The training course in Kenting went on in a very tight schedule. The night before the last day, the staff had a dinner together. Once again, it was a Thai restaurant. Every one was starving; every dish was emptied in a matter of few minutes it was served to the table. That night, foods functioned only as nutrition and energy refill.
Kenting Main Street was packed with more than ten thousand visitors. Pedestrians, baby trolleys, mopeds, motorcycles, and cars were jammed and mixed up together, leaving everyone very little space to move forward. All the street side stalls selling all kinds of merchandises seemed to know that this mob of tourists was about to leave, and were trying their best to sell. The items found at these stalls, well, were so familiar to me. All of them could be found at other night markets, at comparable, if not lower prices. I didn’t know what other people on the street think, but I did hope for some more local specialties. Through out this trip I was told by fellow divers about their disappointments especially about foods. Bad tastes and extorted prices. The scuba instructor, Mr. Pen, told me that the real estate in this area had been jacked up to an outrageous level; any one wanted to run a business on Kenting Main Street must pay an extremely high rent, even for one small space for one stall might require NT$8,000 per day.
That explained bad tastes and extorted prices.
As I was on my ride back to the cold and damp Taipei in the night, I’d determined that next time, if I ever, come down to Kenting, I will bring my gas grill. I shall make pasta for lunch and pan fried noodles for dinner.