After an exhausting night of a missing connection flight drama, I have finally departed from Kuala Lumpur and landed safe and sound in Taoyuan in the late of afternoon. You wouldn’t smell and feel the spirit of Taiwan in this international airport until you stepped outside to the street and met the local inhabitants of Formosa. This was when you met a grey-haired betel chewer who happened to be your taxi driver with reddish teeth who kept speaking rapid Mandarin while grinning wide. This was when the aroma of iron eggs tickled your every single sense of smell whenever you walked into a convenient Seven Eleven. This was when you used all communication means for asking for direction: your pen, your tourist map, your business-card size metro map, your face, your body parts, your gesture, everything. This was when your frustration of making people understand what you needed ended up into laughter for both of you. This was when you misheard the price of Taiwan-made tote bag as 100 dollars instead of 700, people would consider that you were very funny. This was when you were treated like a VIP when a 40 something yet still good looking taxi driver waited up at the gate of a railway station, holding up your A4 sized name with hopeful expression. This was when blue means forbidden seat in metro as none single normal individual would use it no matter how jammed the metro was. Above all, what I missed the most from Taiwan was the helpful residents who were willing to make sure your staying would be worth beyond all those hassles.
