On The Write Path

Which day is it?

It's a bit confusing.

It's almost 1 p.m. here in Jiufen, midnight at WDC, still the 17th in Montana going on 10.

I'm never quite sure what day it is on good days. This trying to live in different time zones is disconcerting at best.

The 17th... get up, eat my noodles, shower, pack, sit and write. Leave to Beimen to catch the bus... standing on the wrong side of the street... but finally getting on. NT$ 90. I heed the sign, a NT$ 1500 fine for not buckling up.

I'm not in Kansas, Toto.

I miss my stop at the Police Station because I don't push the red button. Get off and walk downhill on a road will no sidewalks, aware that a moped, car, truck or bus could snuff me out in a matter of seconds.

Jenny greets me. 'I'm home.'

I meet a young woman from Devon, England; Lim, a young man from KL, Malaysia and Nancy from North Carolina.

The evening is windy and chill.

The kitchen below the 42 steps is open. I order chive-pork soup dumplings. NT$ 100 for 7.

I'm still freezing.

Lim puts on the heat but I'm exhausted and decide that going to bed is best... and warmer.

Behind blue and green curtains I sleep.

Written about a wooden monkey that sits on the stairs to My Story Inn:

You watch us come and go. It's that look on your face we'll always remember. Are you glad we came? Will you be happier when we go? In chilly, windy Jiufen your silence fills the void between us as you guard the 42 stairs. My Story Inn, Jiufen, Taiwan. 18.january.2020.

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