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I'm feeling rather decadent of late. Decadent and a tad over-heated. The weather has rapidly descended into something that befits a tropical island. So a daily commute becomes a sweat-fest, and I'm beginning to resemble a boiled lobster. I'm desperately aiming to achieve that healthy bronzed look that many a celeb sports. I've come to realise, however, that such a fabulous glow is not for mere mortals like myself. It's just too much for a wee pasty blue-skinned Scots lass to hope for. The most I'll ever get is alternating white a red stripes where the various 'tan' (ahem) lines cross paths.

Hence the decadence - the commute of an hour and a half was becoming a sweaty, sticky ordeal, rather than the healthy brisk walk/train ride I had anticipated. So I now have a weekend place (my Tainan apartment - a bargain at 30 quid a month). And I have a weekday place in Sinying, at about 80 quid a month. All in all I've turned yuppie (as KTB so kindly put it) for 110 quid a month! Bargain! Just gotta go for the expense account, a blackberry (or is it blueberry?) and a company car, and I'll be in there! I DO have a company bicyle, so I'm halfway there I suppose.

Anyway, pre-yuppie period I had resorted to using the buses, as their comfort levels far exceed those of the trains. The train are shamefully boring and juddery, and the toilets are horribly basic. Who the hell thought it was a great idea to put a squat n' drop toilet on a platform about two feet off the ground, on a train that jiggles more than Jordan jogging?

However, the buses are the polar opposite of badly designed and frugal - with lazy-boy massage chairs and personal TVs/games consoles. After the BA and Cathay Pacific in-flight entertainment fiasco, I'm considering commissioning a Ho Hsin bus to take me home to the UK. It might take me a few months, or years. And Siberia could be a smite hazardous, but it's that, or going via Afghanistan. Hmmm....I think it'll be worth it, mind.

The only downside has been getting to the bus station on a Friday night. It has always seemed so far away after a couple of beers. Anyway, during last Friday's trip I encountered a particularly over-inquisitive local. The last time I was followed on my bicycle at 2am, I freaked out and got hysterical about some guy stalking me. This time I figured (courtesy of a couple of beers and an over-developed sense of confidence) that I'd have some fun.

So anyway, this is how it went:

The aforementioned stalker/inquisitive local had clocked me leaving pub, and had slowed down for a wee gawp. It's not sooo unusual here to get nudges and gawps and full-on stares, and I got on me bike and started towards Ho Hsin Bus without a second thought to my admirer. Nevertheless, about two minutes later the same chap decided to do a wee turn in the road and come back round behind me. He slowed down as he passed and gave me the full 380 head revolution - exorcist stylee - as he overtook me. Fine, methinked, he's done the stop and gawp, and he'll be off now. But no! He did another turn and the same routine again, only this time he slowed down even further. The exorcist move was put back in practice, and off he putt-puttted.

I thought I lost him as I reached the traffic lights, but there he was, waiting for me. As I turned, the fun started. He tried to have a full-on conversation, as he putt-putted alongside me with his motorbike fumes choking my lungs. Lovely. No amount of "I don't understand", "I don't speak Chinese", and "I don't know" could get it through to his (clearly under-developed) brain that I hadn't a clue what he was saying. So I retaliated with a few rapidly uttered questions of my own. I gave him no time to actually ANSWER, as I fired off:

"What's your name then, eh?. What do you do? Is this your motorbike? Blimey, it's a lovely bike. Nice bit of rust you've got there. Is it yours? The bike, I mean. You look a little inebriated to be driving it, you know. You shouldn't drink and drive young man. Bad form, really. So, what did you say your name was again? Oh, you don't understand? Well, hey, isn't that a coincidence? I hadn't a fucking clue what you said to me either. How's that for irony, eh? Hmmmm, thinking about it - technically it isn't ironic - a bit like that Alanis Morisette song. Just pure chance. But hey, who's counting? I'm not counting. Are you? I don't think you are. You don't sound like you're counting. Oh, you don't understand? Shame really. We were having such a lovely conversation..."

At which point I think he got the idea that I was a COMPLETE NUTCASE, and promptly left me alone. RESULT!