What to call the children of Taiwan?

I was warned before we left the States not to talk local politics. Tina said in Taiwan people only talk politics with fellow party mates. Back home most of us would prefer to talk only with fellow party mates since we're all convinced the other side is a dangerous lot of misinformed charlatans. However, my girlfriends and I can trade "Obamaphile" and "Palin-ho" barbs and still love each other dearly. That's probably because in the U.S. our politics revolve around little things like taxes, health care and immigration. None of us disagree on something so crucial as what country it is that we're living in.

If that were a point of contention in America, our national legislative sessions might be more akin to the parliamentary smackdowns Taiwan has. Taiwan has two mainstream political parties: the Democratic Progressive Party which is pro independence, and the Kuomintang which seeks eventual reunification with the mainland. Beijing considers Taiwan a renegade province of the People's Republic of China.

At the FCC meeting I attended, a reporter leaving Taiwan for a job in Beijing told a story about riding in cabs in Taipei. She talked about chatting up cab drivers and how they would say, "Oh your Chinese is so good, how long have you lived in China?" And she would always reply, "I've never lived in China, I've only lived in Taiwan."

"How long did it take to get thrown out of the cab?" someone else quipped.

It was a joke, but that's how deep it runs. Some here object to the National Palace Museum on grounds it's too Chinese-centric, that Taiwan should be concerned with its own culture. And plenty of people here wish to be called "Taiwanese" not "Chinese."

That brings me to my moment of in-classroom political idiocy: I was talking to my students about national origins (e.g. "He is from America. He is American." "He is from Thailand. He is Thai) when I got to Taiwan.

"And you, my students, you are from Taiwan. So you are uhh... Taiwanese, right?" The moment I said it, I wished I hadn't. My 11-year-olds tilted their heads to the side, looking confused. No one corrected me, but no one readily agreed either.

Politics aside, it wasn't accurate. Here Taiwanese refers to aboriginal groups and Chinese native to the island prior to the end of World War 2, when 2 million mainlanders fled to Taiwan. Those people are Chinese, not Taiwanese. It's an ethnic distinction.

I am from America. I'm American. My students are from Taiwan. They are ... going to have to figure out the rest on their own. And if they're lucky, their teacher wont inflict them with more of her ignorance, or at least no more than they're used to from her.

The Earth is for the People

From National Palace Museum

Or at least that's what James' mom told me this gate said outside the National Palace Museum. Being illiterate makes me feel real dumb. Reading is fundamental. But learning seems insurmountable when you're starting from the ground up and the language is unsimplified Chinese. After a week, I can recognize four words: "on," "off," "exit" and "Taipei."

On to happier subjects: Today we went to the National Palace Museum, one of the largest collections of ancient Chinese artifacts in the world. We saw lots of old pots and paintings, and a very special cabbage figurine.
What the Mona Lisa is to the Louvre, the hope diamond to the Smithsonian, that's what this jade bok choy is to the Palace Museum. I had to mow down a horde of Japanese tourists to get within a foot of its glass encasement. And I can now attest, it does very much resemble a stock of cabbage, only shinier. Just as stunning and almost as hard to get within spitting distance of was the meat-shaped rock. This work hardly needs further explanation: It's a stone that strikingly resembles something I would like to eat for lunch. These are the two most famous works on display at the Museum. A society that treasures a vegetable figurine and a rock that looks like a piece of steamed pork has its priorities straight. I appreciate that.