Tuesday, May 18, 2004
101: MyCity
The first impression when entering the Taipei 101 
(the T-shape sub-building, main floors won't open till the year end) is the fresh air. Or oxymoron, "natural and recycled" air. You feel like a different person inside. The building is so new, you feel like you're entering a giant brand-new car and can't stop sniffing the permeating aroma. It is a bit un-Taiwan. Or I mean, the 101 should fit perfectly to Taipei. (pretentious, international, bourgeois, neatness freakish, me-too-ism and so on) You feel like a better person inside. Rarely anyone litters. Grown-up refrains from turning heads when a pseudo-super-model passes by. The toddlers are warned they would get expelled if misbehaves. Window shopping is a painful experience. It seems all high-class boutique stores inside employ overdressed, heavenly beautiful and helplessly helpful people to serve.
It feels like a giant, directionless casino. Inside, you are on a different time-zone. You overhear different languages. It’s so sparkling bright here. Maybe a pair of sunglasses should be mandatory upon entering. There is no traditional “ding dong dong dong” department store canned announcement. Everyone behaves like as in Versailles Palace.
Maybe the food court downstairs reminds you it’s still in Taiwan. The KFC sits not far from chicken feet and pig intestine gourmet.
Like the Sears Tower in Chicago, I believe, The Taipei 101 deserves its own zip-code. Any suggestion for the lucky number?
(the T-shape sub-building, main floors won't open till the year end) is the fresh air. Or oxymoron, "natural and recycled" air. You feel like a different person inside. The building is so new, you feel like you're entering a giant brand-new car and can't stop sniffing the permeating aroma. It is a bit un-Taiwan. Or I mean, the 101 should fit perfectly to Taipei. (pretentious, international, bourgeois, neatness freakish, me-too-ism and so on) You feel like a better person inside. Rarely anyone litters. Grown-up refrains from turning heads when a pseudo-super-model passes by. The toddlers are warned they would get expelled if misbehaves. Window shopping is a painful experience. It seems all high-class boutique stores inside employ overdressed, heavenly beautiful and helplessly helpful people to serve.
It feels like a giant, directionless casino. Inside, you are on a different time-zone. You overhear different languages. It’s so sparkling bright here. Maybe a pair of sunglasses should be mandatory upon entering. There is no traditional “ding dong dong dong” department store canned announcement. Everyone behaves like as in Versailles Palace.
Maybe the food court downstairs reminds you it’s still in Taiwan. The KFC sits not far from chicken feet and pig intestine gourmet.
Like the Sears Tower in Chicago, I believe, The Taipei 101 deserves its own zip-code. Any suggestion for the lucky number?
# posted by Laurent Lin : 6:42 PM
