Episode This: The Taiwanese Scrub

One of my favorite pastimes here in Taiwan is frequenting the tea stands that line the sides of every major and most minor boulevards here on the beautiful island. Along with betel nut stands and fried rice joints, the tea stand is a prominent fixture in the unique Taiwanese business landscape, in their cold drinks and 冰沙 bing sha's (literally “ice sand”—they’re essentially slushies) offering a refuge from the nearly relentless tropical heat. These tea stands have an astonishing array of refreshing beverages, ranging from the ordinary green or milk tea to the more bizarre combinations of flavors, most notably those with beans, sour plums, and pudding chunks in them. Drinks are made to order: all the sugar, half the sugar, no sugar; ice, no ice; zhen zhu 珍珠 (big, navy blue colored tapioca balls—I call them “goo balls”), or not; etc. After a brief period of wild experimentation, one usually settles on a couple of stand by drinks and leaves the rest of the menu to the inexplicable Taiwanese tastes that created it. I myself am partial to fresh fruit tea (provided they don’t put tomatoes in it—tomatoes really are a fruit here) and, just lately, I’ve discovered kumquat lemonade for those times when a 700cc shot of a highly caffeinated beverage is just not necessary.

Today, after a typical day of typical school lunch (as far as what I think of school lunch, I think Crocodile Dundee says it best: “Oh, you can eat it, but it tastes like s---), I had a hankering for something a bit more pleasing to the palate and decided to head out to my favorite little tea stand, accompanied by the illustrious Miss Anna Meyer (hereafter referred to as “AB” to avoid any confusion). A small, family-run operation, the 学园 xue yuan (“school yard”) tea stand is celebrating its tenth anniversary of being in business this year. Their motto, “用心泡好茶” (which roughly translated means “Use your heart to make good tea”), speaks well of the service and quality there. In contrast to the average tea stand, they use real fruit and fruit juice in their drinks instead of just syrup, with the added bonus of mixing the tea in actual drink mixers. How can you go wrong?

Did I mention that none of these delicious drinks are over one U.S. dollar? Fabulous. Absolutely fabulous.

Happily anticipating the moments when our thirst would be quenched in such an agreeable manner, AB and I set out from the tea stand, holding icy drinks that sweated profusely in the steamy tropical atmosphere. It was there, on the way back to school from the tea stand, that we encountered the Taiwanese scrub.

“What, exactly, is a Taiwanese scrub?” you might ask. To answer to your question, you’ll first have to look back in your pop culture consciousness about five years or so to a song entitled “Scrubs,” the chorus of which goes something like this:

No, I don’t want no scrub
Scrub is a guy who can’t get no love from me
Hangin’ out the passenger side
Of his best friend’s ride
Tryin’ to holler at me (repeat)

In principle, a Taiwanese scrub is not so different from an American scrub, mainly insofar as I don’t want one and he “can’t get no love from me.” There are, however, a few key differences. First of all, the Taiwanese scrub can’t hang out the passenger side of his best friend’s ride, because his best friend’s ride is, in fact, a scooter. While it’s true that you can be hanging off a scooter (and the Taiwanese scrub often is since said best friend rarely has enough money to buy a scooter that will comfortably seat two people), I know for a fact that you sure as heck can’t hang out of one. Second of all, while riding a scooter, the Taiwanese scrub is never wearing a helmet, which is against the law and manages to make them look even more ghetto then they already do. Third, in contrast to the American scrub who merely TRIES to holler at me, the Taiwanese scrub actually succeeds in hollering at the object of his affection. After an enthusiastic “Hello!” which is the one English word he knows, he will continue to use Chinese to praise the beauty of the unfortunate target(s) of his attention. After passing by, the best friend will at first drive slowly away (weaving and swaying the whole time since its hard to keep turning your head around to look back and keep your balance when driving), and then gradually speed off toward whatever vocation occupies the Taiwanese scrub the rest of the day. The scrub, meanwhile, is still hanging off the back, gaping and smiling senselessly.

Oh baby, oh baby.

All in all, it’s an annoying experience, but when you look as good as AB and I do, you’re bound to get some of that. And, in honor of their leering cluelessness, AB and I (but mostly AB) have composed a short ditty of our own for the Taiwanese scrub:

No, I don’t want no scrub
Scrub is a guy who can’t speak English to me
Ridin’ with his helmet off
Breakin’ the law
Hollerin’ “漂亮 piao liang! [‘Beautiful!’]” at me (repeat)

My advice to the Taiwanese scrub: stick to the tried and true method of honking the horn (or getting your friend to) when you see a beautiful woman walk down the street. At least that way there is a small chance she will attribute your vulgar display to a traffic emergency or a vehicle malfunction rather than your own ignorance.

Until next time,
Peace and Joy