Tainan is full of single speed bicycles. I thought, at first, they were fixies, as most of them are conspicuously lacking visible breaks. But a late night walk with no one looking revealed the ones without handle breaks have backpedal breaks. Remember the bikes you rode as a little person, where you could skid at will? Yes, those. It makes sense, though. Tainan is very, very flat and I cannot help but miss my shiny red bicycle.
I was thinking about all this while hanging on to the back of a scooter as the night lights of the city wizzed by. I think it’s common practice to hang on to the driver, but retaining my North American personal bubble space, I preferred to grasp not much of anything on the rear of the little moto. Imagine your hands handcuffed behind you, at buttocks level, and kind of digging your thumbs into a rack type thing, rather intensely digging at times. I couldn’t stop thinking how my thumbs would break if we got in an accident. But no accidents had occurred as we approached the night market.
Diana was my driver. She was also in the graduating class of ’01 at my Highline High School. She also attended UW. And she has lived here for two years. Half through chance, half not, our paths have directly crossed for the first time here in Tainan. Bumping through the crowds, we ate stinky dofu (smells like wet dog, tastes great), noodles and Tainan’s famous fruit. We watched people play games, and meandered through makeshift streets full of vendors that would vanish by morning. A carnival like atmosphere, loud colors, bright sounds and aromas that penetrate the thickest of skin watched as we scootered away into the night.
In many ways the night market is a miniature model of Taiwanese culture. Yes, there is so, so much more, but you can see a little representation of the real thing in every vendor, every eater, every sign, every sound, every player, every shopper. It is a good snapshot.
The next day finds me back to my usual antics: sitting on the street in front of tea shops, walking around near the university. I saw five white people on Friday. I saw six today. This is anywhere from six to infinitely more white people than I see on any other given day. Perhaps it signals the start of the quarter.
This is exciting, though a foreigner suggested to me that most of the foreigners who come here come because they couldn’t really make it back home, and here they hold a higher social status by default. As in, perhaps they weren’t able to get a girlfriend, so they came here. Or maybe they weren’t liked, so they came here. Or maybe they were dumb, so they came here… It’s like a “Taiwan is a voluntary Australia” theory. I suppose I haven’t been overly impressed with the white person eavesdropping I’ve done so far, so maybe this theory holds water, but hopefully not universally (i.e. I hope I am not in that category of barrel scrapers).
‘Till next time, journal/audience.
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