What's more important in Taiwan than making a lot of money? Spending it, of
course. Unfortunately, my current position as an English teacher and resultant
financial situation, while providing a perfectly adequate standard of living,
precludes me from the black Mercedes, LV bags, and elegantly robed jaunts around
SE Asia that are the hallmarks of the posh Taiwanese set's brand of conspicuous
consumption.
So, then, I have to satisfy myself, no doubt along with countless others, with a
more creative (read: cheap) type of consumerism. The odd bowl of beef noodles,
NT$99, Japanese CD, or can of Asahi instead of Taiwan Beer usually serves to
quench my low-level desire to spend money.
Descending from a long line of frugal, OK miserly, forbearers has honed my eye
for a bargain to a razor's, well let's say at least a Swiss army knife's edge.
Based on these qualifications, I can tell you, without question, that the best
bargain in all of Taiwan can be had on any street, at any time in the Greater
Taipei Metropolitan Region (I just made that up. G.T.M.P., baby!). Clogging the
main arteries and byways of this great city with their exhaust, betel nut juice,
political rants and sheer numbers, I give you the Taipei Taxi!
Should the above sentence be taken the wrong way, I'd like to say that every
single taxi driver I've met in my two years plus in Taiwan has been, at the very
least, inoffensive, and the vast majority proved to be exceptionally friendly
people. I just wrote the sentence for effect. I want to make this clear. Anyway,
I'm an American, and what do we know?
The ritual begins. You're late. A long way to go, maybe. You quickly calculate
the cost-benefit ratio. You decide it's not worth it, almost subliminally
knowing that it doesn't matter. The die is cast. You will soon turn your eye to
the street, away from the girls, looking for your yellow friend. Perhaps a quick
call to the girlfriend, who, while wanting you to arrive as quickly as possible
to begin again the never-ending shopping sacrament, would doubtlessly rather the
NT$200 you are about to drop be spent on her.
Suddenly, the reality of your spending power crystallizes. You're vacillating
over US$4-5. You have more disposable income than you ever thought possible back
home. The mind reels at the possibilities! Damn the consequences! You hail.
Within a few seconds, your signal is received. A vigilant driver has spotted
you. Banging a quick u-turn across several lanes of traffic going every
direction known to our own unique time-space continuum, your ride sits in front
of you.
Most of the time, the door is opened for you. How's that for service? Now, the
real fun begins. A momentary flash of confusion, fear, elation and surprise
crosses the driver's face if they didn't notice your decidedly non-Taiwanese
aspect while on the street.
Then, just as quickly, composure is regained. Down to business. "Where to?" Says
the driver. The nature of your relationship for the next few minutes will be
decided at this moment. The question hangs in the air like a Chinese ballistic
missile. The pre-practiced words come out. All is well. A curt "hao" from the
driver, and you're on your way.
Having shown yourself capable of getting out a few words of the monster that
masquerades as the Chinese language, the second stage begins. "Where are you
from?" "Are you married?" "How much money do you make in one month?" "Can I have
your hat?"
Pleasantries exchanged, the final stage commences. The topic of the day.
Buddhism, anyone? Were you aware that the Germans stole an ancient Buddhist
symbol? The British are somehow guilty, as well. Politics? Lien Chan has no "qi"
(pretty obvious). Mainland China? There's absolutely nothing to fear from China.
(A note: For your intrepid cultural adventurer, this last topic is of particular
interest. I hope this means that I can stop convincing myself with horrific
certainty that when my local public address system crackles to life, it's not
telling the populace to make for a bomb shelter, leaving me exposed to certain
death due to my incomprehension.)
Soon enough, you arrive, safe and sound, and get on with your life. Money is
exchanged, and your new friend disappears into the night, to begin the
miraculous cycle anew.
So where's the value in all this? Well, first and foremost, you can experience
at it's most basic level, the harmony of friendship, multiculturalism, and other
feel-good nonsense that should, hopefully, have you about to puke.
Sure, you can feel the boundaries melt away, if they were ever there in the
first place. But let's talk more practical benefits.
You get the most forgiving conversation partner imaginable. Talking to a taxi
driver makes even the most pitiful of linguists shine, if ever so briefly, with
the inspired oratorical skill of Demosthenes, or the equivalent Chinese
historical personage. In addition, the free and unfettered consumption of beer
is a not unimportant perk of taxi travel.
However, as it apparently always does, what it all comes back to is the
humanity. Oh, the humanity.
Imagine, if you will, being thousands of miles away from home, freely chatting
with a person that, if I may be so bold to say, doesn't know you from Adam. The
liquid refreshment is flowing, on your side, anyway, and a song comes on the
radio. It's Wu Bai, and you know enough of the song to muddle your way through
it, at the top of your lungs with the driver. There you are, language lesson,
happy hour, companionship, and as the last piece of icing on this Taiwanese cake
(which undoubtedly has that pork powder stuff in it), moving KTV. You can't put
a price on that.