J00sterJournal: China Part 7: Or is that Republic of China Part 7?

Ever since Chiang Kai-shek and his Koumintang buddies fled across the Taiwan Straits and named Taipei the true capital of the Republic of China, things have been a little testy with the People's Republic of China. It's a bit of a ridiculous feud, after all the countries (or provinces, depending on which side you fall) are far more similar than they are different. But then again history is rarely rational. Luckily, beyond the don't-you-dare-cross-the-jump-rope-onto-my-side-of-the-bedroom rhetoric, things are pretty civil, although one never quite forgets it's more than Nerf guns enforcing the mutual standoff.

First impressions of Taipei suggest little to distinguish it from any other mid-tier Chinese city: the usual collection of nondescript condo towers and endless motorways. But dig a little deeper and that simplistic view starts to melt away.

For starters, there's the food. Despite the shared Han Chinese heritage, Taiwan has evolved its own distinctive cuisine that starts firmly with breakfast. Back on the mainland, breakfast is a desultory affair of watery rice porridge and a couple of tasteless buns with a smattering of red bean paste in the middle if you're lucky (or perhaps more accurately, unlucky). Here, breakfast is one of the highlights of the day, with an endless array of light, tasty nibbles, including this excellent take on the breakfast burrito.

Thanks to Cathy and Jason's hospitality, a packed itinerary awaits, albeit with one minor roadblock: the worse typhoon in 25 years is heading straight for Taipei and is scheduled to make landfall in the next few days. So like good Kiwi globetrotters everywhere it's time for a quick shrug of the shoulders and a pack-the-brolly-and-she'll-be-alright attitude.

Typhoon, what typhoon?

Oh, that typhoon. First stop of the day is the Yangmingshan National Park. In theory the views over Taipei should be spectacular; in practice the incoming Super Typhoon turns the mountain top into a mysterious world of ghostly silhouettes.

Can't be too bad, the cows don't seem all that bothered. It's only like the most powerful storm on earth in 2013.

There's farm to table, and then there's a table actually on a farm. One of the unique features of Yangmingshan are the small farmhouse restaurants that have sprung up in the lush farmland on the lower slopes.

They literally pick the produce right out the back door, chuck it in the wok, and have it on your plate within 10 minutes of roots-up time. And you thought Fresh Direct was fast.

Suddenly the farmer's life doesn't seem so bad. Apart from the whole remembering to water the plants drill. Less of a problem today though.

Insert brief after-feast hot spring soak here, then get ready for the next round of eating. With a momentary respite from the howling winds and lashing rain of the incoming typhoon, the time is ripe to check out the legendary Shilin Night Market.

Looks like the whole city has decided it's time to stock up before the typhoon makes landfall. Nope, turns out it's always like this. And you thought Times Square was busy.

You can get every Taiwanese snack under the sun here. Or rather, under the moon.

Don't forget you're technically still at war, irrespective of this peace-omelet offering.

The market even has its own temple. You know, so you can beg forgiveness for the sin of gluttony before you hit the next food stall.

Things are looking up, day two dawns as clear as can be expected when there's a super typhoon bearing down on your island.

Speaking of looking up, here's the first sighting of Taiwan's most famous landmark. The good news is she was designed to withstand the hypothetical 100 year typhoon, and the incoming beast is only a once every 25 year breeze.

These old military barracks are leftover relics from the early days of Chiang Kai-shek's flee-for-dear-lif... I mean glorious expedition to found the New Republic. If this was the mainland they'd be dreary propaganda props, but on this side of the Strait things are a little funkier: the interior has been converted into an eclectic collection of design studios and artist stalls.

In fact, there's even an artisanal bagel shop where Broadway-worthy bagels are hand-boiled right on the premise. Respect, dude, respect.

So that's how you say "everything bagel with a schmear" in Mandarin.

You can peruse the concept art from a collection of avant-garde independent designers whilst watching your bagel bubble away in the open chef's kitchen. There's more hipster in that sentence than all of Bedford Avenue.

Reunification? Never thought we'd see the day. Mao and Chiang must be turning in their graves. Except for Mao, who's stuck in that stupid Mao-soleum in Beijing encircled by an endless stream of gawkers.

Next stop, the mighty Taipei 101. Everyone knows what the outside looks like from her annual cameo on the world's New Year's Eve broadcasts, but here's your chance for an exclusive inside look.

The engineering secret behind the typhoon-proofing is revealed: it's all about the ballast on the lower decks. Nothing anchors your building to the ground like five floors of Cartier, De Beers, Bvlgari, and Tiffany.

Who would have though manufacturing motherboards was such a lucrative business?

Rock desperately searches for the controls to the drawbridge before Mei makes it across the moat.

Too late, the feeble defenses were never going to be a match for these experienced operatives.

With the clouds closing in again an ascent to the very top is postponed in the hopes that the typhoon decides to take a detour.

But it's always worth taking out an insurance policy just in case the typhoon fails to cooperate. Conveniently there's a coffee shop half way up that comes in just below today's cloud line.

Next stop, Sun Yat-sen's Memorial Hall. He's considered the father of the Republic of China, but seriously, what's up with the desire for grandiose memorials in this part of the world? You think this is big, just wait till you see what Chiang Kai-shek gets...

You'd think you could smile just a little bit when you have a gigantic monument erected in your honor at the taxpayers' expense.

Lucky we didn't head to the top today, looks like the Weather Channel needs a separate forecast for floor 101.

The Eslite Spectrum is as cool a concept as you'll find anywhere in the world. From the outside it looks just like any other Asian shopping mall, but step inside and instead of the usual line-up of generic fashion labels every floor is bursting with stalls run by local designers, selling everything from hand-stenciled t-shirts to bespoke bike satchels.

Nothing brings in the hipsters like a big set of big brass balls that double as lights.

A quick gear count will put to rest any doubts about the kind of clientele this place is catering towards.

Oh look, it's a deconstructed single speed.

Remember there's this move called a disengage? Alternatively, you could just take a bite out of her sword.

We mentioned Taiwan takes breakfast serious. This is how seriously. Yes, that line goes all the way down four floors of stairs and out onto the street below. And all for a fried stick of dough.

At least it proves that cronut-loving New Yorkers aren't the only idiots who will line up for hours for something that takes 30 seconds to eat.

So get this, when Chiang Kai-shek fled the mainland he didn't quite leave empty handed. Instead he packed up 2,000 years of priceless history into crates and shipped it over to his new digs. Probably not a job for Two Men and a Truck.

Now all those ancient treasures are on display in the Palace Museum, but since they don't allow photos inside you'll have to be content with the finest exhibit of all: this steaming bowl of delicious beef noodle soup.

The Sunny Hills bakery is legendary for its one - and indeed only - product: a crumbly pineapple cake. Reputably the best in the world. A big honor since, you know, the specialty pineapple cake market is such a deep and competitive one.

How can you top a deconstructed single speed? Why how about hanging one up as a wall installation.

All those pineapple cakes need to be balanced with something salty.

There's something about an Asian city at night that is just captivating. When the neon signs flicker to life and the roadside woks start to sizzle, you know life is just getting started.