Patriotism

Dear Reader,

Is it really dorky to love your country? Is patriotism for noobs and dweebs? Well, I don't think so. I for one love living in Malaysia, and I especially love my town, Kuching. It is the best city in the world, and that's not an exaggeration. Okay, maybe it is. Notwithstanding, living in Kuching is like living in the best of both worlds. Kuching has everything a big city has (huge malls, art galleries, sushi, air-conditioned movie theatres, museums, Starbucks, public transportation, etc.) but it has a small-town feel to it as well. Everyone knows everyone in Kuching. Or knows someone who knows you. And there are trees here. Everywhere. Lining the roads, on the roundabouts, in suburban backyards. I practically live next to a jungle. And you can breathe, even in the centre of downtown. Actually breathe--like, gulp down huge lungfuls of air--without choking to death or running the risk of developing severe bronchitis.

Anyway. I took a walk around town last Tuesday, just for the heck of it. It's been a while since I walked downtown. I didn't go alone, of course. Walks are more fun with company. I was accompanied by my three siblings, my cousin, my...Julia, and my sister's boyfriend. We had a great time just wandering along Waterfront, taking pictures like a bunch of tourists. The city was especially bright that evening, as Kuching is hosting some major, important and mysterious event involving the Raja-raja Melayu and Taib Mahmud. I don't really know what the whole hullabaloo was about; as you can probably tell, dear reader, I am desperately out of the political loop. Strange, I know, considering I call myself 'patriotic'. But, as Mark Twain so aptly put it, "Patriotism is supporting your country all the time, and your government when it deserves it." By the way, I'd like to say a quick thank you, Sammy m'boy, for the great quote.

I like taking pictures. No, dear reader, I'm not abruptly changing the subject. The reason I'm writing this post, actually, is to share some pictures with you, and potentially stun you with my awesome photographic skill and prowess. Heh. Okay, so I'm not really that good. I was just looking for an excuse to use the word 'prowess'. I don't get to use that word very often. So anyway, enjoy the pictures!

A view of the Rejang river as it curves along the Waterfront. To the left, houses and trees. To the right, the Waterfront and, beyond that, downtown Kuching.

Another view of the river. The white colonial building just peeping out from among the trees is the Fort Margarita. And the sampan (river boat) is pink, I believe. Or maybe a very pale red.

From the left: Julia, my cousin Helen, my sister Bekah, her boyfriend Eman, and my brother Nethaniel a.k.a. Boy. I'm taking the picture and Danni--cameraphobe that she is--chose not to participate.

Helen's taking a picture of me, Danni and Boy inspecting a sculpture. You can only see Danni (in her school uniform) and Boy there, I'm in the middle. Like a little Figgy sandwich.

A tree all lit up with fairy lights. Looks almost ethereal, doesn't it?

Same tree, except in black and white. Bekah's a b and w freak. She always takes two pictures of the same thing; one in colour and one in b and w.

Dragons along the wall of a Chinese temple. I love these dragons, they're so colourful and fierce-looking. The wall is circular and kind of long, so you have to walk around the whole thing to see every dragon. There are at least four of 'em: a yellow one, a green one, a red one, a blue one.

The red dragon, breathing fire while surrounded by what could be either clouds or water, I'm not entirely sure. But since they have no wings, I'll just assume it's water.

Extreme close up of the red dragon. The fire coming out of Red's mouth is a light bulb, by the way.

The blue dragon. You see the little round white thing where the flames are supposed to be? That's the light bulb. I guess they forgot to turn it on or something.

And there you have it. I hope you enjoyed this little peek into my beloved home town. Oh, and just for your info, dear reader, Hazel managed to give birth to a litter of nine puppies while we were out gallivanting across town. If you don't know who Hazel is, then go here. Ain't life grand? So, til next time, I remain

Yours,

Figgy the Day-Tripper, Holidaymaker and Sightseer Extraordinaire

What I Know...

Dear Reader,





They say to write well, you should write what you know. Now, I don't pretend to know just who they are, but I agree with them completely...almost completely. The only problem I have with this whole writing-what-you-know business is that it will narrow the compass of writing topics available to me considerably. However, the more I learn, the more I have to write about, I suppose. For now, I'll just stick to my [somewhat] diminutive scope of essay-fodder.




For instance, I know that if I should ever fail in the author-ing field, I have a good chance of becoming a dog-breeder, as I seem to have quite the talent in this particular line of business. I have a thriving population of dogs gallivanting about my backyard as we--well, mostly I--speak. Six of them, at last count. Actually, 6.5 dogs, to be precise.




Hazel is the oldest and, therefore, the most dominant of the lot. Her physical appearance actually resembles that of a sausage; that is, brown and extremely...portly. She is the matriarch of the whole clan, and just recently, the mama of a little puppy who is yet to be christened. We were thinking of naming him (the puppy) Pitem, meaning 'black', which is a totally unoriginal reflection on his swarthy visage. And, as he is the only puppy in the litter, he is quite a spoilt little thing, all rotund and roly-poly. He has yet to master the complicated art of walking, and he keeps rolling into the most unexpected and hard-to-reach places, then crying and whining to be returned to his mama.




Next, is Pluto. Furry little devil, if you ask me. Needless to say, he isn't my favourite. He has no respect for me whatsoever, unless I'm brandishing a stick or tree-branch and waving it at him, like some deranged species of windmill. He doesn't mess with Hazel, though. He knows--from experience, no doubt--that she could give him what-for if he ever tried to cross her.




Then, the sweet and lovable Odie. Unfortunately, he is a bit of a wimp, and always gets bullied by the other dogs, or more specifically, Pluto. He has these beautiful brown eyes, all soft and warm when he looks at you, especially during meal-times. The little charmer! I'm not really a dog person (I know, real shocker, right?) but I think Odie's my favourite of the bunch.



And then there were three. Triplets, actually. Husky, the boy, and the two girls, Dulce and Rusty/Apple. Husky was named Husky because the markings on his face made him look like a Siberian Husky. Husky, Husky, Husky...(^_^) If I had to describe him in one word, that word would be: bouncy. He's so active and playful, and he always jumps on his sisters and Pluto and Odie...on everyone, actually. Moving on, Dulce [it means 'sweet' or 'candy' in Spanish] used to be a little terror...ironic, I know. She was a huge bully, relentless in her attempts to undermine poor, sweet Husky. We were really worried about him for a while, actually. But she mellowed out with age, I guess. Now they're one big happy family. As for Rusty/Apple, she is lucky enough to have not one, but two names. A unique situation for a unique dog. You see, she has a reddish, rusty tinge to her fur, and we couldn't decide between the two: Rusty or Apple. So we just settled for both.




Well, there you have it. The entire cast and crew of my little dog-farm.



Did I mention I have a cat, as well?

That's a whole other post in itself. Well, I'll spare you the mind-numbingly detailed summary of my cat's character and personality...for now, anyway. Til we meet again, dear reader!

Yours,

Figgy...the Blogger (o.O)