Back in the city, I'm just a guy with claims of having a "happening" life. It's basic. Inebriated evenings; beats and bass and all, the dancefloor. Or else, just hanging out with people, our own cultural and social talking points, our own references.
Back in my ancestral town, life is slow. You don't even get Kings-sized (regular sized tbh) cigarettes. Hot and humid, the sweat turns your own body into a swamp. All the intellectualization of being empathetic and respectful becomes null and void when the gut-wrenching emotions are disdain and pity for the inhabitants of this back 'o beyond swamp. It's a cool early 20s degrees back home.
But that's just me. You look at the natives of the place, you look at my own relatives, they seem quite chill about life between rurban purgatory. So who's the real loser here? The state-level Taekwondo championship happening in town shed a light there.
The town showed up for the fighting festivities. It was carnivalesque. It was hyped. Food trucks, juice stalls, Gol Gappas, and all. The competitors (from all over the state), and the organizers were all at it. The fight spilled out off the mats, into the fields. Kids running around spamming kicks at each other; older ones demonstrating jumping and spinning kicks on the mitts. A particularly voracious gang of girls (competitors) bellowing and hooting for their teammates with some venomous team spirit. I got very hyped myself.
My pity turned into self-pity. For, the people here are just fine, keeping cool and being cool. They do not, and will not, give a flying fuck what some tourist feels like, they know how to have a good time, despite the heat. They have their own beats and basslines, their good humour. I was just being a little bitch.