you are somewhere over the middle east.
somewhere between france and taiwan.
night falls. you doze off – it’s your specialty, falling asleep.
a few hours later, you peek outside your window seat. the pink first attracts you. it must be time for a show – a sunrise above the clouds.
the yellow makes its entrance next.
then the blue.
then – could it be – could it possibly be– what is that bar?
ah. just some clouds.
indeed. lots of clouds.
the plane flies lower as you arrive closer and closer to the island of your grandma.
then it becomes unmistakable. your hunch was right. you are seeing rocks. those are no clouds. finally – where the mountains meet the sea. your feet can’t wait to touch ground.
you arrive, and the neatness is destroyed. first a messy taiwanese desk where all your things are sprawled out.
then the bed is dumped with the entire contents of both your suitcases. you are done with living out of a suitcase. everything is going to be moved to a closet.
but this is the best part about arriving in taipei.
your favorite londoner.
you may have left europe – but you are nowhere near done with the european dance. you’ve got a british dancing buddy for an entire seven days before she jets off to cambodia.
up to taipei 101. where you realize how integral the mountains are to the cities.
a different day, a different show.
how happy you are.
lights flicker on as the sun fades off.
you think the sun is done.
how wrong you are.
one last burst of color. all goes dark.
time for some artificial light.
a teahouse , of course. she is british. and the british love their tea.
the environment has changed. taipei is nothing like france or britain.
but the activities? tea, sunset, laughing – those haven’t changed one bit.