Tuesday, September 27, 2005
I Heart Taipei: Part II
by venitha
The hotel doorman offers me his hand, and I alight from my taxi, smiling in amusement at my worldly poise as I toss a Xiexie with careless grace over my shoulder. Flushed with the excitement of my new love affair, with Taipei, not with my cabbie, I emerge into the glitzy and intimidating entry of the Grand Hyatt with the ease and confidence of one who belongs.
Like a fairy godmother's wand, my blissful comfort in this city magically transforms my t-shirt and khaki shorts, my toenails, purple from a month-old pedicure, my sensibly flat sandals. This new attitude is confidently attired in sleek skin-tight black from plunging neckline to arched instep, sports red red fingernails, and saunters seductively in high high heels with very very pointed toes.
If Jim is cast as Prince Charming, he is already here, settled cozily into our posh weekend aerie, and as I survey the Hyatt's stately ballroom-sized lobby, I marvel at my balance on these four-inch stiletto heels and ponder his whereabouts. In the room raiding the mini-bar? Watching for me from the lobby bar? Are you sensing a theme? I've typecast him, sure, but Jim knows this part and plays it well. He is, after all, my Prince Charming.
I locate the check-in desk among the counters lining the length of the lobby, and standing suavely at it with his back to me, in a blue shirt I bought for him myself, Jim's tall lean frame catches my eye and gives my bold stride a happy destination.
I approach unseen. My savvy sophistication slips, and I teeter precariously as I suddenly struggle to remember my line. Ever the perfect dance partner, Jim comes to my rescue by turning around and smiling widely. He welcomes me into his arms in an intimate embrace, and I nestle my head into its customary spot between his shoulder and his chest. A perfect fit.
My equilibrium restored, my line returns, too.
I love it here.
venitha
Like a fairy godmother's wand, my blissful comfort in this city magically transforms my t-shirt and khaki shorts, my toenails, purple from a month-old pedicure, my sensibly flat sandals. This new attitude is confidently attired in sleek skin-tight black from plunging neckline to arched instep, sports red red fingernails, and saunters seductively in high high heels with very very pointed toes.
If Jim is cast as Prince Charming, he is already here, settled cozily into our posh weekend aerie, and as I survey the Hyatt's stately ballroom-sized lobby, I marvel at my balance on these four-inch stiletto heels and ponder his whereabouts. In the room raiding the mini-bar? Watching for me from the lobby bar? Are you sensing a theme? I've typecast him, sure, but Jim knows this part and plays it well. He is, after all, my Prince Charming.
I locate the check-in desk among the counters lining the length of the lobby, and standing suavely at it with his back to me, in a blue shirt I bought for him myself, Jim's tall lean frame catches my eye and gives my bold stride a happy destination.
I approach unseen. My savvy sophistication slips, and I teeter precariously as I suddenly struggle to remember my line. Ever the perfect dance partner, Jim comes to my rescue by turning around and smiling widely. He welcomes me into his arms in an intimate embrace, and I nestle my head into its customary spot between his shoulder and his chest. A perfect fit.
My equilibrium restored, my line returns, too.
I love it here.
venitha
