Experiencing the "Other"

Another Ethnography I wrote a while back. Experience it from my eyes. http://www.royalfair.org/

Usually I sleep so deeply that often times it takes me a while to really come into my senses and realize that the music playing is not a part of my dream, but the radio-clock blasting in my ears. However, last night's sleep was interrupted many times due to the agony affiliated with "Hell" week. Hell week is the pre-planned, conspirative wrath brought upon by professors on the poor students in which all the deadlines and tests happen to be in the same week. With an aching body and a numbed brain, I force myself out of bed and get ready to go to the Royal Winter Agriculture Fair taking place at the CNE exhibitions ground. To visit the fair for my field work is certainly not something I planned in advance as I originally wanted to attend a much smaller, confined event like a workshop or a group activity. Even at this very moment, I am debating my choice since I am worried that attending a fair may take up a lot more time than I originally planned to spend on this task. Moreover, it's intimidating to go there all by myself especially after my previous awkward experience at the Harvest Fest where I felt completely left out among families and children. I am sure it’s not something as overwhelming if you are accompanied by a friend or if you have kids to take along but unfortunately none of these options are available to me at the moment. Throwing my thoughts aside, I quickly gulp down a cup of delicious, hot chocolate milk and walk out of my house. I rush to the bus stop in an attempt to suppress the convincing whisperings telling me to leave this task for tomorrow. It is a typical autumn day characterized by clear skies and flourishing sunlight accompanied by crisp, cold wind repeatedly stabbing every part of my existence. The stiff, naked trees and the absence of flowers induce a sense of emptiness while the twirling piles of dried, scattered leaves on the ground remind you of bloodless wounds of farewell. With hands in my coat’s pocket, I run toward the bus that has already arrived at the bus stop and waiting for the traffic light to turn green. I remain successful at catching the bus and feel a sense of relief over a good start to my day. I feel a constant struggle to stay alert and prevent my brain from wandering off from ‘reality’. As I reach the subway station, I can’t help but to notice how empty it seems on a Saturday morning as compared to the weekdays. My subway journey from Kipling to Bathurst station should only take about twenty minutes since there doesn’t seem to be a lot of passengers. Once I reach Bathurst, I see an unusual, painted street car on which a poster reads out “Island of Bahamas: Escape from everyday life”. This text sounds ironic because within a few minutes, I expect to experience ‘the Other’ which will not only be an escape from my everyday urban life but for which I certainly won’t have to go to Bahamas. The street car takes me to my destination after passing by crammed shops, old dungeon-like houses with tiny front yards, brick-patterned buildings, traffic, noise, and all those things that typify a typical urban setting. An arrow on the huge sign reading “Royal Agriculture Winter Fair” directs me to a building called “Energy Direct” and a windmill, standing in the midst of artificially designed grassland, welcomes me. I am not too sure if this display merely represents the countryside or if the windmill is a reminder to the public of an alternative ‘energy’ source. After purchasing the ticket at the admission booth and picking up a schedule, I make my way into Hall A. According to the schedule, I have to wait about an hour before I can attend the very interesting sessions of “Milking a Cow!” and “Sheep Shearing”. I feel extremely confused in this huge hall with hundreds of booths lined up in rows and columns and an unbelievable amount of people, especially little kids. I am probably the only one here who is all by myself and it’s not as much fun as it would be if I dragged my family along as well. As I run my sight across a random row of stalls, I come across a stall called “the Fudge Factory”. The aroma of chocolate fudge and red, plump apple candies excite my taste buds and I run toward the stall in an attempt to grab a free sample of sweet, apple candy drowned with fudge and some sugary syrup. All I can say is that it is the yummiest one I’ve ever ate in my whole life and grabbing a free sample surely seems like a flawless victory. I take a few moments to finish off eating and then move on to a few other booths selling cowboy hats, leather jackets, country boots, jams, jellies, honey, wheat, rice and pretty much everything one might consider a ‘country’ souvenir. I wonder why people are finding these so astonishing when these items can be conveniently purchased in a local, city mall or a neighborhood grocery store. In an attempt to find my way to the Education Ring, I enter into another hall called the “lower annex” and feel almost noxious from a weird smell similar to cow’s dung. To my surprise, not only do you find people crowded in here but also cows roaming around slowly and in all directions accompanied by at least one person perhaps its owner making their way into a rink called the ‘Beef show’. I walk carefully on the bare ground finding it hard to distinguish between the mud and cow’s dung, my nose plugged with my fingers to ward off the noxious feces smell till I reach the Education Ring for milking a cow session. On the right hand corner are located benches aligned in a manner analogous to a stair case which is meant to be the seating area for the audience. In close proximity to the seating area is placed a small stage bordered with a white barn fence and enclosed within this fence is a huge, model cow painted black and white with a bucket placed underneath its rubber teat. The stage has been given the look of an old cow barn to give the audience the sensation of a real barn. As the show starts, a farmer wearing overalls and a cowboy hat brings out a real cow and introduces her as ‘magic patty’. I thought that he is going to milk her by hand but to my surprise, milking is done by mechanized black pumps attached to the cow’s teat with pipes going into a large machine. I am surrounded by little curious kids anxious to participate in the questions asked by the host as she engages the audience. After the education session, the host asks the kids to line up to experience cow milking first hand. To be interactive, I hesitatingly decide to join the kids and line up behind a cute little girl who looks upon me as if she's almost ready to question "what I’m doing here". When my turn comes, I introduce myself to the instructor as an ethnographer. I sit on a tool beside the cow’s rear end. She hands me a set of gloves to wear and wet napkins to wipe the teat in preparation for milking. I’ve never been this close to a cow before and I am not too sure if what I feel is fear or mere discomfort as I squeeze the teat in a downward motion. It feels similar to the rubber mouthpiece of a baby’s feeding bottle, slimy but not as soft as I imagined it to be. A steady stream of milk squirts out of the teat into the bucket as I squeeze analogous to the way water squirts out of a water gun. I thank her for giving me this unique opportunity and she gives me a tiny bag of fresh milk as I walk out. Just beside the education ring are located many cages placed on the floor with sheep, pigs, and horses. These cages are made of silver bars all the way around groups of 3-4 goats, sheep, and pigs and are not closed at the top. I wonder why all these goats are sitting so still and quiet in these cages. Why won’t they jump out of the cage? I am walking around looking at these animals from far away, one by one, admiring their beautiful skins and innocent faces. I think my favorite thing is the baby goats, with white fur and pinkish eyes, looking extremely adorable piled on top of each other. After checking out the petting zoo, I make my way through the beautiful displays of farm fruits and vegetables arranged in different patterns, colours, shapes, and sizes. On my way back, I watch the sheep shearing session where the same lady who milked the cow, is now shearing a small woolen, yellow sheep. The sheep is giving her a hard time by not standing still. It feels like the sheep just wants to run away and tries to as well but the lady grabs it in between her legs. The yellow, cloud-like wool piles up on the ground as the sheep stands naked, shameless in front of the entire audience. Something about the whole scene is humorous and the audience especially the kids are not only amazed but are also laughing hysterically. With a smile on my face and my heart filled with pleasure of making some new discovery, I decided to say farewell to the fair.