Discovering a new species is pretty hard, you know.
You’re supposed to get up off your arse and like, walk out of the classroom. But you can’t do this yet, of course, not until you finish preparing those awful, awful questions. Oh, and you were supposed to be careful with these questions—asking things like “How much do you weigh?” was a big no-no.
Plus, you’ve got to make puppy dog eyes that scream, “Pretty please with an immensely, tremendously, unbelievably, remarkably yummy—free—green tea ice-cream with chicken on top, please let us take a picture of you.”
On my first sighting of these peculiar beings, about two years ago, there was this strange, strange idea in my head that they hated their own habitat, that they were grumpy by nature, and that they despised us humans who walk by everyday, making a mess of everything.
But, having learned of her name, family, dreams and way of life through our Chinese translating device—ahem, Jacelyn—we realised that our intriguing new discovery, was in fact not a new species at all.
Then again, just standing there observing one particular specimen, known as Wu Xi Bang, the strange, strange impression that I had was beaten up by her cheerful smiles—my brain has this way of misinterpreting everything.
Our finding was something spectacular and out of this world. Getting a glimpse of something never before seen or heard, of a place so different from our—that is, from my narrow, narrow point of view—was nice. Definitely something to remember.
Wu Xi Bang is of the same species as us, a human through and through. This is where our differences end. And where our avid search continues.