Security Guards in Taipei: What's the Use?

Teenagers take over the playground inside the courtyard of my apartment complex

When looking for an apartment in or around Taipei, I always check to see how close it is to a main street. My first apartment was over a big street in Yunghe, and it was never quiet - never. At three in the morning, big trucks rumbled by my window. The honking was simply 24/7. The one other issue that I care passionately about is whether or not the place has security. If I see a security guard lurking around the door when I'm apartment hunting, I don't even bother to go inside and have a look. Along with vicinity to busy streets, I learned that security guards make life miserable for building residents during my Yunghe experience. They snoop into your life, impose inane rules on residents, nag about silly stuff and do nothing to deal with outsiders that might cause the residents real grief. It's not like these security guards are trained in security either. They're not ex-cops or martial arts experts. They're usually tea-sipping old men, the kind that would be the first to hightail it out of there if any real trouble arose. Then there's this: you've got to pay them. Take my new apartment in Monga (艋舺) - yes, I have one with security guards again (was outvoted by the wife and in-laws). I pay NT$1700 (US$60) a month for nothing. They don't even deal with our garbage or come when the security alarm goes off in my apartment.

My biggest issue with the security guards right now is they're afraid of teenagers. Teenagers simply love the grounds around my complex, especially the playground, when it starts to get dark. We do have beautiful new ballpark lights. Unfortunately, the security is too cheap to turn them on. So, the place is dark, yet comfortable, with benches, trees, grass, etc. With the teenagers out in the playground in the evening, many parents are afraid to take their kids to play. This is quite clear to me. We have two playgrounds. The one with the slide, which has more natural light, is less popular with the teenagers. They gravitate to the darker one with the monkey bars. You can see families playing in one, but afraid to enter the other. The teenagers that like my complex also swear, smoke, drink and act, in general, like assholes. That people are intimidated by them obviously gives them a rush. They can't even bother to keep their trash off the ground. They just chuck butts and cans into the playground.

Last night, four male teenagers were getting particularly rambunctious. There was only one girl, so I guess they were all trying to outdo each other. When I asked them which one lived in the complex, they answered "No, we don't live here".

"Then what are you doing here?" I asked.

"What?"

The security guy was up out of his booth to enjoy the scene, so I asked him why he didn't take care of the problem. "They don't even live in the complex," I told him.

"I can't do anything about them. I can just ask them to be quiet and not to litter, appeal to their sense of morality. Sometimes, I pick up their cans and butts and show them how to throw them away." This is something I am quite curious about. Actually, I'm curious about lots of stuff: Why can't he kick them out? Is he just afraid of them or does Taiwan not have laws for trespassing? Or, are the courtyard areas inside apartment complexes considered public space? Does Taiwan have laws about loitering? I can't find the word in my dictionary, so I am guessing not.

Last night was the second time I had to kick teenagers off the playground because the security guards in my building would not. Can you imagine being that scared of a bunch of scrawny 14 and 15-year-olds? My grandpa used to say: "When I can't drive anymore, just shoot me."

I'll just say this: "When a bunch of 14-year-olds have me trembling in the knees, just shoot me." I'm going to the police station tonight to see if the cops will talk to the security guards in my building about getting the lights turned on and about doing their job.

Strawberry Generation X in My Backyard

There are four parks within minutes from my home in Wenshan, Taiwan. They all have monkey bars, slides, rocking turtles and teenagers. For some reason, the teenagers in my neighborhood congregate in playgrounds. This is a concern for parents with infants as the older kids weave their bikes through wobbling toddlers, practice throwing fastballs with rocks at anything colorful that can serve as a target, slam dunk basketballs between the monkey bar grates and persist in all other kinds of stupid and dangerous stunts. They also litter cigarette butts and empty drink boxes on the ground where the smaller kids are playing. I really don't get why the playgrounds are so popular with teenagers, but every single one in my neighborhood comes with them.

I took the above shot a couple of Sundays ago. Notice how teenagers have taken over the jungle gym - the kids in the picture are 14 and 15 years old . I was telling myself I'd do something about it if my daughter tried to climb the stairs. Then another two-year-old beat her to it. He didn't get far as the kid with his ass hanging out dropped a couple of rungs, oblivious to the little boy he was impeding and about to land on, and continued with his attempts to impress the young ladies inside. When I went over and asked them if they were little kids, or if they weighed 30 kilograms or less like the sign said they needed to be, he became even more sarcastic than I was being and a bit hostile. "This is not a joke," I warned him. "Get lost." After the teenagers had returned the playground to the toddlers, a mom came over and thanked me. There was a nice wimpy-looking man nearby and his face was beet red. He was the little boy's father.

I go to this park almost every evening after I pick my daughter up from the babysitter's. The teenagers are always there. It has more or less the same crew; sometimes it swells to ten or even 15, and then there are some new faces. On occasion, the teenagers borrow my cell phone to call up more buddies to come over. I'm starting to get to know a few, like Andy, who's 14, and his chain-smoking girlfriend Amy. I once asked Andy if he had to study or something. He said he did from time to time. "Come on," I prodded, "you're not that diligent" and he agreed.

Actually, I'm finding when I talk to Andy and a few of his pals that I like them. I hear a lot of talk about how this generation, labeled the Strawberry Generation (actually they're post Strawberries as they were born from 1993-96 - Strawberries are the 1980s), is pretty useless. According to people my age (I'm 38), they're selfish, lazy, wasteful, unfilial and what have you. Taiwan's birthrate, which is less than one now combined with a high divorce rate, 35% and increasing last I heard, are the main culprits for spawning these non-Confucian mutants. Parents do one of the three: spoil them as they're only children, neglect them as they have to work 24/7 to keep up with the country's high cost of living or simply ignore them as they're divorced and back in the dating game. The tag Strawberry speaks to the character of this generation. It's easy to bruise.

The reason I think I might kind of like post Strawberries is they seem less inhibited, freer and a lot more fun. They can be pretty friendly, in a real way. I see this in Andy, the before-mentioned ringleader of the park invaders. He often comes over to talk to me, between smokes, and not just to bum my cell phone. He plays with my daughter and even scolds me for not teaching her better English.

When I mix new Taiwanese like my daughter (20% of Taiwanese babies have at least one "foreign" parent) in with the Strawberries and post-Strawberries, I can see that Taiwan is soon going to be a radically different place. That's more than OK by me. In a way, the presence of such a generation is "sweet" and satisfying, so long as it's not in my local playground.