Mens' Accessories in Taiwan: Satchels, Manpurses or whatever they are.

At a recent dinner I had with my Taiwanese in-laws, we were at a restaurant that looked out over the pedestrian zone that runs through the middle of the city. Throngs of shoppers and those looking for street food passed by. While my wife and her sisters babbled away, I watched the fashion show below and was struck by the number of satchels, man-purses or whatever they are called. As I watched from my perch, a pattern emerged of three archetypes of Taiwanese men who carried one: the college senior or recent graduate, the fashion-conscious 30-something and overweight dads. For the first and last group, practicality was the foremost reason for carrying one, while style was predominant for the second, though also an issue for the first.

The satchels the college senior had were retro, harkening back to middle school when they were issued cloth book bags with a large flap that protected the innards. The practicality of the present-day version was readily apparent in its bulkiness, with space for books or laptops, but more important were the myriad of compartments essential for an educated 22-year-old. One was for various government- and school-issued cards: two ID’s (national and school), two licenses (one for cars, one for scooters) and two health-related cards (national insurance and school-issued info card). Next, business cards, ranging from an employer (even fast-food restaurants and tea shops have them) to parents’ friends promising a job after graduation, as well as personal “business” cards created by him and fellow classmates within his major. If he had understanding and wealthy parents, perhaps a few credit cards were included as well. There were larger pockets for writing materials, sometimes in a pencil case emblazoned with cartoon characters, and computer paraphernalia. One final pocket, usually hidden deep inside the bag, for condoms.

Though the size of the college senior satchel prevented a serious fashion statement, it did declare that the wearer was no longer an underclassman, those unknowing cretins who lugged backpacks, leaning forward for balance like a Japanese first-grader carrying a book bag half his weight. Unfortunately, however, a grad often required practice before he was at ease with his new accessory. They usually had the strap going across the chest from one shoulder to the opposite hip. Some draped it in front of themselves, looking like a hyper-hormonal high schooler trying to hide an erection. Others were constantly pulling at the strap, yanking the bag from their shoulder blade to their nipple and back. Eventually, most master an asymmetrical stance created by the bag, either by laying the forearm along the top of the bag or holding one arm out like a pro wrestler to avoid irritating the inside of the elbow.

As for the 30-somethings, the man-purse was designed to enhance their look. First, they did not have the strap across his chest, having mastered the function of the strap and lengthening it so that the bag rested comfortably on the lower hip instead of the haunches, as the college senior did. This is possible because they no longer carried cumbersome satchels but smaller man-purses. Also, they learned to walk upright instead of slouching like their younger ape-like selves. Black was the predominant shade, as it easily matched any ensemble. However, the look often went awry when accompanied by lady friends, who, while trying on clothes, eating street food or simply walking down the street, usually insisted on their boyfriends to act as coolies and carry their purses, almost always a garish orange, yellow or green, creating a completely unbalanced look.

The overweight dads brought the pendulum back to utility and larger size. They needed the space for their passions, such as iPad games or iPhone photography. They also required space for their kids’ needs, be it disposable diapers for the infant, additional clothing for the toddler or toys for the school-age child. Once again, the strap went across the chest and was pulled tighter to allow the bag to rest on the stomach, allowing for easier access.

The common thread among all three groups is the smartphone, the main reason for the rise in men’s accessories. It is too hot and humid and the culture is too informal for a sports jacket with a convenient chest pocket. And even though Taiwanese men commonly have, as some western female friends have pointed out, “pancake” butts, they would never risk putting a couple hundred dollars’ worth of technology in any pocket other than the one in their man-purse. Personally, since I am no longer a member of any of the above-mentioned groups and possess a cellphone that simply makes and receives phone calls and texts while fitting nicely in my pocket, I’ll stick with my twenty-something-year-old knapsack. I know it doesn't make me look like a college student, but it reminds of those pre-“connectivity” days when one really could get away from it all.

Hey, hey, hey!

Being an American, I get blamed for all kinds of things. One long-standing accusation has been bringing child obesity to Taiwan. When I first got here, I was hard pressed to see an overweight tyke, let alone one really fat. Children walked to their neighborhood school, with upper-grade students assigned to go along certain routes to pick up first and second graders and lead them to the school in groups. Middle-school students rode bikes to school, sometimes four abreast down the road, ignoring the occasional beeps from the few scooters on the road.

So, why am I blamed for child obesity? McDonald’s. That sanitized haven of fun and free toys to which Taiwanese parents take their children to avoid the suspected unhealthy environs of night markets and outdoor stalls. Or maybe they just give into to their little brats whining. Either way, Mickey Dee’s is the boogieman and I brought him to Taiwan. Older Taiwanese have accused me and fellow foreigners for introducing the Pandora’s Box that is Western fast food. Now, I think that’s a bit unfair since I have never maligned the use of MSG by Chinese restaurants in the States.

Unfortunately, it’s the success of Taiwan that has brought obesity to near Western levels. Being one of the most connected societies on the planet, hours of computer games and the more than 200 channels now available on TV are taking their toll. The variety of junk food the munchkins nibble on is staggering, ranging from American standards like Doritos, Cheetos and Lay’s (including seaweed, grilled beef or roasted chicken flavors) to pea crackers and packets of fried noodles. Chips Ahoy and Oreos are sold next to taro-flavored cookies and shortbread made from yams.

The streets are not immune from Taiwan’s development. The only kids that walk to school are the ones who live across the street from it. Living just a few blocks away requires a child to navigate crosswalks at busy intersections that are often unlawfully traversed by cars and scooters driven by adults who have just dropped off their own kids because they fear for their child’s safety while crossing the same crosswalks. It is a vicious circle. Also, the neighborhood school is no longer simply for the neighborhood youngsters. Elementary schools offer special “art” or “music” classes that interested parents of second-graders have their offspring test into, even if the school is on the other side of the city. Any successful applicants then have to commute across town, adding to the hazardous traffic surrounding these schools.

Since traffic has gotten so dangerous and since they were transported to elementary school the same way, many junior- and senior high students no longer bike to school, but instead often arrive at their schools on the back of Mom’s scooter, supplying her with more ammo for future guilt-trips she can lay on grown-up children who don’t meet her expectations or sacrifices. Some older, more independent students with understanding and slightly wealthier parents are given electric scooters that don’t need to be registered and thus don’t require a license to operate.

Though elementary school students haven’t had to go to school on Saturdays for almost twenty years, they usually have cram school, an art class or a music lesson to attend. However, that still leaves Sunday, a chance for the family to enjoy the outdoors. Unfortunately, when over 90% of Taiwanese men are overweight or obese, Dad more often than not decides to stay at home and play computer games with his own chip off the old block. Or should I say dough ball?

These go to 11

One of the staples for temple celebrations are the bùdàixì, or glove puppet, performances. Several television serials featuring elaborately dressed dolls of legendary characters performing acrobatic kung-fu scenes attest to the international popularity of these shows. The traveling show variety usually sets up a stage facing the front of a temple from across the street. It’s a rectangular cube, a little less than four meters wide, about three high and a meter or so deep. The bottom two-thirds of the façade is usually bright red, atop of which the actual “stage” stands and where the puppets can be seen. As opposed to a manipulator operating a marionette from above, these puppeteers are required to stand behind the façade and hold the puppets above their heads during the performance.

At both sides of the stage stand large speakers that any roadie would hate to carry but love to hear. In order for the puppeteers to hear the prerecorded dialogue and time their performance to it, these amplifiers are at their highest settings. Quite literally, the gods in, above and around the temple, as well as those down the street and around the corner can hear every word. What amazed me, and still does, are the human audiences sitting only a few meters away from these ear-crushing sound systems.

And it’s not just bùdàixì shows. Before VHS and Betamax made movie viewing part of home entertainment, kung-fu reel-to-reel movies, often with Taoist characters, were shown to neighborhood congregations in front of a temple for the gods’ enjoyment as part of its holy day celebrations. Little kids in shorts and tank tops munching on slabs of blood-rice cakes smothered with hot sauce sat on plastic stools and stared at a jerry-rigged screen hanging between two trees. At school the next day, they were probably unable to follow the lesson because they were partially deaf.

Funeral procession usually have a sound truck (or two or three, depending on how much you want to show off the family’s wealth), a flatbed that has a gazebo-like structure built on it with man-size speakers blaring out the sobs, wails and songs of the paid mourner/singer. Their approach can be heard half a kilometer away, usually drowning out the marching band playing “Auld Lang Syne”, Taiwan’s funeral dirge.

Last week, the wife dragged me along with one of her friends to a sight-seeing hike around the Hutoupi Reservoir to admire some yellow flowering trees. At most of these public functions in Taiwan, there is a raffle to entice more participants to come out, this time being for a few mini-iPads. After the hike, as we waited for the drawing, munching on octopus-ink sausages, the sound guys just to the left of a small stage fiddled with the system, playing ABBA at full volume. You probably could have heard “Waterloo” from across the lake. To start off the ceremonies, the MC, an attractive woman in a frilly black strap-less mini-skirt screeched greetings that had me wincing from twenty meters away. A local music teacher and a few of his students took to the stage and began their repertoire with “Sukiyaki”, that Japanese song famous in the US in the early 60’s. However, their version used an èrhú, that two-stringed fiddle old men play in the park and reminds me of alley cats in heat. Luckily, we able to pull back another five meters, but the main crowd of onlookers, a mere three meters away from the speakers, sat pleasantly on their stools enjoying the show, only occasionally leaning toward each other’s ears to shout something.

So, here’s a shout-out to Axel and his May Jam that was just down the road at the same location. It was great to sit back almost fifty yards from the stage on that grassy knoll in the shade of those huge trees and enjoy some good music going to 11.

Mixed blood, bi-racial and ignorance

“Hùnxuè” literally translates to “mixed blood” and is used to describe my boys. I don’t like it because it’s the same classification Hitler and his Aryan cronies used. It’s almost as if the Chinese language has been stifled concerning this point, for the same expression is used when referring to children of, say, a Taiwanese man and his Vietnamese or Thai bride, though the women, in the eyes of most Westerners, would be considered Asian and of the same race. It is important to point out, though, that the term is not used when speaking of the offspring of a Chinese mainland wife. Some claim that it’s symptomatic of an ignorant Han Chinese sense of superiority. I think that since over ninety-five percent of the population has always been Chinese, the language hasn’t had the need to come up with the variety of ethnic labels that one finds in the States.

When my boys were young, I often took them to Chiayi City Park. At the playground, other mothers would see them and comment on how white their skin was, a status symbol centuries ago separating the tiny upper class from the huge peasant farmer masses and now considered a sign of beauty throughout Asia. Taiwanese females, from mothers to single women to even high school students, have the habit of touching the faces of children, especially those they consider cute. Sometimes with my boys, it was as if they were trying to rub off the whiteness to make some beauty cream.

Most foreigners who have “hùnxuè” children consider this to be a sign of ignorance. They say how unsanitary it is, how no one back home would do that. They point out that this ignorance is not limited to caressing stranger’s toddlers. Chiayi is far from being a metropolis, as well as being far from any good-sized city. I still get the occasional stare from old folk or a child tugging on a parent’s shirt and pointing at me. After my first year here, I remember a granddad hoisting up a baby, pointing at me and telling him that I was a foreigner, as if I were the archetype. At least most parents have stopped telling their kids to look at the foreigner, but, when it does occur, it stills irks many foreigners.

The dictionary states “ignorance” as “a lack of knowledge, learning, information”. Then, sure, put it that way, especially stressing the lack of “information”, these actions could be considered ignorant. The Taiwanese don’t know how Westerners behave when it comes to children. How to use guns, conduct car chases and what to do in disaster situations, maybe. However, the only recent Western movie exhibiting any real interaction between adults and children was Hangover I and III.

So, is “ignorant” the right word to use in describing the anonymous morons writing hateful messages in response to a Cheerios ad featuring a bi-racial family? I’ll take the stares over being spat on. Or worse.

Introduction

Most of the blogs I’ve seen about Taiwan show its natural beauty and its unique (Taipei) city culture. Often, they are written by tech-savvy young people who are passing or have already passed through Formosa. Too frequently for my tastes, they sound like whining little brats complaining about the traffic, pollution and, in their view, illogical thinking. So, to paraphrase John Cleese, I’m hoping with this blog I can provide something completely different.

I arrived in Chiayi in 1985, and, with the exception of a year and eight months in Japan over two decades ago, have lived in Chiayi, the Des Moines of Taiwan, ever since. In that time, I married one of my students, raised two boys bi-culturally and tri-lingual, opened my own cram school and have taught English to over three thousand students. I have a unique perspective on Taiwanese culture and I hope I can provide readers with a glimpse of Taiwan that may be a bit deeper and broader.

However, this will not be an advice column or an info site for jobs, APRCs or anything like that. It’s going to be mostly me blabbering away about something that I hope will be at the very least, edifying, but hopefully mainly entertaining. Taiwan has given me a lot, so, in return, I hope I can provide a balanced picture of the “beautiful island”, Formosa.

As selfish as it may sound, this is also an exercise for me. Middle-age creates new challenges, as well as opportunities, and I see this as the latter so that I can help me overcome some of the former. Having said that, I will be open to any comments, replies and, hopefully, suggestions on any topic concerning Taiwan.

At a party three years ago, I ran into an old acquaintance, his wife and some of their friends. Though my friend had been in Chiayi for about ten years, he exclaimed to his friends and wife how I had been around for twenty-five years. His wife declared, “Wow, a quarter of a century!” Putting it that way made it sound more ominous to me and astounding to the others. When asked why I had remained while so many others had left, the answer was easy. Having lived in Austria for more than two years and becoming (at the time) fluent in German, I wanted to give my boys an opportunity that I know they fully appreciate now. In addition to their bi-cultural heritage and language skills, they experienced most of the Asia-Pacific area first-hand, from Hokkaido to Sydney, the Philippines to India. In retrospect, there were other advantages as well. I never had to worry about a crazy showing up at my boys’ school with a rifle. Drugs were almost non-existent. Though they grew up in a society that is not very diverse, there was at least, in its own way, a sense of tolerance for their differences.

In the future, I hope to touch on different topics concerning Taiwan culture, using past and more recent experiences. Again, I appreciate any comments and hope for any suggestions on topics any readers may be interested in.