July 16, 2021
July 16th
the local backstreets
Yesterday it dawned on me that the are lots of streets nearby that I've never ventured down. Why would I? Many are dead-ends and don't have shops on them.
However, it's strange that when I tour other countries, it's the small roads and backstreets that give me a better sense of adventure, so making a foray around my own neighborhood is on this afternoon's agenda en route to the supermarket.
| Heart | 1 | Comment | 0 | Link |
At the end of the block are two women selling veg. I've not seen them before, but then again it's rare for me to ride this way - the opposite direction to town. Knowing they wouldn't really enjoy having their photo taken, I pull up across the road, outside a bakery, and sneak my camera out and zoom in. Getting a snap of them takes less than 1/100th of a second.
The elderly woman who has a sewing machine and who's fixed various items for me over the years lives on one of the nearby streets and there are several adjacent blocks of older homes to look at. My guess is they all date from around the 1950s or 60s, when Taiwan began to experience its own industrial revolution and factory workers needed a place to live.
They have front doors opening onto the street and, like most areas, there are no pavements - or for US readers, sidewalks. Some have a space of a foot or so where a scooter could get parked, or a chair placed.
The houses are not old in the European sense, but they have a certain style, with tiled exteriors. Most have been renovated over the years, but there are one or two that still retain the original features.
The original tiles are small, like a mosaic, but nearly all the facades and front walls have been redone with modern ones, like those you might find in a kitchen.
The doors and gates are now shiny stainless steel, as opposed to painted metal or wooden ones.
I spot some brown tiles on a house, and see a quite a collection of umbrella handles hooked over the metal door. It seems like a nice shot and I stop and get my camera out just as the homeowner unlocks it.
She's one of the women who walk around pushing a trolley, collecting recyclable materials. She's puffing on a cigarette and my guess she's in her 60s. She's certainly confused by my presence.
A younger neighbor walks past and asks me what I'm doing, so I explain the umbrellas caught my eye and that it seemed a good idea to take a photo. The older women clearly thinks I've got a screw loose and is unimpressed.
At the end of the street are a pair of metal doors with grandiose roundels with the Chinese character for lucky/happiness. The doors are a pair of what appear to be originals. The red paintwork is hard to distinguish from the rust.
After crossing Route 114, which is the busy road I ride when going to and from work - at least back when I had classes - there are more small lanes and dead-ends to explore.
Being on the bike doesn't attract any attention as I silently cruise around, often doubling back and circling small blocks to see if there's anything worth photographing. There's is nothing special in mind and it's simply a case of keeping an eye out for things that look good in a photo, yet which people would pass by without noticing, such as a bike leaning against a wall, or a chair near a front door.
The backs of older homes often have a very narrow passage between them. This incorporates a gully and wastewater from kitchen sinks still gets discharged directly into these open drains. I make my way along one, wondering if there'll be anything of interest, and it's just wide enough to ride down.
There are no gardens - urban land is just too expensive - but many residents grow tubs of veg and shrubs outside their homes. The containers could be reclaimed bathtubs, polystyrene boxes or actual plant pots.
Another unusual feature is fixed to external walls are fire extinguishers, which in the UK would doubtlessly get stolen or vandalised within a few days.
| Heart | 1 | Comment | 0 | Link |
I cycle this way and that, trying to include every section of each lane and alley and often get lost and discombobulated before finding myself saying "I was just here a few minutes ago." It's not an issue. It does feel like an adventure.
What's apparent is that there are very few homes now left with original windows. These slide open and there's a concrete frame with a wooden slider behind some metal poles, which are presumably a security feature. The rooms must be very dark, as the windows are small and always have obscure glass.
It seems that some single-storey homes were designed with a small forecourt/yard, but a majority of these have been adapted as part of the interior on houses that have been done up. The single-floor dwelling has also been demolished and been replaced with houses that have perhaps three floors on the same footprint.
The new metal windows have bars, too.
An elderly lady who looks like she's in her 70s is sat on a repurposed dining chair under a rare tree that gives her a bit of shade, not that it's sunny this afternoon. She's alone, but there's another identical chair, so maybe her friend will join her at some point for a chat. She'll probably tell her/him there was a foreigner cycling around earlier, armed with a camera.
The shaded corner is on a narrow alley and as I think about surreptitiously taking the lady's photo, a man riding an old, sturdy, single-gear trike which has a roomy trailer on the back comes rolling along. There's just enough time for me to capture him before he pedals past and I now recognise him from my own street, as he appears each morning in search of cardboard and other material to collect for money. He gives me a slight nod.
There are lots of dead-ends and parking must be a headache. Some streets that appear to be a dead-ends have a path for people to walk to the next street and I go through a few and then turn around once the homes look too new. It seems like whole blocks have been demolished and apartment and tall town houses have taken their place.
One of those old ceramic vessels for storing rice wine is sat outside one house and it's surprising a car hasn't smashed it.
As I make my way south, closer to where I usually ride to work and town, I try each lane to see if there's anything of interest. I get to where I once ate my lunch, where three men are now sat playing go. It's a makeshift shelter with odd chairs and a low table made from scrap wood. I wonder if gatherings like this are legal, but there are only three of them and they're wearing masks, as is everyone I've met. Mine is making my face wet.
I veer down a street opposite and get the camera out and spot a new-ish but cheap bike parked and take a snap, then zoom in on the tree men. The good thing about not having a view-finder is that it's hard to know someone is actually focusing on you. They are unaware, being focused on their board game.
It's not far to the supermarket now and the streets are ones I know and have been down before. I get to the empty house that I took a photo of a couple of days ago and look for the upturned storage jar, but it's already gone.
My mind is made up. It's salad for dinner.
Today's ride: 4 km (2 miles)
Total: 504 km (313 miles)
| Rate this entry's writing | Heart | 4 |
| Comment on this entry | Comment | 2 |
2 years ago