THIRTY: A Canadian in a Taiwan jail

Special to the Weekender

September 12, 2005

by Diana Leeson

The most famous Canadian in Taipei right now is 28 year-old Mathieu Forand, from Vancouver. Up until about two weeks ago, he worked as an English teacher and in my office as a part-time educational writer. Then he was arrested for the trafficking and possession of illegal narcotics. He is sitting in a jail right now, outside the city, probably thinking about the first thing that any newcomer to Taiwan sees upon arriving at Chiang Kai-Shek Airport: a banner that reads, “Bringing drugs into the Republic of China is punishable by death.”

‘Matty, as he is known to his friends and coworkers, is a friendly and outgoing young guy. He wears flip-flops to work and transports himself around town on a bicycle. I knew he hung out with the younger crowd that frequents rave clubs. I had no idea he was considered the biggest foreign drug dealer in Taipei.

On August 27, Mathieu and his roommates hosted a party in their apartment, in the trendy Neihu district of Taipei. The Coast Guard’s mobile unit had been watching the apartment for the past three months, and chose that night to make their move. They arrested a Taiwanese student, Su Sheng-hsi, as he left Mathieu’s apartment that night, after buying drugs. Su was then used as ‘bait’ and sent back up to the apartment to trap the leader of the international drug smuggling ring.

When I returned to Taipei after a two-week break with family in Canada, I couldn’t believe the headlines. Mathieu Forand is being described as the ‘kingpin’ of the ring. Of course the authorities don’t think he was the only one involved. That’s why they arrested seven other expats, from Canada, Australia and Hong Kong. Their photos were printed on the front page of three national papers.

Many people are amazed that a foreigner could have made such a big business for himself as a drug dealer in Taipei, where much of the crime is organized. The sale of drugs is controlled by the mafia. I’ve been told if Forand was dealing, he was likely making enough money to pay them off regularly.

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After this article went to print, I was called by a reporter in Vancouver who wanted to interview me for the paper in Forand’s hometown. I told him I didn’t know much other than what I had written, because I didn’t.

Nearly ten years later, Matty is still in a Taiwanese jail. His family doesn’t get regular visits. No promises can be depended on. The conditions are not good, or fair. 

His friends in Taipei, many of them artists, host a “Merry Matty Eve” fundraiser every Christmas where they auction their artwork to raise money for things that he needs in jail. They say Matty is using his time to study. His Mandarin is near perfect. His friends work out a visiting schedule so he doesn’t go long without seeing a familiar face. They do their very best to accommodate all of his requests, although he doesn't have many. 

Matty is eligible for parole in February 2016. He doesn't want to get his hopes up, as the parole process in Taiwan is quite different and often refused the first time. His mood is positive, and philosophical. 

TWENTY-NINE: A do-it-yourself guide to prawn fishing

Special to the Kemptville Advance 

November 2005

When ex-patriots grow tired of standing in line at the movie theatre on a Saturday evening with the other four million residents of Taipei, it’s time to try something new. Recently, I went fishing for prawns (large shrimp) with a bunch of friends, and it was quite an experience. I’m not talking about heading to the seaside with your own bucket of bait and a rod, either. There is an entire district of catch-your-own prawn restaurants in the riverside area of Taipei, called Neihu. The restaurants are brightly painted warehouses, decorated with fairy lights and furnished with picnic tables covered in plastic tablecloths. At one end of the facility is a large indoor pool, surrounded by plastic lawn chairs. This ‘sport’ can be enjoyed during any weather, as it is indoors. It is particularly popular on rainy days (which describes most of the Taipei winter), so get there early to avoid frustration.

1.      Direct your taxi to the last prawn-fishing restaurant in the lineup along the river. Most people don’t have the patience to go all the way to the end of the line, so that one is the least populated. Smaller people population equals larger prawn population.

2.      Pay for a one-hour rental of a fishing rod, two hooks and a Styrofoam tray covered in little bits of slimy purple organ meat. Don’t turn up your nose; the female attendant is watching you for a reaction. Note her outfit. Only in Taiwan do fish market vendors wear stiletto heels and false eyelashes.

3.      Take a look around. Where is the supply of live prawns kept? Sit at the side of the pool that is closest to this spot. When it is time to replenish the prawn pool (they do this once per hour), the attendant will dump his crate in at the point of easiest access. If you are brave, you will be able to pick the stunned prawns right off the surface of the water. It takes the sport out of the fishing, some may argue, but it is satisfying just the same. A word of warning: these creatures still have their long pincers and they know how to use them. Grab a net and keep it at the ready.

4.      Once you have chosen your spot, ensure that your squat plastic lawn chair is fully functional before you put all your weight on it. More than one unfortunate fisherman has fallen into the drink in this manner. And at the risk of sounding repetitive, those prawns still have their long pincers and they know how to use them.

5.      OK. Sitting down (probably pretty close to a local person on either side of you), extend your rod straight up in the air. Carefully unhook the extremely tiny hooks from the spongy handle of the rod and unwind the line from around the pole. Without hooking yourself (this will be difficult to avoid, as the hooks are only the size of an eyelash), put a minute amount of bait on each of the two hooks. Cultural note: If a local person offers you some of his homemade bait, politely decline it. He is merely trying to foil your fishing attempts for his own satisfaction. The bait he is offering is probably not only inferior but most likely offensive to the prawns. Many of the locals, you will find, seem to thoroughly enjoy having outsiders at their favourite fishing hole: they are very welcoming and appear to be helpful, but when you mess up, they laugh out loud. Just grin and bear the fact that you are part of the evening’s entertainment.

6.      Time to fish. Carefully launch your line and bobber out over the centre of the water. Or, if there are too many rods already fishing the centre, allow your line to fish along the side of the pool where some prawns may be congregating, out of curiosity for their comrades who have already been enslaved in the nets hanging there.

7.      Sit quietly and watch your bobber carefully. It will not be tugged; it will slowly appear to drift off to one side. When it does this, ignore the advice of your oh-so-helpful fellow fishermen who advise you to either wait ten seconds or to immediately yank the thing out of the water. Neither extreme is effective. Carefully and slowly lift the unsuspecting, nibbling prawn from the water.

8.      Bring your catch to the side of the pool. Lower him to the floor and carefully grab him about the body, remaining wary of the waving pincers. If you happen to be dating a local girl, she will probably offer to rip those nasty pincers right off of him for you. These girls are not averse to this kind of primitive behaviour, which can be particularly helpful later when it is time to skewer the live prawns and roast them alive over a barbecue. (This is not meant to be a criticism of Taiwanese people. It is merely an observation.) Quite a contrast from back home, where many people have decided that they won’t eat lobsters if they haven’t been put to sleep with flash-freezing before boiling. Personally, I prefer to have my prawns prepared by restaurant staff in the kitchen, where the method of cooking, I am told, is considerably more humane.

9.      Place your six to eight inch prawn carefully into your net, and return the net to its hanging place at the side of the pool. Ensure that the prawn is below the water level but the net mouth is above water level, or he may escape to freedom once again.

10. Repeat.

11. Animal activist beware: China, at the best of times, is not the place for you. And even in Taiwan, many local cooking practices, as well as the treatment of animals in general, will be disturbing and upsetting to you. This is one of the aspects of Asian culture that many foreigners find most difficult to accept. 

12. Enjoy your barbecued prawn. When in Rome...

TWENTY-EIGHT: Good morning, Vietnam!

If I could choose one type of food, it would be Vietnamese. It is so fresh and flavourful. My few short visits to Vietnam were peaceful and memorable. I appreciate the culture and the history and I wish it was closer so I could go back again.

Good Morning, Vietnam!

February, 2006

By Diana Leeson

Living and working in Taiwan may be a difficult cultural experience at times, but at least it allows you to get out and see a bit of southeast Asia from time to time. Thailand, Indonesia, and Malaysia have always been popular vacation destinations for foreigners in Taiwan, but they are quickly being replaced by the less commercial (and arguably more culturally rich) locations of Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam.

For Chinese New Year 2006, The Aussie and I packed our bags and left a damp, drizzly Taipei winter for the sunny shores of south Vietnam. From November to May, it is almost too windy in Muine Bay: perfect conditions for a kitesurfers’ paradise. Several kite and windsurfing schools are set up on the beach, and English-speaking instructors from all over the world are ready to lend you their expertise, for a price. This was The Aussie’s main purpose for choosing Vietnam as a holiday destination. I just wanted a warm, sunny beach. And I didn’t want to pay too much.

As it turns out, all of our wishes were granted. The Aussie kitesurfed so much that his ribs hurt from being bashed by the waves, and although I didn’t exactly relax (I spent my holiday walking up and down the beach, launching and landing his kite), I got a good tan.

The “resorts” of Muine Bay, outside Phan Thiet, are still largely undiscovered and therefore reasonably priced. A search on the Internet will reveal plenty of overpriced seaside hotels, but interspersed between these along the beach are a number of smaller, cheaper accommodations. The nice thing about these places is that they tend to have more of an “Indochine” feel to the architecture and decor. And rooms start at $18 USD per night!

Some Western travelers may wonder about what kind of welcome they will receive from the Vietnamese people during their stay. After all, tourists can visit bombed-out areas and crawl through tunnels that are reminders of the war. It’s true that if you resemble an American, you might get the occasional cold shoulder in the North. But this wasn’t a problem in the South.

Our Taiwanese friends had a bit of a different Vietnamese experience. At first glance, they appear to be locals and so the villagers try to communicate with them in their mother tongue. When they are unsuccessful, they often think that the Taiwanese are just being rude. This can lead to a bit of confusion.

Another embarrassing situation is when the Taiwanese girl with her Western guy is mistaken for a Vietnamese prostitute. In a country where modesty is key (legs and arms are never bare) these women in their holiday beach wear are sometimes given rude stares or even muttered about by clusters of gawking natives. Thankfully, hotel and resort staffs are a little more knowledgeable about the cultures of their various guests, and everyone is welcome.

I used to laugh at how the Taiwanese people I worked with were often confusing me with another Western colleague, who happened to have long blonde hair and blue eyes. “You have the same noses,” they argued, “and you wear your hair the same way.” All Westerners look the same to them, until they get used to our various differences in accent and behaviour.

When I thought about it, I realized that I am guilty of the same assumptions. I still can’t tell the difference between the various Asian peoples in appearance, and I have only just begun to successfully differentiate between Australian and British accents -- a frequent bone of contention with my Aussie partner, I assure you! I am often amazed (and embarrassed) at how little we North Americans know about the rest of the world. With the US as our big brother next door, we are guilty of remaining somewhat insular in our education of world history and geography. Often a Taiwanese person will come up to me and start a discussion about their studies in Canadian culture and traditions, and I’m impressed at how much they know.

Some cultures think “We are so different from everyone else. Let’s find out about the rest of the world.” Why is that North Americans (Americans, primarily, but Canadians are also guilty) seem to think “Why do they do or think that? We don’t do it that way. They should do it our way. Our way is better.” A popular joke among foreigners in Taiwan is that the Americans call their baseball finals “The World Series”. Is the rest of the world invited? Or just the part of the world that matters to the Americans?

But I digress. My Vietnamese vacation, it seems, was more than just a trip to the beach. It was a bit of a lesson in cultural acceptance and personal integrity. The word “Viet” means “people” and “nam” means “south”. These people of the south are soft-spoken and modest, warm and welcoming. I can’t remember the last time I saw so many smiles in one day.

TWENTY-SEVEN: Tsunami

On Dec. 26, 2004, people fled as a tsunami wave came crashing ashore at Koh Raya, part of Thailand's territory in the Andaman islands and 23 kilometers from Phuket island.

(For more incredible photographs of the 2004 Asian Tsunami, I recommend http://www.theatlantic.com/photo/2014/12/ten-years-since-the-2004-indian-ocean-tsunami/100878/) 

Many times people confuse Taiwan for Thailand, and when they find out how close the two are they ask me why I never travelled to the land of grass-roofed huts and full moon parties on the beach. Thailand was the weekend getaway of choice among Westerners in Taiwan, it’s cheap, close, exotic, and holds whatever promise you seek - adventure snorkeling through reefs and caves, hedonistic massage on the beach, white linens in a bamboo hut, and every sexual taboo imaginable. It’s all on display, according to online photo galleries, blogs, forums and tourism websites. It held no appeal to me. Why would I have wanted to be surrounded by people taking advantage of young girls, many of whom had been kidnapped and sold into the sex trade?

Some of my male Western colleagues went to Thailand often, for the sex-tour-on-a-shoestring-budget vacation. When they returned, they whispered tales of their adventures with their friends.

“They have vending machines selling used panties in Ziploc® bags. Each bag also contains a Polaroid of the woman who wore them.”

“There’s a place where they feed the women nothing but blueberries for a week. Then they sit on the client’s chest and have a dump. A big, blue, sweet-smelling dump. Some people get off on that.”

“I woke up between two brown bunnies. They looked about twelve and thirteen.”

As much as I was offended by these stories I knew they only represented part of a Thai sub-culture. I was intrigued by others’ tales of ancient temples, elephant sanctuaries, white sand, delicious, spicy food and a warm, celebratory culture, but I never made it to Thailand. The Aussie bought tickets to take me there for Christmas, but changed his mind at the last moment. Put off by the idea of paying a holiday surcharge in a country that doesn’t celebrate the holiday, he decided we were better off going to Melbourne for Christmas. So we cancelled our reservations at the Kata Beach Resort and headed to Oz instead...and Thailand had a tsunami.

Special to Runge Newspapers

Tsunami hits South Asia

December 2004

When I turned on CNN Asia this morning, I had quite a shock. A level 9 earthquake had struck off the coast of Sumatra, Indonesia on Sunday. That quake created a tsunami tidal wave that smashed into Indonesia, Sri Lanka, India, Thailand and Myanmar at 500 kph, leaving over 20,000 people dead. By now you have seen the news coverage.

I watched the scenes of tourists picking their way through the wreckage on Kata Beach on the news today and felt how close I had come to being there.

On Phi Phi island, where “The Beach” starring Leonardo DiCaprio was filmed, 200 bungalows at two resorts were swept out to sea. I had been planning a day trip there for snorkeling. The island no longer exists.

I feel like I am holding a ticket for a flight that crashed. I told a Kemptville friend just a couple of weeks ago that I would be in Phuket for Christmas. She said, “Gesundheit”. It was just a place with a funny name to many people outside Asia, before this disaster. Now it has a place on the map.

Thousands of foreigners on a relaxing winter vacation have lost their lives. Natives of Indonesia and Sri Lanka are identifying their dead with Polaroid snapshots tacked on the end of timber coffins. Hundreds of people are missing at sea and others are recovering from serious injuries in poorly equipped hospitals.

The majority of casualties in Thailand are foreigners, as this is the peak vacation season. The question that is on many minds however, is: why is it that some people were evacuated with two hours’ notice while others were hit without warning? Local reports state that there is no established warning system for earthquakes in the Indian Ocean.

Bodies are still washing up on Thai beaches. People were washed out to sea while sunbathing and snorkeling.

One of my boyfriend’s colleagues had his three-year-old daughter snatched out of his hands by a wall of water. His family has now returned home to England. At least they were able to recover her body. Another friend of ours had the roof ripped off his beach hut and he clung to the wall post until the waves calmed enough for him to swim to safety.

Our prayers go out to those who have lost loved ones in this incredible disaster. And I find myself wondering why I wasn’t among them.

“Diana. DIANA. Open your eyes. There you are! Now breathe.”

I hadn’t seen the wave coming because, of course, I hadn’t been listening when my father cautioned ‘never turn your back on the ocean’. I had been jumping in the small waves, a little scared but thrilled just the same, when the big one grew from nothing and hit me between the shoulder blades, sweeping me under the water and flattening my face into the wet sand. I was just seven years old on that trip to the Maritimes. The wave completely overtook me. Instead of fighting, I just went limp and let it wash over me. I laughed, paralyzed, in awe of its strength. It took my little body and played with it, first crushing me and knocking the wind out of me, then dragging me through the mud, out into deeper water. My joy faded into fear when I realized I didn’t know which way was up. Then, as if it suddenly changed its mind, the wave threw me back up on the beach and disappeared out into the sea.

More than once during our three years together, I thought The Aussie might be psychic. He had a really bad feeling before the tsunami, and he had a dream of people buried in rubble as the earthquake was happening in India. And then one day he told me he had had a vision of me with a dark haired man who had children of his own. I held on to that one for a while, turning it over in my mind like a shiny new penny. 

TWENTY-SIX: A Taiwanese camping experience

Camping season as a child meant pretending I was asleep at 4am so that my father would pick me up and carry me to the car. I would tuck my face into his chest so he couldn't see my smile.  He tucked my sister and I neatly into the back of our 1969 station wagon, which had been made into a luxurious travel bed. We would sleep on and off and the sun would wake us later, hundreds of kilometres closer to the Maritimes.

Special to Accent Magazine

Thanksgiving in Taroko

November 2003

While the rest of you back home were busy gorging yourselves on Thanksgiving turkey with all the trimmings, I was camping out at the bottom of Taroko Gorge. 

The Canadian Thanksgiving long weekend coincides with the Taiwan National Holiday, 10/10.  The best way to celebrate a holiday in Taipei City is to get the heck out of the city, as far as I’m concerned.

Unfortunately, on this particular weekend, many, many others had the same idea.

Taroko Gorge, renowned as  the island’s No. 1 tourist attraction, is a marble canyon featuring caves and waterfalls, a rushing river and even some hot springs. Suspension bridges and ornate temples perched on high cliffs complete the scene. It is a popular place for natives and foreigners alike, as the natural beauty is so breathtaking.

The highway running the 19 kilometre length of the gorge took from 1956 to 1960 to build and approximately 450 lives were lost in the process.  The national park continues to be quite a dangerous adventure today, if hikers are not prepared for the worst in weather conditions and the lack of civilization for quite a distance.

There is only one hotel in the gorge, The Grand Formosa, and it is very pricey.  I wouldn’t want to stay there even if they weren’t sold out on the October weekend. It is billed as a 5-star hotel but it isn’t anything special.  They do, however, have wonderful buffet meals that we took advantage of twice over our three-day stay in the gorge. 

The Catholic Hostel was also fully booked but again, it isn’t a place that I would want to stay, in a dorm room with several other snoring backpackers in squeaky metal bunk beds.  That isn’t exactly my idea of fun.

The campsites that we were told about were actual parking lots during the day, so we were walking right past them and didn’t recognize them!  I mean, really, imagine pitching your tent on a piece of concrete or asphalt!? But that is the way it is done in Taiwan.  Most campgrounds provide either a concrete or a timber slab for your dome tent to sit on. I’m assuming these people sleep on air mattresses.

On our hike up the mountain from where the taxi dropped us (at the last sign of civilization), we could find no level ground on which to pitch a tent. The only other flat ground was the shoulder of the road, which is often used by tour buses overtaking tractor-trailers, and not exactly safe.

So we hiked down the wet, slippery staircase that is built into the side of the gorge, at the Wenshan Hot Springs.  The perilous climb down into the ravine took about ten minutes with all of our camping gear on our backs, the trail winding through a dark cave and over a dodgy (my Australian friend’s word to describe anything sub-par) hanging footbridge. Once again, it was evident that safety is not a number one priority on the island of Taiwan. Despite a bilingual sign warning that only 5 people were allowed on the bridge at a time, they streamed over by the dozen. 

After a brief discussion, we decided that we would be safe from typhoons and even falling rocks from an earthquake if we pitched our tent under the overhanging cliff on the riverbank, around the bend from the hotsprings.  I liked this idea because it meant we would have a nice hot bath or a cool river to swim in any time we liked! There didn’t appear to be any danger of nighttime visits by wildlife, as the occasional bird or butterfly was the only animal life we saw in the gorge. The only other thing we had to worry about was the possibility of the river rising while we slept, sweeping us downstream and dashing us on the marble boulders at the rapids.

The gorge is relatively short and most of the landmarks are located right along the route so it is feasible to see everything over the course of one day.  Many Taiwanese people stay in their cars for the day trip, getting out (and blocking traffic) periodically to take pictures, dressed in their best clothes.

Some of these sightseers actually made it part-way up some of the hiking trails and they were quite an amusing sight to the rest of us, in their high heels and Sunday best, carrying umbrellas to protect their skin from the sun.

We were blessed with one of the most beautiful fair-weather weekends in months, and the night was lit with a full silvery moon.  Dozens of people took advantage of the warm weather and bright night to climb down into our ravine and soak in the hotsprings, late into the night. Entire families including babies, senior citizens and even the occasional family dog made the trip down the wet and slippery staircase, many without flashlights, food supplies or drinking water. This amazed me.

We managed to light a campfire (by cheating and using my bug spray as an igniter - shh!) and thought we might have some company but other than the occasional bather looking for a quiet place to go to the bathroom, we were left alone.

The routine seemed to be to soak in the natural hotspring tub until you can’t stand the heat anymore, then jump in the shallow river and soak yourself among the rocks, under the hot spring waterfall.  Oh yes, and you must yell at the top of your lungs while doing this.  That is essential to the Taiwanese, as they dearly love to make as much noise as possible.

This merry making was going on until we retired for the night, but the noise was muffled by the deafening sound of the rushing river.  We were treated to a rude awakening the following morning at 5:30, however, when some early morning swimmers decided to take the plunge right beside our tent.

There are many trails to hike in Taroko Gorge, but as our camping location at the bottom of the ravine made it necessary for us to hike ten minutes vertically and then another 3 km into town every time we wanted to eat, we decided that one trail would be enough for us. 

The Paiyang Waterfall Trail and Water Curtain Tunnel starts just 1 km outside of town, and it is probably the most popular hikers’ trail as the incline is very slight and the scenery is amazing.  I couldn’t imagine attempting the dark cave tunnels through the mountain without a flashlight, but many people were doing just that. At the end of each tunnel, a new scene awaited.  Masses of butterflies followed us in the sunshine, and I’m sure there were bats watching us from amongst the stalactites in the caves.

The last kilometre of the 3 km trail has been closed off for some time now, as it has flooded.  There is a big warning sign in both English and Chinese at its mouth, explaining the dangers of entering within. As we prepared to turn and head back down the mountainside, we noticed a small crowd gathering at the mouth to the cave.  A group of women, dressed in yellow rain slickers, were laying flowers and fruit in some sort of offering, at the barricade.  Then they proceeded to climb the barrier and wander into the knee-deep water of the cave, singing an eerie song as they linked arms. 

It was a very unique camping experience that we will not soon forget.

The Taroko weekend was one of the last really warm ones, as fall has officially arrived in Taiwan.  There are no fall colours in terms of changing leaves here, but many of the flowering shrubs go into bloom again this time of year. Our daily temperature averages around 23 degrees and it falls just below 20 at night.  Frequent rains and a strong wind combined with the absence of sunshine remind us of last winter, when the sun didn’t shine for months on end.

It’s time to turn off the air conditioner and get out the raincoat.

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TWENTY-FIVE: A wedding in Singapore

I went to only one wedding during my time in Taiwan. As a guest you are expected to present the happy couple with a red envelope or “hong bao” containing about $1000 NT or roughly $40 CDN. This covers your share of the meal and wedding expenses. With that in mind, many wedding guests – and funeral guests – are seen stuffing their pockets with dinner rolls and wrapping their leftovers in napkins to take home. They paid for it, after all.

Eel is a wedding dish tradition in Asia. I don’t know if they steamed it or served it to me raw but I will never forget the slimy, inky metallic taste and feel as it slid over my tongue. I didn’t take any leftovers home.

A Whirlwind Tour of Singapore

October 2003

When I decided to come and work in Taiwan I was hoping to have the opportunity to see some of the rest of Southeast Asia. However, as I have a Resident’s Visa, I have been spared the trouble of going away for the weekend to have my passport stamped so that I can continue to live and work in Taiwan.

I’ll admit, on occasion, when I have learned of a friend’s planned trip to renew his visa and enjoy the weekend on the beach near Bangkok, I have been more than a little jealous. When another teacher showed me the great bikini and designer jeans she bought for a song in Manila, I tried to show enthusiasm. Especially when I remembered that her trip was paid for by the employer, as written into our contract.

But good things come to those who wait. I had my turn to arrive at work a little jet-lagged from an exciting weekend adventure, when I visited the island of Singapore in September.

I arrived at one of the world’s most beautiful airports (and I feel qualified to say that, having passed through a total of five on my way home to Canada in August…) and was met by my friend Sylvia, who is a native of Singapore.

“Welcome to my country,” she smiled, and then she took a closer look at me.

“Are you going out dressed like that? You look tired.” Well, it was a four-and-a-half-hour flight.

After a quick shower and change, we headed to Boat Quay, a strip of restaurants along the canal. My tour guide for the weekend recommended the Indian cuisine of The Maharajah restaurant, and I was pleasantly surprised.

It was nothing like the Indian food that many foreigners subsist on in Taiwan. This was the real thing. Absolutely delicious. Sitting there by the canal, I was instantly transported out of Asia to downtown Ottawa in the summertime.

Singapore is like a big Western city, with foreigner expatriates from all over the world, everywhere you look. Many of the locals are Malaysian, East Indian, or Philippine. So there is quite a multi-cultural mix of dining available.  

After dinner we went for a leisurely walk along the canal, past the spotlit Fullerton hotel, which takes up a city block and used to be the Post Office. It slightly resembles a Georgian manor house of a millionaire with its white columns and high windows.

‘Bum boats’ or water taxis cruised by us, taking people across the canal to the variety of nightlife on the other side.

Next we went for a drink at Father Flanagan’s, an Irish pub in the basement of Chijmes, in the city’s centre. Chijmes (pronounced “chimes”) is a popular hotspot with white walls, arches and spotlights surrounding a unique complex that includes a small white church, a boys’ college, several restaurants, nightclubs, designer boutiques and gardens. The architecture has an ancient feel to it.

As we walked along the garden path we could see a young blonde foreigner singing her heart out in one of the city’s oldest nightclubs, to the tune of the Rolling Stones. And it wasn’t karaoke either. She was really good.

After our Guinness we strolled through the spotlit gardens. The white of the buildings glowed incandescent in the moonlight. The Raffles Hotel was named after a famous character in Singapore’s history. This huge building is built in the square design, with a sprawling courtyard in the middle. The deep mahogany tables and bars gave off a musky, oiled scent. It is said that the last wild tiger in Singapore was shot under the table in the dining room. Guests step over the indentation of a tiger paw print as they enter the hotel. The crowd was pretty tame when we were there, however, as they sipped the requisite Singapore Slings (at about $20 CDN each) and listened to the live jazz band.

All in all, we covered a fair amount of ground for our first evening.

Saturday morning we awoke early for a hike through the nature reserve, where I was promised I would see at least a dozen monkeys, swinging in the trees and roaming free. Despite the warning signs to keep snacks covered and to avoid contact with the animals, I didn’t see one single primate. My hosts were very surprised. I guess it was the monkeys’ weekend off. The massive palms, tropical plants and abundance of blooms more than made up for my disappointment, however.

Singapore is a spotless, white-washed greenhouse of an island, with flowers hanging from balconies, windows and even bridges.

The biggest thrill of my weekend was a trip to the Singapore Zoological Gardens, which took up the rest of Saturday. I was surprised to discover that, instead of a cage, each animal has a sanctuary designed to look as much like his home habitat as possible. The lions and tigers stand high on a hill, surrounded by a moat and an inward curving wall. It’s quite breathtaking, if a little unnerving, to see the wild beasts with no bars between you and them. At feeding time, the white Bengal tigers were very active, swimming the moat and trying to climb the curved wall up to where the spectators were standing. We could hear them falling back into the drink with a splash, having failed to make lunch out of us.

Saturday night we went out for dinner with friends, on Pub Street. This narrow lane is lined with small boutiques and restaurants painted in pastel colors. It looks almost Mediterranean. Maintaining the cleanliness of the streets is a 24 hour job, and the results are impressive. I couldn’t find a single piece of garbage on the street, anywhere. This was incredible, as the home countries of both the Indians and the Chinese (the main population of Singapore) are typically littered with refuse. The spotless city was such a nice change from my warm and friendly but filthy Taiwan.

Another noticeable difference is that everyone in Singapore speaks a halting but fluent British English. I could feel myself relaxing right away. Communication barriers are just an everyday obstacle in Taiwan, adding stress and challenges to every outing.

Sunday was shopping day, which is one of the national pastimes of Singapore, I think. I have never seen so many huge shopping complexes in my life. The crowds were staggering, even on the day of rest. We had lunch at the Arts Centre, along the river (just like back home!) and toured around the island a bit more by taxi.

Sunday was also the big wedding day for our friends, and the main reason for our trip. The groom was German and the bride East Indian. The wedding was held at the Alkaff Mansion, overlooking the Singapore resort island of Sentosa. As dusk was setting, the estate was glowing white and the pink and purple bougainvillea vines and azalea bushes were vibrantly electric in color. The bride chose to have her party wear traditional silk saris in jewel tones to match the blooms. I sat quietly and looked around, noting every detail.

The bride herself wore a two piece elegant gown with a top exposing her belly. It was white silk, in the traditional East Indian style. The ceremonial exchange of the vows was short and sweet, under a gazebo roof on the estate lawn. The formal ceremony in the Indian tradition is to be held in the presence of family only, at another time.

A buffet that was replenished throughout the evening began immediately after the family and wedding party speeches. Traditional East Indian food was combined with some German favorites and Singaporean Chinese dishes to give guests a little of everything. Pitchers of ice-cold beer and bottles of wine were placed on each table and refilled throughout the evening. It’s a good thing none of us were driving home!

The highlight of the evening was a surprise to the bride from her groom. A troupe of young Punjabi dancers in full Indian dress emerged from the back of the crowd to perform acrobatic feats, hip hop dancing and interpretive moves set to a wonderful mix of modern break beats and traditional mystical melodies. The wedding guests couldn’t stay in their seats, and formed a standing circle around the dancers. It was a special treat for those of us who have never seen this type of dancing before. I was really impressed.

Next, the bridal party performed a specially choreographed Bollywood style dance number for the groom. It was hilarious, with the bride peeking around the columns and beckoning to him, then running to hide, feigning exaggerated shyness.

The dance floor opened then with a mix of music ranging from German club music to Canada’s Bryan Adams and back to the Indian Punjabi mix. I learned how to “screw in the lightbulb” while “patting the dog”. We danced the night away, leaving the party around 2 am. That was the perfect time, I was told, to head for Newton Circus.

This is a market of outdoor eating stalls serving fresh seafood, 24 hours a day. We feasted on pepper crab, lobster and stingray, until our eyes threatened to close on us from sheer exhaustion.

When we caught our flight back to Taipei the next morning at 8:20 (yikes; I had two hours’ sleep) we were sleepy but satisfied, knowing that we had seen the best that the island of Singapore had to offer.

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One Singaporean tourist attraction that I witnessed (though only from the front entrance), was the club known as ‘the four floors of whores’ – notably the largest brothel in the country. In traditional Singaporean culture it is proper for a wife to look the other way and deny the husband’s extracurricular activities (which are considered a sign of business success), until they are made public, and bring embarrassment upon the whole family. Then she is required to make a scene equal in magnitude. Some women don’t wait for the indiscretions to become common knowledge, but rather vent their frustrations in other ways.

Work contracts for live-in maids often include an extra charge for ‘sleeping with master’. This blatant disrespect for the woman of the house often leads to physical abuse of the employee. One maid recently went public with the abuse she had been enduring at the hands of her employer’s wife, including having her nipples scorched with a hot curling iron.  

TWENTY-FOUR: Under the influence of America

Special to the Kemptville Advance

Sept 2004

North American styles and trends have had a strong influence on consumers in other parts of the world for decades but it borders on the ridiculous in Taiwan.

Young women wear rhinestone shades even after dark so that they look a bit more like ‘’J. Lo’. The hip-hop style of baggy pants hanging off the hips, bandannas tied around the head and basketball shirts worn extra large is everywhere, and hip-hop dance classes are popular for all ages, with even the occasional senior joining in.

T-shirts with English words on them are very popular, even if the caption makes no sense whatsoever. In most cases, after all, the wearer is oblivious to this fact. Many times, the words are complete nonsense, or just plain obscene. Click on ‘www.engrish.com’ to read some of the funnier t-shirt captions that have been spotted in and around Taiwan.

Many Asian women have their hair permanently waved to achieve a more ‘American’ style, and some have even gone so far as to dye it blonde.

It is still popular for most women to shun the sun in Taiwan, carrying umbrellas in the harsh sunlight to protect their skin. It is difficult to find a facial cream that doesn’t contain bleach or some other whitening agent, as the paler skin is more desirable. One weekend I shaved my legs before heading out to the beach. On the way to the train station I picked up a bottle of sunscreen lotion. Arriving on the sand, I applied the lotion to freshly-shaved skin, unaware that it contained a bleaching agent. My skin cried out in pain and I ran into the cool sea to find relief. Note to self: salty water does not provide much soothing for raw skin. The younger generation of Asians in Taipei are more frequently venturing out onto the beaches and accepting the darker tan that they acquire as a result, because this too is American.

On the extreme end, some of the more affluent Taiwanese have even gone so far as to have surgery to change the shape of their eyes to a more Caucasian look.

Designer outlets selling Tommy Hilfiger, Calvin Klein, DKNY and other popular American brand names are everywhere. Taipei 101 hosts the more exclusive designers, to feed the growing demand of the Asian consumer who wants to wear the same European label as her favorite character from “Sex and the City”.

The popular television series set in New York City’s single scene is quite a hit among women in Taiwan, with many of them sporting the personalized necklaces that ‘Carrie’ wears on the show. Unfortunately many Asian fans of the show believe the characters of this show are accurate examples of North American women. We’re all aggressive and date like men.

As Taiwanese students go through their school years, many of them will change their English names more than once. These names often reflect their obsession with American culture. During my time in Taiwan I have met young girls named after Disney characters such as ‘Ariel’ or ‘Winnie’ and one boy was named ‘Stanford’ after the university. A personal trainer at the gym has just re-named himself ‘The Aussiee’. He isn’t Australian.

English schools in Taiwan actively recruit teachers with a North American accent. This is a trend exclusive to Taiwan, as many other Asian countries still prefer the UK English accent.

The private English cram schools or “bushibans” have names like “Best Kids American School” or “Urbanity, Sagacity and Ardency Leadership Program”, taking full advantage of the opportunity to use the acronym “U-S-A”. Some families will save for years to send their children to school in the United States. These young people often return to Taiwan with strong American accents and in many cases, the propensity to use American slang and profanity at an attention-getting volume level. “Loud and proud” is the theme for American pop music in shops and bars, with Eminem blaring obscenities uncensored at 90 decibels.

American restaurants are also very popular among the Taiwanese, with long lineups outside TGIFridays (on Fridays) and McDonald’s being the favourite spot for a leisurely weekend breakfast.

Some of my Asian colleagues have been so heavily influenced by the new McDonald’s ad campaign that they have adopted it at work. There is an “I’m lovin’ it” sticker on the photocopier and my assistant has it on her screensaver.

The powers that be in Taiwan government are somewhat sheep-like in their willingness to follow the U.S. to extremes. When Michael Moore’s controversial documentary film “Fahrenheit 911” was released, it was banned in only two countries: The United States and Taiwan.

When North Americans arrive in Taiwan, they attract quite a bit of attention themselves. The locals take notice of what the foreigners are wearing, how they pronounce their English, what slang they use and what their interests are. Foreigners shopping on the night market in Taipei often attract a crowd of curious Asians crowding around them, eager to buy what the “guay-lo” (white ghost) bought. It’s very good business for vendors to have a Westerner browsing at their stall.

Of course, there has long been the assumption among Asian women that marrying a Caucasian will bring them into a life of prosperity. This, of course, isn’t often true but many Caucasian men continue to be pleasantly surprised by the amount of positive attention that they receive from the opposite sex in Taiwan. (I mean, these men couldn’t get a date in their own country but here they are treated like Elvis.)

Some Taiwanese who get the chance to experience the American culture firsthand will decide to return to their home country to start a U.S.-style business of their own.

I went to dinner with several friends at an American/Italian style restaurant called ‘Diamond Tony’s’ in Taipei a few months ago. Dinner was a nice surprise, as the food truly tasted Italian, without a touch of Asian influence. The only thing that spoiled it for me was the loud, obnoxious Asian man at the next table, who was wearing a Stetson hat and cowboy boots and using the f-word in every sentence, with a strong Texas accent.

When the restaurant hostess asked us how we enjoyed our meal, I made my complaint about our rude dining companion.

“Oh, him,” she groaned. “I can’t do much about him. That’s the owner, Diamond Tony.”

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Images of Diamond Tony's Taipei 101 location courtesy of www.mykafkaesquelife.blogspot.com