I recently ran two half-marathons in Taiwan (I finished one yesterday) and I thought I would shoot off a short post about the little cultural insights that I’ve picked up from these. 

1. The first thing that is striking about these marathons is how goofy and excited everyone is. All the runners are adults but it would be easy to mistake them for twelve-year-olds* about to head off on a field-trip. There is a lot of giggling and people doing silly/stupid stuff that is well-received. Whenever there is a group photo — and there are a lot of them — everyone flashes a huge smile and typically flashes the peace sign. The best way I can differentiate this from Westerners in similar circumstances is that there is a lack of cynicism. On one hand, no one is worried about looking stupid and is quite comfortable in the group; on the other, there is no sense of irony or there is a seeming lack, or at least, suspension, of self-awareness. 

Also, they were so excited that many of them carried flags — of their respective running clubs — for the whole race (though, I think they did this in partners because I’m pretty sure that carrying an 8-foot pole, though not heavy, would lead to bad running postures and possibly cramps). And, for the first fifteen minutes of the race, most of these running clubs — the race mainly consisted of 3-5 of these running groups — chanting… loudly. One guy would say something, and then there would be a big refrain of “Ji-ao,” which means both “foot” and “go” in Chinese because there is no real division of parts of speech — i.e. a word can be both noun, verb, and adjective without changing. All of it seemed counterproductive and purposeless to me since, there were only a hundred people or so in this small town who were up at this hour, on new year’s day, to see us running, but they all seemed to enjoy it. 

I was talking to my friend and co-worker and he pointed out that this behavior, which he has noticed at these running events as well, is quite a contrast from how many adults act towards their children. They are quite stern towards their children in many situations and I think he was insinuating this is a little hypocritical. 

2. The other glaring thing was how many cameras and photo-taking there are at these events. I know in the States there is a stereotype about Asians as always having a camera slung around their neck, and I have an even better understanding of where that stereotype came from. Before the race, during the race and after the race, there were a ton of photos being taken. It was befuddling because I just couldn’t conceive of a reason or a need to have so many photos, or when they are going to be looked at. 

I think the reasons for this are tied in with what I wrote about above. Another reason is a predominant fascination with gadgets — that great mix of technology and consumerism. But another big reason is the importance of image, or images, has/have in Asian culture. (Here’s an interesting photo essay on wedding photography China which relates a lot to what I’m talking about). I’m not saying people are obsessed with how they look — I don’t live in a big city and so fashion is not a huge thing here though many people dress well. But there is an importance placed on projecting an image of happiness — though, it may be because everyone is so happy at these races.

At the beggining of the race this weekend, I was lassoed into a few photos and I didn’t really care. During the race, people  were trying to take my picture and I got kind of annoyed. I looked like shit and I just wanted to run. I didn’t want to be a footnote in someone’s photo-journal, and I was quite cognizant of the fact that these photos were not for me but for other people. I think the people who did try to take my picture were confused by the fact that I didn’t automatically flash a peace sign and looked like I was automatically have the most incredible experience of my life and could not imagine being happier than I was at that time. 

In fact, I wasn’t having that great of a time. I was running slower than I had wanted and was disappointed with that. Also, the race was most likely improperly marked (I was averaging a half hour for 5 km, and getting faster as I went along because I started slow. At the end of fourth the half-hour, right when I was running my fastest, I saw a sign saying I had another 5 km to go out of my 23 km race, even though, 30 minutes previously, I had just seen the 15 km finished sign… there is no way that I ran 3 km in 30 minutes, especially since this was when I was running my fastest). So I got thrown off by that. At the finish line, there were a bunch of people cheering and I think this was raised a bit, when they realized I was a foreigner. I was in a decidedly not-good mood at that point, so I tried not to make eye contact with anyone so I wouldn’t be rude. This was another cultural thing, because I’m not sure there is the same sense personal competitive spirit. For the spectators, and for many people there, this was all just one big party and they wouldn’t understand why someone would not be having a good time.

When I crossed the finish line they gave me a medal and a towel, which was expected. But then they forced me onto this little podium-picture thing. I protested and said “no thank you,” but they were pretty insistent.  I could tell that there would be no way they would understand why I didn’t want to have my picture taken. It was probably one of the worst photos of me — which says a lot — out there. 

It was a bit reminiscent of my summer in India, a year and a half ago. There, if you were a somewhat approachable — meaning you were by yourself and young — white person at a touristy place, random Indians would sometimes approach you wanting to take a picture with you. Many times they wouldn’t really even introduce themselves or shake my hand: they would just pose with me, smiling. At first, I was caught off-guard and agreed to do it and then I was kind of persuaded by the absurdity of it (I really enjoy being in absurd situations). But, on the one weekend that I visited a friend from back in the States, we were in a similar situation and while I was open to the idea he bluntly — unnessecarily blunt, in my opinion — refused. He had a point about not wanting to be treated like an object, but I think I also had a point of making a small sacrifice for the sake of respecting a different culture. I don’t think I was presented with that same situation again, but I think what I would have done in that situation would have depended on my mood. It would be a matter if I cared about protecting my own identity and values (then I would have declined) or cared more about being polite towards these strangers who obviously did not have bad intentions (then I would have accepted their invitation). 

3. Usually, in these situations — now I’m talking about the marathons, again — I first gain insight into a foreign culture and then it takes me a while to process it and figure out how that applies to myself. This is one of the most interesting/fun things about living abroad. Maybe it’s not a cliche because it’s not said enough, though it has the makings/hallmarks of a cliche, but I do think it’s true that the best way to understand/learn about America — and yourself as a product of that society — is to leave it (are you listening Sarah “I applied for my first passport three years ago to visit American troops at American military bases in Germany and Kuwait” Palin?). But, running in the Taipei marathon, I came to a very fast — though quite small/insignificant — insight about myself.  The Taipei marathon (again, I only ran the half) is really big — like 20,000 runners or something — and they have a cash prize for the winners. They do this to attract international runners, which is itself an attempt to international attention, which is itself an attempt to gain validity in the eyes of the international community as an independent, autonomous nation. (I’m not saying this is their only intention, but many people point to the reason why they built Taipei 101 — for a time, the world’s tallest building — and why they have so many foreigners come over to teach English. It is a logical incentive.) Anyways, what I’m trying to say is that there were a few Kenyans… and/or Ethiopians. 

At one part of the race, they were running in the opposite direction as us, I ran past all of 10 or 12 of them, only separated by a yard or two. I was pretty wowed by the physiques and their speed, plus I thought it was kind of cool to see athletes of that stature that close up. So I was got pretty excited and kind of clapped or cheered them on, and I would have done a lot more of it but I didn’t want to stick out… All of Taiwanese runners seemed pretty unfazed and confused as to what they should do in such a situation. They did cheer and clap a little bit when there was an Asian runner who was part of the fast group, which I thought was interesting. But it made me realize an intrinsic respect that I have — or American culture, if you want to zoom out — for athletes. That’s not that insightful or impacting, but it was kind of interesting to me. 

Yes, I really did mean for this to be a short post…

*I don’t mean to insinuate anything negative and/or demeaning with this choice of words.