monkeycrap's Diaryland Diary
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Canada Trip - Day 5
Day 5 - Walk On
Have you at one point in time or another experienced what some athletes (or Britney, for that matter) describe as being in the zone? That point in time where for some enigmatic, unfathomable reason, everything seems to fall snugly into place? It's like hitting the right combination on your metaphysical POSB safe deposit box, hereby unleashing this immensely overwhelming, yet reassuringly revitalising feeling of, "Wow. I've done this/felt like this/been this/seen this/heard this/felt this etc. Now I can do anything, man." It can hit anytime, anywhere. Aceing a test, smashing a personal best, while in the middle of a book, after talking to a friend, while sorting out a train of thought, while running, while playing Mozart, while playing Madonna, while listening to Madonna(although highly unlikely), after listening to a heartstirring speech, after wolfing down that elusive 6th prata, while in the midst of working on downing the 7th one. Sadly though, soul fuel, just like normal fuel used in the world of my future BMW 5 series, does run out, and usually faster than expected. But when it's there, dammit, grip it like a vice and hang on to it for dear life.
First up though, Spanish banks/Jericho beach/Point Grey. Went with Aunt Serene, Uncle Ricky and Kenneth. Carrie couldn't accompany us as she had made arrangements with her friends to do the Grouse Grind, which is a Canadian dance that involves a lot of hip wobbling and bon-bon shaking. I'm kidding, of course. But more on that later.
What had for the past 4 days been a beautiful far-flung field of baby blue summer sky, had undergone an overnight metamorphosis, shrinking into an equally beautiful oyster grey slate, the kind the mind conjures up while listening to Oasis or Coldplay. It made sense though, we were visiting Point Grey, not, say, Happy Blue Valley or something. The wind brought with it a wispy kind of mist, mild showers and a raw chill, making it the coldest day I've experienced since touching down in Vancouver.
Beaches in Canada though, nothing like the honeyed vistas in Pattaya, or the golden people-filled ones found in Daytona. The ground felt lumpy, hard, and was of almost matching colour with the sky. Unpretty, but alluring in its very own way.
Aunt Serene packed lunch for all of us and believe me when I say that one of the best things to complement a grey sky morning is salmon burger smeared with wasabi. See?
So you sailed away, into a grey sky morning... It's not so bad, you're only the best I've ever had.
Trooped down to the jetty to watch crab catching, where I learnt that in Canada, there are length limits for caught crabs, which are to be strictly observed. Thou shalt release any crab deemed shorter than the specified length. Failure to do so will result in arrest by the crab police, who are people employed by the authorities to, well, keep the unemployment rate down I guess. Also, you are only allowed to ensnare male crabs, as the female crabs are required to go forth and multiply. Yeah, the whole women rights issue at work again. I don't hear the female crabs complaining when the male crabs open car doors for them or help them with their shopping bags. But when the fishermen come, "Oh! We are already up to our shells trying to populate! Catch the guys! We are being unfairly treated! We have to stand up for our rights!" But don't get me wrong though. I am not an advocate of treating women unfairly. I am, however, an advocate of black pepper crab roe.
The car was left to park downtown and we walked past some government building, where a large, large crowd had gathered outside. Upon further inspection, realised that it was a demonstration to demand for the legalization of marijuana. Which I don't think will ever happen. I mean, female crab also cannot catch, legalize what legalize?
Said a stoned Mr. Stone, upon inquiry, "C'mon. We do a lot of things to harm ourselves! Whisky's just as potent!" When asked if marijuana's widely available in Vancouver, he replied, "Well, you can't get them in stores, but you can get them from me!"
We then walked from downtown, past Canada Place, all the way to the Southeast corner of Stanley Park, where I was left to wander around on my own, as the rest of them had something on. Found a bench to sit on,
and started scribbling, amidst the panting joggers, whizzing bladers and lush green foliage. The entire backdrop could be used as an archetype for those 1000-piece jigsaw puzzles. Really quite beautiful.
The bladers here blade for the sake of actually reaching a certain destination. In Singapore, most people blade just to show off, and for some, for the sake of wearing ultra short shorts. Of course I prefer the Singapore bladers, what're you talking about, man?
What's woody, cylindrical in shape, stands tall when erected, comes in various sizes and lengths(the greater the length, the more people gape in awe upon looking at it), usually brownish and covered with weird stuff(yes, sometimes the weird stuff's white in colour)?
Totem Poles! They're everywhere in Vancouver, I tell you.
I was walking halfway through the park when she called out to me from the corner of my eye. Her unwaning beauty captivated me, that ageless enchantress, tempting me to draw ever so close, beckoning me with her come-hither posture, so oozing with magnetic charm, so springing with mesmerising magic. And yet I know, being attracted to you, falling for you again would not only culminate in a futile end result, but also a falling over the edge, over the edge of reason and sanity and into the abyssal waters of oblivion.
I lumbered on for about 2 hours along the seawall side of Stanley Park, only to find that the end of the seawall was closed for construction. I had 2 choices, either to turn back and walk another 2 hours back to my original destination(which was what everyone else did), or walk a detour along the driving route. I chose to follow the crowd and turned back, but eventually turned back to the turning back with a 'what-the-heck-la'. So I walked the detour with absolutely no one in front of or behind me, turning into the jungle trails area, and out of it until I reached the Lion's Gate Bridge.
View from the bridge.
Yeah, always biting more off that I can chew.
Cantered across the bridge, all the way to Capilano in North Vancouver, which was, well, north of Stanley Park.(Duh. Nonono, North Vancover in the east). Felt awesome walking on the bridge, felt accomplished, felt fuelled, felt invigorated, felt renewed, refreshed and ready to face anything, whether related to bridgewalking or not. It's the 'in-the-zone' feeling described at the beginning of the entry, the life altering shiokness of sticking with a decision, not turning back and reaping the bountiful rewards at the end.
Upon hindsight, well, it was about an 18km walk from downtown to Capilano. I've done more in the army. Navigating Stanley Park, well, nothing compared to navigating Ang Mo Kio Housing Estate with its streets and avenues. So it's really nothing much. But still, for some reason, the feeling being atop the bridge, conquering the hollows down below and in turn some of those inside of me, is one that'll be etched in my memory for a long time.
Took a bus back to town, walked about 7 rounds in search of a decent eating place (which makes it 20km in all). Settled down, happy and very thankful for the entire day, in Kafe Khameron, some bar type place, with a gargantuan plate of chicken pesto penne, al dente of course, and a long, long glass of pina colada, which left me having to maneuver my way out of the kafe. But of course, just like the long walk itself, it was well worth it.
10:00 a.m. - 2006-05-30
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