Times Square
I spent quite some time in New York City. This is an interesting city where humans tactically dodge each other on the street, leap gracefully over grey slushy puddles by the roadside and skilfully jump out of the way of electric bikes and scooters.
Sometimes, the song Empire State of Mind by Jay-Z plays in a very annoying loop in my head. No thanks to the trishaw riders blasting this song outside theatres when a broadway play ends.
Let me tell you about my first time waddling journey down 7th Avenue and 42th Street - the iconic Times Square.
The sun was down but the neon lights from billboards and signs shocked my visual fields as I stepped out of the subway. As I stood beak slightly agape at this sight I have only previous saw on TV and magazines, a lady in stiletto heels rushed past me on the left (woah how does she achieve such walking speed?) and another dude on a skate board whizzed past me on the right. I ended up spinning a quacking 360.
As I was regaining my bearings, I heard yelling (not sure if they were from someone who has not seen his long lost brethren for twelve years or from a hooligan wanting to start a fight). As I turned to locate the source of this noise, a happy birthday song erupted from somewhere else (happy birthday to you stranger!).
After my ears were blasted, my nostrils were alerted. I smelled rubbish, pizza and was blasted by the smell of exhaust from the roadside vendor. Puffs of smoke wafted across me and then a drizzle of liquid from an unknown source hit me. That’s when I thought that I had better start waddling along or all my senses will continue to be attacked while I am at a standstill.
I was kind of wrong. My senses continued to be under seige even as I walked along - never mind, at least I kind of recovered my orientation.
I got pushed along in a sea of tourists and mascots wearing Minnie Mouse costumes. I even saw a naked cowboy with a guitar - I shall not elaborate.
Each visit to Time’s Square was pretty similar - exhilarating, disorientating and a little stuffy - maybe until the sixth time. By the sixth time, I was an expert at weaving through crowds, filtering noises and smells, with my eyes focused on my destination - usually a broadway theatre to catch some really great show that left me inspired for a good six hours after.
Did you know that Time’s Square was named as such when the New York Times moved its headquarters there in 1904? A beak-dropping 330,000 people pass through Time’s Square daily and the area is lit up by a feather flapping freaking 161,000 square feet of electronic signage. If I visited Time’s Square every day, I’ll never be able to shut my eyes without seeing neon lights coursing behind my eyelids.
There, that’s the iconic Time’s Square of New York. A very small snapshot of the city but an important one. If you’re a small duck like creature like me, after surviving a walk through Time’s Square without being trampled or having unwanted physical contact with someone’s sweaty armpit, do plan to spend sometime in a relaxing place to reset your senses. Maybe try central park? We can talk about Central Park next time. Quack!
Montreal
So, my journey (sort of) begins in Montreal.
You see, I was just sitting on my dock (a shelf) in Le Petite Duck Shoppe. On and off customers will take me off, make me quack, laugh a little, put me back on. Funny beings these creatures. I had a bit of time to reflect on that shelf and I figured that, hey maybe this is my purpose, to entertain these human beings.
On a beautiful Saturday morning, I was picked up, squished a bit, quacked a bit. But woah, I was taken to the register and brought out of the shop!
There was so much to take in - the sights and sounds of Montreal city were colourful and beautiful to my ears.
Did you know that Montreal is the second- largest French speaking city in the world after Paris? Well, this is why. Wayyyyyy back before you and I came into being, in the 17th Century, French explorers and settlers established a colonial presence in Quebec. Everyone quacked around in the french language and culture was all french (baguettes, berets and so much more). Then in 1763, the British defeated the French in the Seven Years’ war - yes, the war raged on for not one, fiver or six years but seven long years. After the war was over, under the terms of the Treaty of Paris, the French- speaking population in Quebec was allowed to retain its language, legal system and religious institutions.
Pretty unique huh, this French enclave in the Eastern part of Canada.
Anyway, this would be the beginning of my waddling journeys and I am quacking excited to share them with you.
