We had a brief practice session to enable us to get a hang of what to expect. My stomach knotted just staring at the ladder leading up the practice tree which was about 15 feet from ground. When my turn came, I sucked in my breath and climbed up the ladder, walked across the planks, swing from a rope to the cobweb net, hoisted myself up a few steps and fly fox to the ground. Phew, kid's play and made it with a few yelps and screams.
And so now for the real thing, which is a variation of what I've just done only at a higher altitude.
I stood below contemplating suicide in a faraway jungle. Just looking up at some of them hanging on for their dear lives made me queasy. Sure I was born in the year of the Rooster but I ain't come this far to chicken out. And so I dragged Yen to the starting point to swing it out.
The climb up nearly killed my arms and I was approximately 3 to 4 storey above ground level. I immediately hugged the tree like it was my mom when I reached the top. After what felt like hours, I reluctantly loosen my grip and attempted the first stunt. I tightrope across or zig-zag on planks, fly fox, swing from rope to rope like an acrobat all the while screaming like a banshee to complete 23 stops.
Here's me striking a pose mid-air to prove that I was indeed sweating it out.
Well, it was exhilarating. It was indeed scary at most times. Although I'm constantly attached to the safety harness, thoughts of slipping and falling down clouded my mind at times.
And now the ultimate question. Does this mean I have overcome my fear of heights? Unfortunately no. Will I bunny swing again? Perhaps.
Photos courtesy of Han, the guy who gave me the thumbs up for completing the task and later took us to a scrumptious seafood dinner at Carey Island.
I recently discovered Raymond Briggs, a successful illustrator / author with more than 60 titles to his name. Here are three of his works that I’ve recently explored.
Father Christmas
Father Christmas or better known as Santa Claus is usually portrayed as a prosperous jolly old man with apple rosy cheeks and a booming laughter. Not so in this book. Here you get to see the human side of Father Christmas who’s grumpy and very much lonely. No Mother Christmas to make him breakfast or Christmas elves running around. The story is told in comic strip style with scattered speech bubbles containing not more than 10 words each. The colours are striking and I especially love the double spread illustrated pages that depict expansive scenes. In 1973, Briggs won the Kate Greenaway Medal for this book, awarded annually for an outstanding book in terms of illustration for children and young people.
The Snowman
Told in continuous panels, this picture book contains no dialogue or speech bubbles at all. In just 175 softly hued frames, a little boy makes friends with a snowman he built. The snowman comes to life and both he and the boy have a little adventure throughout the night. The next morning, the boy races outside his house only to find his new buddy's melted remains, scattered with a few forlorn lumps of coal.
The Puddleman
Illustrated in soft coloured-pencil artwork and skillful use of panels of different sizes, it tells the story of Tom and his grandfather, and the former’s discovery of the Puddleman who carries a stack of puddles on his back. Tom, determined to play in puddles, eagerly helps the man place the puddles on the road.
Boon came over to pick me up after work and the traffic was crawling as usual. Upon reaching a row of bungalows turned wedding shops, the Jalur Gemilang perched on the flagpole was waving slightly in the breeze. I subconsciously started humming a familiar Merdeka tune by Sudirman.
Tanggal 31
Bulan lapan
Merdeka ! Merdeka !
Tetaplah merdeka
Ia pasti menjadi sejarah
Tanggal 31
Bulan lapan
Hari yang mulia
Hari bahagia
Sambut dengan jiwa yang merdeka
Mari kita seluruh warganegara
Ramai-ramai menyambut hari merdeka
Merdeka !
Tiga satu bulan lapan
Hari mulia negaraku merdeka
Amused, Boon nudged me halfway and remarked on my enthusiastic show of patriotism. Giggling, I was surprised as well. Since when was I patriotic anyway. Looks like the government’s patriotic campaigns carried out since late last year was effective.
When I was much younger (read naïve), I really looked forward to Merdeka Day because it meant no school and lots of exciting TV programmes to watch. Fireworks display on the eve of Merdeka was also something that I liked although I only get to watch it via the telly. Of course there was also a sense of pride in me especially after learning about the events leading up to
It’s been a long while since I actually did any of those things. Merdeka day means nothing to me today. It’s a day I look forward to – to sleep in late, take a short break from work and perhaps catch a movie or window shop. I no longer appreciate the significance of the day. I just don’t care anymore.
Then again, maybe I do. Subconsciously. There are after all a million other songs to hum to after a long day at work but I chose a Merdeka-themed song instead.
Since it’s still not too late, this year I pledge to be a better citizen of
Patriotism extends to harmonious tolerance and existential living with all idiots and normal Malaysians.
Fly the Jalur Gemilang everyone!
