"Are they mannequins?" I wondered aloud.
"Dunno..." Chris squinted. "Oops, that one moved. Nope, they're real."
"Fuck, Taipei boys are so hot," I marveled. Chris and I were staring at the two bayoneted sentries guarding Uncle Chiang's statue. They boys were so perfect - the uniform, the posture, the skin, everything.
"They must be wearing make-up," I sniffed, whilst Chris happily snapped away at the skirted statue of Taiwan's erstwhile dictator.
Apart from shockingly beautiful boys, Taiwan has many hidden pleasures. Dead dictators and gaudy temples are at the bottom of the pile.
On our final day in Taipei, we found G'Day Cafe, a homey, little joint decked in murals, plaid table cloth, and old-skool Coca-cola memorabilia. It's the best breakfast. Ever. With the most obscene hash browns we've ever seen.
We also stumbled into the collegiate 'burbs, just off NTU. The cafes, little designer boutiques and bookshops in that neighbourhood alone would have satisfied a week's worth of exploration. There was a Belgian pub that lists more than 100 kinds of beers, one among which is Chimay - Pinoy slang for "helper." Of course I ordered it. Chris did, too. He had the stout; I had the lager. We had three each. By the end of the afternoon, we had a beautiful Chimay buzz.
The evening saw even more drinking at Cafe Dalida, where we caught up with my friend, Andre. Andre regaled us with tales of his mum on an elephant trek in Thailand whilst we sipped cocktails on the courtyard of the Red House.
At closer to midnight, Chris and I attacked the Shilin Night Market - the largest in the city. Shilin is so mind boggling, it spanks Chatuchak's ass.
We gorged on fabulous hawker food.
And the prospect of more energizing weekends in Taipei.
With Affection,
James
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