Keelung, Taiwan

The only way to describe our time in Taiwan is with the senses.  This has been an extraordinary stop on our journey as I feel as though I am really in a foreign country.  Many of our stops on this itinerary have been to places that either cater to Americans (French Polynesia) or they speak English or look like home (Australia, New Zealand, Manila).

We arrived in Keelung, the port city for Taipei, around 6pm.  It was too late for any excursions, but we did get to go to the “night market.”  Boy oh boy, what a feast for the eyes and a bit of local color (and guess who forgot to take a camera -- drat).  The market does not start until around 8pm; we navigated the streets, dodging a crowd of mostly young people as we walked to the market from the ship, arriving around 8:30pm.  The streets are narrow and crowded to begin with; then vendors set up their booths in the street.  There was an array of junk, the money was burning a hole in my pocket and I could not find anything to buy.  My sense of sight and smell was on high alert as I tried to take in everything.  We walked the market as well as the crowded little shops that lined the streets the market was on.  Things were jammed together and there was little room to move.  Toys, shoes and clothing seemed to be the most common items sold.  The clothing appealed to the younger consumer.  I found a fur lined vest I wanted to buy for Deborah, but the sizes were so small that I didn’t think it would fit her.  The sales girl tried it on and it barely made it around her, so sorry Deborah.  I asked a few vendors if they had any larger sizes than petite x-small and they looked at me like I had two heads.

The food vendors were along one street, one vendor on top of another.  There must have been a hundred tiny little booths lining both sides of the street that would sit maybe five or six people on teeny weenie chairs.  They prepared food in huge vats and woks; it smelled delicious, but to my western pallet, looked suspicious.  We could hear the sizzle of the oil and see the steam rising from less than pristine kitchens.  The cooks would rinse the dishes and pans right there on the sidewalk or street.  There were fish mongers that sold unrecognizable stuff.  Those people we saw eating were totally focused on the process of eating with little wasted effort or socializing.

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The streets and sidewalks were crammed full of motor scooters, which is the principal means of transportation.  The sidewalks were a hodgepodge of stone, cement and whatever; you really had to watch your step as there were ramps or steps -- large, small and smaller.  And then there was the obstacle course of vendor tables and scooters.  Neon signs of every color lit the night, and radios (I think) were blaring Chinese advertisements (I think).  The area is not what I would call clean and inviting.  The buildings and store fronts (that is what most of the “regular” stores are) were somewhat dingy, but not really dirty (this is from pollution I am told).  The drug stores had many of the same products we use except there was Chinese writing added to the label.  The signage was in Mandarin, of course, but I was surprised to find many stores using English as well.  It was quite an exciting adventure.