That Direction

I am not brave.

Nope. Could not do it. I wanted to. But could not.

I'm talking about eating lunch. Local style.

I had been on a video conference for most of the morning, then spent time typing up notes from that meeting, and even ventured into working on my expenses. It was lunch time, and I decided it was time to venture out of the hotel.

The friendly concierge suggested a nearby restaurant. He gave me a map in English and Chinese. Marked it all up. I repeated the directions. Go right out of the hotel. Turn left at the big intersection. By the HSBC bank. Got it.

Off I went. There was HSBC bank. But no intersection. I needed to be on the other side of the road.

I asked a security guard. He turned the map all around. Upside down. Another guy stopped to help. They got into an argument. (Which I've come to love. There's nothing like a good Chinese cuss fight. By the way, I have no idea if they're cussing. I doubt it. But their tone reminds me of some conversations I've had with my brothers.)

They turned the map around again and again. Then a lady in a mask stopped to help. She didn't know either, but she spoke enough English to really just wave her hands and point in "that direction."

So I went in "that direction." This very same thing happened when I was here before. None of the locals could agree on the map. From the way they were carrying on, I'm not even sure it was a map of Taipei.

Fast forward. I got to the other side of the road. Never found the recommended restaurant. I looked at a few other restaurants. No English
menus. I found another with required English translation. The kitchen faced the street, and I peeked in.

Nope. Not today. Not alone.

I went back to the hotel. I ordered a salad. And that was just fine.