under the bridge again

This morning the hills have reappeared beyond the rising concrete, the light sharpened, colours rediscovered upon the distant slopes. It's too early for a Sunday, not even eight, and I'm already on my second coffee. I decide to head over to Dazhi and get a bike, head along the Keelung river for a bit, see where I end up. But then, on the metro, I find my plan changing, switching lines and travelling to Songshan, the end station of the green line, and cycling from there up the river. There's a bridge and an underpass which I would have missed if I'd followed my first thought. The river's high, higher than I've ever seen it, puddles and pools along the route telling the tale of the downpours over the last couple of days.

Approaching the bridge I can hear the sound of a trumpet, playing something bluesy, closer I find that it's part of a quartet, along with three saxophones, causing an extended pause in the cycle. But that's what brings me back here, since that first, accidental visit lost upon a marked path, it's a place for musicians to practice, surprisingly good acoustics for listeners like me, standing in the shadows grinning from ear to ear and a couple of columns later another, solo, sax player who's gobsmackingly good, another pause, some more photo's...memories calling up the desire to hear a specific tune, written by John Coltrane but this version not played by him, but i remember listening the first time to this album in a friends room, being blown away by it and years later getting the chance to see him in concert, enough information i think, but it seems apt to post a link to it...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rPkpubkbppE

It's one of my favourite things about Taipei, these stumblings into unexpected soundscapes, the spirit of Sonny Rollins indeed as, above, the clack of cars on the overpass offers and unsteady metronome, how much more jazzy could it be. Around me baseballs are thrown and caught in clouds of dust, children learning to ride bikes and skateboards, all carried upon the wailing beauty spilling out the assorted horn sections.

Later, reading the newspaper, an article on the behaviour of locals to Europeans in China, a pale imitation of the abuse that's been reportedly  aimed at Asians who dare to wear a mask in the UK but, even so, it's  quietly saddening. Then here, on the metro, (which is using heat cameras to check temperatures upon anyone entering a station, if you're over 38.2 degrees you're not allowed to enter or ride upon it) a young boy notices my blue eyes above my mask and looks horrified, pulling at his mother to move away from me, which they do. I can't say that it bothers me but I do wonder at the adult preferring to continue to peer into her screen rather than explain that there's no need to be fearful. And later still we enter a bookshop, have our temperature taken at the door before we're allowed inside and then a compulsory handwash, just in case. I think back upon the articles I'd read earlier, such a different approach here, wish that the west had paid a bit more attention...

and, in the words of Joe Strummer this is a public service announcement with guitars...or a guitar...Richard Thompson is playing a live gig on facebook at 2100gmt...