A group of farmers quietly tended to the plants that have grown over the cover of water. Trees near these fields waved in a neat trance as the wind whispered by.

A pond, adrift with lily pads waded quietly as a pump from afar brought additional moisture. A plethora of flora gazed happily, facing the sun and thriving against the liquid gold we humans waste so easily.

The breeze spoke quietly in my ear and whispered by as I enjoyed its embrace. Twenty degrees was quite humid for a chap from a "refrigerated" region of the earth now prone to the mercy of the sun.

I hadn't been so close to nature before. Nature for me growing up was a planned plot or two of land built by overdevelopment, not Mother Nature.

The walk from the station to the park was like a partial transformation from the now-frequented "concrete jungle" to a quiet place where I really needed nature.

Any normal Joe will say that I'm not much of a nature-focused person. Certainly not. I spend at least half my day on a computer or riding in a case of metal no matter it'd be a car, bus, or otherwise. This is something completely out of character for me.

Signs of a few familiar stores stood on the busy street where I strolled out from the station. Like the 7-11, the iconic American conglomerate that was recently bought out by Japanese interests, ironically. And the McDonalds... what's more to say about McDonalds?

I also passed by a few hometown relics; a motorcycle carrying the post office emblem came close to the sidewalk and quickly sped by making its deliveries.

A store with a slightly rusted sign read in Japanese as well as English accorded a very interesting salute to Japan's past growth. Furniture was set outside the entrance, advertising its strangely affordable "IKEA"-like prices, but I pried myself off the store before I really wasted time.

Then again, it didn't accept Visa anyways. And what was Canada Customs' allowable quota for shelves, anyways?

The easily understood bilingual signs then made a sudden detour, to a one-lane road laden beside some undergrowth and an antiquated underpass.

Was I sure that the sign's pointing there? It did.

I walked straight down the road as I was previously, and suddenly hit a highway exit. Yes, the sign was pointing there. I quickly retraced myself and made a hard turn where that sign was.

The underpass barely fit a person of average size and one car. A ray of embarrassment went through my fat hips as if I didn't follow the Weight Watchers' diet.

I didn't realise that I had stumbled into a neighbourhood. It was Garbage Day too, with bags lined with orange mesh piled every few hundred metres or so, which explains the stink -- well, it was a measured, reserved stink.