Solbit Wants More MOA!

Dear Nicalai,

“What’s MOA? I don’t care about MOA. I want more of this guy,” I complained. Apparently, MOA is some kind of big deal here in Vancouver BC, but I think a flying human is a much bigger deal.

Surprised, that's what I was when I saw him fly up instead of plunge down.

Surprised, that’s what I was when I saw him fly up instead of plunge down.

I guess I complain a lot, but, look at this man.  He has no wings. He has nothing in common with a bird.  Yet, he ties himself to a kite of some sort — somebody told me it’s called a “paraglider” — and, get this, he just jumped off the top of a fence and over a cliff by the ocean!  As if he could fly like a bird. Crazy! I thought,”Oh, no, he’s for sure dead.  He’ll fall way down and crash on the rocks by the ocean shore.”

Next thing I knew, the guy who disappeared over a cliff comes flying up in the wind.  His kite is lifting him up, up, and up. We get a lot of wind here by the ocean.  Nona and Papa always have chin-straps on their hats.  Otherwise they would fly away.

Speaking of fly away.  We didn’t see just one crazy human being by the cliffs today.

Now I'm asking myself, "Am I crazy enough to try this paragliding?" Answer: No!

Now I’m asking myself, “Am I crazy enough to try this paragliding?” Answer: No!

These two just stood there in front of us, and, when a big puff of wind came along, Papa said, “Oh, look, Solbit, there they go; they’re aloft!”  Well they were up in the air, but I wanted to ask Papa why he said that.  When we were in New York last year, he said the people we visited lived in a “loft.”  These two guys definitely were not in a loft.

Papa corrected me, “Not in a loft, Solbit.  I said they were ‘aloft.’” Language is still confusing me.  How do you people understand what you’re saying to each other?

Well, even though I complained, Nona made us leave right then for MOA.  On our walk there, she explained that MOA is the University of British Columbia Museum of Anthropology.

“Papa, do we have to go there?” I appealed to what I hoped would be a higher authority, but, of course, I know he isn’t.  To my surprise, Papa also wanted to do something really boring like going to a museum of anthropology.  I complained some more, but Nona just said, “No whining, Solbit!” and kept walking.

Nona must have really, really wanted to see what was at MOA, because she even paid — I’d say happily paid — for us to get into the museum.  That’s pretty unusual.  One of her most often spoken sentences is, “We’re not paying for that.”  Once I saw the money exchange hands, I knew my fate was sealed.  No way we’re leaving this place for hours.

The next thing I know, Nona is reading to me from little messages that someone has stuck on the walls by different old things, like this mask.

I politely said nothing in front of this guy, but I think he needs some dental work.

I politely said nothing in front of this guy, but I think he needs some dental work.

The sign by this mask talked about how First Nations people made masks and sculptures of animals they respected.  Often these are made out of wood and bone and plant materials.  Already I felt at home, because these people respected animals, and I wondered whether they respected an iguanodon like me.  I started looking for a mask of an iguanodon, but I never did see one.  Maybe we died out before people lived here?

Some things that we saw weren’t so old, but they were still made by First Nations people and, wow, I just loved this one.

When I first saw this, I knew it was supposed to tell a story, but I couldn't "read" it.

When I first saw this, I knew it was supposed to tell a story, but I couldn’t “read” it.

It’s called Creation, and it has its own special room with seats in a circle around it.  I got Papa to take me all around this sculpture. All the way around it, I saw something interesting.

Unfortunately, it was one of the last sculptures that I got to see.  Nona said that we had spent the whole day here, and we had to go home for Papa’s afternoon nap.

“But I want more of MOA, Nona.  Can’t Papa go home by himself, please?”  She said we had to leave because Papa would take his nap and she would work on plans for our trip next year to South America. “I guess I’ll take a nap too,” I pouted.  So that’s what I did today:  complained, had a great time at MOA — which I didn’t expect — and pouted.  I have more than one day like that every week.  Do you?

I’m your friend.







August 2015

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  • You may be asking yourself, “Who is Solbit?” Solbit is a fictional character, but she is a real plastic dinosaur, sent to us unsolicited in a package we ordered from Photojojo. So, she’s a plastic jurassic. Solbit is short for the four names given her by our grandchildren: Sparkle, Orangie, Lulu, Breakit. We tend to use her given names for when she’s been naughty. Thank you for visiting Tales of a Plastic Jurassic. Solbit likes company and hopes you’ll come back.
  • You can learn more about Solbit at her About page and in the earlier posts, “Solbit: How I Got My Name” and “Solbit: How I Got to Travel.”