Sometimes I think of Taiwan as one big convenience store. It is just so easy to buy all kinds of things, day or night. Food especially. Just about everywhere you look there are small, rustic restaurants. I am talking about your proper, walls-and-a-roof-sit-down place, rather than roadside stands, though there are plenty of these too. Typically they sell tasty traditional food that is cheap and quick – if you order at the counter on your way in, the food might be on the table even before you settle into your seat. However, if you are looking for a nice, quiet eatery where you can chew and chat, then you'll need to find one without a blaring television set, and that is not an easy thing to do.
Chinese, you see, are incapable of doing anything quietly. Why should eating be any different? The Chinese dream meal consists of plate loads of special delicacies, shared amongst a decent sized group of chopstick clicking diners – a banquet in other words. Chinese banqueters don't just eat food; they have good time with it – festive is the word that springs to mind. Diners may engage in some, or all of the following behaviours: slurping soup, loud, incessant talk, joke making, belly laughing, playing drinking games, getting drunk, burping, and singing karaoke. All this can be great fun if you are part of the group. But if you are sitting alone at the next table trying to finish the crossword, you may think differently.
In the cheaper restaurants the television acts as poor man's surrogate festive atmosphere. With all kinds of interesting (and LOUD) on-screen dining companions, the lone diner need never feel lonely. The offending black box is bolted high on the restaurant wall. All eyes are trained on a pretty female newsreader who, in a shrill voice, reads at turbo-pace. Trying to follow this monologue always taxes my language skills, and sometimes my patience. Locals have no such problem, and in noodle shops, I've noticed that slurping sounds increase dramatically during commercial breaks.
To some degree I am used to the noise, but the TV can be loud enough to make your teeth chatter. Like recently when I tried to order dinner. The owner threw his hands up and said, "Ting bu dong," (Can't understand). I suggested he might comprehend if the TV volume was turned down. But he didn't catch this either, so I not-so-calmly walked over to the table where the remote control sat, and I turned the sound down to about halfway. Then, without further drama, I ordered steamed dumplings and a seaweed soup.
As I ate, I looked around the little restaurant. There were a couple of small groups eating together and a two or three solitary diners, like myself. Though nobody seemed to be straining to hear the news, and nobody complained or turned the volume up, the atmosphere was definitely more somber, and I seemed to be the only customer who was happy about that.
by Stephen, Taiwan
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