Though I'm usually resentful of planning and research and other standard requirements before a massive international trip, I nonetheless had this much figured out before I left: on March 7th of 2011 I would take off for Bali, then head to Australia where I would meet my long-time friend Jessie, then to Vietnam, Laos, and China with a different friend and coworker, Sarah, from my time in Korea. After China, it was up in the air. I had secured a double-entry visa, and I was entertaining the possibilities of either doing a tour of North Korea, or riding the Transsiberian out of Beijing. That is, until I emailed a North Korean tour agency, and they told me I needed a job to get the necessary visa. Of all the things that would have potentially kept me out of the DPRK, I did not see that one coming. I briefly entertained the notion of making up some job credentials, but North Korea seemed like the one country I did not want questioning the validity of my visa. So that was out.
With my prospective tour date (Kim il-Song's birthday) now free, I instead opted for the chance to return to Thailand, and this time I would finally see that full moon party in Koh Phan Ngan. Going to one of the world's biggest parties without someone there to look out for me if (ha!) things get crazy? This plan was already looking pretty good.
My only limitation? Money, and a friend's wedding in mid-July I would need to be back for. Whichever came first.
So by the 6th, it's one day before my flight, I've purchased about half of the flight tickets I need, and the only room I've booked is for the full moon party, which won't be for another month. Instead, I go to Emerald City Comic Con, get a haircut, smoke a large amount of salvia and marijuana, and finish Dead Space 2. Priorities. I also find that my 80 dollar headphones have stopped working, now that it's too late to replace them. Not a good sign, but not a crucial problem either. If this is the worst the universe can muster up for me, then color me unimpressed.
The 7th. Day of. I finish the book I had been reading (Hell's Angels, which should tell you the frame of mind I had put myself in before the trip), buy a pair of swim trunks, and fancy new shoes. The shoes were Puma Faas 300s, and are by far the lightest and most comfortable shoes I've ever worn. I then meet some friends for happy hour, where I enjoyed the shit out of $4.50 kobe beef sliders, knowing in a matter of hours I would be facing down the mean end of 8 buck airport food. About an hour before I need to be at the airport, it dawns on me that packing might be a good idea, as well as getting a place to stay in Bali. I manage both with about as much efficiency and dexterity as possible under the circumstances, and head to the airport, cool as a cucumber.
Until I find out there's been a little mixup. See, on the way to Bali I was supposed to have a layover in Taipei for a couple hours, no big deal. Instead, as the Taiwanese man behind the counter informs me, my dates have been changed so I now have to spend a night in Taipei. Without telling me. Dang.
Well, how hard could it be to find a hostel or love motel to stay the night in, I ask myself with shaking confidence. It's not like any other step of my journey is much more planned out, so this will just be an extra, unexpected, irritating-as-hell extra leg for the trip. There was briefly a tiny voice inside me saying I maybe probably could have confirmed my travel dates before getting to the airport, but as quickly as possible I found that voice inside me and murdered it dead. I locate an internet station in the airport and send off optimistic emails to my guesthouse in Bali and my Komodo Island tour group, requesting postponements all around. Oh, did I not mention I would be going to Komodo Island? Yeah, that is something that would be happening. Horrible poisonous lizard attacks...maybe also something that would be happening. Time, as they say, would tell.
In the meantime, I guess I was supposed to be hanging out in Taipei, Taiwan. With my nerves prematurely jangled, I had hoped the flight over at least might provide some respite, but my luck decided to instead provide me with a mentally handicapped Taiwanese boy who somehow managed to be in front of me in all lines and needed to change his underpants. I was also given an emergency exit seat, which can never be good. Of course, an airplane crash would prevent me from having to figure out my Taipei situation, and thus we landed safely and I was free to wonder exactly what the fuck I was going to do upon leaving immigration.
Left or right.
I decide to catch a bus to the city center, and see me some of that Tower 101 that has probably been featured in some movie or other.
Be warned that Taiwanese buses have unusually draconian bird policies.
I also got a sneak peek of the insane scooter traffic I would be contending with.
Now, seeing as I was carrying a giant backpack and needed to find lodging, I didn't actually go inside the tower. I'm told it has a big mall, and the fastest elevator in the world. In my defense, speedy verticality wasn't what I needed at the moment.
As far as towers go, this one was definitely vertical.
After walking for hours, I still hadn't found any cheap accommodations, hostel or otherwise.
I did however see the contender for the Most Cyberpunk Name For A Bank Award.
And this aged rebel, sticking it to the man while I ate Peeps from a park bench.
Finally, I used some place or other's wifi to look up a list of available hostels in Taipei, and cross-referenced the addresses of each one with a list of streets I kind-of-sort-of remembered seeing. One in particular sounded close by, so I hopped on a subway to the general area where it might be, leaving the question of whether I can even get a bed there for later. Exiting the subway station, I walk for another couple hours, unable to find the place, and I'm finally reduced to hiding out in the upstairs of a Starbucks, leaving optimistic email inquiries about their vacancies for the night, and looking up more detailed directions.
I do end up finding the place, an innocuous door that I must have passed a dozen times in my search, and only found after I had bashed my head going up a narrow staircase next to it. Still, score.
After being buzzed in, I said I was the one who had left the email. They hadn't even checked their email, and had no idea who I was. But they had a vacancy! Double score! It was one bed in a shared 8-person dormitory, but there seemed to be no other lodgers for the night, so I had the room to myself. That is, except for the girl working there and changing the beds, who tied me up in conversation for a good half hour planning out a thorough itinerary for me, which would allow me to see a good amount of sights in my one night, which I promptly ignored and instead fell asleep till about 2am. So, no night market or snake market for me. According to the girl, the snake market was where they used to kill live snakes in front of shoppers, but the spectacle had now been replaced by prerecorded videos around the market. I felt bad for tossing aside her advice, but believe you me. This isn't the last you're going to hear of me and snakes.
So I was awake at 2 a.m. and feeling generally shitty for already avoiding Recommended Tourist Destinations so early into my trip, when I heard a disturbance through the wall. It was a girl on her phone in the womens' dormitory, clearly in training for the Olympic yelling team.
And that was my entertainment for the night. With everything closed (because Taiwanese nightlife is apparently a contradiction in terms,) my only options are tinkering with my new netbook, listening to the banshee next door scream into the void, and buying snacks and Taiwan Beer from the local 7-11.
She just got better and better.
I find solace in the irony that I ended up spending my time in Taipei, famous for its cuisine, eating a freezer-dried Tuna sandwich. Pretty sure I got the gist though. TAIWAN: B+
