There was nothing peculiar about that evening when the rain came lashing down. I wouldn't have gone out but I had to. Grudgingly I left home; I walked along the edge of the street barely keeping myself under the shelter of pattering tin sheets.
I am reminded of a random night in Causeway Bay, Hong Kong when I was cornered by a sudden downpour. I vividly remember the almost instant bloom of umbrellas followed by hurried footfalls. It was a weird place - I could never understand how their individuality interfaced with the society. It was loud, it was claustrophobic; yet nobody seemed to have any willingness to talk to each other.
I was in the MRT now, bound to 劍南路站。When it rained, the streets of Taipei looked like stills from a Wong-kar Wai movie. Colorful neon boards jutting out from lackluster buildings reflected off wet roads. Smoke wafting from roadside food-stalls dissolved into the droplets of water dripping off tin sheets. The road was covered with a series of reflections of headlights and streetlamps.
There was a sweet charm in getting lost in the narrow tortuous alleys of this city. The city had pockets of old neighborhoods interlaced with narrow lanes and flanked by dull facades of 公寓. These neighborhoods were the best part of this city. Every morning a swarm of chirpy little breakfast places took birth in random parts of all streets. These breakfast stalls would disappear gradually before afternoon or sometimes evening.
I reached 劍南路站。It had stopped raining and the sky had cleared up. The air smelled of earthy freshness. This place was teeming with swanky malls and upscale showrooms. A mountain guarded the view on the other side. I handed over some stuff to my friend. My next destination was 輔大 located in extreme west part of New Taipei City. I had recently started going to a bouldering gym there.
The neighborhood around 輔大 was pretty much dead in nature. Once you veered away from the highway, all noises disappeared into the stillness that reigned the place. There were no 公寓s, no cozy stalls or night markets. It was a string of large warehouses and small factories - the kind of place that seemed to lack charm.
There were unremarkable turns with badly marked addresses between badly lit, poorly managed warehouses. I took one of those turns, dodging a small pool of water and walked toward a big building with tin walls. The wonky walls of its interior were speckled with motleyed blocks. That was my place.
It was just this little place in middle of nowhere that made me love the entire neighborhood. It was as if the charm of this place was intensified by the lack of it outside. I made numerous trips to this place. I got hooked to it.
I am reminded of a random night in Causeway Bay, Hong Kong when I was cornered by a sudden downpour. I vividly remember the almost instant bloom of umbrellas followed by hurried footfalls. It was a weird place - I could never understand how their individuality interfaced with the society. It was loud, it was claustrophobic; yet nobody seemed to have any willingness to talk to each other.
I was in the MRT now, bound to 劍南路站。When it rained, the streets of Taipei looked like stills from a Wong-kar Wai movie. Colorful neon boards jutting out from lackluster buildings reflected off wet roads. Smoke wafting from roadside food-stalls dissolved into the droplets of water dripping off tin sheets. The road was covered with a series of reflections of headlights and streetlamps.
There was a sweet charm in getting lost in the narrow tortuous alleys of this city. The city had pockets of old neighborhoods interlaced with narrow lanes and flanked by dull facades of 公寓. These neighborhoods were the best part of this city. Every morning a swarm of chirpy little breakfast places took birth in random parts of all streets. These breakfast stalls would disappear gradually before afternoon or sometimes evening.
I reached 劍南路站。It had stopped raining and the sky had cleared up. The air smelled of earthy freshness. This place was teeming with swanky malls and upscale showrooms. A mountain guarded the view on the other side. I handed over some stuff to my friend. My next destination was 輔大 located in extreme west part of New Taipei City. I had recently started going to a bouldering gym there.
The neighborhood around 輔大 was pretty much dead in nature. Once you veered away from the highway, all noises disappeared into the stillness that reigned the place. There were no 公寓s, no cozy stalls or night markets. It was a string of large warehouses and small factories - the kind of place that seemed to lack charm.
There were unremarkable turns with badly marked addresses between badly lit, poorly managed warehouses. I took one of those turns, dodging a small pool of water and walked toward a big building with tin walls. The wonky walls of its interior were speckled with motleyed blocks. That was my place.
It was just this little place in middle of nowhere that made me love the entire neighborhood. It was as if the charm of this place was intensified by the lack of it outside. I made numerous trips to this place. I got hooked to it.
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