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* beijing

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Nachos, salsa and lots of french fries on the menu.

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I couldn't spell my name properly until I was 5 years old.

I often wear my headphones, press play, and wonder why something seems strange, until I realize the headphones aren't plugged in. A stumble, fall and roll, in a never-ending succession of somersaults. Stupidity, the pride of the south. Envy of north.

I call people names. Sometimes they feel insulted, sometimes they feel endeared. I don't like it when everything is too normal.

I sometimes congratulate myself. And then I realize that's wrong. So then I berate myself. And then I realize that's wrong. So then I get stuck. But nothing is resolved.

I have too much sympathy.

I wish it was my birthday several days a year.

I watch people. And then I watch people watching other people. I'm not a voyeur, really. I'm not an anthropologist, really. Paranoia is other people, watching me, watching them.

I'm not as cruel as I would like to be.

I'm oxymoronic. I don't like hypocrisy.

It's nice to look in the mirror and see something nice, and something that's not yourself. Mirrors are underrated. Reflections doubly so.

It's nice to see forwards and backwards at the same time. For once it gives you a sense of place, and liberation.

The calm is ironic. A few hours earlier, the accident could have been much much worse.

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Obvious comment: I had a "whale of a time".

I enjoy the the reflection of the tail in the water in this one.

It's, unfortunately, the standard sort of shot you get when you go whale watching - the tail coming up before it dives down again for the next round of feeding.

In some ways, it's sort of disappointing. The whole point of the excursion seems to be this one photo-op at the end, where the boat from a distance would appear to be awash with light from the harmony of flashes going off on the cameras of a few hundred tourists.

I knew that I wanted this photo before going on the trip. And this was the photo that I had seen on the postcards and websites and whatever else. I didn't know what to expect, but I still felt for some stupid reason that I would get to see some larger part of the whale and experience its majesty. Instead I get to share a bog standard photo-op with several people who all may or may not be as interested in whales, or photography, or water, or waves, as me.

But not everything that is special is rare or unique.

Essentially, the whale watching experience of sperm whales is this - they come to the surface, you see the blowhole and bit of a hump and they faff around for about 20 minutes, and then they tail comes up (and everyone oohs and aah), and they go back down again.

I would do it again in a heartbeat. No sarcasm.

Oh, and I will spare you the details of why I asked the guide where the washroom was after feeling sea sick.

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