Yata!!!

Flight from Honolulu was a trip. Sat next to a lady of Japanese descent, born in Lugano, had lived in Milano, Tokyo, Colorado, Hawaii. Not surprisingly, she's a translator. Surprising was her style of conversation, ranging from subdued to bold: at one time apologizing for a factual statement about Hawaiians and the next telling me that I remind her of some crazy guy who travels the world discovering things. "I watch Animal Planet last night. They crazy. You like them." Things took a turn for the awkward when she told me that she'd recently suffered three straight years of depression, but was feeling much better now that she's off of meds. The more she talked, the more things made sense. She'd been trapped into marriage with some Hawaiian guy who never told her that he'd never leave Hawaii (nor that she'd be both breadwinner and domestic in the relationship). I had found it hard to believe that she had ever been depressed because she seemed so full of life. As it turned out, she was on her way to a three-month work appointment in Tokyo (her favorite city), away from her husband. The banter continued for awhile, and she confided everything imaginable. Funny how comfortable people can become with strangers, sharing things they'd never tell the cloest people in their lives. She left me with a giant smile and made me promise to stop her and say hello if I ever see her in Honolulu (she lives next to my buddy Nick). I thought that a cool goodbye. You know you'll likely never talk again, an email/phone number exchange would be fruitless, but her approach left things to fate while conveying that she'd enjoyed our talks and would be thrilled if fate led our paths to cross again. Cool.

[Bienvenudos]

Once in Tokyo, I fell hard for the city based on the 2 hours I had at the airport: friendly and quirky people, a brilliantly planned layout, a language that managed to be both cute and oddly seductive in its choppiness. And let's be honest: any country that welcomes me with gratis shots of duty free scotch gets things right. Every once in awhile, I pass through an airport that makes me vow to return to a country. Two years ago, it was HK; this time around, Tokyo gets the nod.

Eventually I arrived at Taipei airport, decided to forgo the complimentary hotel offered by China Airlines for its transfer customers, found my way to the Ubus 705 to shuttle me to Taoyuan where I caught the HST. While riding the High-Speed Train, a sense of euphoria overcame me. The sense of adventure derived from the simplest of daily tasks, like getting from BFE airports to downtown, cannot be understated. Funny how one man's ritual is another's adventure.
[Ubus 705 Waiting]

The adventure continued when I met up with my dear old friend Anne, high school friend who now lives in Taipei. We enjoyed some beer and a smattering of Taiwanese delights, from succulent oysters to seared soft tofu, then a couple more peeps (Dave and Christine) joined us and helped us polish off the smattering.
[Taiwanese Delights]

From there, we headed to a swank joint called People, which boasted such cool gimicks as a hidden wooden hole that you had to throw your hand into for admittance (anyone else thinking Flash Gordon) and test tube shots (25 for 750 Taiwan bucks...huzzah!). While there I learned that Korean people invented everything. People also had some quality shitters in the event that weary travelers who had eaten one too many Hindu vegetarian meals on China Airlines had the need for such a thing.
[Test Tube Shots @ People]

Mod was the next stop, a sorta institution in the Taiwan "pub" world. Cool spot with tasty drinks that included a delicious belgian berry ale and martinis being pushed by an odd, emaciated drink sponsor (think Diageo providing almost hot girls to push & serve drinks, in addition to those served by a waiter). While there I learned that Taipei 101 is not the tallest building in the world (something I'd already known, yet somehow my mind had changed over the course of the night) and paid the price: a 151 shot. In keeping on the bathroom theme, I should mention that Mod boasted the coolest bathroom indicators I've seen since Peru: old CD cases...brilliant!
[Men's Room - Warhol; Women's Room - Pulp]

The shots were kicking in, we were all having a blast, and it was time to make the most important trip of the night: foot massages. Foot massages are like wheat grass: thoroughly unpleasant initially, strangely satisfying in the end. So we hit up 6 Stars Foot Massage and got our feet pummeled. It's tough to say what's more satisfying: knowing that your feet are getting the acupressure they need after a day of flying or hearing your friends squeal as their pressure points force the inner hyannea out of hiding. A trick I learned too late: they'll let up if you flail and howl in agony. When my masseuse afforded me the greatest complement (that I had a high threshold for pain), I couldn't help but wonder the bruises I could expect in the coming days.
[3 in chairs]

The night wrapped up in proper fashion: delicious noodles and soup at a dingy spot. No idea what the name is, but it's one of those places that looks like shit, but attracts hipsters and celebrities late-night. Learn Chinese and track down this grubbery (I hear the two girls next to the sign live there):
[Relaxation, Post-Massage]

Things wound down, I bid adieu to my fabulous host and hostesses, and hopped in a taxi to the airport. After 12 hours of flight and 14 hours of fun in Taipei, I was ready for some much-needed sleep.
[Onion & Christine]

The greatest layover of my life was over and I give big ups to Anne, Christine, Dave and Jerry for showing me a helluva time. I couldn't help but entertain the following thought: like most travelers, I had always thought that the best experiences come when you learn the language, meet the people, and gain that local edge. Fuck that. The best experiences come when you are led along in blissful ignorance to new and exciting places, by people who know you, love you and share similar interests. Pity I don't have an Anne in every city of the world.
[Onion, candid]