In Taiwan, people often do absurdly nice things for me. I tend to feel guilty about these gifts and favours, because I don't know how to repay them properly, and usually can't afford to do so anyway. I don't want to be resentful of these things, but sometimes it imposes a certain pressure on me that is unpleasant. Sometimes I don't want to be made to feel like the star of the show. It can be hard to be loved.
We went to a crab restaurant where the crabs were the size of half deflated orange basketballs. A western charity was having an event there, something like a circle with a k in it, and they were least friendly people I have ever met in this country. I wanted to key their rows of blacked out mercedeses as we left. Who knows, maybe it's also a gangsters' money laundering operation in my homeland as well.
Another charity club, for lions, is perhaps an even better example. The father of one of the german skaters, now returned, was a very active member in Germany, and arranged for his son to come to Taiwan on an exchange with the taipei chapter. He was kept as a sort of dangerous exotic pet by the host family, who locked him in his room every night at 8pm. Naturally, he just started staying out all night and skating. At their charity, they post a print out of who gave what amounts of money each month. They offered him cash to write them a positive review for their newsletter. What else can you expect from wage slave masters who make their fortunes from human trafficking of factory workers?
The next day was a blue sky day, maybe because a single factory was recently closed due to an array of pollution violations, which is a breathtaking development for Taiwan, no pun intended. Apparently, pm2.5 fell by 40% following its closure.
I skated the grey curbs for hours. A very dark old man sat down and watched the entire session, alternatively telling himself jokes and laughing outloudly at them, and then suddenly snapping threats at himself like a dangerously unpredictable mafia boss in a film, about to order the execution of a subordinate who betrayed him. I suppose his behavior was no stranger than my solo session slappying the curbs. At any rate, the river of families didn't seem to treat either of us as especially more eccentric than the other.
Just down the hill is a volley and basket ball court where some geniuses set up a collapsable diy spot. Noone came until after dark though, so I only had the energy to skate wit hthem for about 90 minutes. Also, they lube their rails with the fastest slickest wax I have ever skated, and I was afraid of death by zipping. I took one of hteir old decks home to give to teacherc, with whom I work, who says he wants to try skateboarding. The 3 km hill back to the house gets more fun every time I skate it.
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