On time, a couple of weeks after borrowing the money from John, Pierre revealed his new occupation.
He arrived at John's apartment, got out a huge wad of money, flaunted it, implied he had to go immediately, and, when we didn’t ask why, decided to say anyway.
"This is between us," he said. This was the first time we all got the this will be putting the future of the civilized world in your hands look and for a moment he had us hanging. He paused, desperately trying to appear as if he was solemnly weighing up rather than just blabbing - “I started work at a Friday club.”
“Yeah?”
“Your joking right?”
“No, two weeks now!”
“Jesus man. I want to know what is it like…” blurted Eric.
Pierre gave us a little detail – not too much because then we would have to be shot – and we sat back impressed, impressed that he was doing it and we knew someone who was.
"It is only short-term, but I am going to get together some cash, look around for something else…earn the money quickly and so I can do my stuff during the day."
“Nah, man! It is cool! For once you don't have to explain," said Eric.
“So the big question is, have you muff dived for money yet? Banged for a buck?” asked John.
“Man, every time you wank it money down the sink…Have you thought about insuring your dick?”
“Sorry, man! You are our hero, you know that,” I said.
Pierre took the stick because he knew he actually was the hero on this occasion. Besides, he was not going to answer the question, and for once, we actually wanted to know. We poured him a couple of shots of whiskey and he went off to work in the Armani suit he had borrowed the money for.
“He is still of course prostituting his language and nationality to get a job,” pointed out Josh at heart quietly morally outraged.
“I don’t which is better - prostituting your language or just plain old fuckin’ prostituting? No fuckin’ pun intended, boys.”
“I don’t know, but if it is true the dude has my vote for the moment.” Then Eric thought for a moment, “We are now his confidantes.”
It was true - We had become members of Pierre’s secret society, but with a twist: instead of fighting, pushing, and promising loyalty to get there, we were elevated to it kicking and screaming, with complete indifference. And we would never follow the rules, attended meeting, or do anything to keep up our membership.
“Anyway, are you going to that school tomorrow morning to sign up? - I’ll come with you,” asked Eric to Josh and John who were both paying money at the school with no classrooms and teachers to get a visa extension.
“But you are a serious student?” I asked Eric.
“I have a good language exchange now! Anyway, you know me...!” Eric had thrown himself out of every school in Taipei. And, now, because he loved studying Chinese and wanted to stay in Taiwan, he was going to pay at the school you didn’t have to attend so he could study at home.
Showing posts with label the temptations of treating. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the temptations of treating. Show all posts
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
The temptations of being treated V: Thinking about getting paid
A few months later and Pierre hadn’t made any positive moves. He still owed a lot of money, and was still determined not to teach to pay it back. He was also still toying with the invitation to be a Friday boy. He had said no so far but the idea of getting paid had crept a little deeper into his bones. He had no money in his pocket so tonight, he had made his way to the intersection of Nanjing East Road and Chungshan North Road, and was slowly walking up Chungshan where there were a bunch of boutique shops like Max Mara that appealed to the older crowd.
He chose a woman in her mid to late thirties – 10 years older than him - and walked over.
“Hi,” said Pierre. “How are you?”
“Ok. Uh, nice to meet me,” she replied checking over her shoulder to see if anyone she knew was around.
“I am sorry,” he said. “I am new in Taipei, and I am looking for a coffee shop. I have walked around for a long time,” he said.
“There is one behind you - There!”
“Uh, so stupid…I should buy you a coffee for showing me where to go. If you would join me.”
Twenty minutes later.
“You are very pretty you know. I can’t believe you are married.”
“Thank you, but I am not going to fuck you.”
“You are married. I know.”
“Yes, I am a Taiwanese girl. We are not so easy. Most of you foreigners have AIDs, don’t you?”
Twenty minutes later they were walking into a hotel. Pierre tapped his pocket. “I should go and buy some condoms. I don’t want to give you AIDs.”
“Whatever,” she answered.
“Whatever it is then.” He continued to press the elevator’s doors shut.
A couple of hours later in the reception, it was time to pay. Pierre shuffled in his pocket. “I have left my money at home.”
“That is okay. My treat,” she said.
“Uh, I’m sorry, which direction are you going? - No, maybe that is not a good idea…Could you lend me a hundred for a taxi?” said Pierre.
“Here is 500. Really you should be more careful,” she said.
“Thank you. I agree. Please you get the first taxi.”
He waited for her to go and started to walk in the direction of the hostel. Then he remembered she had given him 500 dollars and he could afford a taxi and dinner now. He thought about treating himself to a steak dinner – he hadn’t eaten anything good for a few weeks – but then he would be worrying about how to eat tomorrow, and he wanted a break from worrying where his next meal was coming from. He walked to the night market and ordered a big bowl of beef noodles to fill him up. All along the street were doubled parked BMWs and Mercedes, their owners sat on the plastic stools in front of the food stall. Food was a fantastic equalizer in Taiwan. Back home once you made money you started to be picky about your food eating caviar or special health food, rather than bangers and mash. In Taiwan, however, you never forgot the food you grew up with – your mother made for you. It kept you humble. The other main crowd in the night markets were the KTV girls opening Louis Vuitton bags and checking the time on their Cartier watches. There was a lot of money to be made in escort work.
Can you call me Pierre – was the message on his phone from various people who he owed money to. Unfortunately, there was no message from the girl from the modeling agency offering work.
He hadn’t found anything he was interested in doing yet.
It would be easier if I was a teacher, he thought. But it is just not for me.
...
A few days later we were all in John's room in the hotel drinking beer before going out.
“So when are you going to take over the bloody world?” said John asking Pierre what we had all been wondering.
It had to be John to ask because that way we wouldn’t get an hour of you know I am the man. how can you question I am not on the path grandstanding. John wouldn’t listen and so to keep his cool image Pierre knew he would have to change tact and appear to get the joke at his expense.
“Only joking, mate! I have taken a while to get a hang of things, too!” taunted John.
Pierre smiled again, but there but there was little room in his self-image for anything that suggested he had problems working things out. It was now five months since he had made his declaration of intent that he wouldn't be pigeon-holed as an English teacher, he would succeed on his own terms. All his money now came from irregular modeling or advertising work, and the two private students he had kept – and this was all the lowest forms of short-term foreigner work, that he was supposedly was not going to do. He was broke, beginning to run out of excuses, and acutely aware that he was not making good on his promises.
"What happened to the job selling advertising space?" I asked.
One week ago, Pierre had proudly told everyone how he had a job on a new bilingual magazine set up by foreigners, but he was selling advertising space in Chinese, proving that he could do anything here. It lasted one week before he walked out, after having to get up every morning and go to work for nine.
"Hmm, exploiting your nationality does pay well for doing little," said Eric.
Pierre sat smarting for 10 minutes before making an excuse and leaving.
...
Two days later John got a knock at his door.
“Can I ask you a favor?” said Pierre.
“What is the matter, American and Canadian won’t lend you any more money?”
“Of course not! I just can’t find them, and it is an emergency”
“Always is mate, always is. So, how much do you need?” John figured he owed him one for the ad – fifteen thousand for dressing as Tarzan and behaving like an idiot for half a day was much appreciated.
“Twenty thousand!”
“That is a fair chunk of cash!”
“I have a little business I am up to.”
‘Whatever! What is the most -” John was about to ask him what his most prized possession was, but then thought better of it.
“You know if I lend you this money I am not going to take any shit. You have 2 weeks to put it back in my hand, at my convenience…I may be leaving anytime so two weeks is all I can give you.”
Pierre had so far not borrowed money from John, because he was aware of his own problems with paying back on time and the consequences of not doing so.
“No problem!” he said, overflowing with smugness that deliberately implied, with what he was going to do, it is really not going to be an issue.
“I have a few things to sort out, but when I do, we can have a little chat about what I am doing.” John shut the door and laughed, he liked Pierre because it was like having your very own soap opera performing for you on a daily basis; worth lending him the money just to see those pantomime facial expressions. Today he just got a glimpse of a new one - fuck I am up to something big…God maybe this is a little too much for you…let me think about if I can confide in you. It was an expression we would learn to love and laugh at over the years.
He chose a woman in her mid to late thirties – 10 years older than him - and walked over.
“Hi,” said Pierre. “How are you?”
“Ok. Uh, nice to meet me,” she replied checking over her shoulder to see if anyone she knew was around.
“I am sorry,” he said. “I am new in Taipei, and I am looking for a coffee shop. I have walked around for a long time,” he said.
“There is one behind you - There!”
“Uh, so stupid…I should buy you a coffee for showing me where to go. If you would join me.”
Twenty minutes later.
“You are very pretty you know. I can’t believe you are married.”
“Thank you, but I am not going to fuck you.”
“You are married. I know.”
“Yes, I am a Taiwanese girl. We are not so easy. Most of you foreigners have AIDs, don’t you?”
Twenty minutes later they were walking into a hotel. Pierre tapped his pocket. “I should go and buy some condoms. I don’t want to give you AIDs.”
“Whatever,” she answered.
“Whatever it is then.” He continued to press the elevator’s doors shut.
A couple of hours later in the reception, it was time to pay. Pierre shuffled in his pocket. “I have left my money at home.”
“That is okay. My treat,” she said.
“Uh, I’m sorry, which direction are you going? - No, maybe that is not a good idea…Could you lend me a hundred for a taxi?” said Pierre.
“Here is 500. Really you should be more careful,” she said.
“Thank you. I agree. Please you get the first taxi.”
He waited for her to go and started to walk in the direction of the hostel. Then he remembered she had given him 500 dollars and he could afford a taxi and dinner now. He thought about treating himself to a steak dinner – he hadn’t eaten anything good for a few weeks – but then he would be worrying about how to eat tomorrow, and he wanted a break from worrying where his next meal was coming from. He walked to the night market and ordered a big bowl of beef noodles to fill him up. All along the street were doubled parked BMWs and Mercedes, their owners sat on the plastic stools in front of the food stall. Food was a fantastic equalizer in Taiwan. Back home once you made money you started to be picky about your food eating caviar or special health food, rather than bangers and mash. In Taiwan, however, you never forgot the food you grew up with – your mother made for you. It kept you humble. The other main crowd in the night markets were the KTV girls opening Louis Vuitton bags and checking the time on their Cartier watches. There was a lot of money to be made in escort work.
Can you call me Pierre – was the message on his phone from various people who he owed money to. Unfortunately, there was no message from the girl from the modeling agency offering work.
He hadn’t found anything he was interested in doing yet.
It would be easier if I was a teacher, he thought. But it is just not for me.
...
A few days later we were all in John's room in the hotel drinking beer before going out.
“So when are you going to take over the bloody world?” said John asking Pierre what we had all been wondering.
It had to be John to ask because that way we wouldn’t get an hour of you know I am the man. how can you question I am not on the path grandstanding. John wouldn’t listen and so to keep his cool image Pierre knew he would have to change tact and appear to get the joke at his expense.
“Only joking, mate! I have taken a while to get a hang of things, too!” taunted John.
Pierre smiled again, but there but there was little room in his self-image for anything that suggested he had problems working things out. It was now five months since he had made his declaration of intent that he wouldn't be pigeon-holed as an English teacher, he would succeed on his own terms. All his money now came from irregular modeling or advertising work, and the two private students he had kept – and this was all the lowest forms of short-term foreigner work, that he was supposedly was not going to do. He was broke, beginning to run out of excuses, and acutely aware that he was not making good on his promises.
"What happened to the job selling advertising space?" I asked.
One week ago, Pierre had proudly told everyone how he had a job on a new bilingual magazine set up by foreigners, but he was selling advertising space in Chinese, proving that he could do anything here. It lasted one week before he walked out, after having to get up every morning and go to work for nine.
"Hmm, exploiting your nationality does pay well for doing little," said Eric.
Pierre sat smarting for 10 minutes before making an excuse and leaving.
...
Two days later John got a knock at his door.
“Can I ask you a favor?” said Pierre.
“What is the matter, American and Canadian won’t lend you any more money?”
“Of course not! I just can’t find them, and it is an emergency”
“Always is mate, always is. So, how much do you need?” John figured he owed him one for the ad – fifteen thousand for dressing as Tarzan and behaving like an idiot for half a day was much appreciated.
“Twenty thousand!”
“That is a fair chunk of cash!”
“I have a little business I am up to.”
‘Whatever! What is the most -” John was about to ask him what his most prized possession was, but then thought better of it.
“You know if I lend you this money I am not going to take any shit. You have 2 weeks to put it back in my hand, at my convenience…I may be leaving anytime so two weeks is all I can give you.”
Pierre had so far not borrowed money from John, because he was aware of his own problems with paying back on time and the consequences of not doing so.
“No problem!” he said, overflowing with smugness that deliberately implied, with what he was going to do, it is really not going to be an issue.
“I have a few things to sort out, but when I do, we can have a little chat about what I am doing.” John shut the door and laughed, he liked Pierre because it was like having your very own soap opera performing for you on a daily basis; worth lending him the money just to see those pantomime facial expressions. Today he just got a glimpse of a new one - fuck I am up to something big…God maybe this is a little too much for you…let me think about if I can confide in you. It was an expression we would learn to love and laugh at over the years.
Monday, April 13, 2009
The temptations of being treated IV: Pierre's unusual offer
Pierre's unusual offer. The night I had picked up my money from Pierre he had stayed in the bar by himself, looking for someone to buy him drinks. It didn't take long.
"Hallo! You speaka Chinese?”said Mr. Chu.
“Huei (Able),” answered Pierre.
‘Good! May I talk to you? Yes(?!)..Okay…Please come...sit at this table.”
“Sure,” replied Pierre.
"Sankyou, sankyou. It is my pleasure," said Mr. Chu impressed with his own overpoliteness.
“I am Pierre.”
“I am Mr Chu. Nice to meet you! You are American?”
“No, I am French.”
“Ah, you from France.”
“You like wine?”
“Of course, I am French!” replied Pierre.
“I know. You from France. Yes. You say,” answered Mr. Chu strangely oblivious to the connection between France and wine. “Whiskey?”
Pierre knew what was going on: the chinese word 'jiou' covered everything from whiskey to vodka to red and white wine.
"How about red wine," he said. "Not whiskey but simple red wine. You know with the..." He mimed pulling out the cork.
“Red...Hmm...”continued Mr. Chu unsure what spirits were red in color.
Pierre was dying to speak Chinese to resolve the problem, but the guy had asked him if he spoke Chinese, received an affirmative answer, and then continued talking to him in English meaning he was one of those, and he should play along. Pierre understood Eric’s point about the Taiwanese using you to practice their English, but he had a more practical attitude. Maybe, in fact Taiwan was opposite to France: yes, you could learn French quickly because everyone insisted on speaking to you in it, but it wasn’t to help you, but because his people were arrogant snobs who couldn’t accept that their language wasn’t the most important in the world anymore; Taiwanese wanted to get ahead in the world so liked the idea they could speak English.
"Whiskey! Please,” said Pierre wanting the confusion over.
“Cheers! Mmm…Happy to meet you,”said Mr. Chu raising his glass to toast Pierre.
They then started to chat:“You so swai…handsome boy!”he said. As a foreigner you get used to hearing this; you just have to look presentable and you can be ‘swai.’ In fact, to find a foreigner who hadn’t been called handsome at least once during his time here, would be to find the elephant man’s long lost uglier twin.
“You are a teacher?”
“No! I not decide what I want to do, yet,”said Pierre.
“Yes, yes, I understand. You look very strong! You can dance?”
“Of course!”
“And sing?”
Pierre thought the guy was going to check his teeth next, then give a bag of coins to his parents.
"Ok, I suppose."
“You know many Taiwan lady like you foreigners. Give me a call, I introduce you.”
His new friend got an incoming call on his mobile and had to leave immediately. Pierre wasn’t so bothered because he got to keep the bottle of whiskey - Well, he put in his bag and quickly slipped out the door before anyone had time to change their minds.
He reasoned it would only be wasted: Mr. Chu couldn’t take it out because then he would look cheap and lose ‘face’. He would put it behind the bar with his name on and then never come back. All bars had thirty or forty started bottles of Chivas Regal on the shelf and only 10% of people ever came back.
A few days after he called the guy up and asked around, and it was what he had suspected, the chance to be a Friday Boy. He was excited, but apprehensive – these places were run by gangsters – and, anyway, he didn’t like it because the guy had specifically said “ he had some ladies who wanted some foreigners”, and his hatred of doing anything that was stereotypical for a foreigner or exploiting his status as one, was now reaching full maturity - becoming all encompassing. He would not to be a Friday Boy because girls would be specifically looking at him; he wouldn’t be competing with the Taiwanese guys because the girls would discern. Anyway, he knew he had nothing to prove to himself - he could sing, dance, and entertain; he knew that. He was sure he was not the kind of guy who allowed himself to be defined by others, and he would come up with something that other young westerners hadn’t.
"Hallo! You speaka Chinese?”said Mr. Chu.
“Huei (Able),” answered Pierre.
‘Good! May I talk to you? Yes(?!)..Okay…Please come...sit at this table.”
“Sure,” replied Pierre.
"Sankyou, sankyou. It is my pleasure," said Mr. Chu impressed with his own overpoliteness.
“I am Pierre.”
“I am Mr Chu. Nice to meet you! You are American?”
“No, I am French.”
“Ah, you from France.”
“You like wine?”
“Of course, I am French!” replied Pierre.
“I know. You from France. Yes. You say,” answered Mr. Chu strangely oblivious to the connection between France and wine. “Whiskey?”
Pierre knew what was going on: the chinese word 'jiou' covered everything from whiskey to vodka to red and white wine.
"How about red wine," he said. "Not whiskey but simple red wine. You know with the..." He mimed pulling out the cork.
“Red...Hmm...”continued Mr. Chu unsure what spirits were red in color.
Pierre was dying to speak Chinese to resolve the problem, but the guy had asked him if he spoke Chinese, received an affirmative answer, and then continued talking to him in English meaning he was one of those, and he should play along. Pierre understood Eric’s point about the Taiwanese using you to practice their English, but he had a more practical attitude. Maybe, in fact Taiwan was opposite to France: yes, you could learn French quickly because everyone insisted on speaking to you in it, but it wasn’t to help you, but because his people were arrogant snobs who couldn’t accept that their language wasn’t the most important in the world anymore; Taiwanese wanted to get ahead in the world so liked the idea they could speak English.
"Whiskey! Please,” said Pierre wanting the confusion over.
“Cheers! Mmm…Happy to meet you,”said Mr. Chu raising his glass to toast Pierre.
They then started to chat:“You so swai…handsome boy!”he said. As a foreigner you get used to hearing this; you just have to look presentable and you can be ‘swai.’ In fact, to find a foreigner who hadn’t been called handsome at least once during his time here, would be to find the elephant man’s long lost uglier twin.
“You are a teacher?”
“No! I not decide what I want to do, yet,”said Pierre.
“Yes, yes, I understand. You look very strong! You can dance?”
“Of course!”
“And sing?”
Pierre thought the guy was going to check his teeth next, then give a bag of coins to his parents.
"Ok, I suppose."
“You know many Taiwan lady like you foreigners. Give me a call, I introduce you.”
His new friend got an incoming call on his mobile and had to leave immediately. Pierre wasn’t so bothered because he got to keep the bottle of whiskey - Well, he put in his bag and quickly slipped out the door before anyone had time to change their minds.
He reasoned it would only be wasted: Mr. Chu couldn’t take it out because then he would look cheap and lose ‘face’. He would put it behind the bar with his name on and then never come back. All bars had thirty or forty started bottles of Chivas Regal on the shelf and only 10% of people ever came back.
A few days after he called the guy up and asked around, and it was what he had suspected, the chance to be a Friday Boy. He was excited, but apprehensive – these places were run by gangsters – and, anyway, he didn’t like it because the guy had specifically said “ he had some ladies who wanted some foreigners”, and his hatred of doing anything that was stereotypical for a foreigner or exploiting his status as one, was now reaching full maturity - becoming all encompassing. He would not to be a Friday Boy because girls would be specifically looking at him; he wouldn’t be competing with the Taiwanese guys because the girls would discern. Anyway, he knew he had nothing to prove to himself - he could sing, dance, and entertain; he knew that. He was sure he was not the kind of guy who allowed himself to be defined by others, and he would come up with something that other young westerners hadn’t.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
The temptations of being treated III: Getting into trouble
Pierre was starting to get into real trouble.
That evening I was meeting him in some expensive wine bar in the financial district on the other side of town because he owed me money. It bothered me why I was owed the money but had to fit Pierre’s schedule in order to get it back. I would have been completely justified in telling him what time I would be home, and to bring the money there punctually, but Pierre always had this way of making you feel his schedule was more important than yours: he was never in a place out of desire but necessity, and as a friend could you do him this favour…I was now sure this was the last time, as on arriving, I was press ganged into buying a couple of drinks, making the money returned not worth the trouble of coming. Again, it would be impossible for Pierre to imagine you didn’t want to stop and chat to him.
Pierre's phone rang: “I am going to Hong Kong tomorrow for a few days. Next week, hao bu hao…Bu hao yi se, bu hao yi se (Excuse me, excuse me),”he kept repeating.
Bu hao yi se (excuse me) was one of the top five essential words in Taiwan, they said it to each other constantly, because if you showed contrition everyone had to back down.
“Going for visa?” I assumed from the content of the conversation.“No, that is bullshit! Bit of trouble! I don’t want to see the guy!”
“Okay,”I replied not really interested in knowing at that point.
“You know how it is," he continued. "Taiwanese always want to go out and spend money. I am getting tired of that sort of thing. I want to go to a quiet bar and chat with my friends. Maybe, I’ll even get rid of the mobile,”he said without his usual confident tempo. Pierre’s soulful reflections would have impact if they were not so frequent, contradictory and, usually a cover for something. I guessed he owed people money but by his tone I could tell it was not a few hundred dollars.
"How much," I asked.
"It is alright, I have it under control," he replied.
"Okay."
"200,000," he said.
Even though he was talking NT it wasn't a small amount. Being a bit anal about my safety I felt compelled to ask. "Who to? Ahuei?"
I had met Ahuei once or twice when Pierre had invited us all to an adult KTV. He was smartly dressed and super friendly, generous, just like most gangsters were. How did i know he was a gangster? Well he picked up the check in the KTV which was around 2000 US, and you could only do this on a regular basis if: you had your own company, were high up in a tech company, had just won the lottery, or were a gangster. A brief questioning of his employment status and, unfortunately, it was the latter.
Pierre didn't answer as an admission of fact.
"I think you have two solutions," I said. "Actually work hard and teach full-time...That way you can pay it off in six months. Alternatively: leave Taiwan."
Pierre being Pierre came up with a third way that we really didn't see coming.
That evening I was meeting him in some expensive wine bar in the financial district on the other side of town because he owed me money. It bothered me why I was owed the money but had to fit Pierre’s schedule in order to get it back. I would have been completely justified in telling him what time I would be home, and to bring the money there punctually, but Pierre always had this way of making you feel his schedule was more important than yours: he was never in a place out of desire but necessity, and as a friend could you do him this favour…I was now sure this was the last time, as on arriving, I was press ganged into buying a couple of drinks, making the money returned not worth the trouble of coming. Again, it would be impossible for Pierre to imagine you didn’t want to stop and chat to him.
Pierre's phone rang: “I am going to Hong Kong tomorrow for a few days. Next week, hao bu hao…Bu hao yi se, bu hao yi se (Excuse me, excuse me),”he kept repeating.
Bu hao yi se (excuse me) was one of the top five essential words in Taiwan, they said it to each other constantly, because if you showed contrition everyone had to back down.
“Going for visa?” I assumed from the content of the conversation.“No, that is bullshit! Bit of trouble! I don’t want to see the guy!”
“Okay,”I replied not really interested in knowing at that point.
“You know how it is," he continued. "Taiwanese always want to go out and spend money. I am getting tired of that sort of thing. I want to go to a quiet bar and chat with my friends. Maybe, I’ll even get rid of the mobile,”he said without his usual confident tempo. Pierre’s soulful reflections would have impact if they were not so frequent, contradictory and, usually a cover for something. I guessed he owed people money but by his tone I could tell it was not a few hundred dollars.
"How much," I asked.
"It is alright, I have it under control," he replied.
"Okay."
"200,000," he said.
Even though he was talking NT it wasn't a small amount. Being a bit anal about my safety I felt compelled to ask. "Who to? Ahuei?"
I had met Ahuei once or twice when Pierre had invited us all to an adult KTV. He was smartly dressed and super friendly, generous, just like most gangsters were. How did i know he was a gangster? Well he picked up the check in the KTV which was around 2000 US, and you could only do this on a regular basis if: you had your own company, were high up in a tech company, had just won the lottery, or were a gangster. A brief questioning of his employment status and, unfortunately, it was the latter.
Pierre didn't answer as an admission of fact.
"I think you have two solutions," I said. "Actually work hard and teach full-time...That way you can pay it off in six months. Alternatively: leave Taiwan."
Pierre being Pierre came up with a third way that we really didn't see coming.
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