Return to the Motherland, Part II: Conglom-O

Think of the one thing you absolutely cannot live without on a daily basis. It's a hard question, I know. (And no, this isn't the start to some awkward middle school personality test/eHarmony screening.) Is it your smartphone? Your contact lenses? Pepsi? Your morning venti skinny mocha Frappuccino?

Here in Taipei, it's 7-Eleven.



The immense power that these convenience stores hold over the livelihoods of the denizens here is mind-boggling. I'd argue that "convenience store" is a misnomer here - they're true necessities of daily life.

7-Eleven (colloquially referred to simply as "The Seven," or, assuming the local accent, "The Saybun") is ubiquitous. Walking down a fourteen-block stretch, I counted five separate stores. For comparison, there were only two Starbucks and one McDonald's.

Of course, they do and sell everything you'd expect from a convenience store: beverages, prepackaged fast foods, crappy hot food deli. But it is all the other services they offer that truly make them a pillar of life here. Wanna pay your water bill? Hop on in to a Seven! Expecting a DHL or UPS package of cookies and Bic pens from your loved one? Yep, pick it up at a Seven. Are my your clothes drenched in enough sweat to house a betta fish? No problem, just look for a Seven that offers laundry service.

Much like how Barnes and Noble partnered with Seattle's Best Coffee, many 7-Eleven stores here are contracted to CityCafe and have seats with free Wi-Fi so you can hang out and chat with your friends. Needless to say, I've spent quite a few mornings post-run, sweatily disgusting all the other patrons as I surf the interwebs.

No better way to beat the heat than to steal air conditioning and Wi-Fi from your local convenience store/laundry service//insurance company/shaman temple.

I've been thinking about how 7-Eleven managed to acquire the market for all these services. We know that the chain has nowhere near this kind of cultural influence and impact in the States. I've concluded that it all boils down to this central dogma here: Taipei revolves around efficiency. Everybody talks unbelievably fast. People here are always on the go. I've come within inches of hospitalization numerous times because drivers simply don't give a damn about pedestrian right-of-way. I mean, from a logical point of view, it makes sense - it's simply faster for a car to turn first. Taipei Metro trains - quite simply the best public transit system I've been on thus far (sorry I'm not sorry, D.C.; MTA, I still love you but you need to take a damn shower) - arrive on time, every time. Congestion on the streets here has noticeably reduced since my last stint stomping around the city. Most people still buzz around on their scooters, but traffic is nowhere near as bad as when I was last here twelve years ago. The commitment that this city has made toward improving the infrastructure is truly impressive. Since people so highly value efficiency here, what better way to make your day as hassle-free as possible by putting almost everything you need in one easy place, and then plant those places every three blocks?

Efficiency in this country is best exemplified by the EasyCard. This rechargeable smartcard, which Taipei started utilizing about ten years ago, was first used as a fully integrated, easy payment system for the brand-new Taipei Metro, all the buses, Taiwan Railways, and the High-Speed Rail. Soon enough, however, EasyCard got expanded to most convenience stores, many eateries, and retail stores. And of course, there is no easier way to buy an EasyCard (ha see what I did there? okay sorry I'm going away now) than at the local 7-Eleven. It's truly remarkable how easy it is to get around here. And it all starts with a corner shop that sells two-day-old hot dogs.

Now excuse me while I step out for a hot dog.