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I went ice skating the other day.
Prior to, sleepily skipped for an early bird 8:30am classes discussing Louis Riel’s comicstrip biography; tutorial hours obsessing entanglements of spiritual revelation and political asylums, mixed heritage of loyalties and newspaper cut-out stories.
Afterwards, since my appetite has traversed in a downward spiral I stopped by a cozy niche underneath the railway skytrain tracks at Surrey Central; sipping on luncheon tomato soup with noodles, crunch salt crackers while reading an design text (a la IDEO) gratefully loaned via big brother Rbo in an leverage via travel exchange.
Around half past noon, Andrew arrived at our transit stop: aquamarine square frames and unruly kinks escaping a knitted puffball toque, we escaped deeper and deeper into Surrey where the arena situated itself between a farmer’s grocery market & hotel. Skating days were vaguely recalled; mine, once or twice in childhood and rollerblading practice during freshman/sophomore summers. His, childhood lessons to figure skating levels, ice hockey banterings and winter travels to school via the frozen canal.
Rentals and recreation fees, fastening laces and navigating a slippery surface were the highlights of skating lessons with a savvy teacher. I managed to let go of the walls after a few rounds in the arena but still needed a friendly hand while practicing stops and intertwining fancy fish footwork. Also learned that its very important to skate with your bent knees instead of hips posture, and always, always bend your legs while crashing because of unruly sharp-edged picks.
I managed to wipe out only once during our skating session, quickly remedied with a pack of frozen ice and funny stories. Still need a lot of practice before heading out on my own, hopefully will find a few friends to hit the rink with after exams.
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