Will you define “best”?
I’m thinking that people experience Taiwan in dramatically different ways. Is your assumption here is that there is a universal truth to the Taiwan experience? I don’t believe a single universal truth about the foreigner’s experience in Taiwan exists (e.g. most people like water dumplings, but some do not; most people prefer sit-down toilets, but some prefer squatters), and the Taiwan experience is largely dictated by one’s perception of self.
Still, I think this is a worthy challenge, one that I have tried, and failed to meet on several ocassions through my writings. I’ll get the ball rolling/chum the waters by relating an experience I had a few years ago while attending a five-hour business dinner/whiskey fest in Miao Li:
After a dozen or so well-heeled local businesspeople and their wives had arrived in various automobiles of German make, we sat down to a tableful of assorted Hakka appetizers, all local favorites. The conversation kept pace with the new dishes being served and the whiskey being slammed; political views were shared, business predictions were made, humor both high and low-brow was exchanged. We ate with gusto, smacking our lips, belching, stopping to smoke cigarettes from time to time. About halfway through the meal, a large tinfoil saucepan was presented to the table, eliciting ohs and ahs from the men and women in attendance. What I saw was a dish light-brown in color, obviously meat of some kind with a rich sauce, still boiling as it was placed on the table. The fellow next to me, a multi-millionare factory owner, took the scoop inside the pan, filled it, and said to me (in English) “This chicken balls and pig balls. Good for man!,” adding in Mandarin something to the effect that eating such a dish would allow me to fuck like a tiger. I smiled and said “This man okay. No thank you.”
Later, they sent the women home and brought in dancing girls, some of whom soon became nude dancing girls. I enjoyed singing the obligatory two or three Mando-pop songs, and won a fight to keep my pants on (one of the rascals among them had paid six girls to attack me and get my pants off of me). I went back to my hotel drunk off my ass. There was a married engineer from Spain in attendance as well; he was scared to death for most of the evening, I think. Except for the chicken and swine testicles, I loved every minute of it.