Posts tagged death

A year ago, I scoured Lonely Planet Taiwan, Rough Guide Taiwan, Culture Clash: Taiwan, and the grand interweb, searching for ways my Western habits might be offensive to the Taiwanese.

But, I found living here a far better tutor.

I’ve noticed certain traditions and gestures remain meaningful, remain adhered to, and I thought they’d be useful to share.

So, if traveling to Taiwan, you can assuredly avoid culture clash induced awkward situations with these tips:

Don’t beckon someone to “come here” with your finger(s) curing upward and toward your face—it’s interpreted as a very crude gesture. Instead, flip it over: face your palm toward the ground, bend your fingers downward toward your legs.

Don’t leave your chopsticks standing straight up in your rice—this display appears at funerals and so, has a morbid connotation.

Use two hands to give and receive gifts, business cards, awards and, if you can, money, although in the haste of the western pace that is infiltrating, this is not always followed at stores.

Don’t give white flowers or a watch as a gift, they both symbolize death.

Be prepared that basically without exception, if a Taiwanese person invites you to an event or meal, they will insist on paying and most likely will get their way no matter how much you try to beat them to the check. In turn, it would be culturally sensitive of you to pick up the tab if you are the invitee, but on this rule the Taiwanese are flexible and understanding of the cultural differences.

A story of horror and of Taiwanese betel nut chewers


My story began at this Mintsu Loo taxi stand
Photo by Beth Shea Palmer in Jhongli, Taiwan

He embodied the tell-tale signs, eyes hard shut, face haggard, lips and teeth red, which I noticed as his ajar mouth loudly exhaled and inhaled—he was crashing from a betel nut high, in necessary sound sleep.

But I needed to be somewhere 10 minutes away, in the next 15 minutes. I suspected danger, but feared being late.

Cabbie, you were my only hope.

He made the first left turn exaggeratedly wide; then, on a sharp right turn, we swerved inches away from a truck on our left. That’s when I leaned forward and watched his face: His eyes were fluttering! And, the ratio time open to time closed was 1:2!

Phew! He stopped at the red light and I exclaimed, “Hey!” He looked at me in the rear-view mirror. “You!” I nearly shouted as I closed my eyes, put my hands together like a prayer and cocked my head to the side, universally symbolizing sleep. He understood; he nervously laughed.

He made a big effort on the straight-away that followed, most likely because my disapproving stare was deadlocked on his eyes. I was ready to leap into the front and grab the wheel in the worst case scenario.

AyYayYai! We headed into a T-collision with two scooters but before impact I shouted “HAO!”, meaning, “OK”, his signal to pull over and let me the h-e-double hockey sticks-OUT!

I boiled with the frustration of not being able to yell at him in a tongue he’d understand. Instead I sort of threw the money at his out-stretched palm. The powerlessness of the ride shook me as I walked the rest of the way to school.

Cabbies here stay alert by alternately puffing cigarettes and chewing betel nut, which is consumed in a similar fashion to tobacco chew—gnawed on for awhile, and then spit out the window, creating a blood-red splash wherever it lands, like in the photo below.


Photo by Beth Shea Palmer in Jhongli, Taiwan

In Taiwan, Areca nut is wrapped in a betel leaf, like this, packaged in baggies or boxes printed with photos of seductive women, and sold by the “Betel Nut Beauties”, otherwise known as lingerie-clad ladies who perch on bar stools facing floor-to-ceiling glass windows, shrouded in the glow of the green and pink neon LED signs advertising their wares. Below, a typical betel nut stand:


Photo by Beth Shea Palmer in Jhongli, Taiwan