Archive | November, 2010

Taiwanese Taekwon-doh!

24 Nov

Creativity is not usually on the menu in Taiwan or China.

I can remember watching news of the First Gulf War in my living room with my parents. I was eight. And I can still remember their palpable intensity. I remember thinking, this is important. I didn’t know why, but I was certain it was.

At what age should children be aware of the gravity of a situation? At what age should they read between the lines?

Today, I asked one of my older classes to write down their thoughts on Taiwanese taekwondo athlete Yang Shu-chun and the fallout from her disqualification at the 2011 Asian Games– what Taipei Times is calling “SOCKGATE.”

I have two hours to teach essay writing skills to A3 each Wednesday. To give you an idea, they’re 12-year-old children from middle-class families, and they’ve been studying English for at least five years.

Yang Shu-chun is and has been the story in Taiwan. The students had heard the news and understood what had happened. But when asked why this story was important or interesting, they struggled to formulate ideas beyond “Koreans are bad people.”

(These are confidential essays. We discuss a topic in class. I offer a skeleton introduction and a dozen or so questions to help students form the body of the essay. They are encouraged to come up with their own conclusions.)

Fear not, Miles, it’s just taekwondo and the Asian Games, you say. Who cares?

You know, I used to lament my Chinese university students’ lackluster understanding of world news and its impact on their lives. But be damned sure, that if C-H-I-N-A was in the headline, they knew about it. And almost all of them knew exactly what they were supposed to think.

I am not saying I want all Taiwanese to be indoctrinated with party-fed prattle.  But I would hope, in facing an increasingly aggressive China, these children of Future Taiwan can be more creative and articulate than the voices from across the Strait.

(There is teaching to be done in A3.)

Elections in (the Other) China

23 Nov Is it first-come-first-serve for these spots?
It’s a sneak-peek to the world’s most anticipated drama: elections in China.

Campaign flags and banners streaming on a pedestrian overpass near my house.

The other “China,” the Republic of, Taiwan, will hold nationwide municipal elections this Saturday, November 27. Politicians, organizers, and citizens have been taking to the streets in Taipei for the last few weeks, once again showing the world what “Chinese” democracy really looks like.

If one could deduce what democratic elections in the PRC would look like, the West’s incessant preoccupation, wouldn’t looking at one of Asia’s most successful democracies be a solid starting point?

Taiwan’s elections highlight the joint efforts of a vibrant, emerging democratic society. I cannot impress upon friends back home exactly how confusing and yet wholly inspiring it is for an American to witness the process here; to witness anything political here.

Taiwan mobilizes with an ease I have never seen. These are metropolitan elections, the equivalent of the US mid-term Congressionals. But besides the ubiquitous rectangular Name-’Year signs and the odd town hall gathering, you don’t see a lot of mobilization in the States– even in this time of Tea Partiers, Palins, and other assorted sociopaths.

Taiwan is noisy. Colorful. And noisy.

Flags fly everywhere. Long vertical streams line every median, any inch of non-concrete. Billboards– happy, smiley, slogany– cover the dingy bareness of Taiwan’s concrete cityscape.

The sheer number of flags and billboards is astonishing. Prime location: Pedestrian overpasses. Yet, amazingly, I have never seen violence over this flagpole paradise. I would expect it in China, where people feel entitled to take and use without an inkling of concern for others. You see in the States, to an extent; one truck drives down the street plunging signs into the roadside and a half-mile back an opposing party truck crawls along plucking them out.

Translating the slogans splashed on this party paraphernalia is one of the little joys of my morning commute. They range from your run-of-the-mill “老经验,新活力” (roughly: Old experience, new energy), to the more cutesy “台湾的女儿” (Taiwan’s daughter), to the more emotive about children’s futures, safety, and new dreams.

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But above all, what makes Taiwanese elections so seemingly Chinese? Loudspeaker trucks.

Between signs and smells, it is tough to say which of the two senses faces a rougher transition when living in China or Taiwan. In Shanghai, I would awake to an old man on a bicycle riding through my neighborhood at 6am every morning. Strapped to his self-made bicycle/truck would be an old tape deck blaring (the amazingly invariable) prerecorded call for recycling of large household items… “冰箱!洗衣机!电视机!”

Taiwanese elections have the loudspeakers on bicycles and scooters, but mostly on vans. Larger than a golf cart and smaller than a Rav-4, these vans set cruise control to a snail’s pace and canvass city streets. Covered in decorative flags and miniature billboards, they boast the name, number, and slogan of their respective candidates. Through the loudspeaker, almost always indistinguishable over the clamor of traffic, the politician waxes on about issues essential to their election chances.

The stakes are increasing as election day nears. Today, a full parade of these vans, flanked by larger troop carrying trucks, inched its way down my street at lunch time. Scouts sprinted ahead of the platoon to lay explosive charges (fireworks?) along the road, a precursor to the drum-banging hootin’-and-hollerin’ of the battle-clad supporters in the back of the convoy.

The whole spectacle is part parade, part noise pollution– all exuberant.

It reminds me of when I saw a get-out-the-vote parade in Mozambique just prior to its 2005 presidential elections. A bunch of maniacs on scooters decked out with streamers and party flags raced through the streets of Maputo honking their horns. An armored Toyota Landcruiser took position in the middle of the mob. I happened to be on the street when the convoy screamed past. As I turned, shocked and fearful, I had just enough time to snap a blurred shot of eventual-winner Armando Guebuza propped out of the sunroof, waving with one hand and holding on for dear life with the other.

Democracy isn’t a one-size-fits-all. No one knows what democracy in China may one day resemble. But Taiwan is already the portrait of what peaceful, energetic, and progressive elections look like right in China’s backyard.

2 Days, 2 Scooter Accidents: Thankfully, not me

16 Nov

I try to keep it "all black everything" like Jay says. But, I'm not sure how that helps out the visibility.

Scootering was one of the things I missed most about living in Taiwan when on the mainland. One of the bigger drags about Taipei is just how easy it is to forget you are living on a sub-tropical island. But on those brilliant summer days, putting along the coast on a little 125… I am reminded why I came back.

I considered actually buying a real motorcycle this time around, but I stuck with the goofy scooter for a couple of reasons. Number one on that list: rain. Winter is knocking at the door, and that means the season of absolutely hating reliance on the scooter has begun. But scooters are a a bit easier to ride and stay dry on compared to real bikes, not to mention the ability to store rain gear under the seat for those sporadic downpours.

So, in two rainy morning commutes this week, I have already seen two crashes. Total witnessed scooter crash (since returning to TW in August): 9. That’s almost one a week. And if you count me laying my scooter down on a rainy day about three weeks ago, that’s 10.

If the pavement did this to the whole side of my scooter, how do you think my elbow looked?

That’s the one thing that blows my mind about it all. People here pretty much assume they will crash at some point. It is a given. It’s just a matter of how and to what degree. I’ve been lucky that in all my “crashes” (5) the only bangs have been myself and my scooter hitting the ground, no collisions. I’ve been able to implement the Bush Doctrine and lay it down preemptively.

So, I guess that leaves me like most Taiwanese, just slipping on the rain gear and crossing my fingers…

Resurrection

11 Nov

Four years, nine months and 17 days. That’s how long I’ve been in Asia, plus or minus a few months back home on vacation. That’s 1,751 days. That’s longer than I spent in college.

An education it has been; this adventitious frolic in the Far East. For the consideration of those who don’t already know, and those who want to know more, I will be penning the definitive essay on my China departure shortly. I’ll throw up the link, if I actually manage to get it published.

在台湾故宫博物馆:不要听你们说我变胖了吧!

For now, I’m happy enough to be back (unblocked and )blogging. Petrified to be writing again, but this always seemed a more advantageous outlet than bothersome group emails or endless landscape albums.

Suffice it to say, my Taiwan Part Er (èr= two in Mandarin) has been eventful enough over the first two plus months that I have felt guilty not sharing it with others. This personal aspect, plus my much grander humanistic approach to an oncoming post-quart-life-crisis, should merit a few words here and there.

So, please do RSS me or check back in from time to time. I’ll try to keep you posted on my happenings, as well as any major events or quirky triumphs of humankind on this side of the globe. It should make for an interesting enough bookmark somewhere in the depths of your lengthy drop-down menu.

Best regards from here… Miles.

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