Question: The wildfire smoke cleared on the morning of our family wedding, just in time for the bride and groom to say their vows overlooking coal harbour. We took this as a sign that we needed to book our Vancouver seaplane flight, to really explore the azure harbour waters and take in an eagle-eyed view of this city. I suppose it was ok oh, who am I kidding, the harbour is spectacular. Let me also point out that none of these images are touched by editing. Like 99% of my images in this blog (the other 1% is cropping and making slight adjustments), these are entirely un-doctored. We began as all good things do, by hanging out in their airport lounge, offered a mini-pastry and a hot beverage I adventurously went for an 'English Mist', an Earl-Grey Latte to make myself feel a little more soothed boarding a tiny propeller plane (note: it didn't work.) With a slightly chaotic boarding process (more noticeable after such a serene start) we were too busy sorting out the seats to realise that we had hopped on board, and within in seconds it seemed, our pilot had lifted off smoothly in a flurry of water foam. As we began to watch the world turn into a Lilliput version of itself, we barely blinked for watching beautiful vistas unfold. From tiny little islands (the above Passage Island technically belongs to West Vancouver, known as the Hollywood suburb of the city, and a couple of the homes are allegedly owned by celebrities) where the residents enjoy views of downtown Vancouver, the University of British Columbia campus, Vancouver Island, and the snow-capped mountains of Howe Sound to the fjords all the way along the Sea to Sky Highway to Whistler. They just scatter along the horizon, like a giant has skittered his toys along an azure sheet of silk. We looped around, looking back over the stunning Stanley Park and towering grid of Vancouver downtown buildings. From prehistoric forests, to gleaming silver confections of modernity. Question: The seaplane excursion probably lasted: === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- Five minutes.
- One hour.
- Two days.
- not enough information
Answer: One hour.

input with options: He picked me up at my house, and after getting back on the main road he turned up the volume on the radio. "Why do you even listen to that stuff?" I asked. It was schlock-rock, simple and unadorned wailing backed by incessantly grating guitars. "I don't really know." "You don't actually like it, do you?" I knew he didn't; I knew what he preferred. His apartment walls were lined with recordings of classical, even archaic music, European folk instrumentals. Maybe rock, once in a while, but he had had something amplified and pitch-altered on every time we'd been together lately. "I think we listen to pop music to punish ourselves," he said. "An aural bed of nails to compensate for our sins." "Those sins being...?" "I don't know... sometimes, don't you ever get so sick of everything you just want to cram your ears full of garbage to spite it all?" This was not normal second-date dialogue, but Phillip and I had known each other for a long time. "It's like you'd rather inflict pain," he said, "like you want to inflict pain on yourself, just for pure spite against... the stuff around us." "You'd choke on garbage to get back at a culture who would do it for you anyway?" "Yeah, kind of. Does that make sense?" "In a very cliched, pop-psychology sort of way, yes." I turned down the volume, then shut the radio off entirely. "Don't you ever want to hurt like that?" he asked. "It's why you read some thriller instead of a classic, it's why you watch TV instead of reading a book, it's why you watch a sitcom instead of PBS, it's why you watch Family Guy instead of the Simpsons." (I might have snorted at this point.) "Because you have to do the bad thing." Question: After the end of the story, the author is: === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- Pensive
- not enough information
- Unsure
- Conflicted
output: Pensive

Q: When Patch finally found his way out of the seed-pod, Toro was gone, and there were rats all around him. Some hid beneath the huge black seed-pods, some scuttled in the shadows of the nearby mountain. Patch knew from their smells there were at least a dozen of them. There was another smell too, mixed with that of the rats. The very same unsavory squirrel-smell he had detected in Silver's abandoned drey. "What do you want?" Patch asked, from his perch atop the mound of seed-pods. He was concerned but not yet frightened. Rats and squirrels were neither friends nor enemies. Squirrels were bigger and stronger, but rats were far more numerous. There were legends of long-ago wars between the two species, but no squirrel Patch knew had ever been attacked by rats. Squirrels lived aboveground, in the sun; rats frequented the night and the dark underworld. Of course, squirrels found rats disgusting and disagreeable -- but so did all other animals. An unusually large rat climbed up to the top of a seed-pod. It was almost as big as Patch himself. Rats usually avoided light, but this one stood unafraid beneath the sun, and demanded: "Who are you?" "I am Patch son of Silver, of the Seeker clan, of the Treetops tribe, of the Center Kingdom," Patch said. "Who are you that asks?" "I am Snout," the rat replied. "Why are you here?" "I came to look for food." "This is our food. These mountains are ours." "Your food?" Patch asked, bewildered. There was no ownership of food in the Center Kingdom, not until it had actually been eaten. "That's ridiculous. It's food. It belongs to whoever finds it first." "Then you belong to us," Snout hissed. "Because we are the rats who will suck the marrow from your broken bones." Question: For how long Patch could feel familiar unsavory squirrel-smell? === The answer to the above question is

OPTIONS:
- Few minutes
- Many years.
- One week.
- not enough information

A:
Few minutes