Looking at Taiwan with humor
Like many Germans, when Wille is not smiling the hard lines on his face make him look quite stern. But as he speaks, in his foreign-accented Chinese sprinkled with German and English, witticisms pour forth. It matches the humorous writing style of his book—the phrase “the style mirrors the writer” is right on the nose.
The large cultural gap has given rise to many comical experiences for Wille. In particular, the Chinese language, which is quite difficult for foreigners, often causes misunderstandings. Lina Yeh recalls: “Once we were talking with a friend who said that after marriage there are many areas that require compromise [tuoxie in Chinese]. Wille asked, ‘Why do you have to take your shoes off [also pronounced tuoxie] after getting married?’”
Because Wille meets the collisions between heterogeneous cultures with humor, one surprising event after another has played out in his life.
The couple both love antiques. Inside their home, there are so many old objects integrated into the living space that you can’t take them all in at first look. They have everything from an old temple door painted with door gods, beautifully crafted dougong (interlocking wooden brackets that link columns and crossbeams in traditional Chinese architecture), and miniature curio cabinets, to a large number of deity statues, puppets, and sculptures of animals. It has more of an atmosphere of antiquity than a typical traditional Taiwanese home.
However, the most numerous and eye-catching objects in his collection—the ones that make you laugh out loud—are his more than 30 urinal bottles, mostly antique ceramic ones.
As Wille gathers together the bottles, which are normally scattered about his home as decorative objects, to show them to us, he says: “The pattern on this one is very special.” He points to one with a delicate blue-green design on it and tells us it was the starting point for his unusual collection.
Yeh recalls the serendipitous origins of this collection: “This was not started on purpose. Once we were in Tainan and we met an antiques shop owner who kept pestering Rolf-Peter to buy something until he couldn’t stand it anymore. He pointed to some celadon porcelain, and asked whether the antiques dealer had a urinal bottle with the same design on it. Surprisingly enough he did, so we were left with little choice but to buy it!” Once word got out, some people donated bottles off their own bat, while others came forward to peddle some. Over decades his collection has grown, unplanned, to its now considerable size.
For the past 40 years, the joys and sorrows of life in a new land have percolated into Wille. But when asked if he has any regrets, he replies, deadpan as ever: “When I first got here, I didn’t think I would stay. Whenever anything ridiculous or funny happened, I would say to myself, ‘Wait until you get back to Germany, you can tell these stories to your friends.’” But now that his status in Taiwan has changed, he dramatically expresses regret: “Now I’ll never be able to do that!”
For now, both Taiwan and Germany are “home.”
Wille and Yeh perform a melodrama together, not only playing their instruments but also speaking the dialogue. The music is like a movie soundtrack, in a performance full of suspense.