My Taiwan Adventure

Two old men sit on a park bench under the clear night sky. It is a good night for talking and there is much to discuss. It is election time and in Taiwan that means driving their propaganda trucks all day long to annoy the residents. It follows then that the time to talk with each other must be 3 or 4 am. They don't worry about sleep. Sometimes they'll park their propaganda truck with loudspeakers blaring at a convenient street corner and run home to get a good nap during the day.

This naturally annoys the residents but the old drivers have gone stone deaf from the ear splitting campaign speeches that accompany them as they trundle up and down the streets at the sedate pace of 10 kph. This speed was calculated for maximum propaganda rage from drivers, business owners and residents. It was scientifically proven to ensure that all citizens are aware of the campaign in-case they are blind and can not see the banners and 3 story high bilboards that have been created with especially tacky photos of pleading politicians.

The old men scuffle their freet from time to time, as they lounge on the white metal bench.They share a beer and chew beetle nut vigorously spitting into the conveniently placed garden beside the bench. Their conversation is a rousing one.
"I tell you Henry, Garfield is the candidate for me."

"Garfield? Willy, you must be crazy, he's so soft on the noodle issue. I'm more into Batman, now there's a candidate to get your blood pumping." Henry takes a deep clearing breath and coughs up a fat wad of bright red beetle nut sputum to decorate the grey rock in the little garden. He doesn't know the word for lasanga and so erroneously talks about the 'noodle issue,' which is an entirely different set of food laws banning the sale of cold noodles at 7-11 and other convenience stores.

"True, true, but you're overlooking his hardline stance on late-night activities. With Batman in charge, we'd all have that crazy curfew." Willy nods sagely at this bit of wisdom as he swirls the warm beer around in it's green, white, and gold can.

Henry pauses for a moment as he considers this information. " Yet, it is clearly more logical to elect Garfield as he's clearly got the better sleep laws. You could nap three times a day with him in power."

The old men are satsisfied with their discourse, it flows easily at this time in the morning. They're not rushed by the honking of cars and scooters. There are no bat wielding residents chasing their trucks down the street trying to bash the loud speakers in. It is a good night. The air is clean and fresh and if they keep talking for just one more hour, with the appropriate thoughtful pauses, they'll be able to watch the sunrise over the courtyard.

My courtyard. The courtyard below MY bedroom window. My OPEN bedroom window. Well, it was my open bedroom window. Now it is closed and I'm in the living room on a hard plastic chair writing because Henry and Willy won't let me sleep. I've tried various tactics from muttering, "Go away" to"Give it a rest," and I finally used a swear word that bounced cheerfully in my tiled bedroom. I even shut my window very firmly, which I think woke someone upstairs up because there was an echoing slam somewhere near by. Maybe Harry and Willy were busy slapping each other on the back at my discomfort.

I almost forgot that they are deaf and can not hear the foreign lady's complaint that she is being observed tomorrow in school and desperately needs her sleep. I'm trying the living room couch. I hate the courtyard. I hate the perfect Taiwanese urban planning that has my bedroom window overtop a rock garden with a bench. I hate election trucks. And right now I hate Harry and Willy.

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