There really is a forest

As you know, I don't put the real name of my city of residence on this blog. 

My previous city earned the moniker "Bedrock," for obvious reasons. When I first went there, I thought I had entered a time machine and gone back to the days of Fred and Wilma Flintstone. Yep, it was really that bad.

My present city has the nickname "Bamboo Forest," also for obvious reasons. There is a lot of bamboo here, forests of it. I thought you deserved a tour of the place, so I went there on my new e-bike the other day. On my way in, I saw a weird sign:

That's kind of weird. You'd expect a "no graffiti" sign in a subway, or in a warehouse district, or on the side of an overpass, but in a bamboo forest? What in the world were they thinking?

Oh. I see.

There was a whole lot of it, not the spray-paint kind of graffiti, but the carving-your-initials-in-bamboo kind of graffiti. (I'm kidding -- haha -- they don't have initials here.)

I actually found one or two bamboo stalks in the whole forest that didn't have something carved in them. They were hard to reach stalks. 

Apparently the people around here are really scared of rules and authority, huh?

I caught a couple of the social deviants red-handed. Then mosquitoes bit me and I went home.