The Girl on the Bus

 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. A 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 evoked forgotten memories. 

It was three days before Christmas. Though I had been warned several times that Christmas and New Year were foreign concepts and very minor days in the Taiwanese calendar, nevertheless there was a hint of holiday in the air. 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 this bookmark in my travel diary.

I am sure that my face fully expressed my surprise, gratitude, and embarrassment. I had become 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, rhetorically.  I am sure that from my face she could read my pleasure, and perhaps my surprise. Though not, perhaps, their cause. For it was her trusting directness that surprised and charmed me. 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?

I audition at the Tree Café, Taipei City

 I audition at the Tree Café, Taipei City

汐止夢想藝術村

That was an interesting evening, in mid-January 2003. Let me tell you.

According to an advertisement posted in Taiwan's English Language newspaper, the Tree Café at Xizhi wanted 'foreigners' for bar work and to play music. I was interested in the latter. I had said on the phone to Amy Tsai that I would be at Xizhi at 7pm.  She had suggested I catch the Red 2 bus from the central station and ask for 'De Vone Li', but outside the central station, which is large and would take 10 -15 minutes to walk round, no-one knew Xizhi and there was discussion as to whether I meant "Hsi-Chih", or "Si-dger" (The Taiwanese and Mandarin Chinese languages differ in their pronunciation --- particularly of Sh and S). Fortunately I had anticipated that one, and had drawn out the symbols (汐止) in my dairy. 

I did not want to get on any old Red 2 in case I ended miles to the west of the city instead of to the east.  An alcoholic Australian with a native lad wanted to help, but did not know which way was north. I was eventually persuaded to give up the Red 2 and go by train. Everyone involved (and by then there were several) thought that would be safest. The man at the ticket kiosk told us to buy a ticket from the automat. Which the lad, constantly urged on by the Australian, did for me. He indicated the 18.37 hrs departure from platform 3A, and I scuttled off. 

I caught the train and eased myself into a comfortable seat, but grabbed the ticket man as soon as he showed. Just as well! I was on the wrong train; this was the express to Haulian, 4 hours down the east coast. I wanted to tell him that it wasn't wholly my fault, but realised that wasn't the point at issue just then. I had to change at the next stop, fortunately only minutes away. By 7.15 I was at Xizhi railway station telephoning Amy Tsai on my mobile (which only worked if I treated the call as an international call ringing out of Taiwan and back in again). I offered to take a taxi, and indeed did so, which was just as well; I would never have found 'Min-Zu second street' let alone the Tree Cafe. Even the taxi driver had no idea where it was, but phoned and got instructions. It turned out that the Tree Cafe was some 10 mins drive north of Xizhi railway station.  (In fact it is still there, at: 95, Minzu 2nd St, Xizhi District, New Taipei City 221, Taiwan.)

Amy Tsai turned out to be young, elegant, relaxed, slightly amused, and sitting on a high stool by the bar. It was mid January, but a fine night. Some diners were out on the patio at the far corner of which a couple of smart 'foreign' waiters were waiting by a bar. A Chinese girl was playing tinkly music on an electric keyboard and singing into a microphone. That would be where I would perform. We sat out at an empty table and I was offered a drink. I understood that they aim to have music every night of the week, and besides the Chinese singer they have an American who plays the guitar and sings his own songs, a French pianist and an Australian. They seem to prefer 'foreigners' for this side of the courtyard; they have a second restaurant nearby with a traditional Taiwanese atmosphere. 

Gordon came over and I was introduced. I missed his name and asked if he was Amy's boss at which she laughed and agreed. When I looked at his card, I saw he was Tsai also. I was about to gaff again, about fathers and daughters, when Amy told me he was her older brother. She was 26. We chatted a bit. Gordon wanted to know how much the fiddle cost, how long I had been playing. "You can try one" he said. "One evening?". "No" he said with an easy laugh, "one song."  But the Chinese girl was still singing. 

So Amy took me on a tour. She and her elder brother run a sort of community here. Their father had been a builder. They seem to own several blocks of flats, two restaurants, one selling Chinese food and one Western, a furniture-making workshop, a bakery, and more. Amy called it her "Dream Community". She gave me a loaf of freshly baked brown bread which looked excellent. It is the two restaurants that make the money, apparently. The Swiss furniture-maker was trying to walk past on the other side. "Ah, my friend Martin!" and I was introduced. "I was admiring your furniture"." Oh its nothing, really", he said with a self-deprecatory shrug; showing that he has been here long enough to know the Chinese response to a compliment. He excused himself and bustled off. Back at the patio we could still hear the music, but the girl had gone. My opportunity. 

        I tuned, but forgot to tighten the bow, as happens now and again on occasions like this. I played “Newcastle” and a couple more Playford tunes that I had put together for Professor Rowntree's retirement. To my surprise there was applause when I stopped. So I tightened the bow a tad and played "The Little Black Rose", in A flat and "The Rose of Tralee" in A. I felt I had done all right, had done myself justice. 

And indeed, Amy and Gordon thought so too, so I am to play there for two hours every Monday, starting 3^rd Feb; if all goes well. Amy drove me to the bus stop and an hour and a quarter later I was home in my flat on the Yang Ming University campus. 

(See also https://occidentis.blogspot.com/2022/03/the-girl-on-bus.html.

Comments would be welcome to Cawstein@gmail.com)