A Chinese student's interview with the Dalai Lama

Lingxi Kong (孔灵犀), a Chinese student at Columbia University studying Greek and Latin, recently had the opportunity to interview the Dalai Lama while on a stop at Colgate University. He later published an article with his thoughts on the meeting in Chinese and English.

His article was published in its entirety at the China Digital Times, and it's certainly worth the read because not only does he present the Dalai Lama's thoughts and perspectives on many of the misunderstandings that are sparking protests around the world but he also had the opportunity to make several proposals to the Dalai Lama:

While I was having a moment’s reflection, his staff reminded us that His Holiness had to go to the airport soon. So I hurried to proceed to the next part, which was the main purpose of my trip: seeking the creation of multiple communicative channels for exchange of views between Chinese and Tibetan people, which is of crucial importance for “minzu da tuanjie” (Great Unity of Ethnic Groups). I proposed to initiate an open-letter exchange between Chinese and Tibetan students, to be posted on a website with translations in both English and Chinese, so that both peoples (and the whole world) can explore each other’s feelings and sentiments. Television debate(s) may also be held between overseas Chinese and Tibetan students on an American television channel. He enthusiastically endorsed those proposals, adding that in times of crisis, instead of being antagonistic or hating each other, people may discuss and explore what is really happening. I also mentioned that a very good friend of mine, who is a computer scientist, volunteered to make documentary films on the life of Tibetan settlements in India. He was very happy to hear about it and asked his delegation to give full support. His Holiness also accepted the advice that whenever he visits a place abroad, he should meet local Chinese students and immigrants, promote the exchange of views and clear up misunderstandings, and accumulate grassroots support from Han Chinese.

Kong's account of the meeting was refreshingly illuminating, which sets it apart from much else being said about Tibet-China relations of late.

Meiji Shrine

Well, as happy as I am about this new camera, we still have a lot to learn about it. First, this video took EIGHT hours to upload to youtube because of the enormous size of the file (about 500 mb). Second, I got a good laugh upon watching the video not only because I sound like a fool trying to remember my Japanese history class from college but also because Fanfan and I both look like an old couple trying to record a greeting on an answering machine.* We were both oblivious to the fact that the video was still being recorded after about the first minute or two, and it only turned off when I changed the setting to take a panorama of the shrine.



What I was trying to ask about the Meiji Dynasty was whether or not it was responsible for Japan's modernization. I was mixed up, though, in trying to figure out where Commodore Perry's gift of a miniature steam train fit in with the Meiji, since, I know now, Perry's last visit to Japan pre-dates the Meiji Restoration by about 15 years.


*"Hi, you've reached the _________s, please leave a message after the beep, and we'll get back to as soon as possible. Have a good day...........is that it? [It's still on, Honey] What? [The light's still...] I pushed the button [It's blink...] But I... [Push the button again] I did!" *BEEP*

More on the origins of Chinese food....

In one of my recent posts about looking at my hometown, and America, from Fanfan's perspective, I surmised something about the origins of what we Americans call Chinese food:

Alas, Fanfan was about to experience her first (giant) servings of "Chinese" food. I put it in quotation marks only because calling it Chinese food is like calling grits "American food." Actually, it might be more like calling a hamburger "German cuisine" since it comes from Hamburg. If I understand correctly, most of the dishes that we call Chinese food are regional specialties that have been Americanized over the years. For example, my favorite, sesame chicken, supposedly has its origins in Hunan Cuisine, and eating it at my house was the first time Fanfan had ever tasted it, even though she comes from a country with such strong cultural ties to China (I'm not about to delve into the complexities of that statement).

It seems, though -- according to this article in the NY Times lamenting Americans' lack of understanding of exactly what "Chinese food" is -- that my hypothesis isn't entirely correct, or at least deserves more explanation [emphasis mine]:

Let’s start at the beginning. Virtually all of today’s so-called Chinese cooking in the United States can best be described as undistinguished, served in restaurants generally indistinguishable one from another.

The how of this is easy. The Chinese who sailed to the Golden Mountain of America to lay the ties and tracks of the transcontinental railroad* were all men. In this womanless society, these workers ate a food of survival; unfamiliar ingredients were cooked in rudimentary Chinese fashion. This coarsened cookery is what evolved into the Chinese-American genre. It is bastardized food, prepared first to feed a worker and then to please an American palate that dotes upon overcooked vegetables and sauces thickened with cornstarch and sugar.

However, one claim in the article does seem dubious:

It is reported that cutting up and sautéing a black-fleshed chicken is an authentic preparation. No, it is not. In China, black chickens are never eaten; rather they are steamed at length, with the resulting broth drunk as a health tonic and the meat discarded.

That's not true in Taiwan. (Again, I know it's not China, and I'm not delving into that) I've seen it eaten in Taipei, and just the other night on Bizarre Foods I saw them eating not only the meat but also the testicles of the black chickens.

*And, for the record, Chinaman is not the preferred nomenclature. Asian-American, please.

Taiwan-born, Chinese economist to be World Bank's next Chief Economist

This is quite an interesting story. Chinese economist Justin "Clothes" Lin* will be the World Bank's first chief economist from a developing country.

Professor Lin is set to assume office at the end of May, taking over from France's Francois Bourguignon., who served at the bank from 2003 to October 2007.

"This appointment is a high honour, and it's a historic decision for the World Bank," Prof Lin said.

"By picking a candidate from China, the World Bank will be able to better serve developing countries."

Prof Lin believes the World Bank could help African countries find a successful development path and that China's experience can be useful in this regard.

"His appointment to the world's largest development agency shows the growing influence of China's economic reform," the BBC's China Editor Shirong Chen believes.

This is certainly a momentous occasion, for whatever professional or symbolic reasons Lin was chosen. It certainly marks a turning point, and hopefully some fresh air, at the World Bank. Though, development in Africa is quite different from the development Asia, it seems. As Amartya Sen notes in Identity and Violence:

Many have observed that in the '60s South Korea and Ghana had similar income per head, whereas within 30 years the former grew to be 15 times richer than the latter. This comparative history is immensely important to study and causally analyze, but the temptation to put much of the blame on Ghanaian or African culture (as is done by as astute an observer as Samuel Huntington) calls for some resistance. Mr. Huntington closes his contrast with a spectacular formula: "South Koreans valued thrift, investment, hard work, education, organization and discipline. Ghanaians had different values. In short, cultures count." Ghanaians, and perhaps many other Africans, seem doomed to stagnate, according to this analysis.

In fact, that cultural story is extremely deceptive. There were many important differences, other than any differences in cultural predispositions, between Ghana and Korea in the 1960s. First, the class structures in the two countries were quite different, with a very much bigger -- and proactive -- role of business classes in Korea. Second, the politics were very different, too, with the government in South Korea eager to play a prime-moving role in initiating societal reform and economic development in a way that was not true in Ghana. Third, the close relationship between the Korean economy and Japan, on the one hand, and the U.S., on the other, made a big difference, at least in the early stages of Korean economic expansion.

Fourth -- and perhaps most important -- by the 1960s South Korea had acquired a much higher literacy rate and a much more expanded school system than Ghana had. Korean massive progress in school education had been largely brought about in the post-World War II period, mainly through resolute public policy, and it could not be seen just as a reflection of cultural difference. This is not to suggest that cultural factors are irrelevant to the process of development, but they do not work in isolation from social, political and economic influences. Nor are they immutable.

It would seem that if you wanted to focus on Africa's development, you'd get, I don't know, Jeffrey Sachs, but he's not from a developing country. I certainly don't mean to suggest the Lin won't have valuable input and know-how. It's just that, on the face of it, the choice and the reasons given for it come off a bit strange.

All that aside, Lin's life in and of itself is less than ordinary:

As an up and coming Captain in the ROC army (the Army had already paid for his MBA), he defected to Chinese mainland in the early 1979, reportedly by swimming from the island of Kinmen in Fujian Province of ROC, to the nearby island of Xiamen in Fujian, the same Province but of PRC.

While as an officer in the Republican of China Army, Lin was held up as a model soldier for choosing to be in the Army. Lin was considered as a "superstar" officer. The ROC never acknowledged his defection, listing as being missing.

He was one of the first PRC citizens to receive a PhD in economics from a US university, and is a leading Chinese economist. He serves as a consultant to the World Bank, among other major international organizations, and is on the editorial board of several international academic economics journals.

It appears that Lin is still not well accepted in Taiwan, by the government at least, seeing as he did not come home for his father's funeral in 2002. He didn't come home, of course, because two years earlier, a warrant had been put out for his arrest.

A Chinese professor who was named the World Bank's chief economist this week may face arrest on charges of defecting from Taiwan's army 30 years ago if he visits his hometown, an official said yesterday.

[snip]

The Chinese-language China Times quoted him as saying from Beijing that he wanted to return to Taiwan soon to pay respect to his late parents.
Mainland Affairs Council Vice Chairman Johnnason Liu (劉德勳) said Taipei would not bar Lin from returning home.
But Yu Sy-tue (虞思祖), spokesman for the Ministry of National Defense, said he would not rule out Lin's arrest, adding that a military court would have to decide whether the statute of limitations on Lin's defection had already expired.
"There's no question that he is a deserter," Yu said. "We will cautiously study his case with the agencies concerned."
The military first listed Lin as a missing soldier but formally issued an arrest order in 2000. Lin could face life imprisonment if convicted of desertion.
With his expertise in development economics, Lin has been considered the leading Chinese contender for the Nobel prize in economics. On Tuesday, Lin was named the first economist from a developing country to hold the chief economist post at the World Bank.

It's unclear to me exactly why Lin fled, but it seems as though he wanted to study abroad -- pfft! like that paid off -- and could not do so under the KMTs authoritarian government, despite his "superstar" status. It's not mystery that not just anyone could go abroad during the White Terror years, so it's quite possible he decided to take his chances in China.

*I'm just kidding. His name is Justin Yifu Lin, but it's not "clothes" (衣服) but something along the lines of "resolute man" (豛夫)

Fascinating videos from 1971 of some travels in China

I saw these videos (of which the above is the first) at Sinocidal today, and wanted to share them:

A couple of years ago I was talking to a friend’s father, back in the UK, about
life in China and he mentioned that he’d traveled there a couple of times in the
early seventies. Naturally I was very interested to hear of his experiences,
particularly as it was during a time when very few westerners were travelling to
China. He was the MD of a large European steel-works at the time, and was
invited to China, by the government, to negotiate the supply of steel to the
country. I believe he visited twice, once in 1970 and again in 1971. He showed
me some stills from the 1970 trip, but I was excited to learn that for his 1971
visit he had taken along, and had been allowed to use, a Cine camera.

As I mentioned this is only the first video, of which there are four. Go to Sinocidal and take a look at the comments and the funny comment about the bear pit at the Beijing Zoo, straight through which they are now apparently building a highway whilst the bears still meander below!

Learning that there is no Mainland, or, The Greening of the Redhead

I've been putting this post off for a long time. It's been several months in the making, and I've been waiting for a day where I've several hours to lay my thoughts out in a clear, comprehensive manner, gather citations, and make it all look real purdy.

I've been waiting for someone to offer me a bag full of money so that I can stop working and devote myself to learning Mandarin and Taiwanese as well as Taiwanese history.

Suffice it to say that it hasn’t happened yet, and, otherwise, my life hasn't afforded me such an occasion in quite some time. So I’m just going to let the cards fall where they lay. Thus, this post has been written over little bits of free time during the last week.

Here goes...

Someone recently mentioned that I had become noticeably "greener" in my posting. I thought that was a reference to my disdain for the state of the environment ― especially the air I have to breathe every day ― here in Taiwan. Then, I realized my interlocutor was referencing my political sentiments regarding my new home. The “green” he was talking about was of the “pan-green coalition” shade.

Let me step back a little bit. I remember, when I used to live in Paris ― hell, even back when I was still at university in the States, and I first started reading blogs ― it irked me to read stuff by guys like Michael Turton at The View from Taiwan and Tim Maddog at It’s not a Democracy, It’s a Conspiracy. It seemed like these guys could read the back of a cereal box and find evidence of someone kowtowing to Beijing.

This sentiment actually lasted until recently. I remember reading Mr. Turton’s comments on How the World Works about how Taiwan is not Chinese. It seemed relatively clear to me that the article and the book it was referencing likely weren’t claiming that Taiwan was stuck in some anachronistic, Colonial Williamsburg type realm where cultures don’t evolve and where the word “Chinese” has some precise, all-encompassing denotation that can be dissected and, thus, analyzed objectively (I didn't know that the idea of Taiwan preserving Taiwanese culture was KMT propaganda). Turton ended up mentioning that the book was actually a good read and that the author had just chosen an over-simplified (attention-grabbing) title.

To be clear, I never thought the likes of the aforementioned two have been out of line. If I may reference The Big Lebowski in all it’s glory (let us bow our heads), “Walter, does everything have to be about Vietnam?”

Does every little word of every article have to be nitpicked? Must every mention of Taiwan be scoured for evidence of Beijing’s spin machine?

It took me a long time to realize that, yes, as tedious as it is, someone needs to be pointing these things out, no matter how minute or mundane.

My change of heart revolves around one crucial realization that I had as a result of being incensed by Taiwan’s most recent rejection from the World Health Organization. Not only is denying a country of 23 million people representation and protection an insanely hazardous move by an organization whose charge it is to improve and protect the health of, um, more or less the entire human race (aside from the Taiwanese people, that is), it’s a dismaying display of the truism that politics trumps reason. It’s no secret that China blocked Taiwan’s entry, even though the political lines we imagine around the world will bear little importance when a viral infection is allowed to fester in a country that is larger than seventy five percent of the countries in the UN. In his great book In Our Own Best Interest: How Defending Human Rights Benefit Us All, William Schulz ― (former?) Executive Director of Amnesty International ― devotes a whole chapter to disease and how allowing it to thrive abroad means risking contracting it at home.

Short of shutting down the worldwide tourist industry, cutting off international business travel, and closing down U.S. borders completely, letting no living soul in or out of the country, we must face the fact that human-borne disease is capable of spreading around the world with remarkable rapidity, carried by anyone, be it rich or refugee. In 1991 an Aerolineas Argentinas flight made a scheduled stop in Lima, Peru, picked up a load of passengers, and efficiently delivered cholera to Los Angeles.

Of course, it’s not just people who transmit disease.

A 1985 outbreak of dengue fever in Texas, for example, has been attributed to the arrival of a particularly aggressive mosquito species in a shipment of waterlogged used tires sent to Houston, Texas, from Japan for retreading.

This all means that, quoting from the Centers for Disease Control (CDC)

the health of the American people [and the rest of the world] is inextricably linked to the health of people in other nations; infectious diseases can and do spread rapidly around the globe” and to warn that “once considered ‘exotic,’ tropical infectious diseases are having an increasing effect on the American public.

But, I digress. Somewhere lost in the flurry of articles that were published on the subject, I decided it was time for me to finally construct a more cohesive understanding of Taiwanese history, to truly understand from whence these disputes are born.

Before coming to Taiwan, I knew that it was more or less a universally accepted truth that Chiang-Kai Shek was a despotic ruler. I knew that many people in Taiwan were of Chinese decent and that many of them had come due to the KMT’s defeat by the Mao’s Red Army. I also knew that the "Chinese" killed thousands of people, aborigines and other immigrants.

I knew numerous bits and pieces, but I needed some context.

The most important revelation I had somewhere in the haze of articles and books was that, I’ll be damned, there is no Mainland China. Rather there is China, and there is Taiwan.

Everything I had learned about Taiwan previously was under the premise that there was “One China” that some in Taiwan wanted to be independent from. I remember sitting at a birthday party in a tiny apartment in Paris. There were seven Chinese students, three Taiwanese, and one American (me) at the table. Some of these Chinese students lived one floor above a good Taiwanese friend of ours and had invited us that night to share in a special birthday “hot pot” (火鍋). Before laying out all the fixins’, one of the Chinese occupants brought a stack of old issues of the Financial Times to cover the table to protect it from all the sloshing and dripping involved in eating a hot pot. As the conversation went on around me in Chinese, with rare interludes in English, I zoned out, philosophizing about conflict and difference. I was wondering how the countries from which these people came from could have so many weapons of mass destruction pointed at each other, yet still get along so well together.

This is something that I think about nearly constantly when I’m abroad. But it was more poignant this time, because I noticed one of the articles being stained by the juices bubbling from the pot in the middle of the table was titled “Taiwan stocks fall as Chen vows tough China stance.”

There is hope, I said to myself, watching my Chinese and Taiwanese friends chatting away. I had said the same thing the year before in Angers, France ― where Fanfan and I met studying French ― watching Chinese and Taiwanese students talking and laughing together.

In reality ― as is generally the case ― it’s much more complicated. I still have no doubt that China and Taiwan could some day have normal diplomatic relations with each other and that there is no reason the people from these two countries can’t get along. The difference in my beliefs is, now, I don’t believe that China and Taiwan are or should ever be the same country, and I’m mad as hell the more I learn of the injustices Taiwan suffers as a result of what amounts to its place in a historical netherworld (being passed off by one Chinese government -- that later fell -- to the Japanese, being handed back to one of two feuding sides of a Chinese civil war at the end of WWII, and so on).

Topping the list of offenses against Taiwan is the fact that a developed nation that democratically elects its officials and upholds human rights is cast aside, spurned, and belittled politically by the international community, though nary a country refuse to do business with it. In every facet, Taiwan is an independent, functioning nation. It’s passports are recognized by every nation I know of, it’s money is exchanged around the world, its government officials are regarded as legitimate, yet it is repeatedly denied its rightful place in world bodies like the United Nations and the World Health Organization. All for fear of itching the hair trigger of a temperamental colossus with a penchant for oppression and violence. It is disgusting that Taiwan is snubbed as means for other nations to suck up to an authoritarian, corrupt government with a terrible record on human rights and a Stalinist fear of dissent.

To be clear about my comments on “Greeness,” the DPP isn't perfect. Far from it, I know. But the KMT seems utterly opposed to the idea of accepting responsibility for what it did in the past. When it comes time for the KMT to face up to the allegations posed when people are free to question their government, these guys seem to just whine about the DPP playing the ethnic card, then duck and run.

In any case, there it is. I’m hooked. Aside from doing my best to learn Chinese, I’ve started reading as much as I can about Taiwanese history. I’ve picked up two of Jerome Keating's books, and I’m open to more suggestions. I’m going to pick up Formosa Betrayed (for which a movie seems to be in the works) when I finish Keating's The Struggles of Democracy.

I’ve also decided that if at all possible I would like to study Taiwanese history and culture when Fanfan and I return from a four month stint in the states next April. I’m going to be looking for scholarships, and any help I can get will be greatly appreciated. Until I started reading up, I didn't realize that there is still so much that is unknown, left to be researched concerning the last century of Taiwan's history. My plan has always been to go back to the states and work on a doctorate in cultural and social anthropology, and not only would having this sort of cultural specialization under my belt in Taiwan look good on a resumé, but also getting a degree over here may help me prepare myself mentally for going back to school in the states.

This past weekend, I was able to go to the first half of the seminar on Transitional Justice. What disappointment I had in my lack of comprehension (the first hour and half or so was in German and Chinese), I made up for tenfold thanks to David Reid introducing me to the likes of Linda Gail Arrigo and the aforementioned Dr. Keating. Everyone was so welcoming to me in the short time we had during the coffee break, and I was almost heartbroken when I had to leave without being able to speak more in depth with some of these people. But even in those short moments, everyone made me feel so welcomed, and they all seemed enthusiastic about offering me advice.

On that note, I’d like to thank all of you who have helped me so far in trying to understand this place, through your comments, phone conversations, and emails. I can’t tell you how much it’s helped me.

And to any of you out there who disagree with anything I’ve put forth or anything I write in the future, please contact me ― through the comments or by email. I welcome criticism almost more than I do praise, because, after all it’s that from which I learn. I've had occasional commentary from Pan-blue supporters, yet they are never willing to offer materials to me that I may understand their point of view.

Finally, I figured I’d lay out some questions that are on my mind, to give y’all an idea of where I want to go from here, since, I presume, quite a few of you may be able to help me find some good material:

1. Who in the US is working to change American policy vis-à-vis Taiwan? This could mean organizations as well as politicians in the states, of which it seems there are more and more.
2. Would the US’s recognition of Taiwan mean an inevitable military conflict with China? Does China not have a lot to lose if it were to attack Taiwan? Do they care?
3. What is being done to curb corruption in Taiwanese politics? From what I’ve been reading, this is why a lot of Taiwanese become disillusioned with the idea of democracy (so I read) because they feel that things have gotten bogged down by the corrupt politicians that they elected.
4. What is the “status quo” as defined by China, Taiwan, and the US?
5. Why exactly did the world go from recognizing the KMT government in Taiwan as the legitimate Chinese government to switching official recognition to Beijing?
6. When will mopeds be outlawed? When will police start pulling people for running red lights and almost hitting me when I get off the bus?
7. Does the DPP have any plans for legislation concerning the banality of Hello Kitty and how it’s every Taiwanese citizen’s duty to resist such insipid appeals to their neurological cutesy-pootsy reflex? (as I’ve already mentioned Pankun and James is acceptable)

Making a zongzi (粽子)

I assume this tutorial will be useful to elementary school Chinese classes around the Western world during the next dragon boat festival. I hope you kids in Topeka, Kansas can get your hands on some bamboo leaves (in the video, I, for some reason, said banana leaves, they're not banana leaves). It takes a while to get everything ready. You need a lot of rice, some sort of really rubbery, sticky egg yolks, mushrooms (no, not that kind), bamboo sprouts, and some cubed pork.



The result is a deliciously gooey pyramid of Chinese goodness.

For those of you who don't know why in God's name we were making zongzi, other than the fact that they're delicious. It was for the Dragon Boat Festival (端午節) a couple of weeks ago.

According to legend has it that the poet Qu Yuan drown himself in a river rather than be beholden to what he saw as the rotten Chu government. When the people of the town found out he had drowned himself, they three zongzi in the river to keep the fish from eating his body.

The dragon boats signify either the people racing out to find his body, or the intimidating visages of the dragon boats were meant to scare the fish away. The former explanation is the one I've been told the most here.

Sun Yat Who? Chiang Kai-What?

It's been a while, I know, but as I mentioned recently I haven't been feeling well of late.

I wanted to note one thing that's been going on around Taiwan. It's a renaming frenzy and history renovation that's only recently been brought to my attention in the last couple of days, with the exception of the Chiang Kai-Shek Airport being changed to the Taiwan Taoyuan Airport.

The first, new history textbooks [via]:

FEW YEARS AGO, statues of Sun Yat Sen began disappearing from Taiwan’s public parks. In 2004, the Taiwanese government announced it would remove questions about Mainland Chinese geography from its general knowledge exam for civil servants. And last fall, the government renamed the country’s largest international airport. Once named for the Kuomintang leader Chiang Kai Shek, it is now simply called Taiwan Taoyuan International Airport, after the county where is it is located.

The ruling Democratic Progressive Party’s latest initiative has ruffled more feathers of officials on the Mainland and in the KMT opposition bloc: Revised high school history textbooks will for the first time devote an entire volume to “Taiwanese” history. The People’s Republic of China, previously referred to in classrooms as “our country,” “this country,” or “the mainland,” will be identified as “China,” and its history will be condensed from two or three volumes down to one.

The changes don’t stop there. The island nation’s 50 years of Japanese rule is no longer an “occupation,” but an “administrative period.” The 1911 Wuhan Uprising that brought an end to imperial rule in China will now be called a “Qi Shi” or riot, which carries a less righteous connotation than the old term, “Qi Yi,” or revolution.

Reminds me of Mao being rendered to a paragraph in Chinese textbooks.

Then there is the new issue of changing names of everything in Taiwan. As already mentioned, Chiang Kai-Shek was taken out of the name of the international airport in Taipei. China is being taken out of the names of the telephone companies and the postal service.

One of the biggest stories I've been seeing on the news here is about the changes proposed for the Chiang Kai-Shek Memorial Hall. Not only would the name be changed to the Taiwan Democracy Hall, but the large walls surrounding the grounds may be torn down.

Building in a temporary "country"

A while back, Fanfan and I went to an exhibit at the Taipei County Yingge Ceramics Museum called Play-Light Box. Fanfan had to write an article on it (it's in the most recent issue of La Vie), so I tagged along for the ride. While not the most fascinating exhibit I've gotten into for free during my tenure as the boyfriend of an art student, there was on thing that struck me. It was a big panel that read:

For a long time Taiwan's society has been filled with insecurity and unrest, and this is due to her special situation as a nation, formed over a long period of time through her relationship with the Chinese mainland. The uncertainty of the future has weakened the operation of local perseverance. Here all the things needing the accumulation of time and group cooperation seem unable to withstand the test of human selfishness. A thin, superficial, short-sighted style, one made not for time but for fast consumption and the satisfaction of material demand, builds the phenomena common to Taiwan's environment today.

And the Yingge Ceramics Museum -- it is a cultural edifice necessarily immersed in the complex linkages of "culture." Within the construction and deconstruction of culture, what kind of attitude should the architect adopt before he can appropriately accept or reject one's own "culture"? This is something he must confront with sincerity.

I've been running over this in my head for quite some time. I've already addressed before Taiwan's seeming deficiency of architectural style, and it's effect on the people living therein. Aside from the temples and, of course, Taipei 101, there is nothing remarkable about the buildings in Taiwan. By that, I mean, if you get lost (which I do quite often) you can't tell where you are because all of the buildings look the same. They are all made of the same materials:


The ceramic tile: I'd say that this is by far the most oft-used material, covering the exteriors of most of the buildings here. They look like little bathroom tiles that you would see in a locker room shower and they range in color from off-white to a sort-of light brown.






Corrugated Metal: Though the ceramic tiles cover the buildings, there is, more often than not, some part of any building made up of the flimsy looking rippled metal. Quite often, a building will have what looks like a little shack built on the top out of this stuff. Every building in my neighborhood has one. The colors, again, range from drab white or tan to drab green.





Plain old concrete: In a lot of areas, buildings were just tossed up with plain old concrete. My neighborhood is like that. All of the buildings are made of concrete and bricks. No insulation, no color. Just gray.









Steel: You'd be hard-pressed to find a residence in Taiwan that doesn't have a big steel door at the entrance or, even moreso, have all of it's windows covered by what looks like a giant birdcage. Concerning the former, this door often resembles a steel garage door with a smaller door-door on the side. I've heard several times that foreigners can't find the entrance to a place because they only see the garage. As for the latter, it is so prevalent that I would go so far as to say it's universal, but I couldn't really tell you why. Sure, maybe they're worried about someone trying to break in, but even on the fourth and fifth floors?


Aside from the similarity in materials, there is also a complete lack of style. The setting sun in Taiwan highlights the sillhouette of a sky-line that is nothing but straight-edges and right angles. Most buildings look like boxes.

When I first got here, I was shocked by this Taiwanese truism. I couldn't reconcile myself with the fact that this was the place I had been reading about. This was an Asian tiger, yet it looked like pictures I had seen in National Geographic of places like Cambodia. I realized soon after, though, that I just plain didn't understand. I had had the impression that this place was actually poorer than I thought, but I didn't understand that, in Taiwan, riches bought you a better interior, not a better all-around. I realized this the first time I walked with Fanfan through the "rich area" of Taipei. I wouldn't have known it if she hadn't told me. All of the buildings were the same as anywhere else we had been, the only difference I remarked was that the cars on the street parked in front of the buidlings were brand new BMWs or Jaguars.

This, I have learned is what happens when a country is for so long a "country," or, in Taiwan's case, a temporary refuge that would provide shelter before a return "home." These buildings were thrown up to accomidate the hordes coming from China, only to last long enough until they went back. At some point along the way, though, the shelter became home.

I've heard that there have been movements made by the government to tear down these old buildings, to make way for a sort of "New Tokyo," but I'd imagine an undertaking like that would be difficult and time-consuming in a place with the second highest population density in the world.