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.