Today marks the 1-month anniversary of me stepping out of an airport into an entirely different world. A world full of new foods, smells, cars, cultures, languages and hot, soupy air. I've been here 30 days, and (despite having to hop over to Hong Kong to extend stay of my non-VISA'd a**) I think I might be kinda used to it now. Had my first staff meeting today, which was NEAT.
"Stuart that's not even remotely interesting"
Brent I would care very much if you would follow the rule "If you don't have something polite to say, then you are a cynical pessimist and a butt and have no place in this conversation". Since you didn't think that my shout-out to you was special enough last week, I thought I would let you in this week because I'm a nice man. Apparently I made a mistake. But I digress. No, you digressed. RUDE.
But Macau tho. Not a bad place. I had reservations on coming to a new country. Well, to be honest, I had no clue what to even start thinking. My best-bud-on-many-levels Murray was unnerved during our last week together at the level of calmness as our days together were dwindling. The honesty of the situation is that I had no idea what to think, and I was too obtuse to realize what and how things would be different, although you can't be 100% accurate. I was probably about 40% accurate, which (if you know your way around #theteacher'slyfe) is not a passing grade.
Have I mentioned that it's hot? What about the humidity? Do you know about the humidity? Have you even felt humidity? Do you know what it's like to step out to get a tart or a cat or something for 3 minutes, and coming back needing to change your shirt? Or going through 3 T-shirts in a weekend? Do you know how it feels to bring your beloved Canadian corduroy pants & sweaters with you, only to find they are more useless than a Bachelor of Jazz Music? (heh) Do you know the feeling when you return home wetter than if you just stepped out of the shower? Literally dripping on the floor as you walk from the front door to the bathroom (although a cold shower after work is now one of my favourite things). Have you any idea what life is like when you never, EVER dry off? Where coming out of the shower is only an illusion, and that your hair will never feel the recluse of a cool breeze or the dryness that makes the summer so fresh and clean. I'm going to be washing my pillowcases every week.
Also I wear long sleeves and long pants to work because I am a man. No, not the "I am a man, and I will be the one who wires the home stereo/forgets what brand of toilet paper we use even though I've got to do the grocery shopping/curses while I try and mend the goddamn wireless router that rejects its password every single time my computer connects to it" kind of thing. I mean because I'm a man, the world expects me to wear clothing with minimal breathing ability and flair (although I do try by wearing colourful matching shirts & ties). There are times where the ability to wear (and pull off) a sundress is an enviable feat. But I digress (this time it's my fault Brent).
The Flower Garden (called Jardim des Flores in Porch-uh-geese) is a place to let all the stress, anxiety and mixed feelings about gender-role clothing articles float away. It's got a wonderful series of fish ponds full of, well, fish. Oh, and turtles! The turtles are cool guys too. Sometimes kids will come by and feed the fish (even though you're not supposed to, but I don't see any municipal people coming to feed them, so what do I know), and swarms of fish will crowd in the same spot trying to get some bread pour mangia. There is a small area for rollerblading/skateboarding [PICTURE NOT AVAILABLE], and a spot for kids & others pretending to be kids to play on the jungle gym (or whatever they call it here. They use a mix of American & British terms in their English, so I don't know what to call it. Maybe the Coloured-Metal Fort or Jolly Jumpus-Rumpus Range (Try and guess which one of those is the British-English one). There is also a small area with public exercise machines (you'll see more on this later) and a neat stone pathway that helps get the knots out of your feet (now that's what I call fuggin NEAT), more on that later too. It is truly a relaxing place, despite the numbers of people that visit (the Macanese in general have a lot of respect for quiet public parks like this, and it never really feels like there are too many people in the park).
Since I've used up most of my time to talk about things OTHER than the Flower Garden, here are more pictures. I'll have more pictures and stories of this intriguing place in the future.
Have I mentioned that it's hot? What about the humidity? Do you know about the humidity? Have you even felt humidity? Do you know what it's like to step out to get a tart or a cat or something for 3 minutes, and coming back needing to change your shirt? Or going through 3 T-shirts in a weekend? Do you know how it feels to bring your beloved Canadian corduroy pants & sweaters with you, only to find they are more useless than a Bachelor of Jazz Music? (heh) Do you know the feeling when you return home wetter than if you just stepped out of the shower? Literally dripping on the floor as you walk from the front door to the bathroom (although a cold shower after work is now one of my favourite things). Have you any idea what life is like when you never, EVER dry off? Where coming out of the shower is only an illusion, and that your hair will never feel the recluse of a cool breeze or the dryness that makes the summer so fresh and clean. I'm going to be washing my pillowcases every week.
The Flower Garden (called Jardim des Flores in Porch-uh-geese) is a place to let all the stress, anxiety and mixed feelings about gender-role clothing articles float away. It's got a wonderful series of fish ponds full of, well, fish. Oh, and turtles! The turtles are cool guys too. Sometimes kids will come by and feed the fish (even though you're not supposed to, but I don't see any municipal people coming to feed them, so what do I know), and swarms of fish will crowd in the same spot trying to get some bread pour mangia. There is a small area for rollerblading/skateboarding [PICTURE NOT AVAILABLE], and a spot for kids & others pretending to be kids to play on the jungle gym (or whatever they call it here. They use a mix of American & British terms in their English, so I don't know what to call it. Maybe the Coloured-Metal Fort or Jolly Jumpus-Rumpus Range (Try and guess which one of those is the British-English one). There is also a small area with public exercise machines (you'll see more on this later) and a neat stone pathway that helps get the knots out of your feet (now that's what I call fuggin NEAT), more on that later too. It is truly a relaxing place, despite the numbers of people that visit (the Macanese in general have a lot of respect for quiet public parks like this, and it never really feels like there are too many people in the park).
Since I've used up most of my time to talk about things OTHER than the Flower Garden, here are more pictures. I'll have more pictures and stories of this intriguing place in the future.
Also come and visit. Every day I'm finding new places to see and do and make things go (except my social life..... ᵖᶫᵉᵃˢᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵛᶦˢᶦᵗ ᵐᵉ). I can't imagine how much fun we would have, but I actually can and it is a lot. Start saving money because Asia has never been home to your best-friend-who-is-the-most-fun-person-even-though-sometimes-he-is-too-loud-and-rammy!
See you in a few days.
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