As of the second week of April, just a handful of countries have yet to report cases of the novel coronavirus. One of them is Palau, a Pacific island chain that has had diplomatic relations with Taiwan since 1999.
In early March, when a newly-arrived US citizen showed symptoms of COVID-19, doctors in Taiwan used telemedicine technology to help Palauan physicians take samples from the patient. These were flown to Taiwan for testing; the results were negative.
Palau might so far have evaded a health crisis, but its tourism-driven economy can’t avoid other consequences of the pandemic.
Photo: Katy Hui-wen Hung
“We noticed the impact of COVID-19 very early on, because lots of tourists canceled their trips to Palau. Also, a lot of expatriates left the country. It’s effected nearly every part of the economy, because so many businesses rely on tourism,” says Tina Cheng (鄭欣庭), who helps her parents run 7-EAT Restaurant (美人魚餐廳), one of the most expensive restaurants in Koror, Palau’s largest city. Cheng’s father became 7-EAT’s manager in 2010; the boss is Palauan.
“To reduce expenses, we’ve cut down our hours of operation,” says Cheng, who says that the restaurant is also adjusting its menu to make it more delivery-friendly. So far, spicy fried chicken and sweet and sour pork, both served with steamed rice, have proved to be popular take away items with locals customers.
“Right now, we don’t worry about getting the ingredients we need, but if shipping is disrupted, there will be a problem,” she adds.
Photos: Katy Hui-wen Hung
In the past, 7-EAT catered mainly to tourists from Taiwan and China, as well as other non-locals. The menu includes lots of seafood, but Taiwanese diners especially liked a crocodile dish in which the meat is cooked the same way as Dongpo pork (東坡肉), and not just for its taste. Certain parts of the crocodile’s anatomy, such as palms, are rich in collagen — a natural beauty product that enhances skin elasticity and reduces wrinkles.
Gonzo gourmands sometimes ordered a dish now steeped in notoriety: A soup made with ginger and goji berries, with protein in the form of a stewed fruit bat. Earlier this year, amid speculation that the coronavirus originated in bats, photos and video clips showing people eating bats have been circulating online. Some of these images came not from China — as many people assumed — but from Palau, where 7-EAT wasn’t the only restaurant to offer an iteration of a traditional local delicacy.
Cheng says, from now on, tourists will be too scared to order bat soup. But she points out that locals are still eating it.
“Palauans have been eating bat soup for years, and never suffering any sicknesses as a result,” Cheng says.
Nov. 11 to Nov. 17 People may call Taipei a “living hell for pedestrians,” but back in the 1960s and 1970s, citizens were even discouraged from crossing major roads on foot. And there weren’t crosswalks or pedestrian signals at busy intersections. A 1978 editorial in the China Times (中國時報) reflected the government’s car-centric attitude: “Pedestrians too often risk their lives to compete with vehicles over road use instead of using an overpass. If they get hit by a car, who can they blame?” Taipei’s car traffic was growing exponentially during the 1960s, and along with it the frequency of accidents. The policy
Hourglass-shaped sex toys casually glide along a conveyor belt through an airy new store in Tokyo, the latest attempt by Japanese manufacturer Tenga to sell adult products without the shame that is often attached. At first glance it’s not even obvious that the sleek, colorful products on display are Japan’s favorite sex toys for men, but the store has drawn a stream of couples and tourists since opening this year. “Its openness surprised me,” said customer Masafumi Kawasaki, 45, “and made me a bit embarrassed that I’d had a ‘naughty’ image” of the company. I might have thought this was some kind
What first caught my eye when I entered the 921 Earthquake Museum was a yellow band running at an angle across the floor toward a pile of exposed soil. This marks the line where, in the early morning hours of Sept. 21, 1999, a massive magnitude 7.3 earthquake raised the earth over two meters along one side of the Chelungpu Fault (車籠埔斷層). The museum’s first gallery, named after this fault, takes visitors on a journey along its length, from the spot right in front of them, where the uplift is visible in the exposed soil, all the way to the farthest
The room glows vibrant pink, the floor flooded with hundreds of tiny pink marbles. As I approach the two chairs and a plush baroque sofa of matching fuchsia, what at first appears to be a scene of domestic bliss reveals itself to be anything but as gnarled metal nails and sharp spikes protrude from the cushions. An eerie cutout of a woman recoils into the armrest. This mixed-media installation captures generations of female anguish in Yun Suknam’s native South Korea, reflecting her observations and lived experience of the subjugated and serviceable housewife. The marbles are the mother’s sweat and tears,