Then the following cycle occurs: one person makes a meek suggestion. Then the normal answer by the members of the group is “都可以啦” (dōu kěyǐ lā) which means “Yeah, sure, whatever.” My issue with this answer is that it carries no information concerning the person’s preference and does not help to bring the group closer to a decision.  In reality though, the real decision has subtly been made by whoever has chosen the direction that the group is walking in. As the group continues to walk in one direction, the choices for restaurants become fewer and fewer (some are full, others have been passed), until finally the decision has been made by somebody pointing out the obvious or making a safe suggestion based on the few remaining acceptable options.

While this way of decision-making is non-confrontational, do people really eat what they want to eat? Or does that really matter? After being here so long, I can feel that the harmony of the group is definitely more important socially than personal preferences, so much so that I feel like some significant part of my personality has faded away, relegated to the background like some embarrassing Halloween costume. I have become part of the “都可以啦” (dōu kěyǐ lā) crowd, conquered by the all-powerful “不好意思” (bùhǎoyìsi).

Every time I come back to Taiwan from other countries, the airport really lets me down. Last night, as I came back from a short trip to Japan, I strolled up to the customs area and was once again shocked at the incredibly inefficient and unwelcoming way of handling incoming foreigners.

Where the locals got about 10 short lines, foreigners were herded into a snake-line. The difference? My Taiwanese workmates got through the line in about 10 minutes. It took me 45 minutes to get through customs. Why the different handling? I’m not sure, but compared to other international airports in East Asia, Taoyuan is almost laughably primitive. The new Korean airport in Incheon plans for large influxes of passengers, preparing a battalion of customs officers to handle the load. I think the longest I’ve waited to get through customs there was 3 minutes. Narita isn’t bad either, taking around 10 minutes to get through.

There’s a new terminal being built at Taoyuan, let’s hope the new building brings not just nicer digs but more importantly, a better process.

I should first stress that I draw a distinction between weddings here in Taipei and weddings elsewhere around Taiwan (read: the south). Weddings down south are a whole other animal and I’ve only been to one so far. Even though the one I went to was pretty tame, from what I’ve heard, they can get wild and crazy (strippers, pole dancing) and are completely different from your average ceremony in Taipei. That’s another blog post and one I’m not “qualified” to write.

1. Arrival

OK, so you’ve received a wedding invite from a friend or colleague. If you can read Chinese, you’ll notice that it specifies a time to arrive. Nobody ever arrives on time. If it’s says the 入場 (entry) is 6:30pm, you don’t need to sit down until 7pm.

2. Hong Bao (”red envelopes” / cash)

How much do you give? (Many thanks to Sophie for her insight into how much to put in the hong bao) Well, this depends on five factors: whether or not you are going to attend the wedding, how close you are to the bride or groom, whether or not you are bringing your partner, where the banquet is being held and lucky / unlucky numbers.

First off, if you’re not going, but you’ve received an invitation, you should still give a hong bao. How much? Well, I’ve heard anywhere between 600 and 1200 NT. This may depend on the next factor: closeness.

Obviously the closer you are, the more you may be inclined (or expected) to give. My friends say 1200 NT for acquaintances, 2600 - 3200 NT for close friends.

If you bring somebody else, add at least 600 NT to what you plan to give.

If the banquet is held in a very expensive (or cheap) venue, be sure to factor that in to your gift as well, since this gift helps the bride and groom cover their costs.

Finally, as with any major milestone in a Taiwanese person’s life, superstition rules, so never give odd denominations (1300 NT, for example) and no amount containing a 4 (unlucky number). As Sophie states in her comment, even the old go-to number 8 can be considered bad luck since it sounds like 別 (bie2: separation).

So, you’ve prepared the money, now who do you give it to? Well, you need to find the table at the front just before you walk in. One side will be the groom’s, the other the bride’s. Give it to the side that you have a relationship with. Write your name on the book (in Chinese or English) and grab some of those wedding photos / glamour shots that look like trading cards. You are set to walk in.

3. Sitting down / Short video sequence

If you’re a foreigner, it’s likely that they’ve arranged for someone to escort you to your table. Take a seat and within a few minutes, the room should darken and a video will be projected on the wall. This video (probably between 5-10 minutes long) will show, in chronological order, pictures of the about-to-be-wed couple: as kids, how they met, pictures of them during their courtship and finally, the present day.

4. Newlyweds entrance

After the video is over, the couple is ready to enter. You may be provided bubbles or those little plastic snap-pop things that spray a little confetti to “welcome” the lucky pair as they walk up the aisle between tables. The MC will introduce them, ask for applause and then the couple sit down.

5. Meal time

Once that formality is over, the real reason why everyone’s there is exposed: the 9 or 10 course meal. Make sure you pace yourself and take it easy.  It’s a long meal and there is normally way too much food.

6. Dress Change #1 / Activity

About 15-20 minutes into the meal, the bride and groom will disappear and the bride will change into a totally new outfit. They make another grand entrance, everybody claps again and then turns their face back to their plate. Normally, entertainment of some sort happens at this point. First a short speech from the newlyweds, thanking their parents for all they’ve done for them, etc. and then perhaps a game, or some sort of activity where the bride and groom invite their single friends up to the stage for an embarrassing, awkward “chance” to meet other singles, or even a performance. I’ve seen couples sing songs at this point, and recently, the groom even brought his rock band on stage for a live two-song set. Whatever happens, the patrons may or may not watch, perhaps more interested in their meal.

7. Toast the bride and groom

Once the entertainment is over, the bridge and groom and both families go from table to table, toasting their guests. Most of the time, the groom is drinking grape juice, but I’ve been to a wedding where the groom drank anything and everything. This is usually not the case, as your average Taiwanese guy is a weak drinker. Be sure to fill your glass with the house wine that is on your table, stand and tip your glass to the newlyweds when they make it to your table. This marks the beginning of the end; it’s safe (and not rude) to leave after this point.

8. Dress Change #2 / Farewell

After all guests have been toasted, the bride and groom will disappear once more, the bride to change once again, this time into a gown to bid you farewell with. After they change, they will wait by the door to say goodbye, take photos and probably present guests with a small gift. This is your chance to congratulate the lucky couple and make your escape, if you’re able to even walk after the heavy meal.

Congratulations, you’ve survived a wedding in Taipei, with a full stomach and some grog in your belly. Any thoughts? Have I missed anything or gotten anything wrong? Let me know and I’ll update this post.

Here’s the scenario:

There was a group of guys and girls dancing together, probably a high-school reunion or something. Some Filipino and African guys jump on the dance floor and start to rip it up. These guys are really enjoying themselves and start to dance with the Tai-girls. Not just dancing, but freaking. The guys are digging it, and the girls are enjoying it as well.

So, to protect the girls from the dirty and dangerous immigrant folk, or maybe to protect the girls from themselves and their intended harlotry, the Taiwanese males jump in to save the day, going where no man should go, namely in between the gyrating hips of the colored men and the local girls.

It happened over and over again. I suppose the sailors were used to it, because they played it cool, but the Taiwanese women looked more and more frustrated at their male counterparts. It really surprised me that the whole situation didn’t break down into a fight, because the Taiwanese males were unusually aggressive during the cock-blocking. In addition, the women’s reaction to the interruptions was quite telling: their friends’ “help” was really a good micro-representation of male-female relationships here: being a man is protecting and controlling your woman, who by extension can’t protect or control herself.

Version’s website mentions a feature: svn+ssh:// key pairs are unnecessary. However, the first time I tried to connect to my repository on Site5, I got an error message “Connection closed unexpectedly.” I tried many different login permutations, but nothing worked. And so I was resigned to looking into other more painful Mac SVN clients like SvnX.

The email today alerted me to newest beta update and so I downloaded the update and tried again. No beans. Following a tutorial on setting up SVN on Site5 I was still getting the same error. There was still no way to point to the private key I had set up. After re-reading the Versions website (I really hope some documentation is on the way), I realized I was going about it the wrong way. Assuming you’ve already setup SVN on your Site5 account, here’s the correct way to connect to your Site5 SVN repository without creating key pairs:

Location: svn+ssh://[Site5 username]@www.[domain name]/[path to repository]

Example: svn+ssh://username@www.versions.com/home/username/svn/project
Username: [Site5 username]

Password: [Site5 password]

The most amusing bit had to be the warm-up sequence, led by a woman who had to be an aerobics instructor. The music started out with “Chariots of Fire” of course and then ended with a bizarre, Disney-fied rendition of “Amazing Grace.” We started out doing some easy movements, but it just got weirder with everybody holding hands and jumping left and right.

The motivational warm-up over with, the race began. In my case, this was a perfect example of slow and steady wins the race … I burned myself out and had to walk after two-thirds through the race. This old guy who I passed way at the beginning (and then who passed me and then I passed again) passed me and finished the race probably a couple minutes before me. Finally, in homage to the Taiwanese penchant for lining up for free stuff, I jumped in line for five minutes to grab a free cup of honey-water.

A nice morning and an enjoyable experience.

I’ve been to Fulong before, but both times it’s been rainy or overcast. Fortunately, the weather was pleasant yesterday. We met at Taipei Main Station and jumped on the 10:35 train to Fulong. Since we grabbed the “stops at all stations” train (ticket at 85 NT was marginally cheaper than the express train), it took about an hour and a half to get there. The express train will get you there in about an hour.
The Fulong train station is a five-minute walk from the beach (nice!) and a 30-second hop into a line of lunch-box shops. Fulong is famous for its “Railroad lunch-box” (鐵路便當) and that’s normally the first item on the agenda for visitors. We dug into our 50 NT lunch-boxes and then met with the surfshop to organize our surfboards (500 NT for a day’s rental including a free rinse-off).

Finally, we set off towards the beach. I’ve only been surfing twice (this time was the second time) but even I was shocked at the number of people trying to catch a wave. There must have been about 80-odd people in the same 100-200 meter stretch. I hit one of my workmates TWICE and another workmate was skewered by me and another guy once. It was CROWDED. Good news is I finally stood up and actually surfed. The feeling was nice and I can see how it can get better as your skill increases (and if there aren’t too many people around).

After about an hour, I decided to go out a bit deeper to watch the experienced guys surf. They could grab the wave MUCH earlier and ride it much longer, unless they had to jump off to avoid hitting us newbies in the front blocking their way. They were unbelievably patient, I never saw any of them mouth off to any of us guys floating right into their paths.

I gave the board a rest and decided to try to swim over to the “paid area.” As I was approaching, I saw a lifeguard jump down to meet me as I crossed the line. I decided not to cross the line and he had nothing to say. I think I saved him from having to deliver the “pay to play” spiel and just walked back to base camp in the “no-swim zone” where all the surfers were.

As the shadows grew long, I got the craving for a beer, but the workmates were rushing to get back to their lives in Taipei so we hopped back into the train. All in all, it was a nice day, I got a nice sunburn, but I don’t think Fulong is a premiere surf spot by any standards.

It was a rainy winter day in Taipei today. I wore my work shoes today. Unfortunately, the soles of my shoes aren’t exactly Gore-Tex super grip recycled F1 rubber or anything like that. I say unfortunately because whenever it rains here in Taipei (which is often), I slip on the marble-tiled sidewalks which seem to skirt every bank and post office in town. I’m pretty sure that most salarymen here experience the same, slippery imbalance every rainy day.

Luckily, the designers didn’t totally ignore this seemingly obvious flaw. Most of the marble-tiled footpaths have thin “friction strips,” as I like to call them. They aren’t the polished slip-traps of the marble tile, but are rough and cling to your shoe. They’re like buoys in a vast ocean that I tentatively jump to in order to keep from sliding around and bumping into people, or worse, making myself look foolish. If only there were more of these strips.

I’ve become so used to capitulating to others that it’s like I don’t have any taste. When I say “taste”, I mean, my own likings, my favorites, my dislikes, etc. Instead, I just go along with what others like to do, or what they offer. I believe this is a habit that has developed during my time in Asia. My experience is that it helps to accept what others offer in order to warm a relationship up. Also, locals can offer a new experience and more insight into their culture. So what I like takes a backseat. The by-product of this continual acquiescence is a gradual, but noticeable fading of my own personality.

In the end, any healthy relationship must be based on a truth and honesty. Acquiescing to others, while helpful at the beginning of a relationship, may actually create distance later on between two parties.

Assimilating to a culture I guess is the next extension of acquiescence, though I guess it’s more subtle and much less conscious. In a way, after an extended period of time in a foreign culture, I believe assimilation is inevitable. To remain unchanged requires intense self-awareness and active resistance - an unnatural act which only makes one’s continuing presence in that culture less and less sustainable. Most people I’ve met in Korea and Taiwan have assimilated in certain ways and have resisted in others. They’ve found some sort of equilibrium between reaching out and guarding their identity. Others I’ve met (though few), actively defend against assimilation on all fronts and in turn make life miserable for themselves and others around them. Those are definitely not the travelling types.

I used to think that if one opened themselves up completely, then they could find their true “self.” But now, I’m not so sure. Maybe you just end up getting lost.