The History of China - #260 - Qing 5: Taiwan Incognita, Pt. 1

Episode Date: November 15, 2023

Pirates! Headhunters! Samurai! The Dutch! Every day's high-stakes adventure on the island everyone's totally ignored until the 1600s! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

You're listening to an Airwave Media Podcast. Four hundred years ago, a trio of tiny kingdoms were perched on some damp islands off the coast of Europe. Within three short centuries, these islands would become the centre of an empire which ruled a quarter of the globe and on which the sun never set. I'm Samuel Hume, a historian of the British Empire, and my podcast Pax Britannica follows the people and events that built that empire into a global superpower. Learn the History of China. Episode 260, Taiwan Incognita. Elie Rippon, a Swiss army captain with the Dutch East India Fleet, made his living, and eventually his fame, in the South and East China Seas, as only a classic swashbuckler really could.

Hailing from the poor, French-speaking Swiss canton of Gruyere, yes, of cheesy fame, he, like so many brash young men of the 17th century, longed for more than what his impoverished, landlocked homeland could really offer him. As such, as of 1617, he decided to answer the call of the sea, and signed on with a merchant vessel. After an ill-suited attempt at whaling off of Greenland, what followed was several years of high adventure around the Cape of Good Hope, and then to Batavia, which is modern Jakarta, Indonesia, where he was immediately embroiled in an ongoing siege by a combined British and Javanese force against the Dutch fort that had been set up there. Thanks to the timely arrival of the Dutch allies, or probably more accurately, the Javanese enemies, the Malukas, both Rippon and the Dutch Batavian fortress would survive the assault. As a result of his valorous conduct, he'd be swiftly promoted up the ranks of the East India Company,

and then sent to the islands east of Bali, and then, by 1622, northwest to the great island off the coast of Fujian province, Ming China, Formosa. Or, as you may be more familiar with it today, Taiwan. Yes, it is the island of Taiwan that will be the focus of today's episode, and at least the next episode to come, depending on how it all breaks down. We're going to be looking into the early history of it and its eventual 17th century colonization by not just China, but even before that, the Dutch and the Portuguese. And before that even, the Japanese, Chinese pirates, and the Austronesian indigenous population that existed since time immemorial. But first, a bit more about Captain Rippon and his writings and observations on his time in the Far East before we move on with this tale. The diary of his adventures and discoveries, which was in French since that was his primary language, would sit forgotten and collecting dust in the in French, since that was his primary language,

would sit forgotten and collecting dust in the attic of what had likely been his home in the small town of Boulay-Guyere for more than two centuries until it was rediscovered in 1865 as a manuscript. Though preserved, it would actually take another 120 years until it was published in French and was only published in Dutch in 2016. It's truly incredible how sometimes entire stories and lives can fall out of time and knowledge only to very, very occasionally pop back into existence seemingly out of thin air. Regardless, back to the tale itself. As of 1622, Rippon was sent under the command of a Commander Cornelius Ryerson to the coastal Chinese city of Macau in order to establish a Dutch presence there. Suffice it to say, this little adventure did not go well. Despite what Rippon referred to as a

lively battle, his forces proved no match for the 2,000 entrenched Portuguese, 20,000 Chinese, and 5,000 African slaves that held the Portuguese presence within the port city. Ultimately, the Dutch expedition was forced to retreat and move on with their backup plan. That was to make their way up the coast of Ming China for the Penghu, or Pescadores, archipelago, a string of minor islets in the Taiwan Strait, in order to construct a fortress there. They would arrive on July 5th, 1622, which would be the first time that Captain Rippon would set sight on Taiwan itself. Rippon describes the site of the Great Island as that of three mountains, one atop the other, the highest

covered in snow three months out of the year. In that, he was pretty much spot on. The island of Taiwan is more than 70% mountainous, sporting some 200 peaks higher than 3,000 meters above sea level. These tremendous ranges shoot nearly vertically out of the eastern oceanic coast as magnificent blue-green cliff faces, interrupted only sporadically by narrow river valleys sporting rocky riverbeds and fast-moving currents and waterfalls. We know today that this dramatic topography comes from the tectonic activity from deep below the Earth's surface. As the Filipino plate has pushed up against the Asian plate for these past several tens of millions of years at the least, it has resulted in this upwelling of land.

Given such a rapid descent, the eastern side of the island can be treacherous indeed. After heavy rainfall, these usually small rivers can rapidly swell and flood to the point where they've been known to carry entire boulders down their courses. And given the region's monsoon climate, heavy rainfall is a virtual given for nearly half of the year. The western coast of the island is significantly flatter and more amenable to human habitation, and indeed where most human settlements exist even today. Sloping gently down toward the water from the mountainous drama of the east coast, the western half of the island broadens out into flat plains

and eventually the coast. In fact, as of the 17th century, the period of our good Captain Rippon, as it were, it was famously perilous for the deep-drafted European ships of the era to transit the Taiwan Strait because of the shallowness of its waters and the sand barges that could easily run a vessel aground, but regularly shifted and were as such unmappable. Prior to the lifting of the last great ice age, some 10 to 15,000 years ago, it's theorized that there was in fact a land bridge between Taiwan and mainland Fujian from which several proto-Sinitic culture groups came and made their homes, at least for a time, throughout the region. Nevertheless, the area has first and foremost been populated by Austro-Negian Pacific cultures,

quite apart from the mainland Hua Sha Kam Han culture groups, and much more akin, both culturally and genetically, with the indigenous peoples of the Ryukyu Archipelago, the Philippines, Indonesia, and even Madagascar, just to name a few. Warping way ahead in time, as of the year 1600, Taiwan remained, at least insofar as any world power, China included, was concerned, terra incognita. For centuries, at the least, Chinese sailors and fishermen from Fujian and Zhejiang, though undoubtedly at least aware of the great island just barely out of view from the Fujianese coast, made no move to try to claim it, or even explore it.

Indeed, the Chinese had taken the time to colonize and govern the Pescadores as far as Kinmen Island, just 10 kilometers from Taiwan's coast. Yet, aside from the possible occasional pirate lord or desperate bandit on the run that we simply do not have records of, even the idea of settlement or even further inland exploration never really seems to have seriously taken up anyone's interest from China. No less than the Grand Admiral of the Ming himself, Zheng He, made no fewer than seven round-trip voyages right by Taiwan, and never so much as bothered to write it down in his logs. If the fabled voyage of Xu Fu to find the immortals for Qin Zhehuang nearly 2,000 years earlier actually did take

place, then he certainly did not bother reporting back any mention of having landed on the island either. I mean, not that he or any of his compatriots bothered reporting back ever at all. Perhaps the curious case of the near-total Chinese disinterest in Taiwan for thousands of years can be chalked up to its native inhabitants. The first significant description of them, whatsoever, comes from a Ming scholar-official in 1603 named Chen Di, as he accompanied an imperial anti-piracy expedition. He would summarize his observations in the Dongfanji, or Account of the Eastern Barbarians. It's worth noting that he spent almost the totality of his trip in the Bay of Dayo-an, near modern Tainan City, and so his accounts are of the peoples of the southernmost reaches of the island.

He wrote of their stunningly warlike nature, quote, By nature they are brave, and like to fight. They kill and wound each other with the utmost of their strength, end quote. He also noted, with evident transfixed dread, what they did with their slain foes, quote, a warrior who made a kill took his victim's head, stripped it of its flesh, and hung it at his door. Those who have many skeletons hanging at their doors are called braves, end quote. This practice of headhunting is confirmed by a later account by the Catholic missionary Georgius Candidus, who lived on Taiwan beginning in 1627, who himself wrote, When they succeed in bringing home a head from their enemies, the whole town holds a

great celebration with cheering and jubilation. First, they take the head, parading it through the whole town. They sing songs to glorify their idols, through whose help they believe that they are able they take the head, parading it through the whole town. They sing songs to glorify their idols, through whose help they believe that they are able to attain the head. Wherever they go in the town, they are greeted as heroes and made welcome, being offered the best and strongest drink available. Then, they take the head to the church of the one who obtained it, where it is cooked in a pot until the flesh falls away. Then, they leave it to dry,

dousing it with their best and strongest drink. They slaughter a pig to honor their idols, and in this way hold great celebrations. These victory celebrations sometimes continue for fourteen days on end." Our good Captain Rippon also had his fair share of close encounters with the locals of this island. From Tonio Andrade, quote, Captain Rippon watched the warriors advance through the woods. For six days, he and his men had been cutting timber for a fort. Each day, people from a neighboring village had come to laugh at them, asking, What do you need so much wood for?

This time, they were not laughing. Rippon had fought his way around the world, but did not like the odds. Only six of his eighty men had muskets. The rest had axes, little use against three hundred bow and spearmen. Fortunately, the sloop had returned during the night for another load of lumber. If Rippon could lead his men to the seashore, they might be able to climb aboard and escape, for the natives were afraid of the ocean. The warriors began shooting arrows and throwing spears. Rippon's musketeers shot back while Rippon led his men to the beach. When his men began wading through the surf, the enemy advanced in fury,

even though the sloop's musketmen shot them down three or four at a time. One warrior struck Nippon in the kidney and was about to deliver the death blow when he was shot by a musketeer on the sloop. Rippon was not the only casualty. Seven of his men were wounded. Of these, four managed to scramble aboard the boat, but the other three fell and were dragged away. Then, even as Dutch muskets kept up a steady barrage, the islanders began cutting the corpses into pieces. End quote. This state of seemingly constant low-level warfare amongst the aboriginals was extensively noted by both Chinese and European wayfarers to Austronesia and Formosa. Candidas wrote, quote, They do not live in peace with each other, but rather wage war continually, and European wayfarers to Austronesia and Formosa. Candidas wrote,

They do not live in peace with each other, but rather wage war continually, one village against the other. End quote. Rippon himself would mark, These people make war village against village. End quote. It seemed to have been just such an intercommunal rivalry that may have explained the sudden shift to murderous hostility that drove Rippon and his men from the island in 1623.

The Dutch expedition, as it were, had secured permission from a people known as the Sirian, and yet it was another tribe, the Matau, who attacked them. Andrade explains, quote, In the warlike world of the indigenous Taiwanese, constituted yet another powerful village that could either be allies or foes, but had to be factored into any decision a community made. And if they were in alliance, or at least seemed to be, with an enemy people, that meant that they had to be dispatched or destroyed before they could solidify their position in the region. Thus, what was for the Dutch merchantmen a simple exercise in chopping

wood may have been for the Matau people a sheer matter of life and death. The total indigenous population of Taiwan in the early 17th century can be guessed at, at least according to the Dutch sources of the era, around 100,000 total people, or a population density of about three people per square kilometer, which is roughly that of modern Australia, Canada, or Iceland, or slightly greater than modern Mongolia. This low density translated, unsurprisingly enough, into an overall high quality of life and standard of living for the island's residents. As the Europeans and Chinese both documented, the Taiwanese were almost uniformly tall and healthy. This can be largely attributed to their access to a diet high in animal protein, largely consisting of the native

deer, which to this day live in abundance across Taiwan. The Ming chronicler Chen Di put it, quote, in the winter, when the deer come out in herds, then some hundred or tens of men will go after them, run them down until they're exhausted, and surround them. The spears find their marks, and the catch is piled as high as a hill. End quote. A later German traveler to the island in 1660, Albrecht Hershbort, wrote, even at a time when the herd's numbers had been greatly culled by the Spanish, Dutch, and Chinese predations, that, quote,

Sometimes two or three thousand travel in a flock together. One finds here a large and unbelievable amount of deer, so that it is a wonder that they can find sustenance here. The deer are fat and delicious, fat and full in meat. Innumerably many are shot and trapped throughout the year. End quote. It is notable that Taiwanese deer products went far beyond just their meat. That their antlers, bones, and pelts also served not only as a valuable clothing and tool-making material,

but as vital trade goods even internationally. Captain Rippon noted in his journal that the notables of the tribesmen he met in the 1620s had chests of Indian-style clothing, trinkets, and even baubles, which they had exchanged their venison and deerskins for. As such, even before European and Chinese colonization, the peoples of Taiwan were already hooked into the international trade networks of the era. Still, the question remains, how could China, a mere stone's throw from Taiwan at between 100 to 245 kilometers away, or as close as 10 kilometers from Kinmen Island, governed by Fujian for centuries at this point, have ignored such a place for so long? Writings about Fujian

from the 16th century can maybe help us understand the overall lack of attention to the island. Fujian itself is described as little more than a nearly inaccessible backwater barely worthy of note. Quote, it is a barren land whose fields do not supply food and inhabitants must turn to the seas to make their living. Nine out of ten families make their living from the ocean, end quote. Now, while that figure is pretty obviously exaggerated, the broad strokes of the sentiment do ring true. Fujianese farming was and remains indeed difficult and relatively thin, confined to small patches of stony soil amidst the stark mountainous ranges and stunning karst topography of the region. Fujian is a beautiful place to visit, but if you wanted to live there as a farmer, you'd really want to try your luck elsewhere, suffice to say. As such, many households of the

region did rely on the harvest of the sea to provide for themselves as well as their families. And by the penultimate decades of the Ming Dynasty, there were some amongst the aboriginal Taiwanese who had come to make their living as amongst their Fujianese neighbors, cultivating long-standing business links with mainlanders that saw the exchange of coal, sulfur, gold, and, of course, venison from the north of Taiwan in exchange for mainland products desirable to the islanders, primarily iron and textiles. Such links, however, remained the exception rather than the norm. The southern half of the island had no such reserves of gold or coal,

but by the latter half of the 1500s began to surpass the north in economic linkages and trade deals with the mainland, especially for hauls of mullet fish, which were caught, dried, and salted each year as they migrated, and with their roe fetching an even higher price and market. In addition, as ever, to the thriving venison, deerskin, and antler trade. Taiwan saw its rise in importance as a trade hub after 1567, when the Longqing Emperor, at long last, relaxed the Ming edict against overseas trade, with the notable exception of the Japanese. Longtime listeners will surely remember that no such silly little ongoing ban was going to stop the intrepid businessmen of either Japan or China from reaping the rewards of such a lucrative black market enterprise. And, as it so happened, Taiwan was an almost unbelievably perfect place to conduct such non-sanctioned trade deals. Long ignored by the Chinese imperial government, just outside of its official jurisdiction, and by far the largest and most defensible of any of

the myriad islands and islets scattered across the Chinese coasts. Northern Taiwan was a haven for many a freebooter to conduct their illicit business before repackaging it all as something officially acceptable and making their way to the bustling mainland markets for resale. Again, from Andrade, quote, The Japanese were eager to buy Chinese silks and porcelains, but they also began buying deerskins, which they used to make decorative wall coverings, armor, and other items. Chinese peddlers began making huge profits by buying deerskins from Aborigines and selling them to the Japanese. In Rappone's words, deerskins are the biggest business that there is in this country. End quote. Chinese traded not just the Indian-style textiles that Rippon saw in

aboriginal houses, but also iron, ceramics, and salt. The latter might easily have been produced in Taiwan, prompting an early Dutch visitor to ask a Chinese trader why aborigines bought salt from the Chinese when the nature of their trade, aided by the interjection of the sun and sea, gives it to them in abundance. The man replied that the Chinese are perfectly aware of this and clever enough to extract it from this natural abundance. But if they had shown the inhabitants how to do it, then their profitable trade would have gone to ruins, as it is an art and craft that can be learned only by sight. Therefore, they were keeping them in their rural devotion and simplicity.

In spite of such chicanery, ties between Taiwan and the mainland trade markets only continued to strengthen as the uncertain 16th century bled into the miserable 17th. More and more, Aborigines and Chinese met, traded, cohabitated, and, inevitably, even interbred, such that by the time of Tundi, he would write despairingly of the looming fate he saw for the indigenous Taiwanese. I am afraid their pure simplicity is becoming more and more corrupted. End quote. A later Dutch trader would likewise note that the developing trade language of the Taiwanese had become so interjected with Chinese loanwords that it had become a form of pidgin. Quote,

It is a mixed and broken language. End quote. Hi everyone, this is Scott. If you want to learn about the world's oldest civilizations, find out how they were rediscovered, follow the story of Mark Antony and Cleopatra's descendants over ten generations, or take a deep dive into the Iron Age or the Hellenistic era, then check out the Ancient World Podcast. Available on all podcasting platforms or go to ancientworldpodcast.com. That's the Ancient World Podcast.

Pirates indeed appear to have found Taiwan a very amenable base indeed. And there were many, many Chinese pirates during the first half of the 17th century. The reason is simple. Since Chinese law prohibited any official trade with Japan, savvy Chinese businessmen, quite understandably, simply turned to smuggling instead. Smugglers, of course, enjoyed no legal protection from their government and were therefore vulnerable to robbery and extortion. Moreover, they had no official means of guaranteeing their contracts. For many reasons such as these, they found it necessary to form organizations to enforce their claims against their rivals.

It's nothing personal. It's strictly business. There were thus selective pressures favoring the rise of large, armed maritime smuggling organizations, which combined smuggling, piracy, and extortion, selling protection to merchants and fishermen, and using violence when necessary to enforce their claims against such rivals. Chinese scholars have coined terms for these organizations, such as Armed Maritime Organizations, or Haisheng Wuzhuang Jituan, or even better, Pirate Merchants, or Haikou Shangren. When the Chinese court had firm control

over its coasts, such organizations inevitably declined in the face of military maritime power, as in the late 16th and early 17th centuries. On the eve of European colonization, however, these pirate organizations were on the rise once again. They'd prove a difficult challenge indeed for the Dutch, but the Dutch also faced other enemies as well, namely Japanese samurai, Spanish conquistadors, and of course, the indigenous headhunters like those who dismembered Rippon's comrades. The battle in which Rippon nearly died was but the first of many. Salvador Diaz made it to the port of Macau in 1626, having at long last escaped the Dutch prisoner work gang to which he'd been sentenced upon the capture of the junk he'd been the crew on

some four years earlier in 1622. Like most sea craft of the area in that time, Thiaz's ship had been primarily crewed by Chinese, which he could write, meaning that his Dutch captors found him a useful translator between themselves and the rest of his captured crew, almost certainly aiding in his survival over that brutal period of imprisonment. Indeed, he was amongst the last alive of those who had been captured from his ship four years earlier, and had made good his escape only four days prior, after having carefully built up a network of trust with almost anyone that he could. He'd carefully recorded a log of Dutch activities and the colony itself on the Daiyuan coast of Taiwan,

which he had himself been forced to help construct, and that he now planned to sell to the Portuguese once he made good his escape. Having secreted away enough cash to purchase a small junk and a small crew to go along with it, he was thus able to slip away from his captors, who had long since come to regard him as more of an ally than prisoner, and into the inky darkness of the nighttime waters of the Taiwan Strait. The Portuguese in Macau were more than eager to hear and read Diaz's accounts of the Dutch island colony, but their ears perked up especially when they learned that their hated

enemy was not at ease upon their bastion stronghold. Instead, according to Diaz, the Dutch were frequently harried by the fearsome natives of the island, which he referred to as Montesinos, or savages. What was more, both the Chinese and Japanese traders that plied the waters around Taiwan were pretty fed up with their ever-increasing tolls on trade and passage, as were the pirate lords that stalked both the sea lanes and the coasts, his own involvement with which Diaz conveniently forgot to relay. Instead, the Dutch were ill at ease and thinly spread. It might take little more than a nudge in the right direction to forever derail Dutch ambitions at setting up a rival trade center to mighty Macau. Pirates were the easier of the two challenges. To be sure, pirates interfered with trade and had

close links to the aboriginal villages such as the Mata'au, whose inhabitants had attacked Caban Rupon in 1623, and one pirate was even bold enough to attack the company's main fortress. But the company also found pirates useful. Indeed, it was through a pirate-turned-official that the company eventually achieved its goal of regular trade with China proper. As one Dutch governor wrote, if it were not for the pirates, Chinese officials would become arrogant and refuse to deal with the company at all. The greater threat came from Japanese merchants. As Diaz noted, the Japanese had arrived on Taiwan before the Dutch, and they did not

follow the company's new trading rules as Dutch officials would have liked. The Dutch knew that they had to tread carefully because the company needed to preserve its trading privileges in Japan proper, which was its major source of silver that it used to buy Chinese silk. The two sides got along, mostly, albeit tensely, until a tactless Dutch official tried to forbid Japanese trade on Taiwan altogether. Japanese merchants responded by arranging for quote-unquote ambassadors from the aboriginal villages to have an audience with the actual shogun of Japan, who might, the merchants hope, be persuaded to claim Taiwan for Japan from the Dutch.

An imbroglio that followed nearly cost the company its trading privileges in Japan altogether. Indeed, things got so bad that in the early 1630s, some Dutch officials considered abandoning Taiwan altogether on the grounds that the colony was useless without the Japan trade. Fortunately for the Dutch, the Shogun refused to take Taiwan. Instead, on the contrary, he ended up decreeing that his subjects could no longer go abroad at all. This stroke of luck gave the Dutch a free hand in Taiwan. When the Dutch arrived, the pirates of Taiwan appear to have been led by an enigmatic figure called Yan Sechi. According to an important, albeit dubious, source known as the Taiwan YG, Yan had lived for a time as a tailor in Japan before coming

to the realization that life is as fleeting as the morning dew, and deciding to devote himself to piracy. The story told in this source reads kind of like a wuxia novel. Yan gathers his trusty band, whose members include a guy named Deep Mountain Monkey, who is skilled with guns and powder, another guy called Iron Zhanhong, who is forthright and strong. Anyways, they all take an oath before heaven, culminating in the declaration of though we are born on different days, let us die on the same day. Yes, it's all very melodramatic.

They then accept Yan Sechi as leader of the alliance and eventually establish a base on Taiwan, from which to rove the seas, shouting yo-ho-ho a pirate's life for me and all that great stuff. The story is obviously heavily steeped in fancy. Some even suggest that Yan Sechi may not have existed at all. And yet his name does appear in other more reliable Chinese sources that lack those sorts of romantic details. Occam's Razor suggests that Yan Sechi did exist as a person, but any details of his life other than that sheer fact of existence are mysterious and probably much more steeped in fiction than anything we could attribute to fact. We have more information about

a different pirate named Li Dan, whom Westerners called Captain China. Born near the city of Chenzhou, Fujian, Li Dan rose to prominence as an overseas trader, becoming the governor of the Chinas at Manila. Probably the governor of the Chinese at Manila. After legal trouble with the Spanish, he went to Japan, where he became the chosen captain chief commander of all the Chinese in Japan, and got rich trading with Southeast Asia and Taiwan. Elia Ripon met him in 1623 and witnessed his arrival in Taiwan on one of his junks, quote, loaded with all sorts of merchandise to trade with the Formosans, as he was accustomed to do, both deerskins and venison, which he took to Japan, end quote. Having chosen to live in Japan, Li Dan had, in Rippon's word, quote, alienated himself from his government, end quote.

But living with the enemy and smuggling were not his only crimes. Chinese texts refer to him as the quote-unquote pirate Li Dan, and some scholars in Taiwan believe that he was an associate of Yan Zetie. All the evidence is inconclusive. According to Rippon, Li Dan, quote, conducted piracy wherever he could, taking everything that he could capture, end quote. Activities he carried out with his more than 50 Chinese-style ships. Dutch sources show that Li Dan asked the company to sell him a few junks so that he could rob the Chinese in the name of the Dutch nation.

Indeed, Lee Don worked with the Dutch East India Company. While Elie Rappon was fighting Aborigines in Taiwan, the main Dutch force was stationed in the Penghu Islands in the middle of the Taiwan Strait. The Dutch hoped to establish their trading posts there rather than in Taiwan proper, but Chinese officials had other ideas. They felt that Penghu, unlike Taiwan, was part of China. So in 1623, the governor of Fujian, Nan Juy Yi, sent Chinese troops to Penghu to attack the Dutch. The Dutch promptly recalled Nippon and his fellows from Taiwan because, quote, it is better to fortify one fortress than to guard two poorly, end quote.

Then, both sides, Dutch and Chinese, asked Li Dan to act as an intermediary. Thanks to his negotiations, the Dutch agreed to withdraw from Penghu and moved to Taiwan. Li Dan's mediation earned him a rapprochement with Chinese officials and an amnesty, but his cooperation with the Dutch was short-lived. In 1625, company officials learned that he'd kept gifts they'd entrusted him with giving to Chinese officials. They also learned that his men had tried pillaging junks coming to trade in Taiwan. Li Dan died that very same year, 1625, as did the apparent mysterious Yan Siti. But the company's pirate troubles were only just beginning. you The French Revolution set Europe ablaze. It was an age of enlightenment and progress, but also of tyranny and oppression.

It was an age of glory and an age of tragedy. One man stood above it all. This was the age of Napoleon. I'm Everett Rummage, host of the Age of Napoleon podcast. Join me as I examine the life and times of one of the most fascinating and enigmatic characters in modern history. Look for the Age of Napoleon wherever you find your podcasts.