After the mosquito-squashing spree a couple days ago, I decided we couldn’t go another night without a net over our bed. I spend four hours of Sunday getting one and doing other holiday-related shopping. Exhausting.
Christmas isn’t a big deal over here, but there are still decorations and hilarious misinterpretations galore. My favorite is a pop-up style Christmas card with a bunch of Santas at a Japanese-style sushi train restaurant. Love it.
The Taiwanese probably analyzed the reality of one Santa visiting the homes of all the little children in one night and, even after factoring in different time zones, decided it couldn’t be done by one man alone. There obviously must be dozens of Santas delivering gifts. And where do the Santas go to relax after a long night of gift-giving? They wrap up with Hawaii and head straight for the sushi trains in Japan. They probably hit the KTVs right after.
After Shida night market’s Taiwan fajita, I thought I’d found my burrito substitute. Sure, there are no beans, cheese, or sour cream, but the cabbage and crushed peanuts rolled up in a rice flour wrap make my tummy happy. Then I finally re-found the Indian food stall in our night market that we’d been too busy to stop at months ago.
Chicken tikka roti = little wrap of heaven. It’s honestly enough to bump Indian up several spots on my list of vacation destinations.
Thick, unidentifiable seafood soup < fabulous. I wanted to try a new stall; I wanted soup; Colin wanted to throw up and I wasn’t feeling too hot myself.
And a few nights ago, Andy and Pascal invited us over for a dinner of pasta with clams. I got to watch the clams open up over the heat of the hot plate and everything. Andy was a great chef with Pascal’s tutelage, and I think I’m going to have to give the meal a shot one night when I’m feeling courageous.