I am on a ferry right now from Vancouver to Victoria. My mom is asleep; outside the sea spreads itself obligingly, unselfishly into the distant sky, and the mountains rise steadily, dotted with spruce trees. A seagull just swooped past, wings proud, body taut, its easy flight mocking this lumbering monolith.

The weekend has been rather harried, I find – late beginnings and idle nights, though yesterday was spent at Stanley Park, a national park near downtown Vancouver with a beautifully varied landscape and an assortment of activities, enough that I’ve almost decided to spend a week there during winter break. The Vancouver Aquarium, also found in the park, was amazingly intriguing, and I don’t remember ever being so interested in such exhibitions, but we saw really cool things (which I have photos! of and will put up in due time) like hagfishes, giant spiders and tons of really, really cool aquatic creatures.

Beyond that, there wasn’t very much I did, because there’s always this slothful, inert atmosphere when I’m with my family, and despite there being a wide range of options near our hotel alone (water recreation centre, ice skating rink, cinema, general sports stadium, etc. etc.), I didn’t do any of that – also the short time we had, though it’s really mostly the general immobilty of travelling as a family.

I ate a lot – I feel permanently full, though the food hasn’t been unparalleled brillance. THERE REALLY ISN’T MUCH TO SAY AT THE MOMENT except how much in my element I feel, oddly – the comfort, the ramblines (I have been talking a lot more, and a lot less concerned about my accent or way of talking), the faint, itchy impatience with the absent-minded coddling, the reminder of why I am here, again. I’m not sure how that would change when I go return to Pearson.

There was a tropical exhibition in the Aquarium that they actually rigged to mimic the tropical humidity and heat, and while I’m almost entirely used to the weather here (I seem to be wearing less clothes than most Canadians), stepping into the heat felt so familiar and right and natural, the more so because I hadn’t been aware of any unnaturalness or discomfort previously. A woman stepped out commenting, now I can breathe again while for me, it was refreshing, the heat and the moisture, and it’s funny how much things from your childhood, your country, stay with you! This morning before we checked out, I chanced upon a Top Chef episode shot in Singapore, and it was really – it was an odd feeling, the recognition, the fondness, the appreciation of the feel and the look of the place (they were at 老巴刹); there was a famous Singaporean foodie (I vaguely recognize his face but I don’t know his name) and he was talking and I just felt ridiculously fond of him and his accent. Being here is definitely teaching me not to be all elitist about accents, the way we undeniably are in Raffles (/o\) Anyway, I miss Singapore food – you don’t really get the multicultural diversity of the food until you come to a foodcourt here and everything is recognizable fast food brands.


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