Just about every day here after darkness falls there will come an ominous growling rising to a roar as a hoard of extremely loud motorbikes cruises up the main artery a block away, headed, I'm quite sure, nowhere in particular, given that most places during shutdown are closed at nighttime. Ah, but the point is not destination but how loud you can be on the way. Supposedly the police were to have put an end to this sort of thing by enforcing recent rules regarding motor noise, but who knows, maybe the police are among the enthusiasts. I will never understand what great pleasure there is in being as irritating as possible, and yet it is a sport that continues to attract a consistent following. For my own part, I think I would merely feel embarrassed to be inflicting this sort of auditory invasion on others, but hey that's just me.
While at coffee this morning, a young man came over to my table to borrow my lighter, then asked if he could sit down and chat. This would be an unusual thing back in America, where we would think our space invaded or our time interrupted, but here it is common enough, and pleasant enough once you get used to it.
Later in the evening, while on my walk, a little boy stopped me on my way to ask "Are you older?"
What was your first clue? My gray beard? The fact that I walk with a cane? The fact that I don't walk very well even with a cane? My wrinkled face? My hunched shoulders?
And anyway, older than what? Huh? Huh? Answer me that!
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