Chapter One: Eric

March 1996

“That is why I want to be with the foreigner,?repeated Diane at Eric’s strident articulation that women wouldn’t be treated like that in America.
Diane, Eric’s girlfriend, was explaining the plot of a Taiwanese soap opera:

Bossy mother-in-law, constantly worried about how much money her son is earning and disappointed by the lack of commitment of her daughter-in-law to her son and her…Put upon daughter-in-law who is sincerely trying to sacrifice for her husband and child and frustrated by the fact that nothing is ever good enough for her mother-in-law…Inarticulate and proud husband who rarely says anything to anyone; forever displaying a wounded, mystified look that he should need to explain himself to anyone at anytime (the same actor has consistently played this role in serial after serial, over numerous different channels).…The husband’s father who knows he doesn’t have to justify himself to anyone at anytime, so much so, that, because, whenever he is around, everyone shuts up. His role has to be extremely small for their to be any plot…Bitchy younger sister of the husband who always tries to get her sister-in-law in trouble (Note: everybody lives together in the same apartment, or some of the family live in an apartment upstairs or across the hall…never more than a staircase away)…Plus a few errant relatives who are trying to borrow large sums of money on the basis that they are family.
Over ten weeks or so, all the women will fret over the attentions of the husband, while the husband shows genuine concern over how to divide time between his girlfriend and family.
His affair is usually a major plot theme that usually evolves as follows: wife starts by believing it is her duty to accept this for the family, but gently tries to push him to give up. His mother tells her that ‘men are men?and he is under a lot of pressure from work and therefore needs to have fun. The husband will miss important dinners with family, kids?birthday etc; the wife will get increasing depressed and angry. Because nobody is listening to her, the wife will try to commit suicide ?it seemed the only way to show sincerity or get heard is to threaten or actually go through with your own execution. Everyone will berate her for not just speaking out, nonetheless she will get a little bit of sympathy from her mother-in-law who is worried there won’t be anyone around to wash her underwear. The mother-in-law will tell her son off and he will come home to dinner for a few weeks, before going back to his mistress(es). Finally, in the last episode the wife will finally lose her temper, tell her husband he is the bastard he is, and, he, having still not really said anything for ten episodes, will earn his check by giving her a no nonsense slap to the face. At this point the mother will jump in, not to berate her son, but rather the daughter-in-law with - ‘look what you have done now. Why did you get him angry? - He is your husband? the wife will see the error of her way, realizing that a good wife should keep her composure ?that she was deserving of that slap. The husband will walk out of the room confused that his wife wanted to shout at him, and, the extremely melodramatic theme tune will come on. They rewrite the theme tune each time but essentially it is the same ‘love is difficult, it is hard work to be a good wife?- making Tammy Wynette’s “Stand by your man?sound like a feminist call to arms. All across the country rowing women call a truce just long ago to watch the show and no doubt study tactics.
Oh, and that was not including the subplot: errant relatives ?usually younger brother of the husband ?will ask to borrow a hundred thousand US dollars, and, because he already owes the older one fifty or so from that business venture in Shanghai exporting pork to the Middle East, the older one will say no. Two days later the mother will go back to the older brother after a thorough analysis of the younger brother’s business plan, convinced of his new responsible attitude, and say: “He is your little brother: family. You have to give him a chance? At this point the younger brother will run in and kneel down and beg (prostrating yourself at someone’s feet was another theme Eric had noticed) and the older brother will lend him the money. Next episode the brother has lost all the money on the scheme to sell beef to India, and we find out the reasons for the sister-in-law’s bitchiness: her mother will demand she hand over all her life savings to rescue the family. She can’t pay for that MBA in America anymore. She is stuck.

“There is no way that would happen in America,?repeated Eric shaking his head, wishing he hadn’t bothered to ask Diane to explain. Feeling desperately sorry for her and all women. He didn’t watch soap operas in America because he was too much of a snob. Only having been in Taiwan for three months, his Chinese wasn’t good enough to understand these local ones. Technically he couldn’t directly empathize with the characters on screen ?he wasn’t a member of the target audience of these soaps like the women fixated on the TV in all the lunch and breakfast shops were. Yet he too felt drawn to understand the shouting, screaming, kneeling and face slapping on the TV. He knew he should show solidarity now he was a minority.

It appeared to Eric to be a sexist, conservative hell-hole, his worst nightmare, but he also knew it wasn’t as simple as that. Diane’s English was excellent but he had noticed an impatience at times or a glazed look as the same question went back and forth too often and no doubt a hasty answer was given…Not to mention, as a girl who rejected the advances of all Taiwanese men, she wasn’t interpreting the soap with a view to listing the virtues of Taiwanese society. And on this subject, bias, he knew his politically correct soul was filtering, twisting and weighting information gathered. He knew he should try and eliminate that bias from his investigations, but his normal world had been shattered into a thousand pieces on arrival and he was left to reassemble them in a whirlwind. And when you didn’t know which way to turn you had been taught to choose a direction, and back yourself; he was a Harvard graduate after all: he should back himself.

The next morning Eric was sat on the bench outside his Chinese school; tired because he had spent too long thinking about the soap and its implications for his time in the country.
“The racists,?he fumed because he couldn’t find the positive discrimination or equal opportunities job adverts for white westerners in any of the local English newspapers.
“Welcome to the rest of the world, dude,?said the guy from his Chinese class who had joined him on the bench outside. His wry cynicism suggested he had been here a while. For a moment he thought about qualifying his comment because he also knew it wasn’t as simple as Eric had put it, or his reply had suggested.
Nah, he decided, he had had this argument too often with earnest new arrivals. Let him work it out for himself.
“Some guys…guys like you, have been here five, ten years. It is so racist,?continued Eric. He had not been looking in that newspaper for a job for himself because he had only been in Taiwan three months.
“Six years, man. But I speak shit Chinese. I wouldn’t give me a job.?
“Well, maybe, but there are some guys who speak Chinese fluently.?
“Even one or two who can write the language as well. And for those guys who could actually cope in an average Taiwanese company, it is a fucking crime the Taiwan authorities didn’t spend all their energy knocking on doors, finding them and dragging them into mainstream society…whether they like it or not.?
“You know what I mean,?answered Eric. The newspaper classifieds weren’t the only evidence: the cable didn’t have one white presenter, actor or newsreader to represent that white western fluent Chinese speaking slither…sorry segment…of society who actually were interested in watching the local TV ( presumably because they couldn’t be watching and presenting at the some time) - Racism. He walked into shops and young assistants embarrassed they might have to speak to him in English, ran away - Racism. And last week he had volunteered to go on a local TV game show and the main focus of the host’s jokes was his poor accent speaking Chinese - Racism. He had tried to contact the equal opportunities race commission, but apparently there wasn’t one - Racism.
“I know. It is hard being new in a country.?
Eric silenced by the truth took a big long sip on the straw in his disposable cup of soya milk, and then picked up the last piece of his radish cake and pushed it backwards and forwards trying to mop up every last bit of the squirts of sweet soy and chilli on the bottom of the polystyrene box.
Radish cakes were ground white radish mixed with flour, milk and water cut into one inch thick rectangles and then fried. Add a dan bing ?a hard pastry done in the shape of a pancake fried with an egg and bacon, and it was the perfect breakfast. A little filling though and it created a dilemma of its own: eat the full complement and then you didn’t feel like going to one of those buffet places for lunch and enjoying the squid.
Recently he had been eating both the breakfast and piling his paper plate with at least three portions, and rice at lunch. He realized it was a kind of comfort food ?the food was something he had no doubts about.

Three months ago, Eric had swapped his parent’s Georgian Mansion in Somerset, New Jersey for a room with half a window and wood panel walls in Taipei. It was only half a window because the landlord had sensibly divided three originally not very large rooms into six with wood panels.
The other half of the window was rented by a gay French guy. Eric had known the guy was gay when he moved in, but was sure he was no homophobe. And, anyway, in such a homophobic and racist society as Taiwan he had felt it was his obligation to move in, to show his solidarity with his fellow oppressed minority. Still, he hadn’t realised how hard showing support would be when his fellow oppressed minority was able to pursue his subversive activities with such regular impunity. It wasn’t just the whispering of “so smooth?or “so cute?in English combined with that French accent that he knew American girls would swoon over. Nor was it because the cries of pleasure coming from underneath him weren’t female sounds but Taiwanese male grunts. It was the fact that the landlord had not provided a bed frame for either himself or the French guy so vibrations, shunts and shoves that should be absorbed by that frame, had a direct route to him through the floor, up through his mattress. He was too at one with events next door, not enough was being left to the imagination.
Anyway he figured it was an interesting story to tell, and he was kind of looking on the bright side this unequivocally proved he wasn’t gay - presumably, you only really know you are not something when you are tempted and walk away…Suddenly, it occurred to him that tempted wasn’t the right word because it suggested some resistance of desire, and he didn’t have any desire. He dropped the subject. Still, as he had passed that test there was no need to hang around there any longer, and yesterday he had moved back into the hostel, an equally cheap and run down place. It even had its own window for what that was worth considering there was another apartment building about a meter behind.
“Hey, that is something to worry about, man.?The guy from his Chinese class sniffed and then pretended to choke, referring to the exhaust fumes from the fifteen deep mass of scooters lined up at the traffic light in front of them. “I am going upstairs. Not exactly a view to die for anyway.?
“Ok, man, I think I’ll stick around.?Unlike many people Eric had met, he hadn’t traced the route of his culture shock, and the reason for why the Chinese civilization would forever languish behind the west, to the state of the architecture and air pollution. It was awful: streets of grey, dirty buildings, not any two in a row the same height or style. Chinese signs covered the buildings, but again no two were the same height or size, refusing to align flat to the wall or overhang with any order or consistency. New thirty storey building sat next to one storey shacks with corrugated iron roofs. And, every row of two or three building was punctuated by green fencing surrounding steel supports, the foundations of another grey building to come.
Eric didn’t link the view to his happiness because he hadn’t come here to breathe fresh air, or sun himself on the beaches that so many were disappointed not to find in the middle of Taipei. He had a life of country clubs planned out for him by family he could return to anytime. He had come to live in a vibrant, happening city and he wasn’t disappointed.
The minimalist design and less than panoramic view from his window he guessed was the unfortunate consequence of squeezing accommodation for four million in a space equivalent to a couple of streets of his neighbourhood back home. But the consequences of that were incredible convenience: the fifteen degree angle line of sight out of his window revealed two 24-hour convenience stores, throughout the city they were an average of a hundred yards apart. And they didn’t do anything stupid like close the alcohol section down after eleven o’clock. Any time of day, taxis followed you around the street waiting to whisk you at break neck pace from another twenty-four hour restaurant or bar or bookshop. And because cab fares started at seventy NT dollars and everything was packed into a small city he never spent more than a couple hundred dollars all night.
On a night out he didn’t have to think about whether to have that last beer. Back home he had to catch a train out of Manhattan and then a bus to get home, and the bus took an hour and a half, and there were no toilets on the bus and therefore he would inevitably be bursting as he neared his home - he wasn’t one of those guys who had iron bladders. And, he didn’t have to stand in the freezing cold waiting, dealing with an oncoming hangover, and the exhaustion from excess alcohol. Here you could happily throw all commonsense to the wind, because a taxi would be there to scoop you up and deposit you outside your apartment.
The mass of mankind would be hell of course if he had the misfortune of going to work in the rush hour, but he didn’t. He wasn’t here to earn money like so many were.
Eric was here because of a fascination with the culture. The local cultural things were not light entertainment for him, they were the reasons for coming, and he had got off the plane running in their direction. He had visited the National Palace Museum, drank snake blood in Snake Alley, burnt incense in LongShan Temple, spent his evenings in the night market eating smelly tofu, pig’s intestine soup and fish plucked directly from the tank, and he had arrived punctually at his Chinese class eager to learn. He was very happy with these things. Unfortunately, the racism and sexism were beginning to rip him apart.

It was nine-thirty, half an hour to class, and he was bored. He turned his head to see if there was still a queue outside the breakfast shop, debating with himself if he should get another cup of cold soy milk to wash away the taste of grease. The coast was clear, but then he suddenly had a pang of guilt: it would mean another disposable cup and he just couldn’t get his non-biodegradable waste total up past five items this early in the morning. He took out his textbook instead and tried to imagine it was interesting: it looked more like an accounting journal than a textbook, and there was this English translation next to the beautiful characters blocking his ability to immerse himself in the language.
“Wai gwo ren (Foreigner),?shouted a passing young mother as she turned her little daughter’s head in Eric’s direction and pointed. “Wave. Quick say, ‘hello??she continued, now stopping her daughter dead in front of Eric, expecting a hello back from the foreigner.
Nothing had prepared him for the onslaught of staring, pointing, waving and shouting; stereotype had it that the Taiwanese were uncreative (all those fakes, he supposed), but they were in fact incredibly resourceful at bringing your own existence to your attention. He now realized he had been happy with his anonymity. He wished he had an invisible cloak. And if he was to bother to think about it, face a few truths, he would recognize it was having an effect on the neutrality of his judgement.
“Hi,?answered Eric begrudgingly because he couldn’t bring himself to use the speech he had prepared about the fact that he was a person, and this street wasn’t a zoo. They didn’t disturb perfect strangers from their own country. Had he signed away his privacy after getting off that plane at Chiang Kai-Shek airport? It was another sign of racism, he was sure.
“Where are you from??He was asked this question, and ‘How long? and ‘Was he used to it??a thousand times a day, and, it was another sign of the racism. How did she know he wasn’t from here? Apparently, there was one white guy with a Taiwan passport, and she might have stumbled upon him.
“Here,?replied Eric determined to make a point.
“Really??she answered sceptically. “So how long have you been here??
“I said, ‘I am from here? I was born here.?
“Are you used to it here??
“I am from here. I have lived here all my life. And, of course, I like Chinese food.?
“Really??she replied again, this time annoyed he had spoilt her chance to ask if he liked the food. “So, um, where are you actually from? America.?
“Yeah, I give up. New Jersey.?
“Very good. Huh. Wow. Nice to me,?replied the mother. “You English teacher??
“Yes,?replied Eric, but outraged she would pigeon-hole him in that way. Eric didn’t complain about being looked down upon as a teacher, like so many guys he had met. Unshaven guys with goatees, ripped jeans and sandals, who sat cross legged on benches drinking the cans of ice tea from the 7/11 because they were too cheap to go into the teashop; guys who had come because they couldn’t find a job back home. He wasn’t bothered about having his potential cruelly under-rated. He had a lot of respect for teaching, enjoyed it; when he finished his few years in Taiwan ideally he would end up as a professor of Sinology. More than anything, he appreciated how easy it was to find students to teach; students that were necessary to finance his studies.
No. Eric was outraged because if you go to an Accountant’s Convention you should still ask everyone what their occupation is. It was another sign of racism.
Still he took the number because he did need a new student after all. He looked at the mother as he walked away ?she was wearing clothes from a good label and dragging her kid into her double parked Benz. She was obviously middle class, and that made him more annoyed: she should know better than to teach her kids to point at foreigners on the street and to make generalizations. She should know only the ethnic minority, because they are sensitive and oppressed, has the right to bring up the colour of their skin, and their ethnic stereotypes. Like it was back home. He knew she was vigorously shaking his hand and bowing to him, and praising his country and offering him a job…All of which happened daily as well.
He had heard the argument the Taiwanese racism was positive as well as negative and you should just ride the wave, but he was a Harvard Graduate; he wasn’t here because he was a loser in his own country, desperately trying to play on cultural stereotypes to get a better job.
He knew he was a foreigner and when you go on holiday or business you press palms and tell people where you are from; but his patience for this had run out after the first month, especially as it was now dawning on him he was expected to do it for the next two years. It was breeding germs of alienation. Now, he just wanted to blend in.
He thought about his two years -- It was two years before he expected pressure to return to the real world got too strong. He knew he was a clich?of young rich boy running away from the family business, but, hey, social science wouldn’t exist if we were all polar opposites. He didn’t know about ‘Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon? but he guessed it was about Two Degrees of Something-in-common amongst us all…Anyway, he knew himself and he knew his problems with his ‘big mouth? and if he was going to enjoy his time, he would have to keep it shut. It was not his country, he didn’t need to get involved.
He got up off the bench ?that mother had just destroyed all his efforts not to feel self-conscious - and headed into the building to take the elevator to his school on the eighth floor. He loved Taiwan’s convenience: two doors down was a 7/11, the third floor had an English school to work in, and a travel agent; just across the road was that foreigner bar. It was possible the whole of his life wants could be serviced in a few hundred square meters.
Passing through the entrance, he said “ne hao (hello)?to the security guard as he always did, and the security guard ignored him as always. Eric didn’t blame him. If he had to sit behind a cramp desk with only a six-inch TV for company, and the continual noise from scooters trying to drive into the building he wouldn’t be so polite. Taiwanese had to drive their scooters to as near to their destination as possible; mailboxes were just a start, convenience store attendants continually had to come out to tell them to back off the electronic mat to let the shop doors close. It was great, he thought, as soon as he had the money to buy one, he would be driving it the fifty yards to buy a carton of milk too.
He knew the security guard had lots of reasons for being miserable. He had fled to Taiwan with Chiang Kai-Shek more than fifty years ago, and had spent most of that time with only his memories of growing up in Nanjing, and the imaginings of how life would have been if he hadn’t been separated from his family all that time. To make things worse, he wasn’t required to subjugate the local Taiwanese population anymore; he had a tiny government pension, and so he had to work as a security guard.
“So why did you lose to the communists when you had all the money and weapons??Eric was fond of asking him. He had memorised the sentence because it was far too complex Chinese for him at this stage. There was no need to hang around for an answer, though he guessed by the tone the old guy harboured a lot of denial and anger towards circumstances that led him only able to return to China when his five brothers and sisters were already dead.
“Ne shir wai-guo ren, ne dong shih ma pe,?he shouted today. Unfortunately, even with his Chinese as bad as it was, Eric knew that translated as - You are a foreigner, what the fuck could you know? ?and he began to fume. It wasn’t the first time in his short time here that someone had suggested his white skin was the direct cause of his inability to understand. It was funny, he thought, how his ignorant white ass was able to spot brilliance, and complement someone when he thought they were right or kind. He decided to take a few deep breaths, calm himself down. He knew he liked to argue, but he wanted to concentrate on the things he enjoyed about the place. It was not his country after all, as his friend John would say.

“Do you think it is fair foreigners can’t get a Taiwanese passport??asked Eric to the boss of the school who was upstairs in the common room.
“What??she replied, a little taken back by the question…It’s appropriateness for the moment?Eric’s English…Just about everything about it.
“Me. Foreigners. Should we be able to become Taiwan citizens??repeated Eric. A while ago he had found out the terrible truth that it was impossible to get a Taiwanese passport, even when you married a local; the best you could hope for was permanent residency. That was clear proof of the government’s racism, but what about the average person? ?He was trying to find out the truth now.
“No,?she replied still not sure what punishment had forced her to answer this question before ten in the morning.
“But you have an American passport??continued Eric.
“Yes. America is very big, Taiwan is small,?she replied to be polite, while thinking, I first had to dump quarter of a million US into the economy, much of which I have lost in order to buy my passport. Now if you are prepared to do the same…But you won’t because you complain about everything.
Eric walked off to get a tea now even more angry at the racism. Even more angry because she was a school owner, and he expected better from her. She, like many in Taiwan, were educated and well-off, so there was only one conclusion to make: racism was inherent to the Chinese character. In the blood. For a moment he felt like fighting back.
Twenty minutes later the class had started. The classroom consisted of four desks arranged in a rectangle facing the board. Eric was sitting in his usual seat next to the teacher, on her left hand side. The class room was silent for the moment because the students had complained, asking the teacher to think of a more creative way to practice the dialogue from the book. They always started with Eric and read a sentence each going around the class.
“Park, you read the first sentence this time,?declared Eric’s teacher proud to the Korean guy opposite Eric.
“I want to buy a book.?“How much is that book??‘Which book??“That book,?
they repeated. Praise the lord, thought Eric, the dialogue conversation sounded so different and fresh on this, the tenth time, now that it was circling clockwise rather than anti-clockwise around the class.
“Now let’s read the vocabulary.?Clockwise or anti-clockwise thought Eric, or maybe, we are going to get another spectacular piece of innovation like odds and even numbers…Nah, not too much for one day.
“Not exactly Mr. Miyagi is it man??said the old-timer from the bench downstairs. “It doesn’t get any better.?Eric had studied in Beijing for a summer and had then come to Taiwan because it was a richer, more modern country and he assumed the teaching would be more innovative; unfortunately, it was still very Dead Poet’s Society. He knew the arguments: in a more traditional society the teacher saw themselves as security personnel and knowledge was precious parcels of highly volatile medicines which had to transported in a security van to your head and then consumed whole. If you questioned what was coming to your head or tried to touch it would explode and you wouldn’t learn. And because that knowledge was so precious, you should be thankful you were getting it, you shouldn’t care if the delivery mechanism was the same each time.
He had got that apartment near Shih Ta University because he planned to study in their language program - It was supposed the best in Taiwan. He thought having to give them a letter of reference was strange because he was a paying customer, studying for personal pleasure, but he nonetheless prepared all the documentation to prove himself worthy of a place. Then it started: rote combined with memorization, repetition and drills, and only the register in between. He complained that perhaps they should at least be allowed to make a sentence to practice, but apparently the teacher knew better, they were too basic to be allowed to innovate. Finally, there was a weekly test which he began to be sure she just hid behind to waste a lesson. He walked out after two months shaking his head telling them, you waste one lesson a week testing me when I am a paying adult. Gonna make me stand in the corner next? He decided if authority was going to be so unquestioning and he would head to a private Chinese language school like this one, where there were no rules.
“Wipe on, wipe off? continued the other guy, Adrian, pleased with his observation. “You watched the Karate Kid when you were young, right, man? I wanted to come to Asia because of that movie. Wanted to be taught by a cool little Asian dude like Mr. Miyagi. He was the ultimate teacher, with his cool, alternative methods for learning karate. Not like the reality, eh??
“I hear you, man,?replied Eric, reluctantly having to face what appeared to be the truth of the situation. He should know better because he had heard the terrible stories of classes of fifty students learning by rote, even into their university years. And all the Taiwanese at college back home had told him they had come to America to study because it was ‘necessary to learn to question? He wondered why he was so surprised not to find Mr. Miyagi.
“Orientals have done one fantastic thing, they have managed to convince the world that they are these great delivers of knowledge. Trust in me and I can impart this knowledge to you in some magical way,?continued Adrian. “It is not just Mr. Miyagi. There is Kung Fu with Grasshopper, Jackie Chan…In fact whenever Orientals appear on the scene it is inevitably a double act of master and student with the student getting wiser by the second just by being in the aura of the great teacher.?
“But they are actually good students??countered Eric because all the top students in his school were oriental.
“Much more earthy reasons.?And Adrian pretended to crack a whip.
“Five years I have been here man,?he continued. “And I haven’t met a teacher who threw out the traditional for the creative, the tried and tested for the unusual and inspirational. Unfortunately, the downside of Miyagi’s techniques - unquestioning loyalty for the teacher’s methods I have seen too fucking much of.?
“Thanks, man. You want a tea,?said Eric making an excuse to get away. The unfortunate reality Grasshopper got his pupils to write the sentence a thousand times behind the curtain wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He really didn’t want to know this was it until he didn’t need to go to class anymore.

“Fuck, this is good,?exclaimed Eric to himself, now at lunch.
As he ate he thought about how they could be so creative in the food department but not in education. All across the city were these fantastic little self service restaurants which had twenty different dishes in metal trays and you could just walk around taking what you wanted, swooping it onto your paper plate or plastic box for takeaway. Today he had squid stir-fried with celery, casseroled tofu with meat and chillies, and Chinese pea pods with mushroom.
“Are you married??asked the guy on the next table who had struck up a conversation a few minutes earlier.
“Yeah, man, and just before I left I got her pregnant just to heap more shit on her pile of loneliness, and my irresponsibility.?
“One more time?!?
“No, I am not married. And that should be self-explanatory.?Eric thought it should be self-evident because the conversation was going to order: He was from America. (“Very good? He was a student. (“Ha, ha, ha. You want to go China and earn money.? And he had told the guy he had come to Taiwan alone and would stay for two years.
He had heard they had some pretty old-fashioned views of marriage, but kind of cold people get married and then live apart for two year?
“So why you come to Taiwan? Teach English??
“No. We ain’t all English teachers. I am a student.?
“Want to do some business. Break the China market.?
“Perhaps I just want to study Chinese for my interest. I want to be an expert on China affairs.?
“Ha, ha, ha,?Eric didn’t know why back breaking laughter was always the response. “You don’t need to be polite. Taiwan is easy to earn the money for you foreigner. You can earn the money here and go back America. Better quality of life. Welcome you try.?
“Taiwan culture and history is my interest. I intend to exploit you in a different way ?by learning the language.?If you insist I have to exploit you while I am here, thought Eric. As he finished speaking he noticed them rolling on the floor with laughter. He would like to think it was because he picked up on the subtle sarcasm but unfortunately he knew it was the time-honoured one about foreigner-wanting-to-learn-Chinese.
“Chinese culture is very complicated. You know they start the calendar new for each dynasty. Even we don’t understand,?said his colleague as he raised his head from about two inches above his paper tray and spat a mouthful of fish bones on the table. Stripping fish off bones with just his teeth without getting any on his shirt was something Eric found difficult, not the nuances of remembering when the fifty-fifth year of the Ming Dynasty was.
“Yes, you can use the chopstick well,?replied the original guy now he could see Eric was getting angry -- He had heard these foreigners always show their emotion in public and he didn’t want a scene.
“One month, how much you earn??
“I don’t know ?thirty thousand.?Eric loathed talking about money, but it seemed this was a valid question to ask complete strangers in this culture, and he didn’t want to appear the snob he was.
“I have a…how you say…lampa shopa and two apartments I rent. Thirty thousand…um, not so good. Maybe you open the school.?
“Thanks, man. That’s if I came to make money,?answered Eric. “Anyway, sorry guys, nice to meet you. I have to go!?
Maybe, we can do some business together? Do I like steak? Where am I from? Do I have a BMW! Do I know how much the tax is in the US? How much could I buy a house for in the US? How much did I earn in the US before? These questions now throbbed in Eric’s head.!

“Good morning everyone,?said Eric’s teacher in English. It was his second class of the day (ten to twelve and then two to four in the afternoon), and this one had a different problem…No, he corrected himself it was another problem in addition to the uncreative teaching: the use of English in his Chinese class. It was rumoured the Taiwanese like to practice their English. The evidence appeared to be all around ?language schools and bilingual kindergartens fought with convenience stores for number-per-hundred yards title. His girlfriend kept slyly asking him vocabulary and grammar questions, even though she had assured him she wasn’t in the relationship to practice her English. The girlfriend thing was fine ?he wasn’t a rich man and so he accepted absolutely the fairness of the bargain: sex for English. He didn’t mind teaching at the ‘university of the pillow?for a while. However, he was paying for this, and therefore he hoped the Taiwanese would leave their enthusiasm for his language at the door.
“She is quite hot! Maybe, I’ll do you a favor and ask her out,?replied the stoned guy next to him who had just joined the class. He was referring to the rumor teaching Chinese was another tactic in the ambitious-young-girl, off-to-UCLA-next-year strategy for learning English: haven’t been picked up in the bar yet. Still fancy familiarizing yourself with the white man? - Try your luck teaching Chinese.
“We have a new tong xue ?student,?continued the teacher, quickly remembering she was here to test her own English.
“Ne tsong na le li? ?and then without giving him a chance to the hippy guy to answer the question a translation came forth, ‘Where are you from??
“Mei gwo. (America)?
“Mei gwo na le (Where in America?)?
“Arizona.?
We don’t need to know this fumed Eric to himself - If he can’t say it in Chinese don’t ask him…And it is a low level class so there is no need to learn the fifty states in Chinese before directions.
“Eric is also an American.?“Mei gwo na li (Where in America?)?she continued.
“Wo bu zhi dao ze ma jiang (I don’t know how to say),?replied Eric sullenly.
“It is okay, you can speak English.?
Eric said nothing.
“New York? L.A? Texas??
“Jesus! Is this Chinese class or American geography??
She scowled at him and then turned back to the stoned guy. He was just here for the visa so he was quite happy to answer questions in English all day.
At the end of class, he knew he was going to have to complain about the teacher.
“Duei bu chi, Na gi lao shi (Sorry, that teacher), I am not sure, she is teaching Chinese or English.?said Eric to the boss of the school, originally not planning to be sarcastic.
“Hey, you know yours is a low level class, she has to speak some English,?she replied.
“Jesus Christ? Next to the boss were her five and six year-old kids with their huge California Sunshine backpacks, an English-only kindergarten. They were forced to speak a foreign language before they could use the bathroom properly, but it seemed university educated westerners needed the helping hand of translation to learn her language. It was another sign to Eric of the racism, and the truth of rumor Taiwanese existed to suck the language from westerners and leave us spat out in the departure lounge of the airport our time in Taiwan wasted. He knew he wasn’t alone in his feelings, and he had already heard there were those fighting back. This had supposed to be a two year break before he joined the real world back home, but he was starting to feel he had to fight back, to join the struggle…Then he remembered he had been accused of always looking for struggles to join, and he decided again the new him wasn’t going to get involved.
“Nobody else complain her??followed up the boss.
“They are Asian and the other guy had a joint before he came,?he snapped. “The class is made up of three Koreans, two Japanese, who said they found this place enlightened and innovative compared to their own school systems - and, anyway don’t understand English so they aren’t having their time wasted. And the dope-head from Arizona who is only coming so he could get a student visa and stay in the country longer. All this amounts to the same thing: a bunch of people who were not going to complain.
“Tell the teacher to explain every word in Korean. I ain’t a selfish guy. If it was necessary to use a second language to explain everything, it is only fair to use the one the majority of the class speak.?
“Go to another class if you want,?she replied because she wasn’t interested.
“What about your morning class? - She is okay.?
“I can’t attend my morning class twice, now can I??Snapped Eric.
It seemed she thought he could!

“Jesus Christ, I am in Subway sandwiches,?moaned Eric, who had called John, a friend from the hostel, for dinner and to complain about his day. “I didn’t fly ten thousand miles to eat a goddamn sandwich.?
“Hmm,?replied John. “Keep an open mind.?John was thinking that these tacky symbols of western capitalist imperialism that Eric always complained about were sadly too few - it had taken half an hour to get here from the hostel, meaning he couldn’t come everyday. He had noticed Eric wasn’t the only one like it. All the college boys in the hostel were also trying to prove they were sophisticated travellers who didn’t need all the western restaurant chains that traversed the city…Apart from Pizza Hut it seemed; Pizza Hut, by the number of empty pizza boxing littering the hostel living room, were excused in the boycott of the crass and philistine.
“I am disappointed, man,?said Eric. “They want to practice their English all the time, and drink coffee and ask me about America. It is too modern here.?
“I know what you mean ?It is much better if we ‘ad to crap in a bucket. Throw cold water over our heads to wash. Walk everywhere. Read books by candlelight. Die when we got the slightest illness.?
“You know what I mean…Uh, have their own take on modernity. Not follow us. Since when were fast food chains the aspiration of the middle classes??
“I see ?the square wheel, the flushing sit down toilet with perhaps a hole coming out the side, a round car, the computer with no keyboard. What other things should Asians fix that aren’t broken??
“Come on…the MacDonalds thing. There are thousands in this city.?
“Yeah MacDonalds bothers me. I mean, as you say there are thousands of them in this city?
“So you agree with me??interrupted Eric.
“I agree it is a travesty when Burger King is much better and there are only two of them here. Same with Wendys which has a jacket potato.
John continued,“Only joking me old cocker. Just don’t eat there…And bear in mind all the things you accuse these people of you were guilty of with regard to us. You know: America playing catch up to the English.?
“But that is different, man. We improved on it.?
“Haven’t they improved on it? Aren’t you always saying it is more capitalist here than back home? Discos, bars and restaurants open all night…The fuckin?convenience stores. Life is twenty-four seven.?
“Alright, man. I have to go and teach. We’ll talk another time,?answered Eric like he could win that argument if he had time.
“I know,?smirked John. “And before you say anything, of course there isn’t Chinese characters all over the west. It ain’t the world’s second language, matey.?John had a little sympathy with Eric. If he had come here with the sole purpose of immersing himself in the culture and learning as much as possible, in as short a time as possible, he might resent the appearance of every letter of the alphabet and enthusiastic student of English. He was glad that wasn’t his purpose in Taiwan. And that is why he still spoke to Eric: Taipei was full of complainers without a cause; at least Eric was trying to integrate.
“Hello, me dear. What is your name??asked John. The girl behind the counter who made him his sandwich was smiling as she collected his tray so he decided to test the water.
“Me? Oh, I am Jenny,?she replied. “Hmm…What is your name??
“No, need to stand to attention,?quipped John because, as she replied, her back had straightened, and she had blurted out her answer, nervously, positively, like this was an exam. “Only Joking, I am John. Nice to meet you.?
“Nice to meet you too?Oh,?she added as he extended his hand to shake, and he worked out a full meaty shake was not the done thing, and they kind of touched thumbs on flat fingers and moved robotically, nervously up and down a few times. “Hmm, where are you from??
“England…So let’s cut to the chase.?John added the last part because he was being driven wild by her innocent freshness as she continued to dip her head every few seconds and cross her hands in front of her stomach. It was a weird feelings of corrupting innocence, something he had never had in England; only pedophiles presumably talk to girls of the age range that are still innocent. It was unusual to meet post-puberty girls who had such a fresh, positive attitude to life. The innocence was giving him goose pimples…It was also making him feel ashamed. “Would you like to go out for a drink some time??
“You mean the bar??
“Of course.?
“I am sorry. I don’t like the bar. Smoky. My father say I don’t drink the alcohol.?
“Hmm, sorry, then I think I best be on my way.?John hurried for the door red-faced looking around to see if anyone was coming after him to beat him up for talking to the virgin.

An hour later and Eric was sat in a coffee shop teaching his student Amanda. At the moment she was talking on the phone so he was looking around at the other foreigner/local, teacher/student combinations in the coffee shop, wondering what they were talking about.
“Sorry, it is my mother-in-law? So troublesome,?said Amanda, as she hung up her phone.
“Everything okay??asked Eric, knowing it wasn’t; knowing he shouldn’t ask.
“She know I have to study English once a week for my job, but she call me up. Tell me I have to come home to cook her dinner. Tell me it is my duty. You know I am a manager. I earn more than my husband, but he mother phone me up when I am in a meeting. Tell me to go shopping. When I get home she ask me to clean the house…Sorry? Her phone was ringing again. “You see. My husband now calls me to say I must go home. Immediately. Sometimes I wish I had never get the married. When I young I want to marry the foreigner, because I know you respect the women. Here we are shit.?
“Why didn’t you??
“My father found someone he wanted me to marry. I can’t argue with my parents.?
“I’m sorry. My father didn’t want me to come here but I still did.?
“I know. We Taiwanese are more traditional. You know when I gave birth to my first child, I came back home after three days and my mother-in-law insisted I clean the floor, and my husband said nothing. I cried because my stomach hurt so much. I would love to divorce.?
“So why don’t you??
“I get nothing. Out on the street. My friends divorce and they never see their kids again. I know my husband the same. I love my children.?She explained in Taiwan the man always gets everything in the event of a divorce.
“Sorry, my phone again?I must go.?
Amanda paid Eric and left. Ordinarily he would be happy to be able to go home early with his pay, but today he had been prepared to teach through the night for nothing, such was his anger at the unfairness. He knew it was a sexist society before he came, but presented with living human examples on a daily basis was making him feel like murdering the whole male Taiwanese race. He steeled himself again not to get involved?

An hour later Eric was back at home with his girlfriend Diane, sat on his bed, watching that TV show again, sweating as it dawned on him it wasn’t happening on another planet.
He knew with his particular perspective on family commitment this would be worse than hell. Unimaginable. He started to shake. If he was ever to be with a Taiwanese girl long-term her family had to be dead…Whatever, he wouldn’t be visiting them in a hurry. Then he thought, there would be no need for him to meet any stern fathers in his two years here. No reason. He would keep it simple.
?What is the foreigner dude doing on the show??asked Eric.
“He was meeting the girl’s father. He kick him out. Say the foreigner doesn’t understand Taiwan culture,?replied Diane.
Apart from a hammer jolt of injustice, Eric was thinking Diane seemed very nonchalant about it all. “The father is a bastard? Don’t you think??
“I don’t know.?
“What do you mean, you don’t know? It is racist…What about your father??
“He think you foreigners like to fuck around.?
Then Diane had kind of suggested her father had a point ?there was the Canadian guy who didn’t marry her after all, and she knew Eric didn’t love her. She had been with two western guys now, and it appeared what her father said about the GIs in Taiwan was right. American soldiers were stationed in Taiwan to protect it against the communist devils up until the end of the seventies. Apparently there were many cases of “Miss Taipei?happening, songs included.
“Your father has a second wife and kids in Indonesia and your calling westerners the unfaithful ones??Diane liked to recount this story, and numerous others of her grandmother trying to install another woman in the family home to replace her mother as reason why she liked the foreigner. Then there was his student Amanda, and his other student Mary who liked to recount stories of catching her husband being unfaithful, and how their mother-in-laws always said, Your husband works very hard. He needs to have some fun. He knew he should keep clear of these types of students, but feeling other’s pain was addictive, as was, it seemed, their interest in telling him. He once asked if she discussed this with her friends and Amanda had replied, ‘You know, I don’t talk this to anyone. Will lose the face. I know, you are the foreigner. You are very open.?Eric was now learning the downside of being seen as approachable.
“Not everyone.?Eric thought for a moment and then felt obliged to qualify his statement based on what most guys were up to in Taipei. “We fuck around before marriage, then we stay faithful to our wives. Unlike you people who get married to the first person they meet and then start to fuck around.?
Diane stared blankly at Eric thinking, was I supposed to be impressed? Suddenly, she saw an image of herself hanging around in that foreigner bar in ten years time, putting up with boring conversation about the pollution, how westerners are taught to ‘think?in the west; all delivered in badly broken Chinese where she had to guess the tones. She decided her next boyfriend would be old?If Eric didn’t marry her and make her happy of course.
He knew Taiwanese families and him weren’t likely to get on; he had no intention of staying with her, but there were secondary issues at stake now: Diane wanted to be with a foreigner and she wasn’t standing up and being counted; telling her father he was a racist. “I want to meet your father.?

In the news:

Meanwhile, Eric surveyed the scene of his five-year olds, who had just being running riot as he tried to teach, now huddled under their desks for air raid practice. A tear came to the eye, and he decided he shouldn’t be so tough on these people.

In response to Taiwan holding its first fully-democratic Presidential Election, the Chinese are firing missiles 90 miles off the coast of Taiwan into the areas surrounding its ports and blocking them. The Chinese claim Taiwan is part of their territory, but this dispute has been going on for fifty years and recently relations between the two had got better. Relations between the two countries started to get worse after the American government granted a visa to the Taiwanese President, Lee Teng-Hui to visit his old university Cornell.
Seem a little strange? Ever thought about why you never get a state visit from a Taiwanese government official? Well, China says Taiwan is not a country therefore its leaders can’t go to any other countries as officials; China monitors every flight out of Taiwan for signs of officialdom and if you want to continue investing in China then you better hope you didn’t give a visa to that Taiwanese official.
In this case, nothing makes the Chinese more scared than a group of other Chinese getting democracy and freedom; sets a bad precedent and kind of upsets the argument that Chinese people cannot handle democracy. The Americans in turn have sent two aircraft carrier groups into the area, tensions are extremely high, and all the banks are already out of US dollars.
A week later the Taiwan-born KMT incumbent president, who pressed for, and oversaw the transition to democracy is elected, promising further reform and that he would only stand for one term.