Well, I arrived safely in Taiwan, but the tribulations were only beginning. The Mercedes deposited me safely at the Grand Hyatt Taipei (the ride was gratis after all), and I checked in without incident. The room was gorgeous; marble bathroom floors, heated mirrors so you can see yourself while shaving, bedside remote control of all the lights, the whole nine yards. I plunked down my things and headed down to see the town.

My seatmate on the plane told me that Taipei is known for it's "night markets". The basic idea here is that the weather is so completely intolerable during the day that the shopkeepers don't even bother to open their doors till 9 at night. I asked for the closest one, which they assured me was within walking distance. I decided to take the plunge.

The streets of Taipei are a curious phenomenon. If you've ever seen The Empire Strikes Back, you may remember some phenomenal scenes where the mammoth Imperial Destroyers are firing on scores of tiny starships dodging in and out between the behemoths. Incidentally, if you look closely at one of these scenes, you can see one of the gaffer's tennis shoes, which they used as a stand-in for an X-wing and later forgot to edit out. Anyway, the streets are entirely reminiscent of these scenes, with hordes of tiny mopeds (some carrying entire families of four) weaving and bobbing between the colossal (compared to the mopeds) four wheelers.

I made it to the market without incident, and began to roam. This market was relatively uninteresting, mostly focusing on clothes, shoes, and intestine-based food products. Despite its proximity to the hotel, it had a local flavor. I saw only two white people, although I could spot them from three blocks away as they stood about eighteen inches taller then the rest of the crowd. I wandered back and forth, examining the various carts.

That's when it hit me.

I have smelled some unpleasant scents in my time. Skunk, old fish guts, rotten eggs. None were particularly enjoyable. Compared to this aroma, they were cherry blossoms. I sped up to try and get past the cart that was apparently the primary offender, only to be hit doubly. The odor was indescribable, sour and fetid, like some sort of organic matter rebelling against bacterial invaders. I began to jostle my neighbors, attempting to escape. It only got worse. Finally, I saw it: Three carts, three smiling vendors, and the most disgusting abominable stench conceivable. And beyond them: the one street that cuts through the market, with no sidewalks, no turns, no way to go but through.

I am normally not a reckless person, becoming downright conservative when in a foreign country that regards the death penalty as a potentially viable alternative to parking tickets. That's why it was somewhat out of character when I hurled myself into the oncoming traffic, dodging scooters and taxis, scampering frantically across the street to escape the noxious gasses before they did me in. Anyone who wasn't staring at me already (white folks get looks) was now. I breathed deeply of the glorious, smoggy, cigarette-riddled air, and started to trek home.

I asked some of my compatriots who were familiar with Taiwanese food, and they explained that the offending substance was known as "Stinky Dofu", or rotten tofu. Ty's comment was, "If you think it smells bad, you should see how it tastes". I powerwalked back to the hotel and crashed like a log, the tofu aroma still wafting through my nostrils.

--dan