The other day, my friend described electronically-translated, no-sense-making Chinese menus as "poetic." Huh. I always just thought of them as "hilarious," but I guess I can try to see it his way. Lo, the unconscious poetry of dim sum in the night market:
I took this pic because it seems like a term of endearment. Sugar Paste Pie, text me!
It's really hot here and my appetite has been for the birds. The fact that I've consumed approximately 30oz of Slurpee per day is probably not helping. Nevertheless, I valiantly went toe to toe with a classic Taiwanese oyster pancake last night:
It was oysters and eggs in an elastic flour pancake, cooked on a griddle, with a sweet/spicy red gravy on top. I imagine if I'd been freezing and starving, this would have been transcendent. As it was, I was feeling hot and greasy and promptly got the hiccups. NTD40=US$1.21.
Confidential to four-wheelers considering a holiday in a Far Eastern metropolis: there are WAY more people whippin' around Taipei in wheelchairs than I have noticed in any other Asian city. Intending to mention this in my LJ, I asked this family if I could take their picture...
...then turned around and saw this custom wheelchair-accessible scooter parked just a few meters down the street.
Brimming with Slurpee, I could not possibly have drunk this. I didn't buy it. Regret!
Lemon jelly, served in a plastic cup with a fat straw.
I was thoroughly lost and in a blind rage for a good half hour last night. Taipei is short on street signs and long on disparate romanizations of street names (Chongqing on the map, Chungching on the sign, etc). The only thing that made me feel better was stumbling upon a huge Confucian temple with this excellent altar inside:
I have more to show you, more to tell you. But I can't stay out of my posh hotel bed for even one minute longer. The thing is a fucking silken sleep-dreadnought. It makes my hoveland cot feel like a wack undersized manger full of rancid burlap. God!