CHAPTER 13 Taiwan
"Why, hallo there:" It was clearly the surprised but delighted cry of an old friend from England, amazed to see me in Taiwan. I paused and turned. A Chinese shopkeeper was closing up on me rapidly.
"Now don't go away," he begged, "I want the pleasure of showing you round my shop."
How he had assessed me as British I am not certain - possibly because I needed a haircut. If I had had a crew-cut no doubt he would have hailed: "Why, hi there.' Shopkeepers of the Orient have many talents, though some still drive away potential business by pestering anyone who even glances at their window or slows his pace.
At the Great Eastern Hotel in Calcutta, for instance, the hotel shops, or "tourist traps" as they are generally called, are on each side of a narrow corridor leading to the breakfast room. The proprietor lurks within until - perhaps alerted by vibrations - he scurries out like a Trap-door spider from its hole, and tries to drag the victim in. Further along, another shopkeeper stands obliquely, partially blocking the corridor, and attempts to divert the flow of tourists into his shop, as water into an irrigation channel. Yet another waves his arms, talks volubly, and tries to bustle the tourists in, as though corralling cattle.
Taiwan drives on the right of the road, nominally. There is the usual frantic driving and the normal pointless blaring of the horn. Few taxi drivers speak English. After a visit to the town centre I took a taxi and asked for the President Hotel. "Pre-si-dent?" queried the driver.
"President," I confirmed. He wrote something in Chinese and passed it to me. I passed it back.
"President," I said, again. "Like Chiang Kai Shek," I added.
He thought for a moment and said, "King?"
This seemed a reasonable translation from someone knowing no English, of the functions of a President, so I agreed and he set off madly, pulling up ten minutes later outside the Ambassador Hotel.
Taipei engages in a flourishing business of pirate-publishing a wide range of literature and technical books. I had been told about this in Manila and thought it deserved investigation. True enough; I was appalled to be able to buy a volume of short stories by Maupassant, Dreiser's "Sister Carrie", Mann's "The Magic Mountain" and "The Making of a Quagmire" - a recent book on Vietnam by Halberstam - each at about half the published price. The first two were "Modern Library" editions, but in the copying process the name of the publisher and series had been omitted. All four books are now located in my bookcase as clear proof that this nefarious trade does in fact take place.
The whole of "Encyclopaedia Britannica", Toynbee's "A Study of History", the "Shorter Oxford" and "Chambers"' Dictionaries, many technical works, standard classics and the latest fiction were there, again at about half price. In every instance I checked, the paper seemed heavier and glossier, and the binding more substantial though less attractively finished than the originals.
Taiwan was formerly known as Formosa - the Beautiful Isle, but it earns this title rather from the exotic mountain scenery, than by its capital, Taipei, which is not remarkable for beauty. During my short stay I scarcely saw the sun; low cloud and rain persisted depressingly. The dreary weather meant at least that I was content to spend a weekend working. There are two extremes to be avoided as I had already discovered.
To compile sections of a general report on a country before completing the visit, usually involves rewriting them, since on the last day or in the last hour, some new information or fresh development alters the way the report is "slanted" and its conclusions. On the other hand, to delay writing reports on a tour of this sort may mean that impressions of one country are overlaid by those of two or more countries subsequently visited, and a conversation with a Commercial Officer which actually took place in Calcutta is, through a mental lapse, allowed to colour a report on conditions in Burma.
My final meal before leaving for Hong Kong was a pleasant and well-organised lunch with one of the Taipei Rotary Clubs. For the closing ceremony of singing the Chinese National Anthem, I was provided with a card giving the Chinese words in English characters together with an English translation. The tune gave me no trouble; I know now that my voice is better suited to the East since the wailing cadences and general effect (to Western ears) of off-key flatness come naturally to me.