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.