Chung Shan North Road section 6 is not dissimilar to many of Taipei's main arteries, except that there is a nod to an avenue feel with a string of gasping trees along a narrow centre strip and a camp of low rise buildings packed along each side. Wandering up from our lane to get a cab is as easy as appearing: a yellow car with light ablaze on top will screech to a halt within seconds of our arrival. It's necessary to step back from the curb in order to dissuade them: the golden stream of private transport doesn't ebb and flow on this road: it gushes thick and viscous.
Saturday night traffic, however early in the evening, is another problem entirely. Our taxi jigs in between lanes, all of which are terminally clogged with fun-seekers in various vehicles. Gradually, the traffic begins to flow like a freshly unblocked drain as the road expands horizontally and vertically at the Grand Palace. We take one of the high roads, while the east-west artery soars above us in turn, pulsing with cars, trucks, bikes and yet more thousands of people desperately going somewhere else to play. We dip under highways, soar above city roads and weave between overhead railway pylons. Cars silently and patiently salute the authority of the traffic lights which hold back the metal phalanx, until they're unleashed as one to hurtle down another couple of blocks in an unearthly din of engine screams and plumes of dirty scooter exhaust until the process begins all over again.
We were mainly cocooned from the mayhem in the back of the taxi, which exhibited all the trademarks of Taiwan's peculiar brand of hackney. The driver's official ID photo and license, encased in thick plastic sheeting and draped on the back of the driver's seat, always portrays a much younger, darker haired, more enthusiastic version of the same man who is controlling the car. Most gaze at the camera with an optimism about them that they won't be there too long, belied by the graying, wrinkled stooping version of the man on the flip-side of the image. The seats are covered in those strange wooden bead mats, meant to stimulate the buttocks of the long-seated or perhaps encourage a passenger not to stay too long! The seat tops are covered in what at first glance seems a rather dainty lace seat cover, until closer inspection reveals a coarse, plastic replica of the same, often tinged with yellow age at the turned-up edges. Seat satchels display business cards for airport pickups and a tattered sticker featuring what looks suspiciously like a buckled up dog turd warns passengers to belt up or face a $1,500 NT fine. There are fake flowers in a tiny fake water bud vase on the dash, one of those tiny ever-spinning helicopters docked on the front air-conditioning vents and of course, a GPS, iPhone, rear-end camera and TVs both front and back. All in all, it's a world of entertainment!
And we're not even at our destination yet!! We had a sensational repast at one of our favourite restaurants, the exquisite Romano's Macaroni Grill at a very relaxed pace on Saturday night. We enjoyed the food, the wine, the service, the gusto of the table-side opera diva and the overall ambiance immensely, before re-tracing our steps back home through another slew of heaving humanity in the big city.
We had a wonderful weekend all round. I've been remiss in my reporting of our reading for pleasure. Cassy has devoured a brace of books, while I've plodded through a couple more. I'm currently reading Tim Winton's "The Turning"....the guy's effortless prose makes me sick with jealousy! Cassy is on "Please Look After Mom" by Kyung-Sook Shin
Photos: Mary's Hamburgers has closed....tragic: here's a last glimpse of the famous order board. I'm bludging in my office pre-haircut, Cassy is pretty in pink en-route to work, Chee Chee the monkey continues to make friends, another funny sign, and a confronting "selfie" of the happy couple at Macaroni Grill.