Tag Archives: story

一夜台北

Note: This is a mandarin version of this blog post/story

http://jaezhu.com/2014/04/09/the-plastic-bag-of-raw-meat/

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2014年3月1号发生了这个故事。几乎过了一年,但我还不知道这黑夜的事件怎么发生了。可能我当时的中文听力不太好了,所以听不懂解决这神秘的必要细节。人生中有好多莫名其妙的事,这个故事也是一种。

当时的我是在台北当交换学生的。丰富的空闲时间是当交换学生的好处之一,所以在这繁华的城市里我跟同学常常趁了这个无忧无虑的生活出去派对。

那晚上也是这种晚上。我发挥了我年轻的精神,乱喝酒来达到高高的心神,但乱喝超过我自己的极限。每一杯子带来了开开心心,但最后一杯带来了后后悔悔。口里出来不该出来的事物,情态从端及快快得降落到低。总而言之,喝太多了。

后来,我跟新相识的法国朋友一起坐出租车回去了。下了出租车,外面下了细雨。他转了右边去吃汉堡,我转了左边去回家。我那时的情态稳定,不醉而清醒。路上看到了营业的面店,有好吃的鸡肉汤面。我想起了我老爸的劝告,酒后喝汤,不喝头痛。因此我说我要来一碗。

当时三点左右,半夜老板总是一样。老板是个七十四岁的老奶奶(离开台北前问了她),矮瘦脆弱,声音粗硬。面店还有个客人,吃一吃夜晚面。老板煮面时我看了她的手,吃了一惊。手跟全身比起来有矛盾。手扎实坚硬。

正吃面细雨变了爆。听着大雨的节奏觉得有掩蔽很幸运。便我后面听了声音,扭头看见出租车司机大声说话。听力不好所以听不明白他讲什么,但是听懂了几句话。他说:

“一起。。。送给你。。。“

老板去那边回来拿着塑料袋。看来跟我一起坐车的人要给我这个塑料袋。塑料袋朴素,去买蔬菜时收的那一种。不过里面的东西明显不是蔬菜。重固黏黏。出租车出去,我看里面的东西到底是什么。塑料袋里有几个大块生肉。

当时不知道该怎么想。我的觉悟糊涂因我喝上高峰喝到低到。整个情况像梦一样。

因为不知道把这生肉该怎么处理,我问老板她要不要。她去看里面便说她不要。所以我出发回家的路,大雨下下,右手拿着确凿的重实物。离我房间一百米把生肉放到一座公寓前面,后来没再见。

 

 

The Plastic Bag of Raw Meat

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This is a true story which happened to me on the night/early morning of March 1(2), 2014. It is a story which still confuses me to this day. I know I shall never have all the pieces to solve the mystery. I suppose this is just life and some things are unexplainable, like the plastic bag of raw meat that is the focus in this tale.

This story takes place in the methodically chaotic city that is Taipei, where I am, at the time of writing, an exchange student. As anyone who has been on an exchange may know, one of the blessings the exchange program grants is the opportunity to party in a foreign city. This story happened at the aftermath of one of those kinds of nights. After being a responsible drinker (one who does not launch particles of half-digested food back out through the same opening it came from) for almost a year, this particular night saw me push past self-set limits in search of a great enjoyment. As those who have experimented with alcohol may know, there is a tipping point with a steep descent. And on this particular night, I fell.

I took a taxi with a newly acquainted French associate to get back to our respective homes. We had been at an unmemorable bar/club after coming from a comparatively lively dorm party. We were two out of the original four that had headed out for grander heights of amusement. Unfortunately, it was in here where I pushed past a little bit too far. Thankfully, falling made me feel a lot better and I was now more lucid in comparison to the state of reckless excitement I felt before.

After arriving at our neighbourhood, he turned right to go eat at Mos Burger, a fast food chain, while I turned left to head home. There was a slight drizzle but it was not unpleasant. After walking a quarter of the way I saw one of the street stalls open, one which specialized in chicken oriented dishes. I suddenly felt like it would be prudent to eat some chicken noodle soup for the stomach and the hangover the next day. Some warm broth always did me good after poisoning myself a little too much.

Behind the stall was the same old woman that had been there last time I came for a late night meal. She was of diminutive stature with a voice of a surprisingly solid tone. She looked as if she was way past a reasonable retirement age, with a thin wrinkly skin surrounding her skeletal features. The thing that caught my eye the most was her hands. It was abnormally large and seemed unusually solid looking for a woman her age. The way the thin layer of skin surrounding the hands pronounced the underlying bone and muscle structure gave it a cruel look. I ordered my chicken noodle soup, and I examined the way her practised hands used a short butcher knife to hack a chicken leg into equal widths, creating a convincing ‘thack’ sound every time the knife went down. There was only one other customer at the stall, an older looking gentleman.

After drinking the broth and eating every edible portion of the chicken and the noodles, I felt satisfied and felt like it was time to go home to rest. During this time, the gentleman had eaten his meal and had already left. The rain changed from a drizzle to the start of an all-night downpour. Listening to the rhythmic tapping of the rain, I was glad that I was sheltered from the rain. However, the lack of an umbrella meant that I was not to be safe from the rain for long. It was at that time when I heard someone shouting at me from behind me, from the direction of the street. I turned around and it was the driver of the taxi. I couldn’t clearly make out what he was saying with my imperfect Mandarin, but I made out some of the words he said:

“一起。。。 送给你。。。” (“Together… Give to you…”)

The old stall keeper went to the taxi driver and soon came back with a plastic bag. With some clarification, it did seem to me that he was saying the person with me in the taxi wanted to give me this bag of unknown contents. It was a nondescript plastic bag with a plain gray colour, like the ones you would get from shopping at an outdoor vegetable market. However, it was clear that the contents of this plastic bag were not vegetables. There was a definite mass to it, and it had the texture I could only describe as a firm squishiness. The taxi driver drove away. I finally looked into the contents of the plastic bag. It contained sizable hunks of raw meat.

At the time, I did not know what to make of the situation. I had been on two rides in the past few hours. One was an alcohol driven roller coaster ride with a steep drop. The other was the change of mood and state from a wild exuberance from the party to a solemn calmness befitting the sounds of rain in an empty street with the occasional sounds of a motorcycle. The whole situation seemed surreal.

Not being used to being given raw meat at 3 am in the morning, I asked the old stall keeper if she wanted it. She looked inside and said no. So I took the 5 minute trip to my room with the steadily pouring rain, accompanied by the definite weight in my right hand, and the occasional contact of the bag of raw meat with my right thigh. One hundred metres from my room, I dropped the bag off in front of the entrance of a neighbouring apartment and did not see it the next day.

 

(picture above is the noodle stall)