Foreigners had a bad reputation as dirty horn dogs.
As i say not all girls were of the subtle variety. This one i had gone to pick up in the disco, and she had said: "Hey, you are just trying to fuck the Taiwan girl." To which i had replied nervously, "No, no, i am looking for a girlfriend." To which she had replied, "Pity because i just want to get fucked."
I figured no strings sex for a while was great so i continued to see her. However, she had taken her stereotype of foreigners a little too far:
One afternoon, i emerged from the shower to hear her talking sweetly to someone on the phone.
I didn't think too much of it - and just started making a little conversation. "So…" I started to say.
“Sssh, just a moment,”said Jenny while covering the receiver.
I decided there had to be mitigating circumstances so he let her finish her call.
"I am going to see another guy later. We are finished, yes?”
No, I hadn’t jumped to an unfair conclusion.
“S’pose I shouldn’t really object. I don’t intend to make you me bride, after all," I replied. "You have an open attitude there for a good little Taiwanese girl.”
“You know," she said, "I used to be such a good girl, traditional Taiwanese girl, then it all went wrong when I applied to university. I wanted to go to Tai Da, the best in Taiwan, everyone thought I would get there, and I only got into Jeng Zhi, the 3rd best in the country. I was so unhappy …you know I was a Christian, but God couldn’t be good…so I just decided then to sleep with as many men as I could. I went to all the foreigner bars because I know you foreigners don’t care - Chinese guys they are too troublesome, they don’t like it when you have several boyfriends. You know, I only started going to the bar three months ago and I have slept with twenty foreign guys already.”
I laughed at the stereotyping:Westerners were supposed to be dirty horn dogs in a state of constant divorce and orgy, whereas Taiwanese viewed themselves as traditional.
Maybe, there was alot of truth in the stereotype, but this was a little bit further than I was prepared to go to live up to my stereotype.
"You have much to be proud of then young lady. Anyway, best you are on your way if you have another appointment.
One thing i was curious about before she left: "Hey, why did you ask me to shoosh, you obviously don't care if he hears?"
"You misunderstand," she replied. "He is from Nigeria so i can't understand his accent so well."
When she left i took the condom from the bin and filled it with water just to reassure myself it didn't have any leaks.
Showing posts with label Western stereotypes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Western stereotypes. Show all posts
Monday, August 17, 2009
Monday, April 13, 2009
Expat Culture in Taiwan: Shameless exploiting our name II
Us expats in Taiwan liked to exploit our name and play up our stereotypes for personal gain.
On this occasion we had gone to an all you can eat and drink wine and European buffet at a French wine importer's warehouse in Tien Mu, the old ex-pat area of Taipei. It was 600NT a head, but the wine on offer was cheap and there was no sign of good brie or camembert. Pierre was staring disdainfully with the corners of his mouth turned up and a told you so look.
"Sorry, mate," said John. "Even I don't think this is good cheese."
We looked around and the funny thing was still 50% of people in the party were French. “Man, this must be a nightmare for you. I know how I would feel hanging around in a place filled with fat Americans watching baseball,”said Eric to Pierre.
Pierre looked around at his countrymen bravely stomaching the wine and cheese for their own personal higher purpose: some were so homesick they wanted any excuse to hang around with other French people and talk about the old country; while, he knew most were with girlfriend, friends, or colleagues in tow, sipping the wine and offering their ‘expert’ judgment, desperately trying to show off - while the Taiwanese listened intently not knowing, or too polite to tell them they were full of bullshit.
"They are trying to get laid," replied Pierre.
John was thinking about Eric’s analogy about being stuck in a room with a bunch of fellow English watching the game.
"Now i am depressed," he said.
On this occasion we had gone to an all you can eat and drink wine and European buffet at a French wine importer's warehouse in Tien Mu, the old ex-pat area of Taipei. It was 600NT a head, but the wine on offer was cheap and there was no sign of good brie or camembert. Pierre was staring disdainfully with the corners of his mouth turned up and a told you so look.
"Sorry, mate," said John. "Even I don't think this is good cheese."
We looked around and the funny thing was still 50% of people in the party were French. “Man, this must be a nightmare for you. I know how I would feel hanging around in a place filled with fat Americans watching baseball,”said Eric to Pierre.
Pierre looked around at his countrymen bravely stomaching the wine and cheese for their own personal higher purpose: some were so homesick they wanted any excuse to hang around with other French people and talk about the old country; while, he knew most were with girlfriend, friends, or colleagues in tow, sipping the wine and offering their ‘expert’ judgment, desperately trying to show off - while the Taiwanese listened intently not knowing, or too polite to tell them they were full of bullshit.
"They are trying to get laid," replied Pierre.
John was thinking about Eric’s analogy about being stuck in a room with a bunch of fellow English watching the game.
"Now i am depressed," he said.
Friday, April 3, 2009
Western stereotypes: Cooking my own dinner at six...
Remember the stereotype is that we foreigners were more mature and independent, were cooking our own dinner at six. I had a number of parents who wanted me to instill those values into their little children. I remember one in particular who whose father had watched too much cable.
I was talking to the father and watching the little boy out of the corner of my eye; he was six and continually banging his transformer toy against the corner of the TV.
"Look," said the father. "He needs to be taught to think for himself a little. I can't do it of course because i am Taiwanese - If he questions me i'll just whack him and tell him to listen to his father...We Taiwanese are more traditional ...Just no way."
"That is mighty honest of you," I replied. "Your contradictions keeps me in a salary."
"He won't do his homework, listen to his parents. Maybe, you can teach him to go shopping...cross the road...things like that."
"Sure. When I was six, I was cooking my own dinner, queuing at the post office to pay my bills, then driving into town to do jury service, " I said before then slowing down. "One thing at a time I think."
Six year old kids don’t make decisions for myself, and when they do, they are found dead by the side of the road shortly after.
I was talking to the father and watching the little boy out of the corner of my eye; he was six and continually banging his transformer toy against the corner of the TV.
"Look," said the father. "He needs to be taught to think for himself a little. I can't do it of course because i am Taiwanese - If he questions me i'll just whack him and tell him to listen to his father...We Taiwanese are more traditional ...Just no way."
"That is mighty honest of you," I replied. "Your contradictions keeps me in a salary."
"He won't do his homework, listen to his parents. Maybe, you can teach him to go shopping...cross the road...things like that."
"Sure. When I was six, I was cooking my own dinner, queuing at the post office to pay my bills, then driving into town to do jury service, " I said before then slowing down. "One thing at a time I think."
Six year old kids don’t make decisions for myself, and when they do, they are found dead by the side of the road shortly after.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
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.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
An Englishman in Taipei V
John, because he was macho and desperately fighting a craving to punch someone out, was particularly affected by the stereotyping of English in Taipei. Here is one rant he went on.
“You know, before, I never gave a flying fuck what the rest of the world thought about the Englishman. I hadn’t talked to more than 10 people from abroad and I didn’t plan to talk to 10 more, but now I am forced to take an interest and it is disturbing. We are only thought of as prancied up ponces, unsociable, aloof, cold. Either that or perverted psychos. But worse of all, and most disturbing, as wimpy, effectual, sensitive, gentleman who couldn’t punch their way out of a tissue bag. And it mostly our fault - In Hollywood our actors specialize in playing wimps, psychos, and weirdos because they are the only characters they think are interesting. Otherwise, they specialize in playing twits without a macho bone in their bodies. Bollocks! The good guy is also interesting. Britain is full of wholesome, stoic, individuals who do the right thing and fight for it. Fuck, I got thrown out of the bar last week, because some silly little ABC boy thought all British were nerdy. He is now minus some teeth and I can’t go back to the bar.”
He continued, "At home we ain’t much better, obsessed with our past or with making stories about the shite elements of our society. I am getting sick of people asking if I have a butler or was one."
“Don’t you?”said Eric.
“Shut up! Listen to me finish what I have to say!” He was snorting and managing the difficult job of eye-balling me, Eric and Josh all at the same time. John had a thing about people listening to him. You could disagree, rip him to shreds and question his existence for living, but don’t look away. That made him angry.
‘All the fucking Steven Frys, Kenneth Branaghs, Ralph Fiennes fucking Oxford and Cambridge lot spend all their time making films about the past or writers, dredging history books for what they think are interesting stuck-up twat like characters ...All because they can’t fit into modern society or understand the motivations of normal heterosexual, stand up guys. If they want to do someone from history, do one of our heroes. Do they loathe themselves and the world so much they can’t play good? Then, as they get a little bit of clout in Hollywood they use it all up persuading a producer to finance their crap play. We have been in Hollywood for years but now fucking Australians fill any role that requires someone to be macho, wholesome and silent. Look at fucking gladiator! Look at X-men! Now doubt that if they had got a British guy to do it, then he would have insisted on playing it as a cross dresser who’s boyfriend had been murdered by the emperor. Most people now think Joaquin Phoenix is British, because he took the role slotted for the British guy. Some of the world's best actors and we can’t play NORMAL. The British army is the best in the world and everyone thinks the SAS is an American unit."
“What about the gardening and the tea?” said Eric.
“Yes, we like to do gardening, DIY, and drink tea. But if someone jumps over the fence and tries to stamp on our roses we take a rake and shove it up their arses. We don’t stand there fretting and dithering. Same with the chicks - we don’t stand there tongue tied but grab her and drag her back to the bedroom we have spent a lot of time decorating and fitting out. Then offer her a cup of fuckin tea in the morning if she not too much of a dog.
John continued: “Another one i am always asked, 'Is there any nightlife in Britain?' - I don’t think so. We are not repressed! Go to club back home or in Ibiza for the summer. Your Cancun spring break faggots wouldn’t last 2 minutes, there.”
“You tell them, ‘What about that DJ who is at Luxy or Plush tonight? You like the band - blah, blah, blah - they are English. And they look at you like, well maybe, I am sure there are a few people who go out in England. Or, like I am sure, like, people go out, but everyone is sat in a dinner jacket at tables, sipping their champagne before clapping politely at the end of each track by the Prodigy. Either that or a guy with a woolly jumper is self-consciously twisting one arm in the air with no rythmn.”
“I used to be a great supporter of the royal family and all the traditions and the history and that shit. Maybe it does bring in some tourists – but it also alienates a lot of people who want to go somewhere they think is fun. And, it especially makes it hard for normal Brits abroad who have to listen to stupid stereotypes of themselves all day. Anyway, why can’t we present both to the world – come to Britain we have cold aloof snobs, out-of-date institutions and kicking nightlife.”
Josh: “I agree, dude! But you still boil your vegetables too long - My grandfather was English.”
Eric: “I will always remember the cream tea and the doorman at the hotel in London…Alright Jeeves...Carry on sir...Brideshead Revisited. Why can’t you all be more like that?”
That night a taxi driver knocked John off his bike and was the unfortunate recipient of a lot of anger...
“You know, before, I never gave a flying fuck what the rest of the world thought about the Englishman. I hadn’t talked to more than 10 people from abroad and I didn’t plan to talk to 10 more, but now I am forced to take an interest and it is disturbing. We are only thought of as prancied up ponces, unsociable, aloof, cold. Either that or perverted psychos. But worse of all, and most disturbing, as wimpy, effectual, sensitive, gentleman who couldn’t punch their way out of a tissue bag. And it mostly our fault - In Hollywood our actors specialize in playing wimps, psychos, and weirdos because they are the only characters they think are interesting. Otherwise, they specialize in playing twits without a macho bone in their bodies. Bollocks! The good guy is also interesting. Britain is full of wholesome, stoic, individuals who do the right thing and fight for it. Fuck, I got thrown out of the bar last week, because some silly little ABC boy thought all British were nerdy. He is now minus some teeth and I can’t go back to the bar.”
He continued, "At home we ain’t much better, obsessed with our past or with making stories about the shite elements of our society. I am getting sick of people asking if I have a butler or was one."
“Don’t you?”said Eric.
“Shut up! Listen to me finish what I have to say!” He was snorting and managing the difficult job of eye-balling me, Eric and Josh all at the same time. John had a thing about people listening to him. You could disagree, rip him to shreds and question his existence for living, but don’t look away. That made him angry.
‘All the fucking Steven Frys, Kenneth Branaghs, Ralph Fiennes fucking Oxford and Cambridge lot spend all their time making films about the past or writers, dredging history books for what they think are interesting stuck-up twat like characters ...All because they can’t fit into modern society or understand the motivations of normal heterosexual, stand up guys. If they want to do someone from history, do one of our heroes. Do they loathe themselves and the world so much they can’t play good? Then, as they get a little bit of clout in Hollywood they use it all up persuading a producer to finance their crap play. We have been in Hollywood for years but now fucking Australians fill any role that requires someone to be macho, wholesome and silent. Look at fucking gladiator! Look at X-men! Now doubt that if they had got a British guy to do it, then he would have insisted on playing it as a cross dresser who’s boyfriend had been murdered by the emperor. Most people now think Joaquin Phoenix is British, because he took the role slotted for the British guy. Some of the world's best actors and we can’t play NORMAL. The British army is the best in the world and everyone thinks the SAS is an American unit."
“What about the gardening and the tea?” said Eric.
“Yes, we like to do gardening, DIY, and drink tea. But if someone jumps over the fence and tries to stamp on our roses we take a rake and shove it up their arses. We don’t stand there fretting and dithering. Same with the chicks - we don’t stand there tongue tied but grab her and drag her back to the bedroom we have spent a lot of time decorating and fitting out. Then offer her a cup of fuckin tea in the morning if she not too much of a dog.
John continued: “Another one i am always asked, 'Is there any nightlife in Britain?' - I don’t think so. We are not repressed! Go to club back home or in Ibiza for the summer. Your Cancun spring break faggots wouldn’t last 2 minutes, there.”
“You tell them, ‘What about that DJ who is at Luxy or Plush tonight? You like the band - blah, blah, blah - they are English. And they look at you like, well maybe, I am sure there are a few people who go out in England. Or, like I am sure, like, people go out, but everyone is sat in a dinner jacket at tables, sipping their champagne before clapping politely at the end of each track by the Prodigy. Either that or a guy with a woolly jumper is self-consciously twisting one arm in the air with no rythmn.”
“I used to be a great supporter of the royal family and all the traditions and the history and that shit. Maybe it does bring in some tourists – but it also alienates a lot of people who want to go somewhere they think is fun. And, it especially makes it hard for normal Brits abroad who have to listen to stupid stereotypes of themselves all day. Anyway, why can’t we present both to the world – come to Britain we have cold aloof snobs, out-of-date institutions and kicking nightlife.”
Josh: “I agree, dude! But you still boil your vegetables too long - My grandfather was English.”
Eric: “I will always remember the cream tea and the doorman at the hotel in London…Alright Jeeves...Carry on sir...Brideshead Revisited. Why can’t you all be more like that?”
That night a taxi driver knocked John off his bike and was the unfortunate recipient of a lot of anger...
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
An Englishman in Taipei IV
Being English in Taipei could even slow your progress to the bedroom if you used the wrong word.
Lucy Chen was an English major at University getting ready for her life changing experience in the great USA.
She was a nice girl, but clearly interested in practicing her English, hanging on my every word and not because she was interested in anything i had to say.
I enjoyed dating girls like this, watching their expressions and nervous excitement. She had been studying for 10 years, and she had always feared that it might not work, but now she was talking to a foreigner - The foreigner asked questions, the answer she had studied worked, foreigner understood, we were communicating...Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.
Still it could be slow waiting while she sought to check the word or phrase against the million textbooks she had memorized word for word. You could see her systemically dredging up chapter, unit, and then page, remembering the context in which it was used, cross-referencing with what you said before interpreting a meaning.
That day had another problem. In the afternoon I had spent alot of time talking to English people and slipped back into English mode. She had already asked several questions when I had used 'Englishisms' and this had slowed things down. I had to concentrate really hard on at least removing as much British English vocabulary as i could. I was afraid i might blow this - and she was really pretty.
“Let’s move onto a question from chapter five customs and culture…Sub-heading one, Going to Strange Western Man’s Flat!”I said before realizing my mistake.
“Flat? Why you say go to flat?”
“Sorry, apartment!”I said.
“Why you say flat?” She was beginning to panic: maybe, the book was wrong and it had all been for nothing.
“Doesn’t matter!”
“No, please why you say flat?” I knew I was going to have to explain. A pillar of her existence had been challenged.
“It is English for apartment. Same meaning.” She made a sentence in her head, but she was worried now that she was wasting her time talking to an Englishman.
“England has a lot of different words?”she asked.
“Not so many! Now come back to my apartment…flat…there you go, one new word already tonight…and I will explain some more later. I heard Americans don’t understand, ‘shag.’”
“Shag? Yes…No, I never hear that.”
She came back to my apartment, looked through my photos, and said she thought we could be good friends.
Oh, the pain of being English.
Lucy Chen was an English major at University getting ready for her life changing experience in the great USA.
She was a nice girl, but clearly interested in practicing her English, hanging on my every word and not because she was interested in anything i had to say.
I enjoyed dating girls like this, watching their expressions and nervous excitement. She had been studying for 10 years, and she had always feared that it might not work, but now she was talking to a foreigner - The foreigner asked questions, the answer she had studied worked, foreigner understood, we were communicating...Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.
Still it could be slow waiting while she sought to check the word or phrase against the million textbooks she had memorized word for word. You could see her systemically dredging up chapter, unit, and then page, remembering the context in which it was used, cross-referencing with what you said before interpreting a meaning.
That day had another problem. In the afternoon I had spent alot of time talking to English people and slipped back into English mode. She had already asked several questions when I had used 'Englishisms' and this had slowed things down. I had to concentrate really hard on at least removing as much British English vocabulary as i could. I was afraid i might blow this - and she was really pretty.
“Let’s move onto a question from chapter five customs and culture…Sub-heading one, Going to Strange Western Man’s Flat!”I said before realizing my mistake.
“Flat? Why you say go to flat?”
“Sorry, apartment!”I said.
“Why you say flat?” She was beginning to panic: maybe, the book was wrong and it had all been for nothing.
“Doesn’t matter!”
“No, please why you say flat?” I knew I was going to have to explain. A pillar of her existence had been challenged.
“It is English for apartment. Same meaning.” She made a sentence in her head, but she was worried now that she was wasting her time talking to an Englishman.
“England has a lot of different words?”she asked.
“Not so many! Now come back to my apartment…flat…there you go, one new word already tonight…and I will explain some more later. I heard Americans don’t understand, ‘shag.’”
“Shag? Yes…No, I never hear that.”
She came back to my apartment, looked through my photos, and said she thought we could be good friends.
Oh, the pain of being English.
An Englishman in Taipei III
The British actors penchant for only playing homosexuals, wimps, weirdos, pyschos and reserved snobs in Hollywood, had done real damage to the average Englishman in Taipei's macho credentials.
The average date:
“You English are gentleman, right?” said Lucy.
“What about the football hooligans?” I said.
At first I had been so overwhelmed by the stereotypes of an inferior English accent, and American superiority I had decided to keep my mouth shut; I almost believed them. But slowly I had found a few people who appreciated the English accent, and didn’t think it was a stuffy, rained every day, bowler hat doffing giant Merchant Ivory Production and I felt I could retake some of the ground between perception and reality.
“I don’t know, but the English are shy…don’t like trouble,”continued Lucy.
“What about James Bond? – He is British,” I pushed.
“Yes, but he is very American-style.”
“Hmm…Anyway…"
The average date:
“You English are gentleman, right?” said Lucy.
“What about the football hooligans?” I said.
At first I had been so overwhelmed by the stereotypes of an inferior English accent, and American superiority I had decided to keep my mouth shut; I almost believed them. But slowly I had found a few people who appreciated the English accent, and didn’t think it was a stuffy, rained every day, bowler hat doffing giant Merchant Ivory Production and I felt I could retake some of the ground between perception and reality.
“I don’t know, but the English are shy…don’t like trouble,”continued Lucy.
“What about James Bond? – He is British,” I pushed.
“Yes, but he is very American-style.”
“Hmm…Anyway…"
An Englishman in Taipei II
This was petty and silly, but after a year of pretending to be an American in Taipei, I needed to exact some kind of revenge. Stand up for my fellow Englishman.
It was parents' evening at the school and i had had to teach the kids some good American folk songs to perform tonight.
The boss of the school was perpetually afraid her American English teacher – that she knew wasn’t - was going to be found out. “You talked to your friends, yes? You learn some good American nursery rhymes. You know the parents want to hear some American songs for the competition today,”she asked.
“No problem. These are good mid-western folk songs…My friend is from Mississippi.”
First team up.
“Where be that blackbird be.
I be after 'e
E be up that blackbird tree and I be after 'e.
E sees I, I sees 'e,
Buggar if I don’t get him,
With a gert big stick I’ll knock ‘im down
Blackbird I’ll ‘ave 'e.
Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah!
Blackbird I'll 'ave 'e.
I found the idea of kids singing the wurzels - a west of England comic group - to their mother, father and grandparents extremely funny, but I forgot the wurzels were so obscure I would never be found out…And without a hint of suspicion, or doubt there really was no joke.
It was parents' evening at the school and i had had to teach the kids some good American folk songs to perform tonight.
The boss of the school was perpetually afraid her American English teacher – that she knew wasn’t - was going to be found out. “You talked to your friends, yes? You learn some good American nursery rhymes. You know the parents want to hear some American songs for the competition today,”she asked.
“No problem. These are good mid-western folk songs…My friend is from Mississippi.”
First team up.
“Where be that blackbird be.
I be after 'e
E be up that blackbird tree and I be after 'e.
E sees I, I sees 'e,
Buggar if I don’t get him,
With a gert big stick I’ll knock ‘im down
Blackbird I’ll ‘ave 'e.
Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah!
Blackbird I'll 'ave 'e.
I found the idea of kids singing the wurzels - a west of England comic group - to their mother, father and grandparents extremely funny, but I forgot the wurzels were so obscure I would never be found out…And without a hint of suspicion, or doubt there really was no joke.
An Englishman in Taipei I
Besides the accent, as an Englishman in Taipei you will be continually asked whether you enjoyed national holidays that are not yours.
“You miss your family today?”asked the boss of the school.
I thought about whether it was my birthday or an anniversary of being in Taiwan. “Not especially today,” I replied.
“Really? I know Thanksgiving is very important for you.”
Always the fucking same, they will never get it, I thought, that, and the pumpkin pie, which I have never eaten, and never will - even after teaching the word a thousand times. I am going to get Guy Fawkes integrated into the curriculum in one of the schools before I die. Put a fuckin’ bomb under the school and then they’ll know.
I thought about giving him the talk about it not being a British holiday. “Same every year, eh. Should be okay to give it a miss once,” I replied.
“You miss your family today?”asked the boss of the school.
I thought about whether it was my birthday or an anniversary of being in Taiwan. “Not especially today,” I replied.
“Really? I know Thanksgiving is very important for you.”
Always the fucking same, they will never get it, I thought, that, and the pumpkin pie, which I have never eaten, and never will - even after teaching the word a thousand times. I am going to get Guy Fawkes integrated into the curriculum in one of the schools before I die. Put a fuckin’ bomb under the school and then they’ll know.
I thought about giving him the talk about it not being a British holiday. “Same every year, eh. Should be okay to give it a miss once,” I replied.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Western stereotypes: Feeling obliged to live up to them
Sometimes it was a pain to have to live up to our western stereotypes.
“Hey, Pierre,” I said bumping into him coming out of the hotel where we lived.
“Where are you going?”
“Bit of business to solve,” said Pierre.
At the time I was teaching forty-five hours a week and had no time for dating. So I wondered if Pierre could help me with a problem: “Anyway, know any women who are the no questions asked type, will be around in twenty minutes.”
“Why don’t you go to that whorehouse down the road? That is what I always do.”
“Those old skanks? I thought about going in but it just felt like I was intruding on one of my mother’s Tupperware parties.”
“Very nice! They know what they are doing…How to provide ze service.”
“Your right,” I said.
This old, therefore, provides a service is nonsense to me now. Yes, when I was 14 and clueless, I wanted my mate’s mother to broaden her legs and my horizons; I thought she was gonna take me on a magical ecstasy tour – but then I grew up, and realized while there is such a thing as a bad fuck, they are mostly the same, with: location, fitness of said bird, and atmosphere being more important. I haven’t really experienced anything new from the box of tricks in a while.
Pierre stopped and turned around. “I have something for you. Just go home. Take a shower and I will sort it out…Don’t worry, it is not a whore…well, not one that charges anyway.”
Twenty minutes later I was sat on my bed waiting. I had just gone downstairs to buy some condoms, a bottle of water and some beer – and had turned the TV to MTV (something neutral; prevent the neighbors from hearing through the wall). Life was good again. Today had been a bad day: it had rained the last few days so the pollution had been cleared away. Tomorrow the pollution would start to build up again, and in a couple of days the sky would be cloudy and I would be thinking about how it was best I was in work. At the end of the week I would be half way through my marathon summer schedule. I was going to get laid; make an excuse to get rid of her and then be asleep by twelve, ready and refreshed for tomorrow’s ten hour day.
“Very pretty,” I said opening the door. “What is your name?”
“Claudette,” she replied.
Most girls had an English name so it was fun and exciting to get one of the French groupies - I guessed she could also speak the language of love.
“Pierre said you would like to meet a Taiwanese girl. You are lonely in Taiwan, and you would like to talk.”
I smiled, “That is right.”
One hour later: “Yes, a good start. I know you foreigners like to fuck - satisfy a woman. Come on. Drink some water and then make love to me again.”
Hmm, not me, I thought, once is enough to get my frustration out.
I should tell her she had been watching too many movies, but then I always believed you shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds. I felt strangely responsible to not let down our stereotype.
I reached for the bottle of water and pointed at my soft dick to suggest she do something…Oh well, I wasn’t going to get any sleep.
Fuck it is light. I have to get up in one hour. And I can’t even sleep because that bottle of water was finished hours ago and I am parched…desperate for some more.
I headed for the shower, and scrubbed my body in slow-motion, enjoying cleaning myself as if I had just played football for four hours in driving rain and mud.
That fucking bastard Pierre…Then I looked down…Well, at least you are going to be out of action for a while.
“Hey, Pierre,” I said bumping into him coming out of the hotel where we lived.
“Where are you going?”
“Bit of business to solve,” said Pierre.
At the time I was teaching forty-five hours a week and had no time for dating. So I wondered if Pierre could help me with a problem: “Anyway, know any women who are the no questions asked type, will be around in twenty minutes.”
“Why don’t you go to that whorehouse down the road? That is what I always do.”
“Those old skanks? I thought about going in but it just felt like I was intruding on one of my mother’s Tupperware parties.”
“Very nice! They know what they are doing…How to provide ze service.”
“Your right,” I said.
This old, therefore, provides a service is nonsense to me now. Yes, when I was 14 and clueless, I wanted my mate’s mother to broaden her legs and my horizons; I thought she was gonna take me on a magical ecstasy tour – but then I grew up, and realized while there is such a thing as a bad fuck, they are mostly the same, with: location, fitness of said bird, and atmosphere being more important. I haven’t really experienced anything new from the box of tricks in a while.
Pierre stopped and turned around. “I have something for you. Just go home. Take a shower and I will sort it out…Don’t worry, it is not a whore…well, not one that charges anyway.”
Twenty minutes later I was sat on my bed waiting. I had just gone downstairs to buy some condoms, a bottle of water and some beer – and had turned the TV to MTV (something neutral; prevent the neighbors from hearing through the wall). Life was good again. Today had been a bad day: it had rained the last few days so the pollution had been cleared away. Tomorrow the pollution would start to build up again, and in a couple of days the sky would be cloudy and I would be thinking about how it was best I was in work. At the end of the week I would be half way through my marathon summer schedule. I was going to get laid; make an excuse to get rid of her and then be asleep by twelve, ready and refreshed for tomorrow’s ten hour day.
“Very pretty,” I said opening the door. “What is your name?”
“Claudette,” she replied.
Most girls had an English name so it was fun and exciting to get one of the French groupies - I guessed she could also speak the language of love.
“Pierre said you would like to meet a Taiwanese girl. You are lonely in Taiwan, and you would like to talk.”
I smiled, “That is right.”
One hour later: “Yes, a good start. I know you foreigners like to fuck - satisfy a woman. Come on. Drink some water and then make love to me again.”
Hmm, not me, I thought, once is enough to get my frustration out.
I should tell her she had been watching too many movies, but then I always believed you shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds. I felt strangely responsible to not let down our stereotype.
I reached for the bottle of water and pointed at my soft dick to suggest she do something…Oh well, I wasn’t going to get any sleep.
Fuck it is light. I have to get up in one hour. And I can’t even sleep because that bottle of water was finished hours ago and I am parched…desperate for some more.
I headed for the shower, and scrubbed my body in slow-motion, enjoying cleaning myself as if I had just played football for four hours in driving rain and mud.
That fucking bastard Pierre…Then I looked down…Well, at least you are going to be out of action for a while.
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