In 1982 my husband Jan and I were back in South Florida after spending the previous three years in the Dominican Republic, where he was head of Caribbean operations for Colonial Corporation, a garment manufacturing firm, and I was an expat wife, playing bridge, driving a Honda motorbike, learning pottery and trying to get pregnant. When I got tired of taking my temperature, we decided we weren't going to have any children (we'd been married 8 years at that point) and I threw out the thermometer and graph paper. As you might expect, several months later I felt "odd" and sure enough, I was pregnant. But morning sickness turned into all day sickness, which turned into very low blood pressure and I found myself in the local hospital in La Romana, where the only scientific words I could use to describe my condition in Spanish were "pee-pee and poo-poo". Nope. Not going to have a baby in this circumstance.
Jan was a valued employee and was transferred to head the Miami shipping operation and we bought a townhouse in Davie, a suburb of Ft. Lauderdale. So our happy little family enjoyed the South Florida sunshine for about two and half years with our little boy until one day . . .
"Mac Howard in Taipei is having heart issues and wants to come back." "Oh?" "So what do you think?" "No." The look on his face was crestfallen. "You really want to go, huh?" No answer
So, in October of 1985, all our possessions were either packed up or put in storage, the townhouse was rented and we stayed in the Taipei Sheraton until the Howards returned to the States. One evening in that room there was a strange noise as if the building itself was talking. And then things started shaking. "What's that", Jan said. "That" I replied "is an earthquake". I never got used to earthquakes. As a matter of fact, sometimes I'd have that kind of rolling floor feeling, like being on a ship and have to check the chandelier in the dining room to see if it was swinging. Sometimes it was, sometimes it wasn't.
My mother decided to pay us a visit Luckily, were were due to leave the country for Hong Kong. At that time neither myself nor Jordan were able to obtain residency visas, so we had to leave for at least 24 hours every three months. While we were gone, there was a 4.6 earthquake and we returned to an apartment where all the doors were shut, the heavy glass chandelier was smashed on the sides where it had hit the ceiling, there were cracks in the walls and scratches where hanging pictures had swung from side to side. My friend, Emmie Lui, who had a little boy Jonathan, just Jordan's age, moved out not long after. She said it was too terrifying.
So what was I to do? I was completely illiterate, so language lessons were begun. Happily, Jordan picked up the language much faster than me, and I could occasionally use him to translate.
The American military had had a large presence in Taiwan after WWII and when they left, their officers club became the Taipei-American Club and within that was organized the Taipei-American Women's Club. You had to speak English to join and their mission was to provide social welfare. At that time, the government didn't have the ability to do much for the poor, so this group of women, many of whom were locals, raised money to buy and donate ambulances. Thus, this group charged dues and put on events to attract other people of means who would buy tables, etc. and so funds were raised. After about a year, I became the membership chair. I had so many experiences: rolling bandages at a local hospital, finding my way around the city (with help) to get the membership booklet printed, making friends and getting help from other Taiwanese women.
The company paid for everything. The only expenses we had were food, and gas for the car. It was quite the privileged life.
My time as an opera "star" was for one of our fund raisers. How and why I agreed to this is beyond me as I was quite shy, but perhaps also a good sport. We did a piece from what I learned is a famous Taiwanese movie based on an opera. I played the role of an unscrupulous emperor (aren't they all?) who sees a young maiden in the countryside and decides he wants to have her. Opposed to this idea is her brother.
I remember the stage fright I felt immediately before going on, but strode confidently on stage, toes pointed out, removed the large red fan from my belt and opened it with a flourish. And the crowd went wild. Really. The laughing and clapping are still in my memory. They had to quiet down as the music was taped and just kept playing as we lip-synced our parts. After we finished there was more laughing and clapping and we stayed on stage to have our pictures taken.
What I learned somewhat later is how accomplished in their own right many of these women were. The woman who took me to the costumer for the outfit and taught me the movements and words? A famous local choreographer. The woman who organized a flag-bearing official motorcade trip to local hospitals where our ambulances were in use? The wife of the secretary to the vice-president of the country. The woman who invited me to the bandage rolling group and who whisked me and Jordan into a clinic to see a doctor when Jordan decided he should shove several salted peanuts up his nose and couldn't get the out? The wife of the owner of the clinic.
And Pony Hsu (so glad I wrote down her name) who was so sweet and adorable? Her family owned the largest canned food company in Taiwan. These were rich, powerful and accomplished women.
I had no idea, so I was simply myself.
You may or may not know that the U.S. does not have formal governmental ties with Taiwan - so no ambassador, because of China's One China policy and our desire not to instigate WWIII. But we do have the American Institute in Taiwan, which opened in 1979 and is wholly owned by the U.S. Government. When we were there, the Counsel was Mr. Dean. I was privileged to have dinner with him and his wife - although I have no memory of why, and his wife was in the audience for my performance. I have tremendous affection for this country and sincerely hope any war with China will be avoided.
