Herbie Goes to Hasbaya. Born in 1968, I belong to the Love Bug Generation,... (Hasbaya)
Herbie Goes to Hasbaya. Born in 1968, I belong to the Love Bug Generation, although I didn’t see the actual film until 1977, when it was screened as part of a Saturday double bill (together with the Pink Panther) at the Yuan Shan Club in Taipei. By then, the effervescence and promise of the 60’s, so neatly captured in both films, had subsided into the betrayal and disillusion of the 70s. In Taiwan though, that spirit was still alive. The Catholic school I went to (one of only two choices then, the other being the American School, which my father deemed too unruly) was staffed by an unlikely blend of avuncular Filipina nuns (think Maria von Trapp with a touch more discipline), slightly seedy military wives and psychedelic refugees from America, who arrived with flowers in their hair, peace symbol necklaces and Afros the size of paper globe lanterns. We didn’t exactly run wild but when music classes begin with the New Seekers and end with Miles Davis or Hendrix, you’ll appreciate what I mean. Moving to Rio four years later, it seemed the 60s were still with me, even if the paisley pantsuits had been replaced by cut-off jeans and Davis and Hendrix by Bethânia and Duran Duran. There, my father remarried and while I’ve little kind to say about his wife, her sister, Márcia, became my partner in crime. Titia (Auntie) was 13 years older and she loved life. Music, the beach, good food, good vibes, she was all smiles and laughter, the polar opposite of her chilly sibling. And she had a VW Beetle. It was old, it was orange and Titia drove it pedal to the metal. Careening around Rio, squeaking past converging buses and screeching around narrow mountain roads. I loved it, though I’m not sure how we didn’t die. So now, whenever I see a Beetle, I remember my Titia (and Herbie) and it always makes me smile.
by wsinghbartlett / Instagram