was not obliged to answer; that, in fact, he was not obliged to know if he was in love and committed to the relationship within a month - and he could take his time. More importantly, he was unquestionably getting his date's back up by taking such a position.
Half convinced he went on another date. Slowly over the next few months he revealed how badly it went...
His date for the evening was Candies Lien, a late twenties account executive for Christian Dior who had a degree from Canada.
"You are a little quiet," said Candies now they had finished the main course.
"Yeah, sorry, a few things on my mind," said Josh.
For twenty minutes now he had been trying to analyse if she was going to fall in love with him or not. Whether he needed to tell her the truth.
“Are you busy?” he said.
“Yes, of course. I have to earn money,” she replied.
He sighed and hissed because he knew it had been another time-wasting question.
“Okay,” said Josh, aware that things were dragging and he was the one with his heels to the ground. "Hmm, so - "
“So, you know I am a foreigner.”
Fuck, that is stupid, he thought.
“You know we foreigners have a reputation,” he said referring to the one Westerners had for loving and leaving in most of the world.
“I know,” she said smiling.
“And?”
“Hmm…Just I know. What can I do?”
She smiled and then pushed out her bottom lip and hunched her shoulders. He was sure he caught her flick an inviting look…but then a moment later he was unsure.
“So, you know and that means??”he replied.
She went through the same set of body moments and gestures, and for a fleeting moment he was sure and unsure again.
“I see you know...” he said, presuming he was beginning to make himself unappealing to even a Taiwanese girl. “Hey…Nothing…Again...”
He stared at her hard trying to will an answer out of her that he wanted to hear: Don't worry, i know life is complicated. He was frustrated because he kind of guessed she had given him the answer he wanted, but she hadn’t put it up on a big neon sign - The minimum he required at this stage.
He looked her up and down again – She had soft features, pleasant manner, unassuming; if she had heavy eye shadow, an aggressive manner; her tone of voice pleasant not snappy, this would be easy.
He decided he had to tell her.
“I am just gonna go to the bathroom,” said Josh. “Sorry.”
He walked through the curtain next to the coke machine on the back wall, and he opened the door to the left with the Chinese characters for bathroom. It was small, barely a meter and a half wide and a couple meters long. He couldn’t swing a cat. It was tiled white. No carpet. Carpet was a rarity in homes in Taiwan and definitely nowhere to be found in toilets. It was unisex with a urinal on the back wall on the left opposite the door and a squat toilet on the right. Squat toilets were bedded in a set of bricks so that further limited his ability to pace. It was smelly. It had no air conditioner. He wanted to be out of there quickly. He paced up and down from the bricks around the urinal to the floor below, considering what was said. Presumably, he told himself, even though he was no expert on Chinese culture, he could relax. She was saving face and not directly giving her answer. It was pretty basic, he made up his mind. He would head back to his seat. Hold on, he thought. He still didn’t have the answer to that look. After all she just said he understood what we were like, she didn’t say she agreed. She was still going to love him. He thought of ways to ask her whether she agreed, but he was too nervous already. He had been in the bathroom too long.
I’ll decide on the way out, he thought.
She gave him a fake smile. “Everything okay?”
‘No problem. Thank you,” he said knowing he looked anything but like he didn’t have a care in the world.
“So, Candies…” He stalled.
"What?"
“So, do you want to go back to mine?” he asked.
She didn’t answer, but started to put her coat on to go with him. Still Josh needed to find out if he was sending her to his home or hers. She didn’t answer.
“It is okay? You want to come to mine?” He asked again. She had made it easy for him so many times already so he felt a little harrying might get her to give him the answer he wanted and save any guilt.
She didn't answer but they got on his scooter, her behind.
“Are you okay?”he asked again.
She registered what he meant and started to get annoyed: This was her first time to go back to a guy’s place so quickly, and she was embarrassed, and she really wanted him to respect her feelings as a ‘lady’ and be more subtle.
Still, she wanted to do this, and so decided the question could be perceived as checking if she was alright on the back of his scooter.
“Yes...thank you,” she answered putting her arms around his chest. "We Taiwanese are used to riding on the motorbike.”
He fell silent because he knew she wasn’t answering the question he asked. He knew she was going to fall in love with him.
For the next twenty minutes until they arrived at his house, he said nothing and she began to feel uncomfortable the result of his negatives vibes; starting to feel dirty instead of caught up in the moment.
He parked his scooter outside his apartment buildings, turned off his engine, sat facing forward for a second, then turned his head.
“If you don’t want to do this just say?” he blurted out.
I am already outside your apartment you stupid boy, she thought, I thought you foreigners were sex maniacs.
She got off the back of the motorbike, and stood saying nothing; trying to block out that ever dissipating enthusiasm.
“You know if we have sex tonight, it is just sex, it doesn’t make you my girlfriend, nor does it mean I love you. It takes a long time to know if you love someone,” said Josh.
She felt humiliated. She wanted to be romanced, given a break from reality, lied to if necessary; instead she was left feeling the next move was to slap on rubber gloves and press hard on each other’s anal G-spots.
“If I have sex with someone, it is very important to me. It means I care about that person very much,”she said.
Ten minutes later in the taxi back home reflection had set in for both of them, and they were kicking themselves hard.
. . .
A week later Jasmine was sat on Josh’s bed watching the TV, waiting...
Two days ago she had called up. “Hello,” she said. “Um, I am sorry about last time.”
“No, my fault,” he said and invited her to come round.
About an hour before she arrived the nerves had started to kick in, and he started to feel bad again: The poor girl was that desperate. He had bullied her into coming. He had lied to her. Now she was going to have sex with him and he was going to break her heart.
She hadn’t had a big beaming smile when she entered the door – and he noted that and got more nervous.
He got her a glass of wine, and remembered she might just be being shy. Then led her into the bedroom – He shared an apartment with two other Canadians and he didn’t want her sitting in the lounge and them coming back when he made his move.
He psyched himself: just relax because she wouldn’t be here if she didn’t want to, take the lead because she was shy, don’t keep asking and don’t wait.
Candies was sat on the bed with her knees tucked up to her chest. He flashed her a smile, she didn’t respond to. She was sitting on a strange man’s bed after all – she knew she shouldn’t make it too easy for him. She remembered her nationality: what men expected of their women.
She straightened her legs out when she remembered he was a foreigner – they don’t look down on girls for sleeping around, she told herself – and smiled.
He took up position next to her.
Fuck, he thought. It was that dating show – the Taiwanese version of Blind Date. He had heard almost every couple on the show got married.
“Why don’t we watch MTV,” he said.
She looked sad, but said nothing as she didn’t want to appear argumentative or selfish.
He turned his head to kiss her because he wanted things over - Just a few moments later, he started to try to remove her top. She watched him desperately trying to remove her top by pulling it up over her breasts. After a minute or so it was hurting her as, in his attempts to get it up without moving her or putting his hand inside, meant he was pulling it outwards taunt against her back, scraping along. It was also her favourite Dior t-shirt and she didn’t want it ruined. She arched her back slightly, hoping it was enough to give him a hint what to do, not enough so he could take the top off completely, because that was his job to man-handle her. Finally, he moved her enough to remove the outer layers of clothing – the skirt, tights and t-shirt.
The bra went, and then he went for the underwear. “What are you doing?” she said, partly annoyed at the speed of all this, partly as an instinctive action she was already regretting.
He sat up.
A few moments passed and she felt awkward sat topless on the bed.
“Kiss me,” she said grabbing him.
They kissed with him spending more time thinking, and the pants went. He massaged and kissed, and procrastinated as he doubted whether he should put her through this life changing experience.
He thought about going down on her, but he guessed he was only hard now because he was pressed up against her thigh, and taking that physical pressure away would mean victory of the mental pressure over his apparatus.
“Bu yao la (I don’t want!)” she said as he tried to enter her.
He sat up straight immediately. Doubts were drowning out the registration of devilment in her voice and the lack of volume in her protestations. He knew it could be explained by culture factors, but he suppressed that immediately – cultural issues were putting his head in a spin. At this stage - 'fuck me now, fuck me hard’ - would have been interpreted as an attempt by her to get the act over as quickly as possible so she could go home soon and start mending her broken heart. He was hoping she would rape him.
“You are not interested, right? Okay, I get you a taxi,” he said.
She covered herself with the duvet and lay on the bed unmoved, a little puzzled, she realized that he actually was going to get her a taxi, and she started to sniffle and fumble for her clothes.
Overwhelmed with anger and shame, he put on his boxers and headed to the living room to make a call. As it dawned on he had completely messed up anyway, he might as well tell the truth.
“Candies, I am sorry. I am a fucking goof - that is idiot. I don't know if i am looking for anything serious. I have to be honest to you.”
“I know,” she said, reacting positively to his new soft approach.
“What do you mean, ‘you know’,” he replied thinking there should be more words said than that.
“I know you will leave me one day. I can feel, but I want this opportunity. I don’t regret…Hmm, show me your hand,” she said.
He looked at her strange, but a sense of fairness was kicking in – he had behaved like the idiot – and he followed along.
“See this line - It means you will be very successful at work. And this shows you will have many lovers. I know now it is my fate.”
Again, he looked at her strange. It just sounded too weird for him. He knew the Taiwanese were superstitious and religious people: there were temples everywhere, the priests in the orange and brown robes; people were always burning paper money for some ghost or festival, or for dead relatives to spend in the afterlife. He wasn’t interested in these things. He had intended to ignore this aspect of the culture. Now it was dawning on him they really did take it seriously.
They made love – passionate, romantic love like you do when you have just come to an understanding.
A few hours later they were relaxing watching TV. They were both feeling fantastic: Candies hadn’t had a boyfriend for a year and was happy to just feel wanted; Josh was excited because he could find a girl on his terms.
Candies leaned over and looked him in the eye. "I love you," she said.
Josh started to run for the door before he realised it was his home.
Western stereotypes: Why Taiwanese women want to date us
The majority of Taiwanese girls actually didn't want a westerner - or, better put, weren't specifically going out of there way to get one; if they could find one who spoke Chinese and was prepared to also worship her parents, then they might consider, but otherwise it was an interest they didn't plan to pursue.
However, a small minority went out of their way to get a foreigner. In my ignorance, back in England having watched the TV shows about mail order brides from the Philippines and Thailand, I had assumed the popularity of the white man was for the money or the passport quickly finding out that this was not the case:
“You westerners are more opened-minded…treat your women nice.”
“Taiwanese men want to control you and tell you what to do.”
“I hate my father because he hits my mother.”
“I hate my father because he has a 2nd wife and kid in China.”
“Taiwanese men are male chauvinists.”
“My parents prefer my brother.”
Firstly, we were regarded as delivers of equality. It was the exact opposite of what goes on back home, where white men are left under the impression that they are the root of all evil. I distinctly remembers many an ex calling me an ‘arrogant, uncaring, sexist, bloody male-chauvinist piece of shit’ before walking out the door – and I had been given the expectation that these comments were thoroughly deserved.
“You foreigners are more passionate.”
“I want to be more international.”
“You foreigners are more handsome.”
“I think it would be cool. Give me good face.”
“I want to practice my English.”
Second on the list of why we were liked was our status as exotic, fashion accessories. For years back home I had bemoaned the ugly black and Asian guys rightly trading on their stereotypes. Now it was my turn and I always followed what my old man said about ‘gift horses and mouths.’
“I am divorced so I can’t find another Taiwanese boyfriend.”
“My mother said I don’t suit Taiwanese men because I can’t cook.”
“I can’t seem to keep a Taiwanese boyfriend so perhaps I suit foreigners.”
“I haven’t had a boyfriend for a few years.”
“I am too old now for Chinese men.”
“I get depressed easily and have suicidal feelings so I thought I would try a foreigner.”
“My mother says I can’t do as I am told, I am bad-tempered and aggressive so...”
“I lent my ex-boyfriend some money and he never paid it back. I think Taiwanese men are dishonest.”
And lastly, we were a last chance saloon cure for the panacea of ills, desires and perversions in the female Taiwanese psyche.
Tonight, unfortunately, i had met one in the last category:
We were already naked in my room when i found out.
"You know why i want to try the foreigner," said Camille.
"No, but i guess you are going to tell me," I replied.
"My ex-boyfriend hurt me bad. He slept with a prostitute and give me herpes," she said. "You know, i am an honest girl so i have to tell any new boyfriend and no Taiwanese man wants me - so i try the foreigner. I know you will understand."
"Well, that is right," I replied. "We all have AIDs so what harm will adding a little herpes to the mix, make?"
I went to the bathroom for a good scrub.
However, a small minority went out of their way to get a foreigner. In my ignorance, back in England having watched the TV shows about mail order brides from the Philippines and Thailand, I had assumed the popularity of the white man was for the money or the passport quickly finding out that this was not the case:
“You westerners are more opened-minded…treat your women nice.”
“Taiwanese men want to control you and tell you what to do.”
“I hate my father because he hits my mother.”
“I hate my father because he has a 2nd wife and kid in China.”
“Taiwanese men are male chauvinists.”
“My parents prefer my brother.”
Firstly, we were regarded as delivers of equality. It was the exact opposite of what goes on back home, where white men are left under the impression that they are the root of all evil. I distinctly remembers many an ex calling me an ‘arrogant, uncaring, sexist, bloody male-chauvinist piece of shit’ before walking out the door – and I had been given the expectation that these comments were thoroughly deserved.
“You foreigners are more passionate.”
“I want to be more international.”
“You foreigners are more handsome.”
“I think it would be cool. Give me good face.”
“I want to practice my English.”
Second on the list of why we were liked was our status as exotic, fashion accessories. For years back home I had bemoaned the ugly black and Asian guys rightly trading on their stereotypes. Now it was my turn and I always followed what my old man said about ‘gift horses and mouths.’
“I am divorced so I can’t find another Taiwanese boyfriend.”
“My mother said I don’t suit Taiwanese men because I can’t cook.”
“I can’t seem to keep a Taiwanese boyfriend so perhaps I suit foreigners.”
“I haven’t had a boyfriend for a few years.”
“I am too old now for Chinese men.”
“I get depressed easily and have suicidal feelings so I thought I would try a foreigner.”
“My mother says I can’t do as I am told, I am bad-tempered and aggressive so...”
“I lent my ex-boyfriend some money and he never paid it back. I think Taiwanese men are dishonest.”
And lastly, we were a last chance saloon cure for the panacea of ills, desires and perversions in the female Taiwanese psyche.
Tonight, unfortunately, i had met one in the last category:
We were already naked in my room when i found out.
"You know why i want to try the foreigner," said Camille.
"No, but i guess you are going to tell me," I replied.
"My ex-boyfriend hurt me bad. He slept with a prostitute and give me herpes," she said. "You know, i am an honest girl so i have to tell any new boyfriend and no Taiwanese man wants me - so i try the foreigner. I know you will understand."
"Well, that is right," I replied. "We all have AIDs so what harm will adding a little herpes to the mix, make?"
I went to the bathroom for a good scrub.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Taiwan lifestyle: The marlboro girls
One of the biggest reasons why we loved Taiwan was the women, but it could be a double-edged sword.
New guys in Taiwan always asked why the crap architecture didn’t bother us anymore, and, it was because we had already readjusted our sights to the thousands of perfectly manicured, slim, hip-wiggling girls that went by. That was our scenery. But it could be a problem, because we were never satisfied: maybe, you went to an orgy the night before and were now outside on the street spent and satisfied waiting for a taxi, then something would walk by to get you all desired up again.
On this particular Saturday evening we were sat in the bar thinking not much was going on, and this was a good thing: we could go home early and actually do something with our Sunday. Unfortunately, then the Carlsberg girls walked in.
You have heard of the showgirls that you get at the electronics and car shows throughout Asia? Well, all the big cigarette and alcohol companies hired the same girls to wander from bar to bar every night in white cowboy uniforms with short skirts and boots or silver space girl outfits to promote their drinks. Contrary to stereotypes about Taiwan, invariably they were all university students who were bright, mannered and infectiously upbeat, viewing the job as learning about public relations or sales. We flirted with them and were not told where to go – and that got us excited. Now, we would be dragging ourselves home at eight in the morning after the disco ended.
I decided to call a number instead. “You want to meet at the hotel?” I said.
“Hao a,” she replied. I loved this girl’s repressed indifference: ‘hao a’ meant ‘why not’; but that was not the end of it, her tone was all passive, well I’ll go along I suppose, got nothing better to do, anyhow shouldn’t make a lot of difference to me either way, doesn’t sound much of an idea, got no real opinion so whatever. And the great thing about it all was she was going off to a hotel to be unfaithful to her fiancé and it was only the 2nd time in her life she had done such a thing.
Some two hours later: “I’ll give you a call sometime,” I said as we mounted our separate motorbikes.
“Hao (Okay),” she replied. I was surprised, it was barely perceptible, but there was a hint of ‘give a shit’ about her answer.
New guys in Taiwan always asked why the crap architecture didn’t bother us anymore, and, it was because we had already readjusted our sights to the thousands of perfectly manicured, slim, hip-wiggling girls that went by. That was our scenery. But it could be a problem, because we were never satisfied: maybe, you went to an orgy the night before and were now outside on the street spent and satisfied waiting for a taxi, then something would walk by to get you all desired up again.
On this particular Saturday evening we were sat in the bar thinking not much was going on, and this was a good thing: we could go home early and actually do something with our Sunday. Unfortunately, then the Carlsberg girls walked in.
You have heard of the showgirls that you get at the electronics and car shows throughout Asia? Well, all the big cigarette and alcohol companies hired the same girls to wander from bar to bar every night in white cowboy uniforms with short skirts and boots or silver space girl outfits to promote their drinks. Contrary to stereotypes about Taiwan, invariably they were all university students who were bright, mannered and infectiously upbeat, viewing the job as learning about public relations or sales. We flirted with them and were not told where to go – and that got us excited. Now, we would be dragging ourselves home at eight in the morning after the disco ended.
I decided to call a number instead. “You want to meet at the hotel?” I said.
“Hao a,” she replied. I loved this girl’s repressed indifference: ‘hao a’ meant ‘why not’; but that was not the end of it, her tone was all passive, well I’ll go along I suppose, got nothing better to do, anyhow shouldn’t make a lot of difference to me either way, doesn’t sound much of an idea, got no real opinion so whatever. And the great thing about it all was she was going off to a hotel to be unfaithful to her fiancé and it was only the 2nd time in her life she had done such a thing.
Some two hours later: “I’ll give you a call sometime,” I said as we mounted our separate motorbikes.
“Hao (Okay),” she replied. I was surprised, it was barely perceptible, but there was a hint of ‘give a shit’ about her answer.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Taiwan dating: Getting some insights
With the girl from Subway who took me to MTV, I had managed to get some insights into Taiwanese girls: they were relatively shyer, repressed but definitely not less willing. Still I was an English oath whose main pick up technique was to get drunk, hope the girl was also, and then dance and rub my crotch on her as my way of asking for her phone number. This technique could still get you laid in the bar in Taiwan – There were the girls who wanted a foreigner more than life itself and were prepared to put up with your awful approach – however, after a few months in Taiwan I was interested in going beyond these girls.
After the initial euphoria wore off I noticed the majority of pretty girls in the bar were interested in meeting a foreigner but not interested enough to accept the rubbing and crotch thrusts. I also noticed there were a bunch of guys who knew the right technique and me and my recently arrived friends watched in envy as they left with them – while we were stuck with the same girls who had this unnaturally fluent English for someone who had lived their whole life in Taiwan, and an insistence on giving you a long lecture about how much they liked western culture.
Fortunately, I knew John and, as usual, he knew what to do. His advice was simple: they need a get out clause to not feel bad about what they are doing; go cheesy, the more cheesy the better; think of the naffest, fingers down your throat line that would get you laughed out of town and deliver it with gusto.
I guessed it must work because John managed to get new arrivals from the disco to a love hotel, and I couldn’t possibly see how the purpose could be hidden. I decided the disco to love hotel thing was a bridge too far so I decided my best hope was to take numbers and try it on a first date. I called up a girl called Claire Hsu who I had met the previous week. Claire still spoke excellent English, but in that slightly stilted and formal way that suggested she hadn’t been using it with upteen foreign boyfriends before me. She was new to the foreign market but it seems not without the usual stereotypes.
“So why do you like the foreigner?” I asked because I had fallen into a habit of identifying myself as such, not a person. It seemed to me almost everyone had an opinion about the foreigner, some incredibly good - almost all good, in fact - it was just that they weren’t going to stick to politically correct slavish notions, ignore national stereotypes and from scratch, slowly and tentatively try and find out the real me. It didn’t bother me because I hadn’t exactly grown up adverse to making generalizations about my fellow man that I had lived to regret - saying one thing the result of inbred prejudices, and then doing another based on moral integrity. Some people worked ceaselessly for charity and then treated their loved ones horribly. How well I was treated by the Taiwanese only served to confirm this theory to me. I knew I didn’t have all the answers, but at the same time, I wasn’t going to call them racist like so many did.
“You westerners are more opened-minded, treat your women nice,” said Claire.
“That is right. You know in England they are developing ways for men to breastfeed.”
“Really?”
“No, I am sorry. But, yes, we like to share everything equally. I would feel terrible otherwise,” I said unsure if I was being serious or not. I continued, "White men are the root of all evil back home."
"That is stupid," she replied.
"Yeah...well - Maybe, I should take you to a Woman's Group Meeting back home."I thought it was fantastic to finally hear what I kind of knew, but are not allowed to say in PC Britain: western men were actually relatively good to their women. I know it had nothing to do with anything innate to the western male character - it was merely we had been shamed, pushed, and legislated against forcing us to be so.
We then discussed her work. She said she was very busy at the moment.
“I know,” I replied. You have to earn money. I heard it everyday from Taiwanese, delivered as if their life depended upon it. “Yes,” she replied, smiling, relieved I understood.
Finally, we touched bases on stereotypes of Englishman.
“So you are from English - a gentleman,” she said.“Yeap, that’s right me love, a real gentleman,” I replied.
I loved the national stereotypes and nobody knowing my West of England accent.“What do you mean, a real gentleman?” she asked.
“Well, my family used to live on a council estate. Do you know what an estate is?”
“I know - big house, land…like that movie Sense and the Sensibility…I watched that.”
They all had because the director, Ang Lee, was Taiwanese.“Spot on. It was called the Bourneville, by the way.”
“You say used to?” she said now extremely interested.
“Yeah, we moved to something bigger in the city…We didn’t want to deal with the government anymore.” I could see her looking at my tattoo and starting to formulate questions. “That is my coat of arms…You know, sign your family is from good stock.”
She didn’t understand, but nodded anyway not wanting to appear too bolshie on the first date.
“I went to England - London.”
“I know.”
“So where did you graduate from?”
“University of Essex. I just missed out on Oxford – one point you know – gutted me.”
“Wow, so you are a smart guy. Why are you teaching English in Taiwan, then?”
“I am lazy, ill-disciplined. I figure I can make a fast buck without having to work hard.” Best not to build their hopes up, I reasoned.
“What is ‘wot’ she asked?”
The first time I had said, ‘What do you mean? What is wot?’” And it had gone back in circles for a while. Now I knew better: “Wot is the English way of saying WHAT,” I replied with an American accent on the second 'what'.
“Let me get the bill.”
“Please. It is my treat,” said Claire. “I know you don’t have much money. You are new in Taiwan.”
“No. I insist. I am the man.”
Now was the delicate part of the evening, I thought. If I wait a few more dates than of course she will be mine, but that is not my objective.
“I have had a good time,” I said.
“Me too,” she replied.
“Thanks. So what do you want to do now? Watch TV or a video?” I asked.
“Yes, I like to watch video.”
“Wonderful. I am sorry…” I said.
“What is the matter?” she replied.“You know I stay in the hostel now, so there are too many people. It is hard to get used to…not having a house anymore.”
“We can watch at mine?”
“Really? Are you sure? I don’t want to embarrass you, having a strange man in your house.”
“No, that is ok. We are only watching a video so nothing to be shamed of.”
“Exactly - You really have a western attitude,” I said then watched the quiver of pride shoot up her body.
“Thank you. You really think so.”
“Definitely.”
We got in her car, drove to near the intersection of Fuhsing South Road and ChongHsaio East Road, turned into underground parking, and then took the lift to the tenth floor; when we got out we walked along a white-walled corridor not out of place in a hospital, and then went through the metal aluminum door to her one-bedroom apartment. Out the window I could see Sogo. This area was the center of the city. There was ten-lane road outside the window.
“Let’s shut the window, please. You can only get a certain amount of good petrol fumes in your lungs in a day.”
“What is petrol?”“I am sorry – gas.” I said. “Nice location.”
“Convenient for the restaurant and KTV,” she replied.
“Yeah, very smart also given the bad the traffic. You must be able to walk to work.”
“No. My work is in Neihu. Oh, so much trouble. Forty minutes drive every morning.”
I had heard of Neihu, it was actually a very nice suburb with mountains, lakes and parks.“As I say you made the right choice - mountainous residential suburb next to your work or box by the roadside next to the nightlife.”
I eyed the sofa and the apartment in general. Furniture was mostly Ikea and sparse. She had a fairly small TV for a Taiwanese – thirty inch. She had hung a lot of material on the white walls and given it a warm touch. Still he had the feeling, like I did in most people houses, they could pack there stuff and be gone in thirty minutes if they had too.
“Hey, what about the video,” I said. “I am sorry, how did we forget?”
She shrugged her shoulders.
I continued, “Anyway, I am sure there is something good on HBO.”
We need something to drown out the sound of the traffic, I thought.
I waited ten minutes then reached into my bag. “So, I went to get some photos developed today. They are of my family just before I left. Would you like to see?” I asked.
“Please. I would like very much?” she replied.“Your mother is beautiful…Your father handsome - He looks like the movie star.”
“Don’t we all…So this is my sister and her daughter.”
“How old is she?”
“Five.”
“She looks so mature. Why are you foreigner children so mature?”
“I can assure you it is only a look….Well…that is them all.”
“Thank you very much. So nice,” she gushed.
I insisted she get out her family photos.
“Wow you have a nice family. I can see you are a good daughter,” I said.
“No, no.” But I saw a ripple of satisfaction go through her body.She picked up the cushion next to her, and covered her stomach. “I am tired,” she said, before closing her eyes.
Time already is it, I thought. I leaned over, took the pillow, and started to kiss her. For the next five minutes she said, I am tired, and brought the pillow back to her lap, while I took it away again. When the pillow stopped coming back, I started on the clothes. Slowly, she started to respond with reciprocal kisses and cuddles, but I wasn’t expecting her to rip off my shirt.
It was time for the underwear.“What are you doing?” she said, pulling back. “I am not that kind of girl.”
“I am sorry…I know you are a good girl and this is a big deal for you,” I said before going back to massaging and kissing.
I was actually really nervous at this stage and was prepared to give up – but I thought I better follow through with the advice and so started counting.…ten...nine..Wow, this time it is not too quick, I thought.
“Hmm, I think you don’t need that,” said Claire as I started to rip open a condom packet.
I then went through my standard speech. “I think I do…I’m sorry…How to explain. I know you don’t normally do this sort of thing. You are not a dirty girl. I am wearing it for another reason. It is kind of embarrassing: if I don’t wear it I will cum too quickly. I want you to enjoy more.”
Then she gave me a surprise: “It is okay I don’t need to enjoy so much,” she said.
I was stumped because the girls in the bar so far had liked the idea that I wanted to satisfy them. I had to think quickly to remember the rule: give them a reason to pass the buck to you.
“Sorry,” I said. “I know you are only interested in my sexual gratification and not your own. I mean it is for me you see: I don’t want to cum so quickly. You want to make your man happy don’t you?”
“Really?”
“Yes. Really. It is your fault you are too sexy.”
“Me! No!”
“Yes. Really. You are too sexy,” I repeated.“Hmm, I must accept then. I want you to enjoy. But I feel strange. Not natural – nobody have ever with me before.”
“That is why I am going to, love…Nothing.”
“Your welcome,” she replied.
“Hah, you are so strong,” cried Claire. “You cum so much.”
“There you go - Told you condoms are useful for something.”
“Maybe… but still strange - I only use the condom with you.”
“That is a pity - For your sake anyway…”
“I am sorry. I have to go. I have to get up early tomorrow morning to teach,” I said.
She looked upset so I tried to console her. “I am sorry again. I didn’t expect this to happen. The moment was special.”
“Yes, I know. Uh…me, neither. I don’t normally do this sort of thing.”
“Of course you don’t.”
I put on my clothes and instinctively checked my wallet for the name card for the hotel so I could get home. I gave her a good-bye kiss.
On his way out I saw her turn her phone back on and start checking for messages. She was great; they all were.
After the initial euphoria wore off I noticed the majority of pretty girls in the bar were interested in meeting a foreigner but not interested enough to accept the rubbing and crotch thrusts. I also noticed there were a bunch of guys who knew the right technique and me and my recently arrived friends watched in envy as they left with them – while we were stuck with the same girls who had this unnaturally fluent English for someone who had lived their whole life in Taiwan, and an insistence on giving you a long lecture about how much they liked western culture.
Fortunately, I knew John and, as usual, he knew what to do. His advice was simple: they need a get out clause to not feel bad about what they are doing; go cheesy, the more cheesy the better; think of the naffest, fingers down your throat line that would get you laughed out of town and deliver it with gusto.
I guessed it must work because John managed to get new arrivals from the disco to a love hotel, and I couldn’t possibly see how the purpose could be hidden. I decided the disco to love hotel thing was a bridge too far so I decided my best hope was to take numbers and try it on a first date. I called up a girl called Claire Hsu who I had met the previous week. Claire still spoke excellent English, but in that slightly stilted and formal way that suggested she hadn’t been using it with upteen foreign boyfriends before me. She was new to the foreign market but it seems not without the usual stereotypes.
“So why do you like the foreigner?” I asked because I had fallen into a habit of identifying myself as such, not a person. It seemed to me almost everyone had an opinion about the foreigner, some incredibly good - almost all good, in fact - it was just that they weren’t going to stick to politically correct slavish notions, ignore national stereotypes and from scratch, slowly and tentatively try and find out the real me. It didn’t bother me because I hadn’t exactly grown up adverse to making generalizations about my fellow man that I had lived to regret - saying one thing the result of inbred prejudices, and then doing another based on moral integrity. Some people worked ceaselessly for charity and then treated their loved ones horribly. How well I was treated by the Taiwanese only served to confirm this theory to me. I knew I didn’t have all the answers, but at the same time, I wasn’t going to call them racist like so many did.
“You westerners are more opened-minded, treat your women nice,” said Claire.
“That is right. You know in England they are developing ways for men to breastfeed.”
“Really?”
“No, I am sorry. But, yes, we like to share everything equally. I would feel terrible otherwise,” I said unsure if I was being serious or not. I continued, "White men are the root of all evil back home."
"That is stupid," she replied.
"Yeah...well - Maybe, I should take you to a Woman's Group Meeting back home."I thought it was fantastic to finally hear what I kind of knew, but are not allowed to say in PC Britain: western men were actually relatively good to their women. I know it had nothing to do with anything innate to the western male character - it was merely we had been shamed, pushed, and legislated against forcing us to be so.
We then discussed her work. She said she was very busy at the moment.
“I know,” I replied. You have to earn money. I heard it everyday from Taiwanese, delivered as if their life depended upon it. “Yes,” she replied, smiling, relieved I understood.
Finally, we touched bases on stereotypes of Englishman.
“So you are from English - a gentleman,” she said.“Yeap, that’s right me love, a real gentleman,” I replied.
I loved the national stereotypes and nobody knowing my West of England accent.“What do you mean, a real gentleman?” she asked.
“Well, my family used to live on a council estate. Do you know what an estate is?”
“I know - big house, land…like that movie Sense and the Sensibility…I watched that.”
They all had because the director, Ang Lee, was Taiwanese.“Spot on. It was called the Bourneville, by the way.”
“You say used to?” she said now extremely interested.
“Yeah, we moved to something bigger in the city…We didn’t want to deal with the government anymore.” I could see her looking at my tattoo and starting to formulate questions. “That is my coat of arms…You know, sign your family is from good stock.”
She didn’t understand, but nodded anyway not wanting to appear too bolshie on the first date.
“I went to England - London.”
“I know.”
“So where did you graduate from?”
“University of Essex. I just missed out on Oxford – one point you know – gutted me.”
“Wow, so you are a smart guy. Why are you teaching English in Taiwan, then?”
“I am lazy, ill-disciplined. I figure I can make a fast buck without having to work hard.” Best not to build their hopes up, I reasoned.
“What is ‘wot’ she asked?”
The first time I had said, ‘What do you mean? What is wot?’” And it had gone back in circles for a while. Now I knew better: “Wot is the English way of saying WHAT,” I replied with an American accent on the second 'what'.
“Let me get the bill.”
“Please. It is my treat,” said Claire. “I know you don’t have much money. You are new in Taiwan.”
“No. I insist. I am the man.”
Now was the delicate part of the evening, I thought. If I wait a few more dates than of course she will be mine, but that is not my objective.
“I have had a good time,” I said.
“Me too,” she replied.
“Thanks. So what do you want to do now? Watch TV or a video?” I asked.
“Yes, I like to watch video.”
“Wonderful. I am sorry…” I said.
“What is the matter?” she replied.“You know I stay in the hostel now, so there are too many people. It is hard to get used to…not having a house anymore.”
“We can watch at mine?”
“Really? Are you sure? I don’t want to embarrass you, having a strange man in your house.”
“No, that is ok. We are only watching a video so nothing to be shamed of.”
“Exactly - You really have a western attitude,” I said then watched the quiver of pride shoot up her body.
“Thank you. You really think so.”
“Definitely.”
We got in her car, drove to near the intersection of Fuhsing South Road and ChongHsaio East Road, turned into underground parking, and then took the lift to the tenth floor; when we got out we walked along a white-walled corridor not out of place in a hospital, and then went through the metal aluminum door to her one-bedroom apartment. Out the window I could see Sogo. This area was the center of the city. There was ten-lane road outside the window.
“Let’s shut the window, please. You can only get a certain amount of good petrol fumes in your lungs in a day.”
“What is petrol?”“I am sorry – gas.” I said. “Nice location.”
“Convenient for the restaurant and KTV,” she replied.
“Yeah, very smart also given the bad the traffic. You must be able to walk to work.”
“No. My work is in Neihu. Oh, so much trouble. Forty minutes drive every morning.”
I had heard of Neihu, it was actually a very nice suburb with mountains, lakes and parks.“As I say you made the right choice - mountainous residential suburb next to your work or box by the roadside next to the nightlife.”
I eyed the sofa and the apartment in general. Furniture was mostly Ikea and sparse. She had a fairly small TV for a Taiwanese – thirty inch. She had hung a lot of material on the white walls and given it a warm touch. Still he had the feeling, like I did in most people houses, they could pack there stuff and be gone in thirty minutes if they had too.
“Hey, what about the video,” I said. “I am sorry, how did we forget?”
She shrugged her shoulders.
I continued, “Anyway, I am sure there is something good on HBO.”
We need something to drown out the sound of the traffic, I thought.
I waited ten minutes then reached into my bag. “So, I went to get some photos developed today. They are of my family just before I left. Would you like to see?” I asked.
“Please. I would like very much?” she replied.“Your mother is beautiful…Your father handsome - He looks like the movie star.”
“Don’t we all…So this is my sister and her daughter.”
“How old is she?”
“Five.”
“She looks so mature. Why are you foreigner children so mature?”
“I can assure you it is only a look….Well…that is them all.”
“Thank you very much. So nice,” she gushed.
I insisted she get out her family photos.
“Wow you have a nice family. I can see you are a good daughter,” I said.
“No, no.” But I saw a ripple of satisfaction go through her body.She picked up the cushion next to her, and covered her stomach. “I am tired,” she said, before closing her eyes.
Time already is it, I thought. I leaned over, took the pillow, and started to kiss her. For the next five minutes she said, I am tired, and brought the pillow back to her lap, while I took it away again. When the pillow stopped coming back, I started on the clothes. Slowly, she started to respond with reciprocal kisses and cuddles, but I wasn’t expecting her to rip off my shirt.
It was time for the underwear.“What are you doing?” she said, pulling back. “I am not that kind of girl.”
“I am sorry…I know you are a good girl and this is a big deal for you,” I said before going back to massaging and kissing.
I was actually really nervous at this stage and was prepared to give up – but I thought I better follow through with the advice and so started counting.…ten...nine..Wow, this time it is not too quick, I thought.
“Hmm, I think you don’t need that,” said Claire as I started to rip open a condom packet.
I then went through my standard speech. “I think I do…I’m sorry…How to explain. I know you don’t normally do this sort of thing. You are not a dirty girl. I am wearing it for another reason. It is kind of embarrassing: if I don’t wear it I will cum too quickly. I want you to enjoy more.”
Then she gave me a surprise: “It is okay I don’t need to enjoy so much,” she said.
I was stumped because the girls in the bar so far had liked the idea that I wanted to satisfy them. I had to think quickly to remember the rule: give them a reason to pass the buck to you.
“Sorry,” I said. “I know you are only interested in my sexual gratification and not your own. I mean it is for me you see: I don’t want to cum so quickly. You want to make your man happy don’t you?”
“Really?”
“Yes. Really. It is your fault you are too sexy.”
“Me! No!”
“Yes. Really. You are too sexy,” I repeated.“Hmm, I must accept then. I want you to enjoy. But I feel strange. Not natural – nobody have ever with me before.”
“That is why I am going to, love…Nothing.”
“Your welcome,” she replied.
“Hah, you are so strong,” cried Claire. “You cum so much.”
“There you go - Told you condoms are useful for something.”
“Maybe… but still strange - I only use the condom with you.”
“That is a pity - For your sake anyway…”
“I am sorry. I have to go. I have to get up early tomorrow morning to teach,” I said.
She looked upset so I tried to console her. “I am sorry again. I didn’t expect this to happen. The moment was special.”
“Yes, I know. Uh…me, neither. I don’t normally do this sort of thing.”
“Of course you don’t.”
I put on my clothes and instinctively checked my wallet for the name card for the hotel so I could get home. I gave her a good-bye kiss.
On his way out I saw her turn her phone back on and start checking for messages. She was great; they all were.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Taiwan culture shock: It is hard being the superior sex I
As foreigners in Taiwan we had the opportunity to play above our league. It may seem straightforward, but Taiwanese girls are different (see Culture Shock: Women) and there is alot of adjusting to do. It is difficult for all of us but for Eric particularly so.
Eric looked around at the people sat around him in the teashop. It was quiet considering there were twenty people inside. About half were reading magazines or Japanese comics. He looked at the cover of the magazine the girl to his left was reading. It was another image of a late teens girl pulling a kooky innocent smile while holding tight her teddy bear. She is not twelve, he thought. Two tables down a bunch of girls had just gathered together to take a photo with the obligatory V for victory sign, and were now clapping each other with that elbows and wrists together clapping style. He looked across at Diane and slowly dragged himself up straight in his chair, and yawned. “You know I read today the government wants to make Taiwan the Asian information services center. If you are going to become a center of learning, expertise and innovation your teachers and bosses need to learn to be questioned. Can’t keep prompting someone because they know someone or are older.”
“Yes. You know this is Taiwan,” she said.
“What? If you don’t agree you can say. No need to be so polite.”
I am not interested in this stupid topic, she thought. I am bored to death with it.
“We are taught to respect men, it is natural,” she replied before going back to catching glimpses of the front of the Cosmopolitan magazine on the lower shelf of the table, the one I said she couldn’t read. That was another thing she didn’t like about the foreigner - if there was no conversation why couldn’t she read a magazine or newspaper? Why did they have to sit desperately trying to make polite conversation? She wanted to be in that new Californian restaurant that had opened last week, and was the place to be seen for young internationally-minded Taiwanese like herself. Eric had vetoed it by saying it was no better than TGI Friday, and he didn’t come to Taiwan to hang around in American theme restaurants. Now she was drinking ice-green tea with lemon in a teashop on Shih-Ta Road, the kind of place she hung out at when she was a student.
Didn’t he fucking know she was brought up on this stuff?
She thought after graduation she would be leaving behind this area and hanging around in the more upmarket areas around Ren-Ai, Fu-Hsing, and Dun-hua Roads, but it seemed another drawback of being with a foreigner was hanging around student areas, and in particular Shih-Ta Road.
He sighed – Won’t anything provoke you? He was dying to have his character picked apart, to be argued with; he had no intention of changing but enjoyed the discussion - actually needed it – as opinions left languishing in his brain would start to lose their shape and self-esteem after a few days or weeks because they hadn’t been challenged. He wasn’t a great conversationalist, preferring to argue, and he now fondly remembered noisy afternoons being picked on by his two older sisters and mother; respect wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
“You know I am not a Taiwanese guy. It is cool to argue with me. I won’t suppress you.”
Hmm, thought Diane, What about not being able to read the magazine? Go to KTV on a Sunday afternoon because I should be out enjoying nature? - Tonight and this teashop? But she said nothing because she had never expected much from men. Foreign men were just a different kind of stupid, but they let women do whatever they wanted.
She sat up slowly in her seat. “That is why we want to go to school in America.”
“I know so you can learn to question. You know if enough of you go to school abroad it will set up an irresistible momentum.”
“Yes…Uh, if I have the MBA I can be the boss.”
She leaned forward putting her mouth around the straw, looking down through the glass table top at the Cosmopolitan. “One of my uncles live in San Francisco,” she said out the corner of her mouth.
“Never been there,” he replied thinking he had got a girlfriend to avoid the conversation about their American Dream, hoping things would move onto other topics.
“Really? You know I push my parents to emigrate. I am so disappointed they didn’t send me to university in America - Berkeley is my dream. You know I have a cousin at Berkeley and his mother is so proud. His mother has so much face now in the family. I want to give her face.”
“That is the mother who beat you,” he said. And I have had to hear about so many times.
“I forgive her now. She was under pressure from my grandmother. Everyday, she humiliate my mother. Tell my father to divorce her - She think my mother is too low class. So my mother have the bad temper.” She continued, “And her son is useless so she have push me because I am smart - Will give her face.”
He wrestled with getting another refill of water for his pot of fruit tea. He took the spoon and ate the fruit at the bottom of his jug (kumquat, orange and apple), finished up the last of the roasted broad beans, squeezed the last of the peppered peas from their pods, and got up.
“Are you finished?” he asked. “Ok, let’s go.”
“Please you drive?” pushed Diane on seeing Eric get into position near the back of the scooter.
“What is this face thing? You have to be driven by the guy.” (He had been told before a girl will lose face if she is seen on the front with a boy on the back.)
“No, I don’t have a face problem. You are too heavy,” she replied because it was only a 50cc scooter.
“Yeah right,” he murmured before thinking she may have a point.
...
“Whoa! Whoa! Hsu fu! Hsu fu (Comfortable)!” screamed Diane as he and her made love, prompting him to check his manhood for recent growth.
“You want harder? Softer? Deeper?” He asked for the 10th time.
“No, no…now is hsu fu! hsu fu! You decide…Oh, my God, so powerful.”
“Are you sure?” he continued checking her face again for signs of faking.
“Just a moment, I need to put on a condom,” he said.
“What are you doing?” she had said the first night.
“I am putting on a condom,” he had replied.
“Not necessary. My period has just finished.”
“It is cool - The safe thing to do.”
“You think I am dirty girl? I don’t have the one-night stand.”
He looked at her for a few seconds, thinking of a way that wouldn’t offend her.
“Of course, you are not a dirty girl,” he had replied and threw away the condom, deciding to persuade her over time about the virtues of safe sex.
Back to tonight. He had spoken to her often about the subject over the last few weeks and he was determined to enforce it today.
“I don’t want to get you pregnant,” he explained feeling his cowardice.
“Don’t worry. It will be okay. I don’t think I can easily get pregnant,” she replied.
Again, he was stumped by her answer because it was so far out of the logic box it was hard to deal with: Was she saying she was sterile?
“Please don’t stop,” she said, looking him in the eye, pleading.
He made up my mind not to put up with the nonsense anymore. Next time he would wear the condom no matter what.
He didn’t stop, instead dropping down a gear instead so he could muse on his own stupidity. Back home, he didn’t like to wear a condom, but he had come to Taiwan to play around, and that meant he needed to. He was no different from every other guy hoping to screw himself senseless. And that was another reason for the relationship with Diane: he had failed miserably to wear one for the two months so far, and so had crawled into the relationship to regroup behind it’s relatively sexually safe walls, reeducate myself about what was important. Launch myself on the females of Taiwan with a good habit established.
“You want to change positions? What is good for you?”he asked.
“If you like?”
“Do you like from behind?”
“Whatever you want?”
“I am going to cum? Shall I wait?” he asked.
“No, no! Please cum. I want to see.”
Two minutes later: “Wow! What a man! - Look so much! Why you so powerful?” He squirmed as he always did. He hadn’t been the school football captain - chess team captain, yes, but a quick check of his frame confirmed training for this team hadn’t turned me into a ‘lean mean fighting machine.'
"Please tissues. It is dripping,” said Diane.
He gave her one tissue.
“More. Quick. More.”
He gave her three more tissues and watched her feeble attempts to utilize the full mopping power of any of them.
“More.”
“Diane that is enough - Think about the environment.” The overuse of tissues was getting him down: Nobody used a cloth to wipe anything; boxes of tissues were everywhere. Go to anyone’s house and it was difficult to turn your head more than fifteen degrees without seeing a box of them; a drop of watermelon juice would hit the table, and all the women in the house would pounce, each pulling five tissues from the nearest box, throwing them away in disappointment when they missed the chance to exterminate that drop...Still he felt like a prick for mentioning now. It came out because he felt compelled to dampen the atmosphere.
“Why are so mean? I just make love with you.”
We made love together, he thought. Not wishing to count out any more tissues, he handed her the box.
“See you cum a lot. Cover all my stomach. What can I do?” she said looking him in the eyes.
I have no clue, he thought. Aren’t women supposed to be the sensible ones?
“Sorry, I didn’t make you cum. You can tell me to wait - it is cool, I am not a Taiwanese guy,” he added after a couple of moments of silence.
“No, no, no! I really enjoy. Today I stressed, next time,” she replied.
“I can make you cum, no problem,” he said determined to empower her.
He tried to put his head between her legs and she jumped up in panic. “No. No. Very dirty! I am embarrassed.”
American cosmopolitan wasn’t lying, she thought.
“It ain’t dirty. This is normal girl. You are with a foreigner now.”
“I mean it is hot in Taiwan - Very sweaty,” she replied afraid the foreigner was going to dump her for being a prude. He was relieved in a way: he had just had sex without a condom and no man liked to taste himself. And, he didn’t know this girl very well…and you had to assume she was lying about how many boys she had slept with before…and it was not your country so the unfamiliar bred suspicion…and even if she wasn’t lying about her previous sexual partners being a couple of thumbs worth, she never bothered about condoms and one of them might be one of those guys who come in and out of Thailand on a regular basis. He pushed out his tongue in distaste.
“I am just going to the bathroom,” he said, deciding to stimulate himself; determined to make her cum.
Thirty minutes later he was desperately trying to ignore my tiredness and frustration; refusing to change positions because it is was already going soft, and once it popped out he knew it wasn’t going back in. He wanted to stop but that would be insulting to her, insulting to his manhood...Still he was slowing down...
Come on, man, he said to myself a little loud.
Diane looked round. “Are you ok?” she asked. “I know I don’t have so much experience. I’m sorry.”
This just made him feel worse. “Not your fault. Really,” he insisted.
She looked at his face. “Lie down! Take a rest. I know you are tired.” Diane took the pillow out from under her, patted it even and put it under his head.
“I am sorry, but...” I said.
“That is okay. No need to say.” She put her fingers to my mouth.
He desperately wanted to explain. What did she think of him? He wondered what judgments she was secretly making about him, and worrying what a chauvinist he was going to become when he didn’t have to explain. He came back from the bathroom all the more determined to make her satisfied, show he cared about her.
“You are tired,” she said. “Next time, you can make me cum.”
These foreigners can be pushy, she thought. I am watching TV now.
A few moments later. “I love you,” she turned to him and whispered.
He closed his eyes and felt the crash. The whole tissue thing had been raised to hopefully avoid this.
“Girl you have known me for four weeks. That ain’t cool.”
He had sensed this coming for a while - Then he saw the irony of the use of the word 'while’: they had slept together about six times, and once they had become a kind of item he was sure he could see it trying to squeeze out.
“Girl, I am a foreigner so need to play the dedicated girl because we had sex. You want to be with a Western guy, you have to drop the bullshit about needing to love before making love.”
“You don’t understand the Taiwanese girl, we fall in love easily.”
“And you don’t know the foreign guy, we are afraid of commitment. We don’t like our relationships to go too fast. We tend to run hard if they do - You watch our movies.”
“But you are with the Taiwan girl now. You must appreciate we are conservative girls. I only do the sex with someone I love.”
“Then it is best we break up. If you are in love after three weeks, then you will be tattooing my name across your body in another two - And it will be unfair to you as clearly you are in the end zone when I am still considering kicking off.”
“What?”
“I think you get my point. I am under too much pressure to live up to your expectations.”
“Why you foreigners always so picky in your relationships? Reason so much?”
“I am just trying to think of you…So do you think we can take this slow? Or should we break up?”
“What can I do? I must respect you. I want to be with the foreigner so I know it will be hard - Maybe, you will love me one day. I am willing to take the risk.”
AHHHHHH, he thought.
Diane went back to munching away on some dried cuttlefish, already having put on most of her clothes. He knew he was going to have to take the lead. He was going to have to teach. He wasn’t sure he was qualified. He was hoping to learn a little more first. He knew he would get lazy – he always did – and she would gradually build up resentment against him and become unhappy. That was what his mother taught him: if you asked a woman to do something unfair or you didn’t treat her properly she may agree, but she would remember, and you would pay one day.
He thought about getting one of the few western girls in Taipei, but then he looked at Diane and remembered she was the prettiest girl he had ever been with. He thought about the number of women he had slept with in my four months so far. He remembered the feelings of frustration over girls he couldn’t get in college because they were supposed to be out of his league; the fear of failure, of being laughed at if he approached a table of women in a bar back home. It already seemed so far away. He decided it would be good for him to be the teacher for once. He would find myself a local girl who was outgoing and westernized in her attitude, then cut her a lot of slack to bring her out of her shell.
It was 10:30. Diane had to be home by eleven o’clock so she got up, and got dressed. First time, he had said, Girl, you are twenty-three. How can you accept that? Then he thought about the benefits to himself, and was glad she didn’t disobey her parents.
He picked up his textbook and started to look forward to some study - Then he felt restless: It was a Wednesday night, and it was Ladies Night all across the city. He was in Taiwan. One of the reasons for being here was the women. He should go out and chase.
He dragged himself to the shower, then poured himself a large vodka for Dutch courage – drinks were too expensive in that disco – and picked up the phone. “Hey, John. Do you want to go out?”
“I told you not to call me. I am not going out anymore.”
“Are you coming?”
There was a pause. “So where the fuck are we going?”
Eric looked around at the people sat around him in the teashop. It was quiet considering there were twenty people inside. About half were reading magazines or Japanese comics. He looked at the cover of the magazine the girl to his left was reading. It was another image of a late teens girl pulling a kooky innocent smile while holding tight her teddy bear. She is not twelve, he thought. Two tables down a bunch of girls had just gathered together to take a photo with the obligatory V for victory sign, and were now clapping each other with that elbows and wrists together clapping style. He looked across at Diane and slowly dragged himself up straight in his chair, and yawned. “You know I read today the government wants to make Taiwan the Asian information services center. If you are going to become a center of learning, expertise and innovation your teachers and bosses need to learn to be questioned. Can’t keep prompting someone because they know someone or are older.”
“Yes. You know this is Taiwan,” she said.
“What? If you don’t agree you can say. No need to be so polite.”
I am not interested in this stupid topic, she thought. I am bored to death with it.
“We are taught to respect men, it is natural,” she replied before going back to catching glimpses of the front of the Cosmopolitan magazine on the lower shelf of the table, the one I said she couldn’t read. That was another thing she didn’t like about the foreigner - if there was no conversation why couldn’t she read a magazine or newspaper? Why did they have to sit desperately trying to make polite conversation? She wanted to be in that new Californian restaurant that had opened last week, and was the place to be seen for young internationally-minded Taiwanese like herself. Eric had vetoed it by saying it was no better than TGI Friday, and he didn’t come to Taiwan to hang around in American theme restaurants. Now she was drinking ice-green tea with lemon in a teashop on Shih-Ta Road, the kind of place she hung out at when she was a student.
Didn’t he fucking know she was brought up on this stuff?
She thought after graduation she would be leaving behind this area and hanging around in the more upmarket areas around Ren-Ai, Fu-Hsing, and Dun-hua Roads, but it seemed another drawback of being with a foreigner was hanging around student areas, and in particular Shih-Ta Road.
He sighed – Won’t anything provoke you? He was dying to have his character picked apart, to be argued with; he had no intention of changing but enjoyed the discussion - actually needed it – as opinions left languishing in his brain would start to lose their shape and self-esteem after a few days or weeks because they hadn’t been challenged. He wasn’t a great conversationalist, preferring to argue, and he now fondly remembered noisy afternoons being picked on by his two older sisters and mother; respect wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
“You know I am not a Taiwanese guy. It is cool to argue with me. I won’t suppress you.”
Hmm, thought Diane, What about not being able to read the magazine? Go to KTV on a Sunday afternoon because I should be out enjoying nature? - Tonight and this teashop? But she said nothing because she had never expected much from men. Foreign men were just a different kind of stupid, but they let women do whatever they wanted.
She sat up slowly in her seat. “That is why we want to go to school in America.”
“I know so you can learn to question. You know if enough of you go to school abroad it will set up an irresistible momentum.”
“Yes…Uh, if I have the MBA I can be the boss.”
She leaned forward putting her mouth around the straw, looking down through the glass table top at the Cosmopolitan. “One of my uncles live in San Francisco,” she said out the corner of her mouth.
“Never been there,” he replied thinking he had got a girlfriend to avoid the conversation about their American Dream, hoping things would move onto other topics.
“Really? You know I push my parents to emigrate. I am so disappointed they didn’t send me to university in America - Berkeley is my dream. You know I have a cousin at Berkeley and his mother is so proud. His mother has so much face now in the family. I want to give her face.”
“That is the mother who beat you,” he said. And I have had to hear about so many times.
“I forgive her now. She was under pressure from my grandmother. Everyday, she humiliate my mother. Tell my father to divorce her - She think my mother is too low class. So my mother have the bad temper.” She continued, “And her son is useless so she have push me because I am smart - Will give her face.”
He wrestled with getting another refill of water for his pot of fruit tea. He took the spoon and ate the fruit at the bottom of his jug (kumquat, orange and apple), finished up the last of the roasted broad beans, squeezed the last of the peppered peas from their pods, and got up.
“Are you finished?” he asked. “Ok, let’s go.”
“Please you drive?” pushed Diane on seeing Eric get into position near the back of the scooter.
“What is this face thing? You have to be driven by the guy.” (He had been told before a girl will lose face if she is seen on the front with a boy on the back.)
“No, I don’t have a face problem. You are too heavy,” she replied because it was only a 50cc scooter.
“Yeah right,” he murmured before thinking she may have a point.
...
“Whoa! Whoa! Hsu fu! Hsu fu (Comfortable)!” screamed Diane as he and her made love, prompting him to check his manhood for recent growth.
“You want harder? Softer? Deeper?” He asked for the 10th time.
“No, no…now is hsu fu! hsu fu! You decide…Oh, my God, so powerful.”
“Are you sure?” he continued checking her face again for signs of faking.
“Just a moment, I need to put on a condom,” he said.
“What are you doing?” she had said the first night.
“I am putting on a condom,” he had replied.
“Not necessary. My period has just finished.”
“It is cool - The safe thing to do.”
“You think I am dirty girl? I don’t have the one-night stand.”
He looked at her for a few seconds, thinking of a way that wouldn’t offend her.
“Of course, you are not a dirty girl,” he had replied and threw away the condom, deciding to persuade her over time about the virtues of safe sex.
Back to tonight. He had spoken to her often about the subject over the last few weeks and he was determined to enforce it today.
“I don’t want to get you pregnant,” he explained feeling his cowardice.
“Don’t worry. It will be okay. I don’t think I can easily get pregnant,” she replied.
Again, he was stumped by her answer because it was so far out of the logic box it was hard to deal with: Was she saying she was sterile?
“Please don’t stop,” she said, looking him in the eye, pleading.
He made up my mind not to put up with the nonsense anymore. Next time he would wear the condom no matter what.
He didn’t stop, instead dropping down a gear instead so he could muse on his own stupidity. Back home, he didn’t like to wear a condom, but he had come to Taiwan to play around, and that meant he needed to. He was no different from every other guy hoping to screw himself senseless. And that was another reason for the relationship with Diane: he had failed miserably to wear one for the two months so far, and so had crawled into the relationship to regroup behind it’s relatively sexually safe walls, reeducate myself about what was important. Launch myself on the females of Taiwan with a good habit established.
“You want to change positions? What is good for you?”he asked.
“If you like?”
“Do you like from behind?”
“Whatever you want?”
“I am going to cum? Shall I wait?” he asked.
“No, no! Please cum. I want to see.”
Two minutes later: “Wow! What a man! - Look so much! Why you so powerful?” He squirmed as he always did. He hadn’t been the school football captain - chess team captain, yes, but a quick check of his frame confirmed training for this team hadn’t turned me into a ‘lean mean fighting machine.'
"Please tissues. It is dripping,” said Diane.
He gave her one tissue.
“More. Quick. More.”
He gave her three more tissues and watched her feeble attempts to utilize the full mopping power of any of them.
“More.”
“Diane that is enough - Think about the environment.” The overuse of tissues was getting him down: Nobody used a cloth to wipe anything; boxes of tissues were everywhere. Go to anyone’s house and it was difficult to turn your head more than fifteen degrees without seeing a box of them; a drop of watermelon juice would hit the table, and all the women in the house would pounce, each pulling five tissues from the nearest box, throwing them away in disappointment when they missed the chance to exterminate that drop...Still he felt like a prick for mentioning now. It came out because he felt compelled to dampen the atmosphere.
“Why are so mean? I just make love with you.”
We made love together, he thought. Not wishing to count out any more tissues, he handed her the box.
“See you cum a lot. Cover all my stomach. What can I do?” she said looking him in the eyes.
I have no clue, he thought. Aren’t women supposed to be the sensible ones?
“Sorry, I didn’t make you cum. You can tell me to wait - it is cool, I am not a Taiwanese guy,” he added after a couple of moments of silence.
“No, no, no! I really enjoy. Today I stressed, next time,” she replied.
“I can make you cum, no problem,” he said determined to empower her.
He tried to put his head between her legs and she jumped up in panic. “No. No. Very dirty! I am embarrassed.”
American cosmopolitan wasn’t lying, she thought.
“It ain’t dirty. This is normal girl. You are with a foreigner now.”
“I mean it is hot in Taiwan - Very sweaty,” she replied afraid the foreigner was going to dump her for being a prude. He was relieved in a way: he had just had sex without a condom and no man liked to taste himself. And, he didn’t know this girl very well…and you had to assume she was lying about how many boys she had slept with before…and it was not your country so the unfamiliar bred suspicion…and even if she wasn’t lying about her previous sexual partners being a couple of thumbs worth, she never bothered about condoms and one of them might be one of those guys who come in and out of Thailand on a regular basis. He pushed out his tongue in distaste.
“I am just going to the bathroom,” he said, deciding to stimulate himself; determined to make her cum.
Thirty minutes later he was desperately trying to ignore my tiredness and frustration; refusing to change positions because it is was already going soft, and once it popped out he knew it wasn’t going back in. He wanted to stop but that would be insulting to her, insulting to his manhood...Still he was slowing down...
Come on, man, he said to myself a little loud.
Diane looked round. “Are you ok?” she asked. “I know I don’t have so much experience. I’m sorry.”
This just made him feel worse. “Not your fault. Really,” he insisted.
She looked at his face. “Lie down! Take a rest. I know you are tired.” Diane took the pillow out from under her, patted it even and put it under his head.
“I am sorry, but...” I said.
“That is okay. No need to say.” She put her fingers to my mouth.
He desperately wanted to explain. What did she think of him? He wondered what judgments she was secretly making about him, and worrying what a chauvinist he was going to become when he didn’t have to explain. He came back from the bathroom all the more determined to make her satisfied, show he cared about her.
“You are tired,” she said. “Next time, you can make me cum.”
These foreigners can be pushy, she thought. I am watching TV now.
A few moments later. “I love you,” she turned to him and whispered.
He closed his eyes and felt the crash. The whole tissue thing had been raised to hopefully avoid this.
“Girl you have known me for four weeks. That ain’t cool.”
He had sensed this coming for a while - Then he saw the irony of the use of the word 'while’: they had slept together about six times, and once they had become a kind of item he was sure he could see it trying to squeeze out.
“Girl, I am a foreigner so need to play the dedicated girl because we had sex. You want to be with a Western guy, you have to drop the bullshit about needing to love before making love.”
“You don’t understand the Taiwanese girl, we fall in love easily.”
“And you don’t know the foreign guy, we are afraid of commitment. We don’t like our relationships to go too fast. We tend to run hard if they do - You watch our movies.”
“But you are with the Taiwan girl now. You must appreciate we are conservative girls. I only do the sex with someone I love.”
“Then it is best we break up. If you are in love after three weeks, then you will be tattooing my name across your body in another two - And it will be unfair to you as clearly you are in the end zone when I am still considering kicking off.”
“What?”
“I think you get my point. I am under too much pressure to live up to your expectations.”
“Why you foreigners always so picky in your relationships? Reason so much?”
“I am just trying to think of you…So do you think we can take this slow? Or should we break up?”
“What can I do? I must respect you. I want to be with the foreigner so I know it will be hard - Maybe, you will love me one day. I am willing to take the risk.”
AHHHHHH, he thought.
Diane went back to munching away on some dried cuttlefish, already having put on most of her clothes. He knew he was going to have to take the lead. He was going to have to teach. He wasn’t sure he was qualified. He was hoping to learn a little more first. He knew he would get lazy – he always did – and she would gradually build up resentment against him and become unhappy. That was what his mother taught him: if you asked a woman to do something unfair or you didn’t treat her properly she may agree, but she would remember, and you would pay one day.
He thought about getting one of the few western girls in Taipei, but then he looked at Diane and remembered she was the prettiest girl he had ever been with. He thought about the number of women he had slept with in my four months so far. He remembered the feelings of frustration over girls he couldn’t get in college because they were supposed to be out of his league; the fear of failure, of being laughed at if he approached a table of women in a bar back home. It already seemed so far away. He decided it would be good for him to be the teacher for once. He would find myself a local girl who was outgoing and westernized in her attitude, then cut her a lot of slack to bring her out of her shell.
It was 10:30. Diane had to be home by eleven o’clock so she got up, and got dressed. First time, he had said, Girl, you are twenty-three. How can you accept that? Then he thought about the benefits to himself, and was glad she didn’t disobey her parents.
He picked up his textbook and started to look forward to some study - Then he felt restless: It was a Wednesday night, and it was Ladies Night all across the city. He was in Taiwan. One of the reasons for being here was the women. He should go out and chase.
He dragged himself to the shower, then poured himself a large vodka for Dutch courage – drinks were too expensive in that disco – and picked up the phone. “Hey, John. Do you want to go out?”
“I told you not to call me. I am not going out anymore.”
“Are you coming?”
There was a pause. “So where the fuck are we going?”
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Taiwan culture shock: Taiwan girls
My friends would ask me what it is like dating a girl from Taiwan
I used to quote the above as a comical first analogy when I had not been in Taiwan
One of the first things you think when you first start dating a Taiwanese girl is that they are ‘so nice.’ As if there is something in their heart that is just nicer than other races or cultures. Maybe, she leans into you and says something like: “You are such a wonderful boyfriend. I am so glad to be with you. That restaurant was so good you took me too. I am really grateful. Tonight you can do anything you want to me. You know I am just the little Taiwan
Depending on how heavily you carry your own western baggage about directness, honesty and being realistic, your reaction ranges anything from skepticism, feeling a like squeamish to damn right revulsion. One of the things you do is remember how she is a downtrodden little Asian and you feel sorry for her because she has been pushed into this terrible position. Otherwise, you feel she is weak.
Of course this is nonsense. The correct way of viewing it is the culture emphasizes being polite, nice, enthusiastic, helpful. Asians are prepared to go to far greater levels of service than we are – Things that we won’t do because we view as impinging upon our rights, they will just do without thinking. Just take an Asian airline compared to a European or North American one. If you are on the Asian airline you can press the button on your seat a thousand times and the girl will come and give you a new drink; on the European one, after the second press you can already see her face resenting you and she will say something on the lines of, Get up and get it yourself, I know that is my job, but I think I have provided you with sufficient service. In short, we westerners don’t like to offer too much because we are too caught up with our rights and not being taken advantage of.
In fact, there is a word that sums up what the girl above is doing: Sa jiao. When a Taiwanese girl first started using the word with me I could only come up with a negative translation: sucking up or brown nosing. The girl will put her arms around you and say lots and lots of nice things and say how much he likes to ‘sa jiao’ with you. I suppose, we do have words that are similar such as ‘bonding’ – but, in general, we refer to the above more often than not in a negative way.
So, as she is being nice to you, how do you allay your fears that she is weak? You will soon find that out in time because if she is weak then she won’t require you to reciprocate and also be polite. And that comes back to the Pulp Fiction analogy and why it reminds me of Taiwanese girls. The joke is clear: She is in the wrong because she forgot to do the one thing that he requires her to do. We are thinking the stupid bitch should be apologizing and putting up her hand and saying ‘My bad.’ But no – Bruce’s character has to apologize in the end to stop her crying.
So how does it fit in? There you have the price for a Taiwanese girl being nice to you: You are expected to be nice back. A couple of the phrases you will hear most often are: “Ne bu yao
“Why you get angry with me?”
“I wasn’t getting angry. I was shouting because it was a noisy road.”
“Still no need to shout. Just talk nicely.”
“I think talking nicely means you would be squashed.”
“Now you are being sarcastic.”
She refused to budge, at which point most of us would have walked off at the preposterous injustice of having to apologize for saving someone’s life – but not John, as I said he was good at dealing with Taiwanese, so he replied as follows: “I am sorry for losing my temper – You know how much I love you and so I panicked.”
She forgave him immediately no doubt giving him the best sex of his life that evening. We listened in admiration because, while we all loved the idea of the Taiwanese girl, we weren’t so good at handling them ourselves.
We can’t leave this topic without touching on the idea of sexism. Taiwan was still an incredibly sexist society compared to the west – exceptionally liberal compared to most of the rest of the world you have to remember – but it wasn’t that straightforward as that: Taiwan has one of the best employment markets for women in Asia and with economic opportunities come freedom. And while society was officially sexist many families were not. Women were used to getting their own way in more subtle ways rather than direct confrontation.
Another thing we like to say is the women don’t compete with us – At every turn they don’t try and show men that they can do it as well or better than them. Well, they don’t, but of course it has its drawbacks. Don’t expect them to say, No I am not tired, or, It’s ok I don’t need any help or I’ll go and pick up that dry cleaning I forgot myself. This is shown best when she has your kid. Don’t expect her to be up off the bed after one day to prove to you she is a strong woman. She will enjoy every day of the special month she is given in which gives her the right to lie on the bed, and do nothing. Don’t tell her every minute how hard she has worked and it is best she rests for longer – and you see how much trouble you get in for the rest of your life.
She lets you be the stronger sex, don’t be surprised therefore when she wants to be the weaker.
Another favorite is to accuse the girl of being a fraud because she was so nice to you in the first two months and suddenly not so afterwards; that she is reeling you in. The more likely explanation is you come from two different cultures separated by 5000 years of different culture. She was nice to you. You weren’t particularly nice back. After two months she is hoping you are going to start doing it her way and you are hoping she is going to do it yours. You are getting to the stage of the relationship where you have to start making decisions together and you will disagree on many things – and your cultural differences are no longer such fun. She has a face problem and drops into passive aggressive mode. You feel bad so push her to spell out she has a problem. It all goes to pieces.
Of course, the above pops its head up to differing degrees in every girl. If it doesn’t then she is the exception that proves the rule.
Of course there are some girls who don’t speak nicely to you or treat you like a man. There are also some girls who do it and don’t expect it back. In those cases I would suggest you look not to the failure of this but to personal issues with the girl: spoilt bitch, psycho or doormat.
I am not trying to put you off dating Taiwanese girls, just expect to behave like a ‘man’ if you want to be treated like one.
Oh, and by the way, it is all worth it. Every second.
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