Taipei, which we actually managed to get to.
We arrived, sleepless and bedraggled, in Hong Kong at six a.m. Our future was yet to be determined, we hadn’t eaten, and it was already an alarming 32 degrees at this time of morning. Taipei, racked by a typhoon, was not going to let us, or anybody, in.
Though the airport troll in Bali made our fate seem rather dire, the plucky sprites at the Hong Kong airlines desk seemed more optimistic about our chances. As long as we showed up remarkably early before whatever flight to Taipei we desired, we would be put on standby. Comforted by this vague but slightly less doom-shrouded outlook, we set off into Hong Kong.
As I am currently fending off a particularly noxious strain of fever and insomnia, my ability to cogently string together human communicative fragments into your beloved, bourgeoisie “sentences” has declined. It took me three tries to write that sentence, and I’m relatively confident it was in English. If not, take the various constituent parts and construct, if you will, a hilarious insight about me, the world, or the human condition. I know you can do it.
While I convalesce, here are some vacation photos from Taipei, a quaint little burg in northern Taiwan, with some mad dumpling skillz. Watch and read and maybe don’t expect a lot in the way of interstitial commentary.