The National Palace Museum

Taiwan’s National Palace Museum began life in Beijing’s Forbidden City in 1925. It was established after China’s last emperor, Aisin-Gioro Puyi, was thrown out of the city; and the collection consisted of the former imperial family’s possessions. The collection only came to Taiwan in 1948, when fighting in the Chinese Civil War intensified. Chiang Kai Shek of the ruling Chinese Nationalist Party (Kuomintang) took the decision to pack up about 600,000 works of art and ship them to Keelung, and the collection finally arrived at its present home in Shilin, Taipei in 1985.

Over the years, the museum has expanded its collection and now possesses close to 680,000 works. Since there is only enough room to display a tiny fraction of these pieces, the displays are rotated every three months and new works are brought up from the vaults. Even with the artwork changing around so quickly, it would still take you 12 years to see the entire collection.

The museum’s most famous pieces are the Jadeite Cabbage, the Meat-shaped Stone, and their version of the Qingming Scroll. The 18.7-centimeter-high Jadeite Cabbage shows a locust and katydid nestling among the leaves of a head of Chinese cabbage. Art historians have commented that the sculpture is symbol of female virtue; purity is shown by the whiteness of the stalk, the lush green leaves represent fertility, and the insects signify children. Apart from the exquisite and intricate detailing, what makes the piece so special is that the various imperfections in the stone, such as cracks and discolorations, are actually incorporated into the design.

The Meat-shaped Stone is a piece of quartz with lines and layers that make it closely resemble a piece of pork that has been cooked in soy sauce. The colored and lined surface of the stone almost perfectly resembles the layers of skin, fat, and meat found in this food.

The Qingming Scroll, or Along the River During the Qingming Festival, is perhaps the most famous picture ever painted in China. It shows a day in the life of people in the Song Dynasty capital of Qingming. By showing men and women from all walks of society, the painting offers an insight into the customs, architecture, clothing, and practices of 12^th-century China. Although the scroll housed in Taipei is not the original version, it was painted in the 18^th century during the Qing Dynasty and is still considered a great work of art in its own right. Spanning a length of 11 meters, the Qing version is over twice as long as the original, and it features a poem by Emperor Qianlong.

Although these pieces might take pride of place in the museum, they are far from being its only treasures. On the first floor, there are exhibitions of rare books and documents, ancient religious sculptures, curios and ornaments from the Qing Imperial Collection, and pieces of Qing Dynasty furniture. The curios on display are beautifully decorated and full of whimsical design characteristics; they show off the rich diversity of the imperial collection and give the viewer an understanding of the joys of life in the palace. The furniture exhibited in the museum is similar to these pieces, in that their design incorporates both practical and artistic elements. Visitors with a keen eye and a knowledge of Chinese calligraphy will notice how craftsmen incorporated the delicate lines of calligraphic strokes into their writing desk and chair designs.

On the second floor, you’ll find displays of painting and calligraphy and an exhibition detailing the development through the ages of Chinese ceramics. China is obviously well-known for its development of pottery and porcelain, and this is brought to life at the museum by showing the evolution of design and craftsmanship throughout the ages. The exhibition is broken up into five sections, starting with “Pottery and Porcelain,” which provides an introduction to the art form. The next four sections chronicle different time periods in China‘s history and show how ceramics changed in each of them. In the “Neolithic Age to the Five Dynasties” section, everyday items are used to show how pottery developed from a primitive to a cultivated practice. The “Song to Yuan Dynasties” display shows the range of decorations used by different designers. In “Ming Dynasty,” we are presented with the change in ceramics brought about by interest in the craft by successive emperors. Finally, in the “Qing Dynasty” section, visitors can see the influence official models had on the art form.

Up on the third floor, there are exhibitions of bronze sculpture, Neolithic artifacts, and carved precious stones. The bronzes on display at the museum are interesting not only for their beauty but also for what they show us about centuries-old technological advancement. It is incredible to think that some of the cast-bronze relics on display could be as much as 5000 years old. The attraction of the carved precious stones is completely different, and with these pieces, perhaps more than with any other in the museum, visitors will be amazed by the attention to detail and level of craftsmanship on show. In the section labeled “Nature and Human in Harmony,” it is possible to see how Chinese artists adhered to the concept of working in harmony with nature. Instead of simply deciding what to carve and then choosing a suitably sized stone, the craftsmen would take a stone and let its own qualities and characteristics tell them what should be carved. The most famous examples are obviously the Jadeite Cabbage and Meat-shaped Stone, but there are many other wonderful pieces on show.

The main exhibition area is open every day from 8.30 in the morning to 6.30 in the evening. On Saturdays, it stays open until 8.30, and those extra two hours are free of admission. Adult tickets cost NT$160, people in groups of at least 10 will pay NT$120 each, student tickets are NT$80, and children under six and disabled visitors get in free.

It is possible to drive to the museum, but you’re encouraged to use public transport as parking spaces are limited. If you’re taking the brown MRT line, get off at Dazhi Station and take the Brown 13 bus to Jiannan Station, then take bus 620, Brown 20. If you’re on the red MRT line, disembark at Shilin Station and take buses 255, 304, Red 30 or minibuses 18 or 19.

Juming Museum

An article originally written for the Taiwan Culture portal. for the original, go to http://www.culture.tw/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=1879&Itemid=156

For a nation that seemingly prizes academic success ahead of all other achievement, Taiwan has produced an astonishing number of world-class artists. There’s Lin Hwai-min of the Cloud Gate dance Troup, Hou Hsiao-Hsien and Ang Lee, fashion designer Johan Ku, and, from the world of sculpture, there’s Ju Ming.

Ju Ming first achieved fame in Taiwan in the mid-1970s and has remained a well-known figure ever since. The thing is, although everyone knows he’s good, not many people are actually aware of just what an extraordinary talent he is. Make no mistake, Ju Ming is a great artist, one of the best that this little island has ever produced.

The most obvious thing to say about ju Ming’s sculptures is that they’re simple. Regardless of what material he’s working with, he’s not an artist who seems concerned with details. Instead, his pieces go straight to the heart of their subjects and capture their very essences. In his work, there’s something very reminiscent of the old Zen teaching about trying to grasp a handful of water – the harder you clench, the faster the water squeezes through your fingers. By leaving his sculptures in their most basic forms, he does not grasp too tightly and is able to capture reality and, more importantly, convey it to us all the more effectively. Nowhere is this feeling of expression through emptiness more apparent than in his Taichi Series.

The tai chi collection is magnificent. It’s made up of large, block-like sculptures that somehow portray an unmistakable sense of grace and elegance. The pieces, sometimes a single figure, sometimes two opponents facing one another perfectly capture the dual elements of solidity and fluidity that characterize tai chi.

To practice the art, it is necessary to root yourself to the ground, to find your balance, and to make yourself heavy. The weight, both apparent and real, of these statues creates the impression that they were formed from the ground itself.

Tai chi practitioners must also be flexible, subtly moving to counteract their adversary’s attacks. Ju Ming expresses this through the uncomplicated, sweeping lines that make up these pieces. There is a simple economy of movement that communicates the fluidity and freedom of tai chi. There is so much life in these unmoving pieces that it seems they are just waiting for the right moment to spring into action.

In accordance with the series’ importance, it’s displayed right at the heart of the 11-hectare Ju Ming Museum. The museum, which was paid for by the artist himself, showcases the vast majority of his 40-plus years of work and has exhibitions featuring several other artists, too. Most of the artwork is kept outside, but there are a few buildings around the site. One of them houses some of Ju Ming’s most recent projects and a select number of his early wood carvings. There is also a gallery near to the entrance that rotates the works of local and international artists including Andy Warhol and Pablo Picasso. It is a mark of the Ju Ming’s worldwide importance that his museum owns pieces by two of the western world’s most influential modern artists.

Back outside, statues from the Armed Forces collection dominate the site. Soldiers, some of them joyful, others injured and somber line the walkways around Ju Ming Museum. The idea, I suppose, is that the figures are a poignant tribute to Taiwan’s military. Unfortunately, I don’t think it really works. The first few statues do catch your eye, especially one of a soldier whose leg has been lost at war. His head hangs down in sadness and shame, and it’s impossible to look on the figure and not think of real-life soldiers who have suffered the same fate. After seeing the first few sculptures, though, the repetitive and unimaginative way in which they’re displayed means any further emotional impact is lost in a sea of monotony. The further you walk, the less the figures are genuine works of art, and the more they become simply props in photos of children and 20-something-year-old girls.

The Armed Forces pieces are part of the much larger Living World Series. This is a massive body of work that actually contains several different collections. Living World Series – Sport and Living World Series – Scientist are each exhibited in their own areas. Like the soldiers, though, I felt that these collections were a bit of a disappointment. While it is fun to see what Ju Ming makes of Einstein and Edison, artistically, I couldn’t really see what the point was.

Fortunately, that’s not the end of the story, and many of the other pieces in the Living World Series are just wonderful. They represent normal people in real-life situations, and each of them has its own charm. The real magic of these figures, though, lies in how full of life they are. It’s extraordinary how these sculptures that in so many ways appear so crude and simple can have so much humanity. Ju Ming has a rare and incredible talent, and his museum is home to some beautiful artwork. You may not fall in love with everything you see – I obviously did not – but with so many amazing pieces of art on display, you will find a few things that will stop you in your tracks.

The Ju Ming Museum is a big place; in fact, in this review, I’ve only really scraped the surface of what’s on offer. You will need at least a few hours to see it properly, but to get the most out of your visit, it’s worth taking your time and stopping off at one of the cafes or restaurants located around the site. A trip here is a great day out, and when you’ve finished with the art, you’ll still have Taiwan’s beautiful north coast to explore. You can’t ask for much more than that.

Getting there

By car – Leave Freeway 3 at the Wanli exit and turn onto Provincial Road 2 to Chinshan. At the 39.7 kilometer point, you will see signs leading up to the museum.

By bus – Take the Chinshan Line Bus from Danshuei MRT station or the Keelung Bus from Taipei Main Station. Get off at the Jinshan Township Office and catch the free museum shuttle bus from next to the Township Office.

For more information, visit http://www.juming.org

When East Meets West

An article written for the Taiwan Culture Portal. For the original, go to: http://www.culture.tw/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=1733&Itemid=156

Cross-cultural relationships are viewed with skepticism, curiosity, amusement, hostility, and plain delight. I've been involved in a couple of these relationships, and as a result, I've been sworn at, stared at, and asked whether I suffer from "yellow fever" (an unfriendly reference to the color of Taiwanese skin.) But what's all the fuss about?

Well, whether I like it or not, cross-cultural relationships are different. It starts off, of course, with physical appearance, which explains why people stare, but the differences are by no means only skin deep. The reasons why these relationships inspire curiosity and skepticism are the linguistic and cultural differences between the two people. These differences can be so great that it's little wonder onlookers are sometimes curious about how couples get around them. It’s also unsurprising that many are skeptical about such relationships can ever work out.

But are these people right to doubt? To begin answering that question, let’s take a look at language. It's a problem that some cross-cultural couples find bizarre and interesting solutions to. For example, I once dated a girl who took one of those electronic translating machines with her whenever we went out. Our relationship carried on for a few months – sometimes talking, sometimes typing – until one terrible evening when she pressed a few keys on her machine and waited for the voice of Stephen Hawking to tell me it was over. It was brutal. Other couples “solve” the problem of language by simply pretending that it isn’t there. I know people who have communicated through mime, and others who simply smile at each other and share conversations that consist of sentences like, "Mmm, this chicken is good.” “Yes.”

It might be said that, depending on what you want from a relationship, a situation like this is perfect. But if you want something that goes beyond the purely physical, at some point you're going to have to be able to hold down a conversation. This may not be the problem it once was: foreigners are learning Chinese and Taiwanese are speaking English, but this isn’t the end of the problem. Even when people can chat without electronic aids or improvised sign language, unless they can become fluent in their second language, then there will still be a language gap, and it will lead to misunderstandings and possibly even arguments. And who wants extra arguments, really?

Language might be the first or most obvious problem a cross-cultural couple will face, but it probably won’t be the most important. For that, you’ll have to look at culture and upbringing. There are hundreds of differences between Western and Taiwanese cultures: our views on and ability to share and talk about our feelings, the role of the family, our attitudes towards those in authority, ideas about how to show consideration toward others, and deciding who pays for dinner to name just a few. While many of these differences are quite small, any one of them could wind up being the thing that pushes a couple over the edge.

The truth is that Westerners and Taiwanese are generally brought up to follow completely different value systems. Where Taiwanese are taught to obey their parents, put the family first, and accept figures of authority, Westerners are brought up to be much more independent, to question and debate. These can be hard difference to overcome.

But let's say that a couple can get past all this, can learn to understand and accept each other as being different but equal, what then? If the relationship lasts and the happy couple stay together then at some point they'll have to think about where they're going to live, and inescapable truth is that one of them will have to settle away from their home country. While many of us would be happy to do this for a few years, the prospect of spending your entire life overseas is an entirely different proposition.

After that, you have to think about children and answer the question of how you’re going to raise them. You might accept and even love your partner's differing value system, but do you really want those values to be passed on to your children?

And now, I’m a bit stuck. When I was planning this article, I had intended at this point to include a few paragraphs that would argue that, yes, people in relationships with those from another culture face problems, but that so do people in every other kind of relationship. It doesn’t matter, I had planned on writing, whether they're from different countries or not, or even if they’re from the same town, no two people are the same and so all couples will face difficulties. There is, undoubtedly, some truth in this, but to conclude that a cross-cultural relationship is no more challenging than one with someone from the same culture would be ridiculous. The difficulties created by language and culture are real and can be significant; different outlooks on life and attitudes on bringing up children could easily force two people apart.

But what if you have no intention of living together or having children? What if you’re just looking for fun? Here, too, there are problems. People from different cultures have different ideas over what constitutes fun and what kind of relationship is not serious. While things like dating someone for a few months, saying “I love you,” and having sex might be treated very lightly by people of one culture, they are often viewed very differently by those from a different background. So you should think carefully before dating someone from another culture, because people can, and do, easily get hurt.

This article has been fairly negative, but I wouldn’t want to give the impression that I think cross-cultural relationships are impossible or even undesirable. If you can get past or work through the difficulties then being with someone who has different ideas and opinions about life can be a wonderful experience. But, regardless of whether you’re looking for something serious or casual, you should probably think a lot more carefully about all the issues involved and decide whether it’s really worth it.

Lantern Festival

Lantern Festival is celebrated on the 15th day of the first month in the lunar calendar. It marks the first full moon of the year, and it also signals the end of the Chinese New Year period.

The origins of the festival are unclear; one story goes that the lanterns are part of the birthday celebrations for Tianguan, the Taoist god of good fortune. Others say that the festival started in ancient times, in worship of Taiyi, the god of heaven. Another story says that the origins can be traced back to the first century emperor, Mingdi of the Eastern Han Dynasty. In accordance with his newly found Buddhist belief that the aura of the Buddha can overcome darkness, he ordered his subjects to light lanterns.


In modern-day Taiwan, Lantern Festival is a bright, colorful celebration. All the major cities around the country put on huge lantern shows. Every year the central government selects one city to host the official, Taiwan Lantern Festival display, and in 2008 the city chosen was Tainan.

2008 is the Year of the Rat

The first thing to say about the display was that it was huge; it occupied an area of land measuring 7.5 hectares, and it showcased thousands upon thousands of lanterns. There were big lanterns and small, traditional and modern, those made or sponsored by big companies, and hundreds made school children around Taiwan. The level of creativity was extraordinary with lanterns shaped like people, cartoon characters, animals, buildings, and even religious figures. There was also a laser show, an orchestra, and fireworks displays going on throughout the night.



It was good, so good in fact that seemingly the whole of Taiwan came out to enjoy the festivities. In a small, densely populated country, it’s normal for big events like this to have a big turnout, but the numbers of people in Tainan that night were big even by Taiwanese standards. The more popular areas of the site were swamped with people, all jostling to get a good view, or a good photo, of the lanterns on display. It was outside though, where the numbers created the biggest problems.

All around the site, cars were backed up for kilometers, and the only parking spaces you could find were over a kilometer away from the display. The police were out in force but, where they weren’t ineffectual, they somehow found a way to be worse than useless. Their efforts to channel and control the traffic were nothing less than a complete debacle.

But did I tell you about the lanterns? They really were very good.

The National Taiwan Museum of Fine Arts

I didn’t know what to expect from the National Taiwan Museum of Fine Arts. I’ve enjoyed, and been bored stupid by different art museums in the past, so it was with mixed feelings that I made the trip to Taichung.

I remember being taken to art galleries as a child, and I remember hating it. I don’t care what I’m looking at, being led over creaking floorboards through a procession of stuffy, dimly-lit, and slightly too small rooms, is not my idea of a good time. Over the past few years however, I have been able to visit some more modern museums like Paris’s Pompidou Center and the Tate Modern in London. Places like this are bold, bright, and, dare I say it, even fun. So which group would the National Taiwan Museum of Fine Arts belong to? With its imaginative design and architecture, it would have to be the later.



Sharp angular lines and a range of textiles give the museum its distinctive appearance. A patchwork of brightly colored marble tiles covers the main building, and in other places, bare concrete and metal cladding lend an industrial feeling. Exposed bolts, and concrete that mimics the appearance of steel add an extra layer to the collage of diverse yet harmonious elements.



Heavy open spaces and exposed white walls dominate the interior, and create the perfect environment in which to view the art on display. The museum displays work from its own collection and also shows the work of contemporary Taiwanese artists. Exhibitions are separated into different galleries, and are shown for only a few months before being changed.



Before you look around inside though, you really should take the time to walk through the gardens. Both beautiful, and immaculately kept, the grounds are something of an oasis in the middle of Taichung. Sculptures, well-groomed hedgerows, and trees decorate the pristine lawns; and you can enjoy them all at your leisure from either the walking paths or the benches around the site. You could easily spend a few hours here enjoying the grounds and I shouldn’t think there are many better places in Taichung to wile away the afternoon.



Rather than just house art, NTMOFA, as it’s affectionately called by those in the know, also aims to inspire and educate. Its digital art program is just one way in that it reaches out to young artists, and young museum goers. There are a number of excellent educational programs, and to ensure that no one misses out, the museum actively sponsors visits by schools from isolated areas. There is a family room and, in addition to the library, there is also a comfortable picture book area to help inspire and educate the museum’s youngest visitors.

The National Taiwan Museum of Fine Arts is both thoughtful and provocative. There is so much to see and do that I would be surprised if anyone could come away from here feeling anything less than completely satisfied.

Rivers of cloud

The weather in Taiwan is extraordinarily changeable; bright sunshine in the morning can easily give way to torrential afternoon downpours, hot sunny days can alternate with cold, murky ones, and several times this winter alone, thermometers have recorded 10 degree overnight drops in temperature.

When you go up into the mountains, the potential for change only increases. So it was a few days ago when I visited Alishan 阿里山. I was riding my motorbike and the weather was glorious, with warm sunshine and clear blue skies. Then in front of me, what I can only describe as a river of cloud was pouring down the mountain. A few seconds later I was driving through it, suddenly cold, damp, and only able to see a few meters in front of my bike.

Driving through cloud is great, dangerous maybe, but also great, especially when it's moving as fast as this cloud was. You can see, and also feel it rushing by you. A few minutes later I was back out of the cloud, but for the next few kilometers I was driving through alternating bands of warm sunshine and freezing cloud. It was beautiful.

For more on Alishan, go to http://travelsintaiwan.blogspot.com/2007_11_01_archive.html

Chinese New Year: At the Temple

I love going to large temple towns over the New Year holidays. The goings on, both inside and outside of the temple walls are fascinating. The sight of thousands of worshippers, hawkers, and tourists pack themselves into narrow streets is incredible; people praying, eating, begging, cooking, artists making their crafts, and families playing games, all of this going on side-by-side as people rub, clash, and barge shoulders. It may well not be your idea of fun, but one thing you could never say is that it's dull.

This year, my wife and I went to Beigang北港 in Yunlin County. Beigang is home to Chaotien Temple朝天宮, the oldest and largest Matsu Temple in Taiwan. For information on Matsu, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Matsu_%28goddess%29 Due to its importance, Beigang can always expect big crowds over the holoday period, and this year was certainly no exception.

Inside the Temple

Hundreds of people offering incense and paper money were packed inside the Temple. There are two kinds of this paper money, gold paper金紙, and silver paper銀紙. Silver paper is burnt to help your ancestors in the afterlife, and gold paper is used as an offering to the gods. At New Year people mainly, or perhaps only, burn this gold paper. You can see from the flames just how much of it is being burnt.

Incense is offered to the gods. The belief is that the thick smoke, along with its aromatic scent attracts the attention of the gods so that they might better hear your prayer.

The air inside the temple is thick with this smoke, there's so much of it that after a few minutes, my eyes were starting to tear up.

Outside the Temple

There's a lot going on outside the temple walls, and scenes like this one, where an apparantly paraplegic man crawls on the floor begging for money, are fairly commonplace.

Then there's begging of another kind; monks and nuns standing on street corners with alms bowls are regular sights in Taiwan. There is a growing mistrust of these people though, and certainly, as a number of reports on Taiwanese TV have revealed, some of them are fraudulent. This is just a personal opinion, but I have a hard time believing that there aren't any genuine monks and nuns on the streets of Taiwan. I certainly wouldn't want to cast any aspersions on this particular lady.







This is one of the more unusual things you're likely to see. A candle burns inside a jar and the resulting vacuum pulls the wax out of your ear. The process lasts around 15 minutes, and the amount of wax that gets extracted is incredible.




Mainly though, what happens outside the temple revolves around food. The Taiwanese love to eat, and anytime you go to a festival, or major tourist site, you'll find food stands lining the roadside. Stands often serve only one particular type of food, but this doesn't matter as the sheer numbers of vendors ensure you get great variety.

Most towns in Taiwan are famous for one kind of food. Beigang's food are these 大餅 (dabin)which literally translates as "Big Cakes".

But cakes are not all that's on offer and the following photos show just a selection of the food you can buy.

Roasted corn

Salted fish

Goose eggs

Deep-fried squid balls

Driving in Taiwan

A few weeks ago in Chinese class, my teacher told me what he thought about the standard of driving in Taiwan, “People in Taiwan are excellent drivers.” I stared at him open-mouthed. I have no idea how anyone can hold this view. After traveling through Eastern and South-Eastern Africa, through Europe, and a few countries in South-East Asia, I would have to say that Taiwanese roads are the most dangerous that I have ever seen.


Though the basic rules of the road are the same as in most other countries, Taiwan has a widely practiced, alternative highway code. This alternative code is built around getting to your destination as quickly as possible with little or no regard to the safety of yourself and others. Some of the main points:



1. Driving on the Right


In Taiwan people drive on the right, but under certain special circumstances, especially if riding a motorbike or moped, driving on the left is accepted,
i) You’re only traveling a short distance.
ii) Your destination is on the left and it’s inconvenient to drive on the right.
iii) You’re on the left, the traffic is busy, and it’s just too difficult to get across the road onto the right hand side.
iv) You’re having a good day and simply don’t feel that anything bad is going to happen to you.
These rules particularly apply to the elderly.



2. Red Lights


i) You don’t always need to stop for them. If you think you can get through ok, then go for it.
ii) If you do stop, then don’t stop completely. Keep edging forward. You’ll shave valuable milliseconds off your destination time and you make sure that guy next to you cant get in front and cut you off. In the competition to be first off the blocks, think nothing of edging out so far that you start to obstruct legally moving cars.
iii) Don’t wait for your light to change to green before putting your foot down. Keep an eye on the other light, wait for that one to change from green to red or even to orange, then go. You’ve got places to get to and waiting for a green light will add 7 or even 8 seconds on to your journey time. It’s not worth it.



3. Turning Right


When turning right, even onto a busy road, it’s not necessary to wait for a gap in the traffic. In fact, you don’t even need to look and check if there any cars coming your way. Feel free to put people’s lives in danger.
Even if there’s a red light, ignore it. Red lights only apply to people turning left or going straight on.



4. Overtaking


i) Overtake on both the inside and outside.
ii) Overtake on blind corners.
iii) Do it like Schumacher.



5. The Fast and The Furious


Great movie, right? You can do it too!



6. Speed Limits


These are more of a guideline than an actual rule. They’re meant for new drivers, women, not for the likes of you. You’re a good driver, people have told you so, and you’re driving an SUV that has an engine big enough to power an airplane. You go as fast as you like.



7. Big Cars


Buy one. Not only will spend a lot of money running them, waste the Earth’s dwindling resources in a bid to make yourself look cool, add to the Nation’s chronically bad air pollution problem, but you can also intimidate people in smaller cars. Why bother with the hassle of overtaking? Instead just drive right up to puny car’s bumper, they’ll move for you. If they don’t, drive even closer, possibly honk your horn, you’ll get ’em.



8. Parking


Double parking, blocking someone else in, parking on a corner, these things might be considered lazy, selfish, and inconsiderate. But hey, what do you care?



9. Motorbikes and Mopeds


i) Never look in your mirrors.
ii) Weave in and out through cars and slower bikes, cut them off if you want.
iii) Mopeds can be specially adapted with a small wicker chair on the foot plate. What better or safer way to transport a baby?
iv) Child passengers don’t need a helmet. Hasn’t a scientific report shown that in the event of a 40 kmph bike crash, a child’s head will simply bounce off the tarmac?
v) A 125cc moped can easily seat a family of four.
vi) Carrying very large, and very long objects on a bike is totally safe.


Taiwan’s roads are extremely dangerous and to survive them you need to do more than just prepare for the worst. Expect to be amazed by some new act of lunacy every time you get on your bike or in your car. Even then, even if you’re a careful driver, and many are, there’s no guarantee of safety when the roads are filled with so many complete idiots.


There are numerous causes for this terrible state of affairs: the teaching and testing systems are laughably inadequate; police routinely turn a blind eye to indiscretions; drink-driving is not socially unacceptable; even the laws governing liability for a crash are hazy. I am told that things are changing in this last regard, but in many cases compensation must be paid to whichever party was most seriously injured, even if the accident was their fault.


The number, and scope of these causes ensure that, even if the government took immediate and drastic action, Taiwanese roads will remain dangerous for many years to come. Perhaps the most worrying thing is that very little action, drastic or otherwise, is forthcoming.

English in Taiwan

Written earlier this year in response to several letters in the Taipei Times, all of which were bemoaning the apparently poor standard of English in Taiwan.

It is with interest that I have read the last few days’ letters on the standard of students’ English. I have been an ESL teacher for more than five years, four of them in Taiwan, so it is a subject that is close to my heart.

After Eileen Han (Letters, March 27th) bemoaned the low scores on college entrance exams, Chaim Melamed (Letters, March 29th) came up with a ten point plan to solve the problem. While some of his ideas made good sense, especially his proposal that changes be made to exam and teaching methodology to de-emphasize memorization of grammatical rules, a few of the other suggestions appeared to be a little misguided.

The standard of English teaching in Taiwan is obviously poor. Millions of dollars are spent each year on English education, both by the government and by parents, and yet students’ results remain low. Chaim Melamed calls for more foreign teachers, but will this really help solve the problem? Just because a person is a native speaker does mean that they will be a good teacher. Indeed, given that most foreign teachers in Taiwan come here for a working holiday, and have had little or no teacher training, it is more than likely that they will not be good educators. I remember hearing the boss of a cram school chain (a chain which only hires Taiwanese teachers) say that 70% of foreign teachers were incompetent. At first I was outraged, but after thinking about all the foreigners I have known here, I couldn’t help but agree with him.
What I would want to add to his statement though, is that about 70% of Taiwanese English teachers must also be incompetent. Many are university students who are teaching part time and who, like those “holidaying foreigners”, have a much more important agenda away from the classroom. Many have all too obvious problems with pronunciation, obvious to everyone but themselves and their students that is. Grammatical deficiencies can also be a big problem. With such a great demand for English teachers, schools are often not able to demand very high standards when hiring new teachers.

All these factors combined give rise to a situation where a good many bushiban classes are a complete waste of time. I have visited schools where children who had been learning for 2 or more years couldn’t readily answer the question, “What’s your name?”, and others where students’ pronunciation was so bad that I couldn’t understand them when they asked me that question.

The solution to Taiwan’s English woes will not be easy, and it will not be quick. I cannot agree with Mr. Melamed’s call for more foreign teachers. The vast majority of foreigners who come to teach here are both lazy and incompetent. There is no reason to suppose that this will ever change, as schools are unable to pay salaries high enough to ensure their foreign teacher will be qualified and proficient.

Instead, the solution must come from within Taiwan. Professional training schemes need to be initiated so that Taiwan can free itself of its reliance on foreign teachers, and so that the next generation of Taiwanese educators will not suffer from the same deficiencies that undermine today’s teachers.

Self-inflicted wounds

When it comes to Taiwan’s growing ex-patriot community, stereotypes abound. More often than not these stereotypes, which aren’t always exactly positive, are so firmly held that if any “waiguoren” deviates from the expected behavior gasps of disbelief, or cries of, “You’re not a real foreigner” can be heard.

Expected to be rude or difficult, counted on to get drunk and do something “crazy”, small acts of kindness are often met with confusion or baffled surprise. Understood to be sexually “open” and perennially up for a one night stand, it is also presumed by many a girl and her parents that we are incapable of long term relationships, or of remaining faithful. In the workplace we are routinely given the tasks of going into the classroom to just “have fun with the students”, or to “practice conversation”, a good many school bosses wouldn’t dream of giving us any real responsibility.

There are of course exceptions to these rules. Trusting bosses, people who see us as individuals, and parents who give their blessing for a foreign guy to date or marry their daughter all exist, and possibly in increasing numbers. But they are still exceptions. For every story of trust, there must be more than a dozen that tell of doubt and suspicion.

A few years ago I was dating a Taiwanese girl who was told by her parents that foreigners couldn’t be trusted, that we all cheat on our wives and girlfriends. She also was scared that I wouldn’t be faithful. So, to give herself some security in case things between us didn’t work out, she continued to see her old boyfriend behind my back. Oh, the irony.

A teacher friend of mine, on telling his boss of his students’ problems and difficulties, was sat down and told that foreign teachers are not supposed to care too much about their classes. Chinese teachers take the responsibility, she told him. “Native Speakers” (in that cram school chain, foreigners are not even called teachers) shouldn’t care too much, just have fun.

Just yesterday while riding my scooter, I saw an old man who had fallen off his bike. He was lying on the ground and had nobody to help him, so I stopped and went over. As I was picking up his bike, he shouted at me and evidently thought I was trying to take it from him. A few more people came by, glaring at me as if I were the reason he was lying on the ground in the first place.

While living as an ex-pat in Taiwan is often like a dream, these prejudices and expectations, which amount to nothing less than racism, can quickly turn it into a nightmare.

Despite this though, I find it difficult to feel too badly towards the Taiwanese for the views they hold. The reason is that I share their mistrust of foreigners. The news that my school will be getting a new foreign teacher depresses rather than excites, or pleases me. When I’m out with my Taiwanese wife and I see a group of ex-pats, I’ll avoid them. It may well be, that by doing this I miss out on the opportunity of meeting some great people, but the truth is that that’s a price I’m willing to pay. I’ve just met too many ex-pats who treat the Taiwanese with complete contempt, who are rude and obscene, who get abusive at those who cannot understand English. I don’t want to be around people like that, and I certainly don’t want my wife to be.

The stereotype of the typical ex-pat is not flattering, and it does many of us a great injustice. It causes us to be laughed at, avoided, mistrusted, and disrespected. The simple fact is though, that as a community, we have brought this upon ourselves.