Kenting night market was mostly food with a bit of jewellery and souvenirs thrown in. The four-lane road that ran through the southern Taiwan shopping area became two, with stalls that people strolled past.
I’d been staying in a back street the past four nights, no more than 150 metres from the commotion that lined both sides of the main street. It was time to join the crowd though I had no intension of buying anything. That was until I caught sight of a pancake on the grill that a woman filled with basil. Luckily, I’d only eaten an apple for my evening meal.