About 3 weeks ago, with the exams finally over and a lot on my mind, I followed my Dad on his weekly fishing trip to one of the beautiful lakes of in Milton, Ontario, about an hour’s drive to the west from my place in Mississauga.

The land there is very open, the journey relaxing and the traffic free-flowing. I had one of the better driving experiences I’ve had, and when we got there, spent an hour or so talking to my Dad and watching him fish. He caught two pikes before my eyes as we talked; one big one, which we took a picture of (I won’t show it, don’t know if he’d appreciate his mug being on this site) and one that was too small to be worth a picture, but we took a photo anyway. Dad set both free, which is his usual practice. The smallish one was dumb enough to bite too deep into the hook, making removing the hook from its mouth difficult – in the end, my Dad caused a bit of injury to the fish while removing the hook, and the fish was in an upside-down daze for a few minutes before it regained consciousness and swam off.

After a long talk with my Dad, I walked off to take a look around the hiking paths that skirted the huge lake. Here is a photo that I took of the lake; I don’t think my amateurish photography skills do its raw beauty the slightest fraction of justice.

Before I hit the dirt path, however, I had to walk through a raptor sanctuary for birds of prey who were kept in big cages, either because of physical disability, or due to the fact that they had been brought up by humans, and could never hope to survive in the wild, having spent their formative years without the proper guidance of a natural parent of their species. In a shaded woody area, where the path dipped downward, a number of these huge cages littered the left and right of the path, containing an array of owls, hawks and the like.

Of the many birds I saw, what caught my eye were a pair of snowy white owls, which stared me in the eye as I looked at them and waved, but looked away when I tried to take a photo of them, as if knowing that their photos were going to be taken, and not appreciating the prospect of showing up on someone’s blog. Looking into the eyes of an owl up close, I wondered how much wisdom lay behind those huge, orange orbs. Even in captivity, their intelligence and dignity impressed me, and I decided to heed their wishes and not take their picture.

As I proceeded down the path, which, in its shadier regions, was very -and I mean VERY – mosquito infested, I came upon two bald eagles. (By the way, I KNOW what mosquito-infested means. This was live-firing-area bad, at least in number, if not in tenacity. Thankfully not in tenacity.) These two eagles were huge, each about the size of a medium-sized dog. They stared their piercing eagle stare as I approached, one of them hopping around on a branch, the other lying down pathetically on its side, immobile except for its head and neck. The sight of these noble, powerful birds reduced to such a sad immobility tore at me. Ignoring the cloud of useless mosquitoes (Singaporean “commando” mosquitoes would have had my face for lunch by then), I walked close to the cage and read a plaque that told the story of the two birds. I have forgotten the exact facts, but one of the birds was my age, and the other was born in the late 70’s. One of the eagles was disabled due to a wing injury – presumably, the one hopping around on its perch – while the other had been born with a wing deformation, and would never fly. I think that was the bird that lay on its side, not moving at all, but still following my every movement with its steely stare. I felt amazed at the poise of these creatures, especially due to the fact that they were at least as old I am.

I felt sorry for the eagles, felt sad that they would never rise up in the air as rightful kings of their domain. At this point, the eagles seemed to have sensed my pity, and due to the pride of their noble birth, they seemed insulted that a mere human would have the cheek to pity a great eagle – even an eagle that could not fly. Their eyes seemed to widen, and they started squawking at me, a sharp and powerful cry, grand and yet sad at the same time. The cry of fallen nobility, who would rather be alone in their misery than be saddled with the company of a lowly peasant such as I. The eagle that could move hopped closer to me, and squawked louder, motioning aggressively with its head. I could not bear to torment these two by taking a photo of them, and hurt their dignity further. I truly felt sorry for the poor eagles as I turned around and followed down the path.

Beyond the raptor sanctuary, to the left of the woody path was a high fence, which bounded a grassy, sunny meadow. As I walked further down the track, I then noticed an amazing sight. Four horses stood grazing to my left, right in the middle of the big meadow. They were really tall, their shoulders easily towering above my head. Interestingly, the black horse seemed to be the dominant, protective one; as the horses moved about, the black horse was always the one that stood between the three white horses and me. It seemed to be protecting its brethren from me, as they occasionally looked up to where I was, squeezed up onto the tall fence that separated us, and then looked back down to the grass and kept grazing.

Waving goodbye to the horses, I continued down the track for a while more, eventually reaching a place where the trees around me opened up, and the path reached a big clearing, a huge field, also bounded by a tall fence, to which the path now bounded as it extended to my right, where it would continue toward the lake shore.

On this meadow, I was met with a powerful sight: a herd of bison. I thought the horses were big, but these things were HUGE. They towered over me, huge furry fuzzy brown monsters. Their sheer bulk was truly astounding, and this is one animal I do not ever want to piss off. I sat on a wooden picnic table which lay right next to the fence, and started taking photos of the bison. Amazingly, they again seemed to sense my presence. The herd of bison slowly started to mobilize, walking closer and closer to my vantage point. The biggest of them all, this mighty monstrous hulking alpha-friggin-male, came within fifteen meters of the fence, which gave me the great opportunity to run up and squeeze against the fence to get this picture of him. I was, once more, amazed by the creature’s beauty, especially its raw bulk: its head was the size of a boulder, and was about as wide as a truck tire.

Finally, at this point, I turned around and headed back on the track where I had come from, back past the carpark where my Dad’s Camry was parked, and toward my Dad’s secret fishing spot. On the way, I took a quick snap of a family of geese, which was highly interesting because it seemed to be comprised of a lottt of goslings and several adult couples, who cooperated in taking care of the little ones. They ferried the little goslings across my pathway, from their protected enclosure near a barn-like structure to the peaceful waters of the lake.

Having rejoined my Dad, who apparently did not catch any fish after I had left him more than an hour ago, we got into the car and drove off. With me driving, and him navigating, I explored the lovely roads of Milton, going up this steep, tremendous ridge that my Dad said stretched more than a hundred kilometres to the north. We drove past sunny orchards and huge grassy fields, and big farmhouses. We also passed by a number of little settlements of shophouses, which crowded along major intersections.

If I had a sporty open-top roadster or a motorbike, I could spend an entire day just zooming around those roads. When I DO get either of them in my possession, I think I will. Haha.

Anyway, with the sky darkening – it was already eight by then – and our stomaches growling, I turned the car toward the East, and we started on the long road back home.

too many goodbyes in one month. okay, three, but that’s still three too many.

it’s not even a month yet since i saw my girlfriend off the airport, and i’m still stinging from it. sheeesh.

then over the last week a very good old friend from singapore came over to sight see and i just saw her off to the airport.

plus last night my dad suddenly has to bring his 2-week trip to asia forward and he’s going off in a day or two, for a whole month.

i hate goodbyes. every time i drive to the airport with someone, i drive back alone and it kills me, because that moment of closing the door and driving away from the departure area, that moment every goodbye ive ever said flashes through my memory, and it kills me, and makes me doubly alone.

Hurhur. Hur. Well before the NBA playoffs began, Monsieur Joel made the following predictions in this post:

my sleeper to win the west is san antonio. they just might, wait n see what happens.

…and:

cleveland is the only other team with the odd chance of beating detroit… IF lebron fulfils his biblical destiny and beats them like the chosen ones have before him (mj, wade), treating them like the evil rite-of-passage stepping-stone/guardians to the finals. his supporting cast, however, is flawed. larry hughes seems a good fit at PG, but there isn’t any depth at that position. damon jones is more interested in getting famous than actually balling. varejao is a tough, hard worker… but he needs to go to the gym and bulk up to get scarier. donyell marshall seems to be on the decline – barely a few years ago he was this tough rebounding, three point shootin’ big guy for the raps / jazz… and now he’s somehow a lot less effective. eric snow could never shoot, and now he’s getting gimpier. to put it simply, if opponents doubled lebron, there really isnt an open man i would rather have taking the jumper – i’d just ask lebron to bull his way to the basket.

WELL. Looks like I wasn’t too off the mark, was I? I did pick Detroit to dominate the East – which they did – and emerge as victors, unless Lebromination occured, which did happen, and the rest as they say is history:

The biggest shot Lebron hit, and what I see as the biggest manifestation of his evolution occurs at about 1:50 left in the video: with 40 seconds left in the game and the Cavaliers up two, he beat a double team, dribbled across the width of the court and pulled up to shoot on 2 guys and hit it.

The Lebron of just a week ago would have found one of the two totally open guys on the far side of the court with a good pass – the “smart” basketball play, one I too would have made in the situation. Instead, he beat 2 guys on the dribble solo, and hit that amazing shot. There is only one other person on earth who would DARE to so coolly and confidently make that decision, only one other man who has that bloodthirsty predator instinct: my hero – The Black Mamba himself, Kobe Bryant. Lebron has now elevated himself to that level, and he finally is showing the confidence that comes from knowing that he is utterly unguardable.

In the West, my “sleeper” awoke. Playing absolutely perfect at both ends of the floor, the San Antonio Spurs hit big shot after big shot when it counted, not to mention a couple of cheap shots as well. They dominated the wonder couple of Ivermelo / Carmelverson / Carmallen in the first round after that shocking loss in the first game to Denver. They then weathered the Suns’ onslaught, stopping the Suns’ offense, while at the other end the Suns had no chance defending the Spurs’ rock-solid halfcourt offense. Then came the clinical dismantling of the versatile Utah Jazz, probably the best all-round team in the league (far) behind the Spurs themselves. Utah’s sole weakness is the shooting guard position – Derek Fisher isn’t a shooting guard, he’s a HECK of a point guard, and even though he’s built like a bulldog, he’s just too short at the 2-guard.

What I didn’t expect was Dallas crumbling before the Golden State Warriors, as well as the emergence of Daniel “Boobie” Gibson as Lebron’s wingman. If Daniel Gibson can keep this up, he can carve himself a niche and a long, successful career out of creating for Lebron and hitting open jumpers. Boobie!

Now, moving on to the finals: People are saying the same things about the Spurs today as they did about the Mavericks last year, that they outclass the Cavs overall, in the same way the Mavs were, on paper, far superior to the Heat. However, last year, the presence of one person made that all irrelevant: Dwyane Wade. He singlehandedly destroyed the Mavericks.

So, the Spurs look like a far better team than the Cavaliers. They dominated every opponent until now. They have weapons aplenty, are very deep, and have a coaching advantage. All that is irrelevant: Lebron James is unstoppable, just as Dwyane Wade was last year.

This is going six games at least. Lebron is gonna win at least 1 or 2 games singlehandedly – whether they win any more is up to his teammates to step up. On the other hand, Tim Duncan has beaten Carlos Boozer, Kirilenko, Amare, Kurt Thomas, Marcus Camby, and Nene on his way to the Finals: that’s at least four All-Stars and a the reigning Defensive Player of The Year. Drew Gooden and Ilgauskas aren’t at that level.

Spurs in 7.