The Australian
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Take a feast down memory lane at Taipei’s famous Raohe Night Market.
Thirty years ago, if you told my mother that one day I would be skipping towards Taipei’s Raohe Night Market, she wouldn’t have believed you. Yet here I am, giddy about the feast to come. My parents left Taiwan before I was born, so as a first-generation member of the diaspora, battle lines were drawn on the kitchen table. I moaned when dinner was rice not spaghetti. I refused anything “weird”, which was often what my mother had just spent hours cooking. Dried shrimp and gelatinous century eggs sent me fleeing.