Him and the Night

               “It’s dark,” said the night.

               “Oh, is it?” he responded, “I can’t tell.” At least, he was pretty sure he was a he. He couldn’t actually imagine being anything else, so he decided that for the sake of convenience he would stick with what he thought he knew.

               “Are you sure it’s dark? How do you tell?”

               “I don’t really know,” the night thought out loud, “That’s just how things are, I guess. People have always said that it’s dark when I’m around.”

               “What do they say when you’re not around?”

               “I have no idea, because then I’m not close enough to hear what it is they’re saying.”

               “Hmm. Well, this is all very interesting,” said he, “Really, it is. But I feel like I really must be going.”

               “Yes? How do you know that?”

               “Same way that you know it’s dark. Because that’s just how it is. We know about ourselves because of what people say about us. So I know that I must continue walking because I say so.”

               “I see. People logic never really made any sense to me, but I suppose it would make sense to people. Else, why would they keep using it?”

               He felt like he was moving, and that was more than he had felt before, so he decided that it would be progress if he continued feeling that way. “Goodbye, night. Maybe we’ll meet again.”

               “Bye. See if you can find me once you’ve gotten where you’re going. Good luck.”

               He imagined himself gesturing in a way that would indicate that he was leaving, but none of it really made any sense. Anyway, the night was getting fuzzy, and this strange bright sensation began to cover him.

               “Hm, this isn’t night,” he was getting concerned that he would never arrive because everything was so confusing, “Now it’s not dark, it’s messy. This new night is messy.”

               And he was right. The area he was moving into was cluttered with all sorts of things that were coloured, and had mass. Now this was most confusing. The objects seemed to be separated, as if this new kind of night had hardened and then been smashed into a bunch of incongruous bits. And the bits obviously repelled each other, else why were they not sinking into and fading through each other?

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               I enjoyed writing this.

               I am slowly becoming more and more peeved that the blogger posting system does not contain an adequate indentation system.

               Also, I only really write from a male standpoint because I have never experienced life from any other perspective.

7 Things I have Learned About Blue-Collar Work

1. It sucks
2. Be polite to everyone and your job will be much easier
3. It's a lot more fun to work with people who don't care too much about their jobs
4. Canadian winters are not terribly compatible with construction
5. Coffee is essential
6. Nobody seems to understand that radio stations exist which don't just play the top 40 songs
7. Blue-collar work (at least in construction) is dirty. I hate being dirty
8. The vocabulary of most workers is about Grade 7 level, just with more swearing

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I've decided that I don't like the name of my blog. It was made in haste and was a desperate attempt to sound original. Alas.

A Man on his Porch

            It was a pleasant winter evening. The elderly gentleman stood on his porch, watching the cars as they went by and occasionally glancing at the construction going on across the road from his quaint, attractive townhouse.

            The hedge around his garden was well kept, and gave the man a nice sense of privacy, even though it was only about a hand’s breadth above waist height. His gnome bustled around the hedge, trimming a leaf here, a wayward branch there, helping the shrubby wall keep up the illusion that it had in fact grown to be as orderly and mathematical as it appeared.

            The man was very pleased with his life at the moment. Heat emanating from a mug of mild black tea teased his hand and prompted a satisfied smile. He had a good life, after all. He kept a clean, prim house that was but a short distance walk from the town’s small commercial district; he didn’t struggle to make ends meet; and he had reached that stage in life where he had both the means and the time to take things slowly, and fully enjoyed doing so.

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            Hello again. I have finally decided that I will continue to post updates, but the focus will no longer be on travel, rather it will be a place where I dump pieces of creative writing I've made. I don't know how often I'll update, but it will probably be more than once a month.

The Future of Good Wildebeest

As is evident, I haven't really been updating this blog very frequently. This is because it started as a travel blog, and as I am no longer traveling, there is nothing to blog about.

So, what should I do with this blog? Should it be a creative blog? Should I blog about my daily life? Or write fantasy stories starring my guinea pig? I need suggestions. Ask your friends, and try and give me some feedback about what I should do with my blog.

Thanks,

Josh

My Trip to Hong Kong, Part 2

Hard to believe it may may be, but I actually did other things other than hug Winnie the Pooh whilst in Hong Kong. For example, I used chopsticks:

I mean, who cares about Disneyland, wouldn't you rather hear about my chopstick technique? Honestly? Now, I know you would absolutely love to read about the finer points of chopsticking, but unfortunately, the above is the only appropriate picture I have on the subject. And as the content of these blog posts is entirely dictated by how many pictures I have for each topic, a single picture on a single topic is fated to receive only a proportional amount of coverage. But enough babbling, here's a picture of me with a wizard:

I don't know where those children came from.

So yes, the Abrey family and I went to Hong Kong on the Thursday before the Sunday when I had my flight back to Canada. Aaand we went to Disneyland. It was awesome. I know that the castle wasn't real, the  princesses walking around weren't actual princesses, and the whole park was built to advertise their movies and get you to buy coffee mugs embossed with motifs of Mickey Mouse's head, but I loved it.

The whole park was so darn happy it was difficult to remain cynical. I went on almost all the rides except the teacups and the Small World ride. Our collective family was also able to eat at the Enchanted Garden buffet restaurant in the bottom of the Disneyland hotel. What a buffet. Now I'm hungry. I'm gonna go eat lunch, then finish this blog. Don't go anywhere.

...

I'm back. Lunch was delicious. Anyway, the Enchanted Gardens were cool because they featured lots of classic Disney characters that walked around and took pictures with the residents of each table.

I need a suit like Mickey's.

We spent a couple days at Disneyland, and on the third day we drove through Hong Kong, and I was able to see where my Uncle Paul grew up. Hong Kong is certainly a beautiful place, but you can hardly tell because all the beauty is obscured by smog.

We took a tram that was pulled up a mountain at like a forty degree angle in order to reach a lookout place that looked like this:

http://www.thepeak.com.hk/en/1_2_1.asp

Great view, but again, very smoggy.

I was obviously having fun

If it wasn't for the pollution, Hong Kong would be incredibly attractive. I recommend it.

My Trip to Hong Kong

I'm back! Also, Bali

Hello, dear people. First off, I would like to extend my sincerest apologies for not posting for like ten days. though it pained me to go so long without bragging about my life, I had good reason not to post, for I was in Hong Kong. And then I came back to Canada. These two factors combined to limit my available free time and prevent me releasing any posts. But whatever, I'm back now and still unemployed, so I will continue posting.

Do note that though I am now in Canada, the next two or three posts will still be about my adventures in Singapore, as I have not yet had the time to post about everything I have done.

So, Bali. Or rather, the island of Bali within the country of Indonesia. It was a bit colder than the perpetual 31 degree weather of Singapore, but the vegetation looked just like Singapore would have looked like if it hadn't been covered by a city.

We went to Bali for about 3 Earth days, and my uncle and I spent part of the 2nd day boogieing around Bali on some buggies, during which I took the above picture.

This handsome devil took the last red buggy.

We buggied for a good two hours, and by the time we were done I could have built a sand castle out of the dust that had accumulated on my body. The guide said that it was either buggy in dry weather and get caked in dust, or buggy in weather and get caked in mud. It would have been nice if they had told us to bring goggles or something.

At one point we almost got lost, but some nearby cow shamans were able to point us in the right direction.

Though nothing was ever too far away, it always took forever to get anywhere. I never figured out if the long travel times were due to the traffic or the taxi drivers or the road system, but when being driven anywhere my impatience was usually overcome by terror and a strong distaste for the lack of Balinese traffic laws.

Though driving between places was occasionally terrifying, Bali is beautiful, and there's lots to look at. The people have built temples everywhere, and every other house contains a guy who's really good at making religious sculptures.

Bali was nice. I recommend it.

Fishers of Shrimp

Due to popular demand, I present a post detailing the fine art of prawn fishing, and my experiences thereof.

Roughly a month (I say a month, but I really have no idea) ago, the Abrey collective and I stopped by a holiday camp of sorts on the way back from purchasing some bags of water to refill my Uncle Paul's fishtank with. And yesterday, because of overwhelming public demand, I returned again to that land of mystery and intrigue, in order to once again try my hand at...

...PRAWN FISHING!

In need for an adventure, my Uncle and I decided to again forge our way through the wilds of north-western Singapore to find the collection of shacks that has become a haven for the bruised and beaten of society to cast aside their cares and fish for prawns. Though not much to look at, experience has shown that this humble construction is home to some of the greatest prawn fishers this side of the Serengeti.

Though not terribly full on arrival, new customers quickly filled up the little shack as word of my arrival spread. A newcomer I may be, but an amateur I am not.

Now, the shrimp filled pool was quite a sight. I am as yet unacquainted with whatever witchcraft causes the liquid to remain opaque, but it should be considered an admirable achievement, as it prevents the fishers from directly viewing their quarry, therefore retaining the delicate balance between hunter and hunted.

My uncle and I wasted no time in grabbing a rod with which to do battle. Now you may be thinking, "Josh, are you not taking this whole prawn fishing thing a little seriously?" And I would say, "Nay, good citizen, for until you have matched wits against the raw fury that the prawn embodies for yourself, you can't hope to understand the intense mental preparation the fisher must undergo to prepare himself for such a task."

Fortunately, they had rods for each of the four elements.

I will not bore you with talk of the fishing itself, for descriptions of my constant victories would become monotonous after a while. I will tell you that I caught about ten prawns in an hour, a number that any respectable gentleman would be proud of.

Vile creatures, aren't they?

After completing our task, my uncle and I passed the prawns to a young lass who had more use for the prawns than we did. But before we left, I noticed that the fire magi had set up a clever device for frying the beasts they had captured then and there, beside the pool.

As we prepared to leave, I noticed that some of the wise men who seemed to run the place were unfurling a series of tarps that lined the prawn house.

I don't know how they knew it, but the heavens opened and drenched the area with a mighty slew of rain not ten minutes later. Though I don't know for sure how they knew it would rain, I wager that it probably has something to do with the uncanny way that the old prawn men can commune with nature.

Now my friends, I bid thee farwell, and I wish you luck on all your upcoming endeavors. I complete this task and move on to another, and I hope I am as successful in my quests as you are in yours. For what can the world hurl at us that can possibly give us pause? Us, with intimate knowledge of the delicate art of prawn fishing? Nature, I say thee nay! I defy your weak attempts to dampen my spirits, just as the mighty prawn defies the rod that hooks him! I will not go quietly into the night! Like the prawn, I will stand and fight! Carpe diem!

Universal Studios

Up until I came to Singapore, I had never been to a theme park. I had been to Wonderland and had ridden roller coasters, but I had never been to a place where the goal was to over-advertise the sponsor's creations via mechanized rides. After going to the park and seeing the sights, I feel that this definition suits it best, as the focus was not on crazy roller coasters, but on slightly lesser rides intended to bring attention to the many movies of Universal Studios.

Universal Studiooos!

Anyway, it was new experience, and I was impressed. We arrived in the wee hours of the morning, before the usual crowds had gathered. The first thing we saw was an animated Shrek 4-D short, in which the audience gets to sit on these chairs that shake when things get smashed and spray water on you when Donkey sneezes.

As i said, I was impressed. To enter the park ,you need to walk through a stylized street that looks like this:

After that you find a giant boat that was built in support of the Madagascar movies.

And there was a giant Egyptian gate.

And a castle.

We also went to a live-action show based on the movie Waterworld that ended with the nearly everything on the set exploding and falling apart.

Later we passed through a 1920's New York street that featured, in true 20's style, a group of Asian breakdancers.

Someone was confused.

18th Birthday

And so it has come to pass that I proceed from the tender teenage years of yesterday and become a man. As if I wasn't manly enough already. Anyway, I have turned 18. It's pretty good so far. Also, I didn't really take any pictures, so this is going to be a text-only post.

For my 18th birthday, my Aunt Sheryl and Uncle Paul took me to the Altitude Bar. It gets it's name because it takes up the 63rd and 64th floors of what seems to be the tallest building in Singapore. I say "seems" because when looking at other buildings from the top floor, it seems to be the tallest, but I don't know that for a fact.

So, after taking the private club elevator to get to the 63rd floor, we were let into the dining area and were seated at our reserved seats. I guess this place is in pretty high demand, because there are two seatings, and we, being in the first one, had to be out of there by 8:30 in order to make way for the next wave of patrons.

I must say, the food was very good (I tried liver!), but the choosing of said food was complicated by the fact that the menu, in keeping with the style of all fancy restaurants, was crammed with long Italian words and references to vegetables I never knew existed. After appetizers, I ordered a simple steak, that was accompanied by potatoes, a strange salsa sauce, and snail salad.

After dinner (and a darn rich chocolate cake thingy), we migrated one floor up, to the more clubby part of the joint. There wasn't a roof, and the only thing preventing one from falling off the building was a four foot high inch-thick piece of plastic that lined the walking area. We collectively drank some stuff, talked about nothing important, and failed to take decent pictures of each other. I had a very good time, and we left after the bassy dance music had become so loud it was difficult to hear what each other was saying.

Jurong Bird Park

On the weekends, my Aunt and Uncle get a break form their jobs, allowing them to cart their kids and I to all sorts of groovy Singaporean attractions. The latest of these excursions was to the Jurong Bird Park, which is, in case the name isn't clear enough, a park full of birds in Jurong.

Similar to the rest of Singapore, the park was beautiful. Many of the animal housings are open, so the birds are allowed to fly round freely. Our family did the circuit around the park, going to each of the pavilions or cages in turn. I remember that we ate some mediocre food in a mightily crowded zoo cafe, walked on a few boardwalks, but then my memory devolves into a blur of feathers and people screaming things about sausages.

I enjoyed myself. However, it drizzled rain the whole time we were there. I do not like being wet, but my griping was moderated by my Aunt's observation that without the rain it probably would have been unbearably hot.

So without further ado, here are some of the pictures I took at Jurong Bird Park. I suggest you listen to this song while viewing said pictures: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bBbgZauYL1Q

This is the sound that I imagine this bird makes: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s-33i2b17nc&list=FLcg1TxryMIBQW_hEwRRmLFw&index=3&feature=plpp

This guy wouldn't stay still.

Palau Ubin

I recently went to the small Singapore-owned island of Palau Ubin. Aside from the nice new welcome sign below, Palau Ubin looked like it hadn't changed since the 60s.

Remember the Singapore from the beginning of Pirates of the Caribbean 3? Minus the pirates, explosions and British soldiers, Palau Ubin looks just about like that. Everybody lives in these little wooden shacks, there's swamp everywhere, there are abandoned huts everywhere, and the forest is beautiful.

And remember my post about bum boats? I mentioned something about how the bum boats used for tours were rather clean and nice; they must have replaced the old dumpy ones. Well, the old bum boats are what were used to ferry people back and forth from the island.

So I spent the afternoon on a rented bike cycling around the eastern third of the island. I came across numerous interesting locations, such as this empty drink stand:

...And a temple:

So, Palau Ubin is darn pretty. I may very well go back later and explore more of the island.

High Tea at Raffles Hotel

After a fortnight of delays, my Aunt Sheryl was, to my great excitement, able to book us for an afternoon at Raffles Hotel.

Specifically, we were booked for High Tea. High Tea is this wonderful English invention in which one puts on pants, goes somewhere classy and eats fancy food. I have begun to like tea, and I do like to eat, if not large amounts. Oh, and the pants thing is significant; it is very rare for there to be a dress code for restaurants in Singapore, but going to High Tea means that men must wear pants, no shorts allowed.

This handsome fellow demonstrates what it looks like to wear pants.

The tea room was off the lobby of the main hotel. And it was quite fancy. Raffles is also supposed to be a great hotel; on display in their museum were a bunch of "World's Best Hotel" trophies.

I was kind of disappointed in the food, because much of it tasted like cheap store-bought hors d'oeuvres. But it was OK, because the tea was good, and we had a live harpist.

I'm not going to post too many pictures of the actual tea, because sitting around and slowly eating small amounts of food isn't the kind of material that makes for exciting photos. However, I will post some shots of the very attractive colonial architecture.

This looks a lot cooler than it would have had there been better lighting.