November 7 was a typically confusing day on highway 1, and, if I had known then what I know now, Kaohsiung (aka. the second largest toilet disguised as a city in Taiwan) would have been given a wide steer on the mighty, 24 speed, Giant. Unfortunately, the bike understood as much about local ‘roadsignese’ as I did- absolutely nothing.
A brief break in the traffic and time stopped.
Lazy beads of sweat rolled off bare patches of burnt skin onto the road, the bike, the map, carelessly splattering themselves against whatever gravity decided was its easiest target.
Upstairs, my eyes were stinging behind constantly fogged sunglasses and I felt the urge to wipe my brain from the outside with the back of my hand. Nothing but dulled senses and nagging aches!
Then, an alarm bell rang and it began all over again. A new swarm of scooter-guided shoppers and workers and students rocketed past. Big, toxic bearing, 16 wheelers rumbled from their midst as they worked up enough terminal speed to reunite with the scooters at the next set of lights. A lone kiwi set off once more in their trail of fumes and dust, picking the path of least resistance on two narrow wheels. "I’m going to ride this damned, white torpedo right through this mess."
Into the haze, without any discernable view of the outside world, where tall, grey fingered buildings reached high into the murk.
At ground zero there was no main arterial to follow, only a maze of palm lines that vaguely promised a release from the city’s tight, sweating fist. After an hour of frustration, the byways suddenly melted into a relief of low-rise buildings that revealed colours beyond cement, rust and aged white.
Release, relax and the thought that maybe there was a clean toilet nearby.
Hospital and bike shop became two more appropriate points of immediate interest, however.
With the skill and care of a drunken judge, an elderly gentleman ran me over from a standing start- lock, stock and fuming temper. One minute, standing at a red light, bike straddled between my weary legs, and the next beneath a motor vehicle, merging slowly into the tide of outgoing traffic.
Reaction, "STOP", smack the underbelly of this beast as hard as possible, and pray if there was time.
Yes, God, there was. The beast had ground to a scraping halt, with me as its brake.
"AJOSSI, PABU issoyo?" was the best Korean insult that I could muster.
"Are YOU okay?" was a slightly more intelligible recourse after I remembered where I was.
Inside the crazy man’s, mobile lair there was an air of chaos. A tailormade cigarette hung loosely from his white, chattering lips and a small dog barked its head off at me from the safety of his lap. His window slid down an inch or two, stale smoke escaped into the open air and two snakey fingers shook a crisp 1000 dollar note at me wrapped around the words "A gift."
I looked down at my bleeding legs, the bent Giant, two or three retiscent bystanders . . . time to move on, take the money and limp off.
