Storm Chaser

Looks like the monsoon really is gone; I got up early this morning to send off the last bit of her magic.  Was supposed to meet Phil at 7am to paddle but couldn't resist getting down to the water earlier, while the monsoon still tried to roar.  I was quite sad to see her power dwindles and wanes. 

I have some doubts about my current training attitude -- "the worst stormy weather in HK doesn't even measure up to a breeze in the Pacific Northwest," or so I keep telling myself.  Which drives me to go out of my way to look for troubles at sea.  I'm fairly comfortable with monsoon paddling by now, (then again, I'm getting comfortable with crash-landing onto rock faces too.) next thing I'll be chasing after a T8.  

Which might help me handle bad weathers and big waves, but it's not helping me in trip -planning at all.  The best rescue remains the ones that you didn't have to do, and I'm cheating myself if I send myself out into the big open blue without learning the lessons in risks-management.  I hate to go to NZ or CA with this "storms are fun" attitude.

Siu Ming made it clear that he didn't want to be a mentor to me; he just wants to be a friend and a fellow paddler.  Which is probably a good thing: when I'm paddling solo somewhere out there in the Pacific, it won't do me any good to have a habit of looking up to a mentor and waiting for his divine answer of what to do next.  While I warm to a lot of his ideas, I notice I also disagree with a few.  So we might as well handle the sea with our separate styles and see who is more right.

Where are my friends?

It's not like me to look back, at least not too much.  But as I was listening to Janice Joplin, I can't help wondering what happened to me.

I had a lot of fun paddling in the monsoon -- the fear and stress were just part of the spices that added to the adrenaline rush.  But still, sea-going used to be a social activity for me, my roommates and I would come back from a long day in college and part time job, and spontaneously decide to stroll down to the beach and launch our canoe to catch some crabs and camp on Flower Island.

Then we would make a fire, burn our essays, skinny dip, play guitar, and get drunk around the camp fire.

Now, I just paddle solo.  It was fun, especially with a gale-forced following wind, shooting me ahead like a bullet, and I can't wait for the next monsoon or T3 to come.  But still, like Janice sings, "I'd trade all of my tomorrows for one single yesterday."

Friends and adventures, can't we have them all?

observatory going haywire

You know summer is here if you're worried about thunderstorm all the time.

I have a "free" day tomorrow, I'm quite tired and want to be lazy and take a break, but I also want to keep up the regular kayaking practice.  Then again, the salt blisters are killing me.

The HK Observatory has been going haywire, it predicted rain when it's brazenly hot and sunny, then it cancelled the rainy forecast when it actually rained.  They cancelled the thunderstorm forecast just now, I don't know whether to believe it, which adds to my indecision about what to do (where to paddle) tomorrow. 

It's so tempting to just stay home and sleep, but I have to cook up a trip plan before I fold in to arrange for safety call backups too. 

You know, kayaking used to be simple, spontaneous, and fun; I wonder what happened to me :(

Fan Goh's Jeesh, and Racist Instincts

Went to DCC after CLG practice today to pick up a bit of gel coat to patch up Martlet with.  I should have known, there is no such thing as a free lunch.  I got "recruited" into their club, and rather forcibly at that T_T  Simon was relentless, and practically grabbed my wallet and shot down all my excuses.  Fan Gor said something about "don't coerce her," but I thought Simon was still rather blatant about the coercion.  So much for my apolitical peasantism.  Now I belong to a jeesh.  Oh well, happy birthday to me.

Afterwards, I took the Bus 94 to Fred's.  I was minding my own business when a gentleman of African descent started talking to me.  At first, I thought he was a typical foreigner -- friendly and ready to talk to strangers in transit.  

But when it became apparent that he was hitting on me, I got very alarmed.  I started analyzing everything he said, I just didn't trust him.  Why?  Was it because he's so blunt about asking me out when I've only just met him (and not in a club), or was it because he is ... black?

Racism is such an unthinkable crime in Canada, it's easy to slip into denial.  And of course it's not just skin color, I told myself.  Maybe it was his size, maybe something about him reminded me of the men in Indonesia (and how is this statement not racist anyway??), I don't know what it is, but I instinctively felt frightened, alarmed, intimidated.  And I can't honestly say he said anything threatening. 

Gave him my e-mail addy anyway.  The moralizing part of me says I should consciously override my racist thoughts and give it a chance.  The self-protectionist part of me says listen to my instinct and don't come to Sai Kung by bus again.