China Invading Taiwan? Get in Line Behind the Tourists -- Guest Post by Ed Lin

I started to get messages three days into our Taipei trip. 

They were along the lines of "Are you guys all right?" 

I read them as I woke up in the dead of night, confused by jetlag and the lack of context, until I read the American news stories. With little forewarning, China had surrounded Taiwan with ships, jet fighters and bombers, and was shooting live ammo into the waters close to the main island. Many but not all international and domestic flights were cancelled. With the Taiwanese public long weary of its neighbor's menacing moves, nearly every news cable channel was running garbage on celebrities and politicians. 

For its part, China channeled Steven Seagal and called the operation "Justice Mission 2025." It's also an odd title considering that move came so late in the year, Dec. 29th. China Daily, a state organ of the People's Republic, said the operation was "to combat 'Taiwan independence' separatist activities and external interference." 

China had been fuming since November when Japanese Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi said Chinese military force against Taiwan would threaten Japan. Takaichi's remarks seemed to imply that Japan might help defend Taiwan, a former Japanese colony, against an assault from Beijing. Also, Takaichi is a woman, which rankles the current misogynistic mentality of Chinese Communist Party. 

Then in December, Taiwan agreed to its largest-ever arms package purchase—$11 billion—from the United States. The sale "exposes Washington's reckless disregard for the one-China principle and the political foundations of China-U.S. relations," China Daily noted on Dec. 19. Ten days later, "Justice Mission 2025, " without Seagal, was a go. 

We had landed in Taiwan on Dec. 26, after a 20-hour flight with a layover in Seattle, so before the emails I wasn't aware that China's war games were playing out in real-time American media. I know from experience that skeleton crews, comprising of those who lacked the seniority to get time off, handle newsrooms in the week between Christmas and New Year's. It's typically a slow news week, so Chinese military moves may have gotten a lot more play than usual. The real insider report might be that the whole charade was really a temporary stimulus to address the near-20% unemployment rate among Chinese youth. 

After all, China's supposed safeguarding of Taiwan failed to stop the real invasion—of tourists! Yes, the mission did cause the delay and cancellation of incoming and in-country flights, but people from all over the world were already on the ground and on the move. 

My wife and I have been to Taiwan a number of times, but this trip was the first time we were taking our son. In the planning stages we stressed over what he needed to see, and what he needed to know. We decided that that would make for an unnecessarily harrowing trip. At least this time, we thought, let's just leisurely eat, shop, and hang out. Give the kid some good memories of one of his ancestral homelands. 

If we were wary about anything before the trip, it was due to a deadly incident about a week before we left. A mentally unstable man wearing body armor had entered Taipei's main subway station, threw smoke grenades, and began stabbing people. His rampage spilled out into the street, leaving three dead and 11 injured. On the run from police, he fell off the roof of adepartment store and died after falling to the sidewalk. Later, in front of news cameras, the killer's elderly parents apologized to the victims, knelt on the ground, and bowed. 

There have been similar attacks in Taiwan in the past, but still my wife and I knew the country was one of the safest to visit, and certainly more safe than our hometown of New York, America's shining jewel. 

During one stroll through Taipei, we went through the trendy Zhongshan shopping district, ground zero of where the tragedy unfolded, and observed the memorials set up, which stood in sharp contrast with a Disney-funded mini park set up to promote Zootopia 2 that included a giant Christmas tree, and other stations for photo ops with the animal characters from the film. 

The place was teeming with tourists, foreigners and Taiwanese alike. Taiwan may not be a majority Christian nation, but it is a big-time Christmas nation. You can't go a block in December without seeing pictures of Santa drinking boba tea. 

Filled with a certain nondenominational holiday spirit, we decided to make the trip to super-touristy Jioufen on what would be the day "Justice Mission 2025" launched. 

For the unfamiliar, here are a few things to know about Jioufen. It's about a 40-minute cab ride northeast from the center of Taipei. It's long been rumored to be the inspiration for the setting of the beloved anime Spirited Away. The film's creator Hayao Miyazaki has denied this, but the resemblance is undeniable. Jioufen is an old gold-mining town on a cliffside with a main walk of several hundred stone steps that rise at a more than 45- degree angle through the center of the quaint town. Every other building is ateahouse. At night, when red lanterns spookily light the walk, Jioufen is probably one of the most Instagrammable places in East Asia. 

Unfortunately, Jioufen's main steps can become dangerously overcrowded late in the day. 

I've transferred trains at Times Square during rush hour. I've seen Springsteen at the Garden. I've seen playoff games between the Devils and the Rangers, ones where cadres of women charge into the men's restrooms en masse because the wait at the women's restrooms had become intolerable. Yet I've never been in a group of people as packed in as when we were trying to go down the stairs at Jioufen. Half the crowd was new arrivals trying go up, and the other half were trying to catch a ride back to Taipei. People in all languages cried out in resignation. We moved down maybe three steps a minute. 

Also, for the first time in Taiwan, I was aware someone was trying to pickpocket me. I felt a hand against my backside. Not the affectionate spousal touch, but a nuanced frisking of my back pockets. I managed to turn my head and caught sight of someone with a baseball cap pulled low slipping away through the crowd, contorting like an octopus. 

A few hours later, safe at our hotel, I read the "Are you guys all right?" emails. As I processed what our friends were talking about, I became as blasé as the rest of Taiwan. 

My thinking is this. Since the major hostilities of the Chinese civil war ended in 1949 with the Nationalists decamping to Taiwan, the two sides of the strait have been in a cat-and-mouse game that has occasional flare-ups and casualties. So China sends ships and planes over the median line of the Taiwan Strait. That's all drums and gongs, anyway.

I would really be worried if the People's Republic went silent on condemning "Taiwan authorities" seeking independence, and withheld military exercises, because that perceived lull might mean China's gearing up for the real thing.

***

Ed Lin is a journalist by training and an all-around stand-up kinda guy. He’s the author of several books: Waylaid, his literary debut, and his Robert Chow crime series, set in 1970s Manhattan Chinatown: This Is a Bust, Snakes Can’t Run, and One Red Bastard. Lin, who is of Taiwanese and Chinese descent, is the first author to win three Asian American Literary Awards. Lin lives in New York with his wife, actress Cindy Cheun.

Ed Lin’s big-hearted, eye-opening fifth installment in the fan-favorite Taipei Night Market series, The Dead Can't Make a Living, will be out this month. Jing-nan, the owner of the most popular food stand in Taipei’s world-famous Shilin night market, is hauling trash after a successful evening of hawking Taiwanese delicacies to tourists when he finds a corpse propped up against the dumpsters. The dead man turns out to be Juan Ramos, a Philippine national who came to Taiwan for a job at a massive ZHD food processing plant.

Ed Lin Literary Salon: October 16, Berkeley

Join Mystery Readers NorCal for an evening with author Ed Lin, Sunday night, October 16, 7 p.m. Please post a comment with your email address to RSVP and for directions.

Ed Lin is a journalist by training and an all-around stand-up kinda guy. He’s the author of several books: Waylaid, his literary debut, and his Robert Chow crime series, set in 1970s Manhattan Chinatown: This Is a Bust, Snakes Can’t Run, and One Red Bastard. Lin, who is of Taiwanese and Chinese descent, is the first author to win three Asian American Literary Awards. Lin lives in New York with his wife, actress Cindy Cheung. Incensed is the second in his Tapei Night Market series.

 Incensed:

“Readers will be as caught up in Lin’s rich descriptions of Taiwan’s sights, sounds, and mouthwatering foods as they are in his intriguing characters. ” —Publishers Weekly on Incensed 

“The second entry in Lin’s “Taipei Night Market” series is an exciting mystery with an intriguing hero and cast of characters who will appeal to readers who like international settings in their crime fiction. Mystery fans enchanted by the Asian night markets visited on numerous Travel Channel shows will enjoy a peek behind the curtain, as Taiwan’s history and culture are lightly explored in this story that moves fluidly along to its conclusion.” —Library Journal on Incensed 

 “Ed Lin’s Incensed is a stylish, smart thriller for the mind, heart, and gut. Sex, music, history, politics, food, humor, and just a touch of violence and death—you get it all. And when you're done, you’ll beg for more.” 
—Viet Thanh Nguyen, author of The Sympathizer, winner of the Pulitzer Prize and Edgar Award 

 “Ed Lin's Incensed is his best book ever — and this is the guy who wrote Ghost Month. Its world is so vivid and alive that when you're finished you'll remember it as though you spent a month there. ” —Timothy Hallinan 

Understanding Over-Rice Dishes: Guest post by Ed Lin

Ed Lin is a journalist by training and an all-around stand-up kinda guy. He’s the author of several books: Ghost Month; Waylaid, his literary debut; and his Robert Chow crime series, set in 1970s Manhattan Chinatown: This Is a Bust, Snakes Can’t Run, and One Red Bastard. Lin, who is of Taiwanese and Chinese descent, is the first author to win three Asian American Literary Awards. Lin lives in New York with his wife, actress Cindy Cheung, and their son.

“Come for the exotic food and fascinating setting; stay for the characters.”
—The Boston Globe

Ed Lin:
Understanding Over-Rice Dishes

If you’re dining solo and looking for cheap eats in Chinatown, it’s a buyer’s market.

The sub-$6 meal in Manhattan’s enclave is ubiquitous, though one should be picky even at that price point.

Roast Pork, the Chinatown Happy Meal, $5.50

The bottom of the rung is the carton of streetcart noodles at $2 a pop. They are never really that good (noodles strewn across a hot grill tend to harden into plastic-sheathed wire) and are meant to satisfy a craving rather than hunger.

Instead, one should pay up the $5.95 or so for an over-rice dish, which many restaurants list on a separate section on the menu. For one thing, it allows one to have a meal while seated and for another thing, an over-rice dish is a solid meal.

The bonus is that there’s an endless variety, sometimes even more so than the offered entrees, and they accommodate all diets and allergies. Gluten-free, vegetarian, vegan, seafood only, no seafood, no problem. Every taste is accounted for except for those of people who don’t like white or brown rice. And if you don’t like rice, then get the hell out of Chinatown—now.

Also, never confuse over-rice dishes with fried rice. Fried rice is essentially leftovers thrown together in a wok and has its own charms, especially to those nursing hangovers. Over-rice dishes are single-portion meals.

I’ll tell you two of my favorites.

In the early 90s, my favorite bachelor meal was lemongrass chicken over broken rice at a Vietnamese restaurant that was run by ethnic Chinese. That sauce alone had a distinctive flavorpoint and yet hit several notes simultaneously like a two-handed piano chord: lemon, lime, mint, salt, chili, and scallion so fresh it nipped my tongue like a raw onion. The broken rice was a perfect vehicle to deliver the sauce since a rice grain broken in half has more surface area (and a larger interface through which to soak up sauce) than a single whole grain.

The chicken itself? I like to think of chicken as a good rhythm guitarist. Show up, play on the beat, have a meaty texture, never be cut and dried, and let the sauce/seasoning play lead.

I think fish sauce was in there, as well, and even though I’m allergic to all seafood (I break out), I still scraped it all up with the flat side of my fork.

Wait, you say, a fork? Yes, a fork! Chopsticks are for eating out of a bowl. Over-rice dishes are served on plates, so don’t reach for the chopsticks—grab a fork.

My other favorite over-rice dish is that Cantonese soul food, roast pork. Your typical Cantonese place has a number of meats hanging in the window. Make sure you get roast “pork” and not roast “pig.” The former is roasted with barbeque sauce and the latter is an entire pig roasted plain until the skin is crisp, similar to lechón. For the purposes of an over-rice dish (simple, tasty and filling), you will want the barbequed pork. The roast pig is best as an entree as it needs to have its profile filled out with added sauces and stewed vegetables. You start futzing with what needs to be added, it reminds me of the mid-80s, when people began walking around with portable equalizers to supposedly get better sound from their Walkmen. You want the best sound possible from your music? Stay at home and fire up your stereo system. You want to eat your roast pig properly? Bring out your friends and have a full meal with it.

I digress.

Roast pork, also known as char siu, with its sweet and tangy glaze, only needs the plainest of rice to complement it. The pleasant patches of fat in the meat nearly serve as the vegetable component to the dish by providing a contrast in texture.

In the late 90s, when I was working at a wire service on the 5pm-to-midnight shift, I would pick up a carton of roast pork over rice for $1.85 and head to the much-missed Music Palace movie theater for a double feature before work. They didn’t care if you brought in outside food, even though they certainly were no slouches with their own offerings, which included several different herbal iced teas, almond cookies and packages of dried squid.

I would chow away while watching Stephen Chow with the other working stiffs in the theater, which really brought home the original support base of over-rice dishes. They are inseparably a food of the working class, the people who didn’t have the time or money for otherwise eating out and worked odd-enough hours so they’d likely be eating alone.

While rice itself is a staple of the Chinese diet, one must also consider that when Chinese people try to go upscale, they eliminate it. The hoity-toitiest meals at weddings and other festivities are all meat and seafood dishes to show how prosperous the hosts are. Whenever I find myself at such functions, I always miss the rice. And my fork.