Sing-apore in the rain

We took our Singaporean friend for a Great Canadian (pronounced in Taglish: Can-nade-jun) outing. Apple picking. But with a twist. This is apple picking the Tresa way. Doesn't matter if it's 20 below, it's still above absolute zero. Molecules are still moving. Just slower. Well it was raining too and chilly.

We were on schedule when we left the house. Which meant we basically we left the house to go to Chudleigh's farm 5 minutes before we were supposed to meet them at the farm. I know for a fact I didn't marry a filipina. I checked her passport. And she has a nose. Filipinas don't have a nose. She has a Euro nose. Maybe it was plastic surgery. But she has no money. But she has scars on her knees. Maybe that's where they got the cartilige to make her nose bigger.

It was raining now when we were leaving the house. I said, maybe we should go home. She said, it's probably not raining over there at the farm. I've been married for two years now and I can read between the lines. Decoding it meant: Just do what I tell you and drive. You're going apple picking and love every minute. So I focused on that ding in my windshield, that I got 1 day after I replaced my windshield 5 years ago and it's in my direct line of vision, and drove onward to Chudleigh's.

We got there. It wasn't raining. But it was wet. And chilly. Good thing I brought gloves. My mini gloves that has a hole in one of the fingers. Better than nothing. Better than our Singaporean friends who come from a tropical climate that never goes below 30 deg Celsius. They were in for a treat! Wet, damp, chilly canadian weather. Ideal for apple picking. What fun. Yea. And I brought my new Diesel hat with the big 'D' on it. For DaDa, or Dummy depending on how what perspective you were looking at it. ie. If you're reading this from the confines of a nice warm location, then you know what I mean.

At least the farm wasn't crowded. But that meant less body heat. And I started picking. Picking like I had worked on a farm before as an immigrant that couldn't speak english. But then I thought, the more I picked, the more we pay and I have to eat and get sick of. So I stopped and looked at my wife to see how much she had picked. Last year we ended up with 6 full bags of apples. For 2 people. And one of them only likes vegetables. I'm not an animal. I'm a human. I like variety in my food. Not just different varieties of the the same thing. Macintosh, Delicious, Golden Delicious, Mutsu, Russet. All the same. APPLES! For so many weeks, it was apples morning, noon and night. They give me gas. Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes I can't sleep. Most times Tresa can't sleep.

It was raining now. Like a drizzle. I said that maybe we should go. Being the thoughtful person that I am, I thought of our Singaporean friends cold and wet, and considered their well being. Of course I was the first one heading for cover from the rain. We were about 50m from shelter, but we hopped onto the tractor instead. I was slouched forward and I could see the water dripping from my hat. Tresa wanted our friends to experience everything. The tractor would take us all the way to the end of the row, in the rain. This is how we always do things. See as much as you can in the maximum allowable time, even if you have to run to catch your train, subway, boat or plane. It's the Amazing Race, every day of your life. Just imagine.

One thing Tresa forgot to mention, to our friends, once we were under the cover of the shop, was that you could pick the apples right from bins, for the same price, but you wouldn't gain the experience of picking your own apples, in the rain. PRICELESS!

I had only picked 2 bags of apples and they weren't even full, then looked down and counted 6 bags of apples. AGAIN! So many apples this year. For 2 people. Or 2 and a half.