The Girl on the Bus
I celebrated my retirement from Newcastle University by buying a round-the-world plane ticket, and arranging to work for a year in a biochemisty laboratory in Taiwan. My kind friend, gave me a 'Travel Diary' in which to capture my thoughts and impressions; though she by no means understood why I was leaving her for a year. I found it, the other day, gazed at the cover for a few moments, before opening and leafing through a few pages. I stopped at an entry titled "The Girl on the Bus" where a book-mark fell out. The words on the page were evocative of forgotten memories.
It was three days before Christmas (though I had been warned several times that our Christmas and New Year were very minor days in the Taiwanese calendar). And it was a Sunday. I decided to make a modest trip out of the city of Taipei, perhaps to the extreme north of the island. I took the mass-transit-railway to its westerly terminus at Tamsui. From there I could catch a bus to take me round the coast to Shi-men. I would have no idea when to get off the bus except by keeping an eye on my watch and assuming the bus was running to timetable; an hour and 10 minutes to Shi-men.
The ramshackle bus set off from Tamsui bus-station shortly before 11.30. I, an obvious foreigner in his early sixties, had a good window seat on the left side of the bus. A considerable number of people got on at the next stop, and a local girl in her mid-twenties came and sat by me.
I looked out seaward at the passing view, with my chin in my hand. We swayed against each other occasionally but it did not seem to matter; we had room enough; it was only momentary.
After 20 minutes the girl started to search for something in her bag, and eventually brought out a little bookmark, or 'favour', made out of a dried leaf-skeleton decorated with bright yellow straw flowers, green straw leaves and a tiny blue straw butterfly. This she offered to me. I have it still, twenty years on, as a bookmark in my travel diary.
I am sure that my face fully expressed my surprise, gratitude, and embarrassment. I had got accustomed, over the months, to conversing almost without words, using glances, gestures, and guesses. Imagine me, in a barbershop, requesting a trim and declining a massage, a shave, and a facial, all in gestures.
"It is Chinese" she said in cautious English.
"Indeed, very Chinese!" I agreed, delighted at the opening thus created. We got to talking, occasionally, and carefully. I told her I was was going to 'Shi-men'. She thought I would arrive at about 12.35. She was going to San-zhi.
"I am meeting someone", she confided. "I have a 'date' ",
"Really?", I asked, laconically. And again I am sure my face must have shown my surprise and my pleasure. Though not, perhaps, their cause. For it was her trusting directness that surprised and charmed me. And I am sure my face must have beamed my happiness, and gratitude; but could she read there my best wishes for her future happiness in this exciting development?
