There's another team in my soccer league who can best be described as a consummate disgrace. We're their chief rivals for winning the league. Every game against them seems to evolve the same way -- we come out playing hard against them, and they wail every time they're touched. Then one of their guys will fall during a fair challenge, which the ref doesn't call, and so they come to the conclusion (very vocally) that the ref has it in for them. After that, they feel they're entitled to play as dirty as possible, fouling us viciously, taking dives, calling everyone names, gloating at mistakes our players make, and of course, whining whining whining from their bench as well as their field players. One of their guys even spat on me earlier in the year.

Well, we played them for the last time a month or so ago, and it ran true to course. It was made worse by the fact that the referee didn't show up and our coach had to do the reffing. We were winning 1-0 at halftime, which was to them of course the fault of our coach the ref, but we just got sick of it after a point, and let the game slip away from us, and lost 2-1. They were of course in heaven. As I walked by their dressing room, one of their guys yelled, "You all have no integrity!" It may have been the ultimate pot-kettle-black moment ever. (Did I mention that their game the previous week got called because of a fight?)

I came away from the game with a sprained ankle (though I was the victim of a few cheap fouls, this was just the result of twisting it at some point). So I didn't play again until this past Sunday, which was the last game of the season. It was against a completely different team, and we needed to win in order to win the league. The funny thing was that, before the game, their coach talked to ours and expressed his wish that we would win the league because they all hate that other team too, and joked about throwing the game. They didn't, of course, but we beat them anyway, 3-0, and so won the league. Sweet.

One beautiful thing is that the website that shows the results has been incomplete most of the year and has been showing them as winning. Well, it's been fixed now. (See "VETERANS" at the bottom.)

We were talking before the game that if they're still in the league next year, we might just refuse to play them. And if other teams follow suit, all the better. It's just not worth the injury risk for a bunch of old farts like us. Plus the fact that they're intolerable to play against whether you beat them or not.

Still no internet at home, which is becoming maddening. We're settling in, though, and figuring out the neighborhood and how to get around. We're fairly sure that the dog likes it better here; we like it lots too, but there are things about the old neighborhood that we miss.

Last week we saw Paul Weller in concert. He was brilliant as usual, and his backing band just tears it up. This is the third continent I've seen him on, but was Marjorie's first time.

I'm still loving my job. We have a ping pong table now, and I've quickly established my place as the office's penultimate player (behind the guy who used to be ranked number 16 in Israel -- though I beat him the other day when he didn't have his special paddle). I'm getting better at Guitar Hero as well. Sometimes I do actual work too.

Sorry for the lack of updates but we've just moved house and they've said it'll be ten to twenty business days (!) to hook up our internet. So I'm composing this at home and will post it at work.

We're mostly on top of the move, but it seems like we moved into an unfinished house, what with all the workers we've had through. We've had two new garage doors put in, had blinds put in, had cable TV installed, had a locksmith through to fix the doors, had handymen fix various things... We still have a fence in the backyard to be replaced.

The new house is very nice, especially in terms of warmth. The old house had high ceilings, hardwood floors, and poor wiring that only allowed two little space heaters to be on at once. The new house -- lower ceilings, carpets, and proper wiring. And a good powerful faux-fireplace heater in the living room. Ahhhh... The dog seems to love it too, and seems to be frolicking a good bit more.

Once the weather starts to warm, we are really going to start enjoying the backyard. We even have the garage (which is attached to the backyard) set up with our dining room table and chairs. It's also great to have the storage space. Yet another advantage of not having a car.

We miss the old place, but it's good to be in a different neighborhood, that has a very different feel. Even the wildlife is different -- at dusk the other day an owl landed in a tree in the backyard. How cool is that?

The house we've been renting for four years sold at auction today. Unbelievable -- it went for $1.11 million (Australian -- that's still over a million US). I had no idea we were living in a million dollar house. It doesn't seem like a million dollar house.

But we like it, and we're sad to be moving. We're partway through the move; we moved lots of the more portable bits today, but tomorrow we're renting a moving truck and hitting it hard. Then on Monday the removalists are coming to do the really heavy bits.

In other news, we had a visit today from our friend who was on the Qantas flight that recently had the mid-flight incident where a big hole got blown out of the side of the plane. I don't want to post too many details about someone else's traumatic experience on a public forum, but we're glad she's okay.

Australian commercials get away with things they never would in the States, chapter 2134:

Domino's Pizza has a new mascot on their commercials, named Manny Toppings, who flies around via an umbrella a la Mary Poppins. His catchphrase: "It's super-cali-friggin-awesome!"

You like me, you really like me! For my birthday yesterday, I got birthday wishes in the following forms:

Six Facebook wall postings

Two Facebook messages

One Friendster message

Three instant messages

Four emails

A bunch of messages on a discussion group

Two cards that arrived by this interesting service that delivers hard copies right to your door -- "mail", I think it's called

Thanks everybody! It was a nice day. As it was a Wednesday, we only went out to dinner to celebrate. And this weekend will be all about moving. I'll be sending out our new address shortly...

We've got a new place. No more busy weekends searching; now it'll be just busy weekends moving and settling in for a while. We're north of town, away from the beach, in Clifton Hill. Nice place with really nice backyard (essential for champagne Sundays) but a rather quieter neighborhood. Still, we have a cafe, a pub, a fish-and-chippery, and a milk bar. There's actually a bunch more stuff that's a little further away. It'll be a much shorter commute for Marjorie (who deserves one) and still not bad for me; just a half hour by train.

They're actually selling our house. We have two "forthcoming auction" signs out front, and we'll be having to let people come into our house on Wednesday, Saturday, and Sunday for the next four weeks. We let the agents in our house last week, we thought just for an inspection, but today we found they have our house up on their website, complete with pictures they took with all of our furniture prominently featured:

Hocking Stuart

I don't know how they do it -- fisheye lenses or something -- but they sure can make a place look big. My favorite features are the wireless modem you can see in the living room, the luggage on top of the cabinets in the kitchen, and the dog toy in the back yard.

Ten years ago today Marjorie and I had our first date[*]. Marjorie wore a dress with cherries on it and her Birkenstocks. I wore a black and white checked shirt. We went to Doc Chey's, shared a bottle of wine, and bonded over Elliott Smith and Elvis Costello. It was all over from there (which she apparently knew straight away; it took longer for me to realize :-). Happy anniversary, baby!

[*] Okay, we did have a date a few years before that, but the timing wasn't right...

It's all over. Some guys at the office bought Guitar Hero for the lunch room. What a brilliant game. Thursday was someone's last day, but instead of going out to the pub as planned, we just brought in some beers and played it until late. It was the most fun I've had in a long while.

Back to house hunting...

They're kicking us out. Well, actually, they're just raising our rent to the point where we really can't afford to stay any longer. It was just a matter of time, really; we've been here almost four years now at the same rent, and it's a seller's market right now.

Today we hired a car and went by no less than nine different places today (there was a tenth too that we couldn't find). Exhausting. And none were up to snuff. Even if we find a place we like there's no guarantee we'll get it -- there's always a crowd at these viewings, and having to admit we have a dog is a liability. It's a grueling process.

We're looking north of the city, so Marjorie has an easier commute. There's some nice neighborhoods but nothing (I think) as nice as where we're at now. Still, a change of scene might be nice. But we may end up staying in this area if nothing pans out up north.

It was a lot easier four years ago when Marjorie wasn't working. We know we'll have to kiss a lot of frogs in the process but it can be pretty grating.

Not the most exciting post; I think I must just be burned out...

The good things about my new job:

• It's nothing but programming. No proposal writing, requirements gathering, design sessions, customer support, etc. like my last job; just the pure unadulterated fun stuff that I like.


• My time sheet takes about thirty seconds to complete, instead of the fifteen minutes of my last job.


• Magazines on the lunchroom table include Scientific American, my favorite magazine, which was a good omen on my first day.


• My boss is wickedly smart. Maybe even the smartest guy I've ever met, and I've met a lot of smart people. But he's also really cool and down-to-earth. It seems like he could do the job of any of the twenty or so people under him, but he doesn't micromanage.


• There's a MAME arcade emulator machine in the lunchroom (built by same boss). There's also an XBox.


• I have my pick of hardware, software, and books, plus a hefty yearly training budget.

The bad:

• Eight hour days instead of the Australian standard of seven and a half. I typically worked that much anyway so it's no big deal.


• It's all guys, save the receptionist.


• Pernicious Microsoft influence, now that we've officially been acquired. So far it's been no big deal. We have, though, been "discouraged" from working on open source projects.


• More pressure. I've already had a few work dreams.

Just got back from a lovely weekend away at a cottage (which was dog-friendly) in the nearby spa resort town of Daylesford. We did a whole lot of nothing for the long weekend, which was nice. The dog enjoyed herself too, but I still hate it that there's no way to explain to her what's going on -- she never knows if we're staying someplace forever or just for a visit.

On the way back we took a stroll around Hanging Rock, but failed to mysteriously disappear.

Interesting disclaimer on TV prior to a program we watched -- it was something like this:

SBS advises Aborigines and Torres Strait Islanders that the following program contains voices and depictions of dead people.

Local celebrity spotting, in McNugget form:

Grabriella Cilmi, who recently knocked Madonna off the top of the British charts, is from Melbourne. I tracked down her song, Sweet About Me, which I expected to be pure bubblegum, but it's actually not bad -- kind of Amy Winehouse-y.

Sally Seltmann, who co-wrote Feist's international hit 1234 is also from here.

Nicolas Cage is apparently looking for a house in our neighborhood. This is probably in some way responsible for our recent rent increase. Maybe we can hang out. Though I imagine he'll be palling around with Hugh Jackman and Guy Pierce instead.

I was just watching a bit of Anthony Bourdain's "No Reservations" episode about Singapore, and it got me thinking back. I surfed around a bit and came across this clip of a very typical Singaporean sitcom called "Under One Roof". All Singaporean sitcoms, I think, are about overbearing mothers.

I often go on here about the great things about Australia. One of the down sides, though, is the cost of things. A perfect example:

Item	US price	Australia price
Wii	US$250	US$379
Wii Fit	US$90	US$137

I want this, but the Australian price is a lot harder to justify. Electronics in general cost too much, as do clothes and housewares.

When we first got Laika she pulled on the leash too much, so we got her a halti. She hates it.

A few years later she started getting into kerfuffles with other dogs (particularly schnauzers) so we got her a muzzle. She hates it.

Now, after a leg surgery, we had to get her one of those lampshade collars o' humiliation. She hates it. Look how defeated she looks.

Fortunately for her she only had to wear it for one day, as we can now keep a watch on her, since we are both suddenly home sick with some bizarro virus. We both felt clammy and belchy at work on Monday, and now the symptoms seem to be a wildly fluctuating body temperature, belchiness, a complete indifference to food, and a general cold and clammy feeling. Marjorie chundered a few times last night while I got woken up by acid reflux at 3:30am. Always good to have to call in sick on your third week on the job. The dog at least appreciates having us around.

How to speak Australian. What would be your guess as to what these Australianisms mean?

A newspaper headline from a while back: "CATS FACE BLOW".

The government's new "Dob In A Hoon" campaign.

In bed with the devil? Naaaah... After one week on the job I no longer work for "FAST Search & Transfer" -- now we are officially "FAST, a Microsoft Subsidiary". There was a meeting today about how this will all affect us; the bottom line is "not much" (for now at least). We'll see. The group I'm working with seems strong and smart and sensible, so I'm confident that things will work out, one way or another.

Next month we have the official welcome bash. All the Australian branches are coming to Melbourne for it, and I've heard the word "degustation" mentioned. Lead us not into...

The dog is broken again. She started developing cysts around the sutures from her last surgery, so today she got the plate in her leg taken out. I came home to her whimpering and shivering a little, but she's just disoriented; she's fine when one of us is touching her. She's sleeping in front of the heater now. I have a big, complex emotion about all this that doesn't lend itself well to syntax.

Wildlife sightings while visiting the USA:

6 or 7 manatees: Cocoa Beach

3 bottlenose dolphins: Cocoa Beach

1 bald eagle (dead, roadkill): Cape Canaveral

Various hawks and cardinals: Arkansas

At least 15 different species of bird at our friends Dick and Carol's home feeder, including at least 4 new species for us: pine siskin, yellow-rumped warbler, Carolina wren, yellow-bellied woodpecker (says Carol, though I think this was actually a flicker): Georgia

Wild turkey: Berkeley

The parrots of Telegraph Hill: San Fran

3 or 4 of the lesser-known (Anna's?) hummingbirds of Telegraph Hill: San Fran

50 or so harbor seals: San Fran

1 acorn woodpecker, stuffing his tree like this: Palo Alto

I'm missing some sightings, I think...

I survived my first week at my new job for FAST Search. A lot of "drinking from the fire hose" so far as the system is pretty sizable and just about everything is new to me (including the operating system -- Linux/Ubuntu/Gnome). I've been advised that there's lots of hardcore algorithmic stuff deep in the guts of the system that needs work -- sweet.

All the people seem really cool -- serious geeks but no social misfits. There's a MAME box in the lunch room. They have a system of lava lamps that are lit whenever various software builds are broken.

Sadly it's a bit of a sausage party -- all white males between the ages of 25 and, um, my age. The one woman in the whole office (of twenty or so people) is (to complete the stereotype) an administrative assistant. By an odd coincidence, the guy who's been helping me a lot this week happens to play on my soccer team (I didn't know he worked there until after I accepted the offer). Should be good fun.

Some pics from our recent trip back to the USA. We had a super, super time, practically every day of the trip. More details to come.

My last day at my current job (yesterday) happened to correspond with their quarterly event. So I spent my last afternoon climbing rocks, which was a lot of fun. At drinks afterwards I burned the heck out of myself on an hors d'oeuvre and so get to start my new job on Monday with a scab across my lower lip.

Greets from the USA where we're just about to wrap up a lovely visit with Mark's side of the family. All the kidren are playful and rambunctious and growing up too fast. With twelve people staying at my parents' house it was like My Big Fat Greek Family. We saw manatees and dolphins in the canal that runs behind their back yard. I took some photos and movies which I will post later.

Our big joke this trip is to say "Oh yeah" whenever we see something that we used to see all the time but had completely forgotten about. Sales tax -- "Oh yeah". Texas Pete's Hot Sauce -- "Oh yeah". Towel dispensers where you have to pull the lever down a foot to dispense three inches of paper towel -- "Oh yeah". Supercuts, Panera Bread Company, Lance crackers -- "Oh yeah".

The US seems stranger to me in general than on previous return visits. The things that strike me the most strange are pennies (Why? Get rid of them already) and toilets (they give you a veritable lake to pee into in the US; seems like a waste).

Note to me Atlanta mates -- will be going Atlanta next -- spending a few days with Marjorie's parents before heading into town. Will be in touch soon!

More commercial goodness. A commercial down here refers to Easter eggs as "tarted-up chicken butt-nuts". I love Australia...

Great fun last night as I went and saw From The Jam, which is basically two former members of The Jam, one of my favorite bands, who broke up after I got into them in, um, 1984. The played all their old songs, but with a replacement front man. Kind of strange, really, considering that most of the songs were written by the missing guy. But if it was an odd situation for the band, it didn't show.

It seemed everyone there, like me, knew all the words to every song. It was a dream set list, where they played all my favorite of their hits, plus all my favorite of their non-hits, it seemed. From memory:

In The City

The Modern World

All Mod Cons

News Of The World

To Be Someone

David Watts

In The Crowd

It's Too Bad

'A' Bomb In Wardour Street

Down In A Tube Station At Midnight

So Sad About Us

Thick As Thieves

Private Hell

Little Boy Soldiers

Smithers-Jones

Eton Rifles

Strange Town

Pretty Green

Start!

Ghosts

The Gift

Thick As Thieves

Town Called Malice

When You're Young

Going Underground

After the show on the tram I chatted with a guy who flew up from Tasmania for the show, leaving his wife and two kids behind. It did seem that there were a lot of people like me who were there by themselves, just because they had to. Come on, this is as close to The Jam as you'll ever see. (Well, I said that about the Pixies too.) But I still have a happy buzz from the show the next day just writing about it.

Oh yeah, I have a new job too.

Seeing as my feet are size 12, I think I'll avoid visiting Canada for a while.

Posted without comment. We just saw this commercial on TV down here.

Your literary quote of the day:

There was something distinctly intimidating about her stare. It seemed to come from a one-woman mob, separated only by time and chance from her knitting bag and a splendid view of the guillotine. -- JD Salinger, "Raise High The Roof Beam, Carpenters"

Somehow I never noticed this book on our shelves before. So I'm reading it on the tram now, and it's brilliant.

My new crusade: ALL words in book, movie, or song title should be capitalized. Leaving small words like "the" and "and" uncapitalized only leads to confusion. Why not just capitalize them all?

Yesterday we met up with my internet-cum-real-life friend who was in town visiting with his sister. This is the third continent we've met on (previously we've met up in Atlanta and London). Had a great time showing them the city and our neighborhood. He works for Apple, so I got my first look at an iPhone and was wowed. To my surprise, given all the hype and my previous distaste for most things Mac-ish. That is one sexy gadget. Want.

Arthur Dent never could quite get the hang of Thursdays.

For me, the problem is Sunday nights. Back in Atlanta, it used to be "wing night", where I'd go out with a group of friends, usually to Taco Mac, and basically just try to extend the weekend for another night.

I have no big friend group here, and no proper spicy wing to speak of. But I'm left with the stubborn refusal to go to sleep on Sunday nights. Last night was typical. I started drifting off to sleep on the couch shortly after Marjorie went to bed, around 10:00pm. But instead I woke myself up on purpose, and stayed awake watching a soccer game I didn't care about, until after 1:30.

It starts the week off all wrong for me; I yawn through my Mondays, and have to play catch-up the rest of week on sleep. But what really bugs me is that I can't fully articulate my reasons for doing it. Yes, it has something to do with holding on to my free time, to not being a slave to work, to the feeling that days are slipping away. But it feels like there's something missing in that explanation, something not in my front-brain, and and not really in my control.

I got a new phone last weekend, and gave Marjorie the old one. The old one was a Motorola C261, which is a good phone, and has a camera, but unfortunately has no way to download the photos you take -- you can only send them to someone else. So today I've been sending all the photos I took with the old phone to my new one so I can download them. The quality of them isn't great, but what do you expect from a phone camera?

Remember my soccer injury from the middle of last year? Here's a shot I took of my face immediately afterwards.

And here's a photo of a standoff that took place on a walk around Albert Park Lake. I really don't know who would win this. Swans is mean.

A mix tape for Grandmom? Marjorie and I have been trying to put together a mix CD for my grandmother. She doesn't have a CD player, I don't think, but we can at least play it when we're all visiting at my parents house next month. It's been an interesting cross-generational experience, downloading these old songs -- as you might expect, a lot of the stuff I remember her liking, we've been finding, well, grating. It's not a product of the times, I don't think -- I've been listening to a fair bit of early jazz lately (Louie Armstrong, Benny Goodman), but I'm trying more to remember what SHE has always liked, growing up second-generation Polish in southern New Jersey.

The three names I can recall are Bobby Vinton, John Denver, and Lawrence Welk. It's hard to imagine finding any of these names on a mix tape I'd make for any of my friends. Vinton at least does some polkas, but his love songs are pure schmaltz. Denver is not offensive at least, while Welk is pure elevator music to my ears.

I also remember distinctly a few 78s that us kids always played at my Grandmom's house -- possibly they were two sides of the same 78? The songs were "The House of Bamboo" by Andy Williams (which actually swings) and "See You Later, Alligator" by Bill Haley and the Comets. I don't know though, these might have been my mother's. We were actually able to find both of these.

I'll have to see if we can track down some stuff from the Mummers Parades as well!

It seems that my late entry into the Metamorphosis Valentine's Day Limerick Contest came away with the coveted Best limerick making fun of the limerick contest award. Props also to lisad (who has been known to occasionally comment here) for taking the slightly less prestigious third prize.

I just got back from the beach, and boy are my arms tired. For the first time since 1994(?), I went surfing. It was good fun. I hired one of those long floaty longboards, and was happy to stand up at least. It was hard not to continually remember that the place that we went, Ocean Grove, is not terribly far from some Great White feeding grounds. The big clumps of kelp in the water were occasionally disconcerting.

The weekend in review, once again:

Thursday: Billy Bragg in concert at the Prince of Wales. Some left midway through due to excessive preaching and politicking, but c'mon, it's Billy Bragg; what did they expect? It was still lots of fun and I'm amazed that one man can entertain a room full of people for two hours with only guitar and his ideas. Closed with a rousing rendition of "Waiting For The Great Leap Forward".

Friday: Moonlight Cinema showing of the Sean Penn movie, "Into The Wild". Giant fruit bats squawking off to our left for much of the time kind of added to the wildness. Movie was good but flawed.

Saturday: Rufus Wainwright at Hamer Hall. Our third time seeing him, and vastly different each time. This time it was with a full band and costume changes (white body suit with sequins, lederhosen, a white bathrobe, and, um, full Judy Garland regalia. I was repeatedly struck by how his shy and stumbling between-song patter contrasted with his confident musicianship and dynamic performance. He's a fantastic entertainer.

Australia Day weekend highlights:

• Took dog to Red Bluff, just to have a look around.


• Hit USA Foods for some salad dressing, key lime juice, and a Dr. Pepper.


• Used the key lime juice to make Australia's best margaritas.


• Took the dog to walk along the Yarra, around the Abbotsford Convent, which included a pass by the Collingswood Children's Farm. Laika was very interested in the sheep, cows, and goats, but didn't freak out, which was a good sign for the sheep herding clinic we want to take her to.


• Ice skating at Waterfront City.


• Ethiopian food at African Town.


• Chicken wings on the barbie.


• Bought a bag of lentils from an ethnic food store. Marjorie warned me they would expand when I cooked them but I didn't believe her. Ended up with three big tupperware containers of them, and tossing out a fourth. I'm not going vegan or anything, I'm just looking for excuses to eat more hot sauce.

Sick of it. I've been ill for eight days -- just a chest cold -- but I haven't improved at all. It's not getting worse, but it's not getting any better. The drugs don't work. At all. I have cold meds from the US that all do nothing, and I went to the doctor yesterday, who prescribed me antibiotics but so far they're doing nothing either. (Come to think of it, I've had these kinds of colds before, and I can't remember antibiotics ever doing anything for them.) I tried going into work back on Tuesday, but only lasted about an hour. So I've had a big long extension to my holiday, but it's all been sitting on the couch, watching movies, and I'm over it!

In case you missed it, Australia elected a new prime minister a few weeks back.

The election was, to us new citizens, fascinating. Australia uses instant runoff voting, which essentially means that we had to rank all the candidates from one to sixty-eight. Each candidate was listed in a column under their party's name, and there are lots and lots of parties, so it was a very long sheet. They have some interesting parties, too:

Senator On-line

Shooters Party

Citizens Electoral Council

One Nation

The Fishing Party

Conservatives for Climate and Environment

There were so many we had to take a cheat sheet in. But I think it's a great system; if your first choice doesn't get a majority of the votes, your vote goes to your second, then your third, etc., so that it's actually possible to vote for alternate parties without "throwing away" your vote. The whole world needs to adopt this.

The other great thing about the election was that it was announced, and then held just a month and a half later. America is killing itself with its year-long (plus) multi-billion dollar debacle that leaves the candidates all covered with mud and everyone feeling acrimonious.

Another quiet Christmas but it was nice. The day consisted of opening presents, champers, snacks, and a nap.

We also caught part of the Bing Crosby/Fred Astaire movie Holiday Inn. A happy little holiday romp, until -- Bing comes out in blackface. He starts singing a song about Abraham Lincoln. Cut to the band, all in blackface. Cut to large black maid singing, "When black folks lived in slavery/Who was it set the darkie free? Abrahaaaaam..." Enter the female lead, dressed as a pickaninny. Cut to Marjorie and Mark, sitting out the couch with our mouths agape. How the times have changed. They apparently edit this part out when they show this movie in the States. They sell golliwogs in a shop up the street here, so I'm not surprised we see it unedited.

The Summer of Mark. By a bit of bad luck I'm going to have two weeks off over the holidays.

I say "bad luck" because I wanted to work so as not to go into the negative on vacation days when we go back to the States in a few months. But there's just no work in my office to justify it.

Marjorie has to work, though. So I've been coming up with a plan for how to spend my time. The plan includes:

Bringing my techie website back on line

Updating my CV

Finishing up some personal programming projects

Tracking down some books for a certain relative

Sorting out our various frequent flier miles

Starting some kind of exercise program

Keep studying my Spanish

There's a distinct danger, though, that it might end up like:

Sleeping until noon, then surfing the internet all day in my underwear

Stumbling towards Christmas we are. Marjorie's parents just left, after a big long crazy visit involving planes, trains, more trains, helicopters, more helicopters, and automobiles. The only excursion I took with them for was the Puffing Billy one, which was a disappointment for all of us Americans who are used to at least some animatronics with their tourist traps. Anyway, my father-in-law Rob spent lots of time writing up a great account of their adventures, and hopefully I can convince him to start a blog instead of emailing it around.

Christmas, though, will be a quiet one again for us this year, but that's okay. We do sometimes pine for the good proper cold-weather, never-ending consumerist nightmare that is Christmas in America but I think in the end it's just the family part that we miss.

What a long strange trip it's been. Right this moment marks almost exactly five years since we got on the plane and left the States behind. At the time we had no idea whether we would be gone for six months, or forever. The plan was originally for five years, I think, but now we've reached that and still only have tentative plans to move back to the States in a year or two. Or sooner, or later. To some as yet unidentified city. Or to Europe. Who knows.

It's funny how fast the romantic notions of living overseas got replaced by the day-to-day reality. But it's still not an experience I would have traded for the world.

Hooray for Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday. Shared it with the in-laws this year, which means nicer company but fewer leftovers. That's okay, they're heading off tomorrow on their big Australian adventure before the turkey carcass got picked fully clean...

By my mother-in-law's request, here's the story of my trip to South Africa from 2001(?). You can read this same text, but with pictures, on the Virtual Tourist website.


My decision to go to South Africa came about while sitting in an East Atlanta restaurant, The Heaping Bowl and Brew. This restaurant features a giant map across one wall; we were seated directly under Africa. Gazing at the map, I thought about what an interesting place South Africa always seemed to me; I remembered wondering about it at a young age, looking through my parents’ atlas. Not only was it on the other side of the world, it was the southernmost place in Africa, and entirely contained two other whole countries (Lesotho and Swaziland). Then, through the 1980’s, I would hear about it on the news all the time, in reports about the breakup of apartheid. When I did some research and discovered how scenic and beautiful it was as well, my mind was made up.

When Americans think of Africa, they tend to think of safaris and big game. And while South Africa has several safari parks, to be honest, this sort of thing didn’t really interest me too much. I have seen enough elephants and tigers in zoos. I know it’s another thing altogether to witness them in the wild, but I’ll save that for a trip to the Serengeti someday.

The fact that English is widely spoken there made my decision to go by myself much easier; I didn’t want to be all alone in a place where I couldn’t communicate well. And thanks to a friend’s recommendation of a travel web site, I was able to find a (relatively) cheap ticket down there.

My trip down involved a layover in London, which I could extend as long as I liked. Since I had never been there, I decided to spend a couple of days. I latched onto the city quite well; I could easily see moving there someday. Did a lot of shopping, sightseeing, and pub hopping.

My South Africa trip was everything I was hoping it would be and more. I can highly recommend it as a travel destination; while it may cost a bit to get there, I estimate I saved $100 per day over what I would have spent for similar experiences in Europe, thanks to the strong dollar. In the future, I’m going to remember to factor in the day-to-day costs when considering a place that may be expensive to fly to.

Coming home, I resolved to make a trip by myself somewhere every year (next year I’m thinking Greenland by way of Iceland). Travel, it’s said, doesn’t cure wanderlust; it only makes it worse. I have it in a bad way now.

I love going places where every tree, every plant, every car, rock, bird, or insect is just a little bit different than you’re used to. I love hearing young kids speak another language, and stupidly thinking for a moment, “Wow, that kid’s a genius; I could only speak English at that age!” I love spending the Monopoly money that foreign currency seems to be. I love seeing people work a mundane job in a distant part of the world and wondering what their everyday life must be like. I love telling people about where I’m from, and seeing how it differs from their perceptions. I love finding out how my perceptions about a place were wrong. I love visiting a famous place, and having your mind go “I’m here! I’m really here!” And I love having a real memory to associate with a place, when you hear about it later in conversation or in the news.

As it turns out, I recently had an opportunity to experience this last thing in a particularly poignant way. Last week, a terrorist bomb exploded in a pizzeria that was practically adjacent to the Bay Hotel I had stayed at in Camps Bay. I don’t let these sorts of things bother me, though; the odds are much, much greater that you’ll die in a car crash on the way to the airport than as a victim of a terrorist incident. Not that it ever hurts to be aware of your surroundings and keep your wits about you.

Lastly, I have to mention this. I had long heard that toilets that flush counterclockwise in the Northern Hemisphere actually flush clockwise in the Southern Hemisphere, due to the centrifugal force of the Earth spinning. Then I heard that this was a bunch of malarkey. So I had resolved to test this out while I was visiting. Unfortunately, I got so wrapped up in things, that during the nine days I was there, I never once remembered to check. So it will have to remain a mystery.

Arrival

I managed to sleep most of the way from London to Cape Town, passing over the equator for my first time some time in the middle of the night. I awoke as we were about to land, dipping out of the clouds to a magnificent view of the jagged coastline.

One of the delights of travel for me is the delicious nervousness of arrival in a new culture. Customs seemed a blur for me in my excited state.

The thing I was most nervous about for this trip was the driving. Public transit isn't very much of an option in South Africa; any guidebook you read will tell you to rent a car. What’s scary is that they drive on the other side of the road there, and all the cars have a stick shift that you must operate with your left hand.

After practicing in the parking lot for ten minutes or so I felt I was ready to hit the road. It didn't really seem all that hard. I drilled it into my brain that I must just continually keep to the left. And after a nervous encounter with a traffic circle in my first few minutes on the road, things went just fine. Only once during my whole trip there did I find myself going the wrong way, and that was in a relatively tame parking lot situation. My biggest problem was that I kept getting into the passenger side of my rental car. The standard procedure was to sit down, momentarily wonder what happened to the steering wheel, realize what an idiot I am, and then sheepishly pretend I was just getting into the passenger side to retrieve some small article or other. I must've done this a dozen times.

The only really peculiar driving habit there I noticed was that you are expected to pull over onto the shoulder to let faster cars pass you. Everywhere the roads had wide, clean berms for just this purpose.

Parking in Cape Town was something I wished the guidebooks had warned me about. The way it works is this. Every block has a single meter box for all its parking spots. However, you don't put money into it yourself; you give your money to one of the seedy looking characters that hangs out there and helps you park. He will put money in the meter box for you, but only if the parking ticketers come around. If not, he pockets the money. It seems like a racket, but it's really not a bad system. You pay as much as you would normally, and sometimes you can park in a spot for a lot longer than you're really allowed to.

Of course, I knew none of this pulling into Cape Town on my first day. I gave the guy not nearly enough money and got some dirty looks. Fortunately the hotel owner explained the drill to me and I went out and moved my car. (My male ego requires that I mention that I'm a good parallel parker even on the opposite side of the street.)

I can't really recommend staying in town, especially if you're planning to go out or return at night. There were some very nervous moments walking down the street; the guys hanging out on most street corners would not leave you alone. Everywhere else I stayed seemed much safer.

First Day

I was worried that, because I was visiting during their rainy season, I would not get a clear day to visit South Africa's main tourist destination, Table Mountain, but the first day I awoke to bright, clear skies (as I did nearly every day, as it turned out). Table Mountain is the rocky plateau that looms over Cape Town like a wave about to break. The way to the top is by an astounding cable car ride. Atop there are pleasant walking trails, magnificent views, and interesting wildlife.

Also on top there is a small business set up to allow adventure seekers to "abseil" (rappel) down the mountain. They claimed to be the highest public abseil operation in the world. I scoffed internally at the idea at first, but then I got to thinking. I was here for the adventure. Could I convince myself to go? I sat a while and thought about it. Well, I probably didn't have enough money on me to do it. I went and checked, and it only cost about $30; I did have enough on me, and probably would never find a cheaper place to do it. But, they didn't seem to have a photographic operation set up. Why do it if I couldn't even prove that I did it to the folks back home? No problem, the man assured me. We can take a picture with your camera and give it back to you when you walk back up. I went and thought some more. Finally I went back and asked the guy, "Um, are these shoes okay for this?"

"Yes, they're perfectly fine."

"Rats. That was my last excuse."

I think I was pretty green as he was explaining the procedure to me; he had to repeat some questions to me. I willed myself over the edge and began working my way down. I soon realized I was in danger of hyperventilating so I had to really concentrate on breathing steadily. I worked my way down about a hundred feet or so, then abruptly ran out of wall. The remaining 200+ feet were a straight drop, as the wall bends in from there on down. The instructor had warned me about this, I think, but it didn't really register at the time. I sat there a minute or two just trying to will myself to continue down without anything for my feet to push against. Finally I began inching down. The part that makes it even more fun is that you aren't allowed to grab hold of the rope above you with your free hand, as it gets too hot. About halfway down, I swung around to where I could see my tiny shadow against the massive cliff face. I considered the fact that I was half a world a way from anyone whose name I even knew, dangling like a fool off a massive chunk of rock. That was the most alone I'd ever felt or probably ever will. But it was an amazing experience.

Wine Country

After Cape Town I headed inland toward the wine country town of Stellenbosch. As this is also a university town, I figured it would also be a good place to try to meet up with some locals out at the bars at night.

I did an excellent wine tasting at a local winery and enjoyed the surrounding scenery, venturing into the charming nearby town of Franschoek. That night I tried out a few local bars, and finally found myself in a cozy little wood-framed tavern known as Der Acker, a hangout for the post-college crowd. I struck up a conversation with a regular, who introduced me to the bartenders, who introduced me to more people... Soon I found myself sitting in a booth with ten people, chatting about next to everything. They taught me my only phrase of Afrikaans that I picked up (and I’m going to mangle the spelling of it here): “Kann ech anochre bier krey asseblief” (“Can I have another beer please?”). One of my new friends kept trying to lubricate the conversation with rounds of shots of grapefruit schnapps. As the night wore on everyone was rolling their eyes as new rounds appeared, but as I was warned, this was a heavy drinking town in a heavy drinking country, and no one refused their shot. I'm pretty sure I had a really good time.

Cape Agulhas

My next destination was the southernmost point of Africa, Cape Agulhas (not the Cape of Good Hope as is often claimed). I had been advised by one of my new Stellenbosch mates to drive along the coast for the magnificent view, and I wasn't disappointed. What they didn't warn me is that this route would, as I got close to the cape, take me over thirty or so miles of dirt road. It was relatively smooth dirt; still, I began to worry what would happen if my car broke down there. This was as far removed from the civilization I'm used to as I came on my trip. Birdwatching camps, native schoolchildren, and farms fringed my route.

I picked up the pavement again close to the cape. It was pretty much deserted when I arrived. I had to wait a while to have someone take my picture among the surf-pounded rocks. Cape Agulhas is really just a geographical curiosity, but as good a destination as any when the whole country is foreign and strange and beautiful.

I stayed the next night in a town up the coast, Hermanus, which is a tourist draw in that whales came up to within scores of feet from the water's rocky edge to spawn. Thanks to the strong dollar, my room that night which looked directly down into the bay cost only about $40. No whales, unfortunately; it was only the very beginning of whale season.

Boulders Beach

The next day I headed back towards the Cape of Good Hope. Along the way I stopped at Boulders Beach to see the jackasses. Jackass penguins, that is; that's what they're really called. They are (I think) year round visitors on this beach. The brush that rises above the beach is lousy with penguin nests and baby penguins. It's all fenced in, so even the babies had only the sluggish half-wariness that comes with having no real predators to worry about.

Cape of Good Hope
The Cape of Good Hope itself is better described with pictures than words.

Final Days

My last few days I decided to splurge, and stay in a five-star hotel; the Bay Hotel in Camps Bay. This decision was made easier by the fact that, with the exchange rates at the time, it was only $82 a night.

I made some other forays into the nightlife, checking out such clubs as the nearby La Med. Home for the beautiful white people who dance badly -- it was like the opening credits to Friends. Much better was the Observatory district, a narrow little street near Cape Town's university. Friendly little bars line the streets. At one of these I had a long, friendly conversation about racism with a "colored" woman.

In South Africa, everyone was considered either "white", "black", or "colored" under apartheid; the latter category is a catch-all that includes mulattos, Indians, Arabs, and even, I believe, Chinese. These distinctions no longer hold the force of law, but they are still in effect on a much subtler level. South Africa now has the most liberal constitution in the world, guaranteeing equal rights regardless of race, gender, nationality, age, economic status or sexual orientation, and though everyone is supposed to be equal in the eyes of the law now, in practice there is still a wide gulf between the "haves" and the "have nots". Most of the u unpleasant jobs are still staffed by blacks or colored people. Nowhere was this de facto separation more apparent than a scene I came across while driving out of Cape Town one day; twenty or so white golfers were lined up at a driving range, while a black man with a helmet as his only real protection retrieved the golf balls into a bucket out on the range.

Anyway, the woman I chatted with, I was surprised to learn, had grown up in an integrated school. Because of the sensational nature of the news reports I had heard throughout the 80's, I had assumed that every school down there was segregated by race but this was not the case. She had encountered some incidents of racism during her life, but all in all her experience didn't seem all that much different than someone living in the United States.

My flight back involved nine hours back to London, a three-hour layover (during which I had to make my way from Gatwick airport to Heathrow airport), and another nine hours back to Atlanta. It wasn’t at all as bad as it sounds, thanks to the portable TV sets that everyone gets onboard British Airways international flights. They are a godsend for making a trip fly by like nothing.

What's been going on:

Instead of going to the races this year, we just went up to the Transport Bar and watched the people come and go. Some were even undead.

Saw Crowded House last week; very good. The show ended with a touching tribute to their former drummer who killed himself here in Melbourne a year or two back. No, Jim, I didn't throw a paper airplane.

Am playing soccer in the corporate games again this year, but am having trouble finding a pair of soccer boots that fit me. I swear, sometimes the businesses in this country make it hard for you to give them your money.

We are culture whores. This weekend we hit the Hispanic festival (which had some really good food) on Saturday and the Polish festival (which had some really long lines for some decent food) today. We passed on the Turkish festival. Multiculturalism is the bomb!

Marjorie's parents are in the country and on their way here. They'll be heading off to even more places we've never been, and we'll be trying not to resent them for it. :-)

While we like all of our nieces' and nephews' names, sometimes you still hear of some people who name their children in ways that make you think, "What were they thinking?" (Frank Zappa and Gwyneth Paltrow spring to mind.)

Anyway, so as not to deny you all the pleasure of laughing at the names we would give the children that we're never going to have, here they are:

Girls:

Imogene Frances

Esme Matilda

Boys:

Hamish

Noah

We're still working on the middle names for the boys. The last names are all fluid too. It's all moot anyway, but I thought you might have a laugh.

I was admonished on Friday in front of my office: "Don't kill anyone today!" The hippies were again protesting BHP Billiton, who share our building with us, over uranium mining or something. I was going to counter with, "I work for Deloitte, moron!" but I decided I kind of like being thought the bad guy, and I don't honestly know if they have legitimate reason to protest or not.

I've hired a costume for our work Halloween party this Friday -- I'm going as the Grim Reaper. I better not put it on before I get to work, though -- they might think I'm a protester.

Dog update. She's recovering. Still limping a bit, but she's gotten used to the new routine, which involves no off-leash time. She's back to making danger-runs past the vacuum cleaner every time we turn it on. Our dog's a freak.

She also still doesn't like it when we dance in her presence. Other dogs mind their own business.

Wednesday was National Ride To Work Day, and as our workplace coordinator, I kind of had to do it. The weather was perfect -- sunny and cool. The cool thing about it was discovering that it's actually quicker than taking the tram. In fact, Marjorie left the house ten minutes before I did, but then when I got into the city, who should get off the tram right in front of me but her. And that's with me briefly stopping by the courtesy breakfast, too. I'm going to try to start riding in once a week, I think.

I just stumbled across an account I wrote up a long time ago, that I thought I lost, of a trip I took to Germany for work in 1994. I post it here so I won't lose it. Man, those food descriptions make me hungry still.

Oddly, I can find no mention of the "Rabenleitte reservoir" I mention, anywhere else on the web except in this report.

Sometimes You Have To Tough It Out
For those of you who didn't hear, I traveled to Germany on business a few weeks back. It came about by a lucky "break" -- my project lead hit a patch of gravel while bicycling and broke his collar bone, leaving me to go in his place (the voodoo doll seemed to do the trick nicely). What follows is the complete trip report, in full boring detail. Because I ate and drank so well during the trip, I even decided to include a complete reporting of my meals.

*** Saturday, Oct 29 *** "More of anything?" "More of everything!"
Because my company travels by plane so much, we routinely get upgrades to first class. The beautiful thing here was, I *was* the first class section. That's right, I had all of first class to myself, including my own private (and rather comely) flight attendant, for eight hours. I was even offered any movie I wanted to watch. It's the only way to fly.

It seemed a crime to be getting paid for all this. Although, it soon dawned on me that figuring out the breakdown of work hours between Saturday and Sunday would be no easy chore -- flying across midnight over six time zones on the day they set back the clocks for daylight savings time. Oh well, sometimes you have to tough it out.

(The meal: Some sort of duck appetizer, greens salad, chicken in apricot glaze, heated raspberry tart, topped off with a whole bottle of German riesling.)

*** Sunday, Oct 30 *** In which Mark falls in love 37 times in the airport
I arrive in Munich, rent a car and drive two hours north to the US Army base at Grafenwohr, arriving at 11AM. The exercise our company's software was supporting was being run out of a large Oktoberfest tent there. I was unable to sleep on the flight, so I just decide to stick it out and stay up as late as I can to get over the jet lag. I put in a nine hour shift.

Hotels and guesthouses in the area are booked solid for the exercise, so the guesthouse (Gastof Weich) I end up in was a half hour drive away, in Hirschau. My room was a converted attic, very cool.

(Lunch: Schweinenschnitzel with potato balls. Dinner: Jaeger Schnitzel mit Spatzle, and a Pils. This was the meal I had been salivating for since two years ago, when I visited Bavaria for a couple of days.)

*** Monday, Oct 31 *** In which Mark visits Amberg
I visit the city of Amberg in the morning, just to walk around. Other than that, just a long day of work.

(I am forced to eat on base. Lunch: ChiChi's, taco and enchilada. Dinner: Hamburger from Burger King [the Burger Fuhrer, as it is known].)

*** Tuesday, Nov 1 *** In which Mark almost visits Czech
Drove out to the Czech border in the morning. The car rental place made me sign an agreement that I wouldn't take the car into any of the former Eastern Bloc countries, so I was hoping to just walk across the border. Nothing doing -- there is a very long line of trucks and cars waiting to get across.

(Lunch: The Burger Fuhrer again [sigh]. Dinner: Josefshaus [Hirschau] -- Jager Schnitzel again, plus several Thurn and Taris Pilsners.)

*** Wednesday, Nov 2 *** In which Mark enjoys the night sky
Long work day again.

At night, while driving back to Hirschau I notice how clear the sky is. I stop for about twenty minutes to lie on my hood and look at the stars. It is so quiet that the only car that drove past the whole time I am stopped is audible two miles away. Not for the last time on this trip, I think "life is good".

(Lunch: Fig newton from the PX. Dinner: Rahmschnitzel with noodles [excellent] and several Patrizier braus at the Gasthof Specht in Grafenwohr.)

*** Thursday, Nov 3 *** "My hovercraft is full of eels."
Long work day yet again, nothing terribly noteworthy, so let me wax philosophic on the subject of the German language and German phrasebooks.

German, at first blush, seems like it would be simple to learn. It is typically spoken loudly and clearly, and shares many words with my native English. I had in fact vowed to learn to speak it passably in time for the Schnitzius family reunion (which will be taking place in June 1995 [in Krov on the Mosel river in southwest Germany]), such was my confidence. Looking into the matter some, though, it seems that the German language is a nightmare of genders, declension, odd cases, and strange word orders (worse than English, from what I can tell). I will still be taking a course in it, but I am no hopeful of achieving anything close to fluency.

I tried to use as much German as I knew in every situation, figuring that was the only way to learn it. Also, it really is true that the locals will treat you better if you at least make an effort to communicate on their level. I had a German phrasebook which came in handy, sometimes. Most phrases in the book, however, such as those for asking directions, generated only a flurry of incomprehensible German in response. At this point I would always have to interrupt with a phrase I grew to know and love: "Ich spreche wenig Deutsche" ("I speak little German"). So the phrasebook was for the most part useless, except as a vocabulary builder.

(Lunch: I satisfy my chronic pizza addiction at the food court on base. Dinner: Jaegerbraten mit bratkartoffelen, "Eis und Heiss" for desert, plus several excellent beers.)

*** Friday, Nov 4 *** In which Mark meets an old German man by accident
Work is slow in the middle of the day, so I take off to find Rabenleitte reservoir, a place recommended in the tourist guidebooks that happens to be relatively close by. I soon discover that driving the back roads during the daytime can be a harrowing experience, due to the combination of slow- moving farm vehicles and impatient drivers more used to the autobahn. The reservoir was pretty interesting, as far as reservoirs go.

On the way back I make a wrong turn and end up having to make a U-turn in a parking lot. An old German man in a big beat-up van backs into my front end. We both get out of our respective vehicles but can do little more than point and shrug, since neither knows the other's language. Fortunately there is no damage. I was afraid I would have to dig into a certain section of my phrasebook that I was hoping I would never have to.

*** Saturday, Nov 5 *** In which Joe and Mark are the Ugly Americans
Long work day again.

This evening, after dinner in Grafenwohr, Joe (a cow orker) and I decide to drive back to Hirschau where we are staying and have a couple more beers.

(First, a quick word about the pubs in Germany. At least in Bavaria, all the pubs I went to were exceedingly similar, always consisting of the following ingredients:

they are part of a guesthouse;
they serve excellent food, consisting mostly of pork dishes;
wooden fixtures everywhere;
the feature beer of only a single brand from a nearby brewery, mentioned on a lit sign visible from the street; each brand, though, has several different varieties (pils, weiss, dunkels, etc.);
a gambling machine;
a long table at which the regulars sit
The German solution to drunk driving seems to be to always have one of these places within walking distance.)

Joe and I make our way to one such pub (Goldenes Lamm) just down the street from our guesthouse. We are the only ones there, except for the long table of regulars (who were eyeing us suspiciously). Eventually, though, they wave us over to their table.

In the ensuing mayhem, we manage some level of communication, despite the language barrier and copious quantities of beer. At one point I think we played darts, but I could be wrong. I do remember Joe teasing the waitress several times during the evening, and her successfully communi- cating her response through the effective use of sign language, if you catch my drift.

(Lunch: Fig newtons from the PX. Dinner: [Gasthof Specht] Rahmgeschnetze- something.)

*** Sunday, Nov 6 *** In which Mark recovers
Had a beer-free day today. The resulting sore throat I develop could just be coincidence.

(Lunch: Mexican food at ChiChi's on base. No dinner.)

*** Monday, Nov 7 *** In which the Tailhook Incident is relived
During dinner at a guesthouse in Grafenwohr, we are sitting at the long locals table because of the size of our group. A young GI approaches Mike (a member of our entourage) and out of the blue says "I think you're a scumbag. I saw what you did to that waitress, and I don't appreciate it." and walks away.

We sit in stunned silence for several seconds. We eventually figured out what happened: at one point earlier, Mike had turned around suddenly in his chair, and accidentally elbowed the waitress; he had to reach around her quickly to keep from falling over. The GI at the next table saw this and interpreted it as a grope.

We explained this to the old man that was sitting next to me at the locals table. With a dismissive wave of his hand, he said "Dvink more bier" (this guy was cool). "She can take care of herself." As several in our party were getting steamed, we leave before there is any incident.

(Dinner: Gasthof Specht, Rahmschnitzel again.)

*** Tuesday, Nov 9 *** In which Mark sees a musical god up close
During the week the military newspaper Stars and Stripes had mentioned a concert scheduled for this day in Munich that I desperately wanted to see -- Paul Weller (for the unlearned heathens, he was front man for the Jam and the Style Council). Since the excercise wrapped up early, I check out of my room and head down towards Munich again. Not knowing where exactly to go, where to buy tickets, or even how to speak the language, I am non- theless successful.

Paul was absolutely brilliant. Hairs were standing up on the back of my neck at several points. The only down side of the concert is that I am now addicted to secondhand menthol cigarette smoke. Muncheners are like chimneys.

Driving back to my guesthouse in Starnberg (outside Munich) I come to several disheartening realizations:

I have only just enough money to pay for my room;
There are supposedly a couple of teller machines in Munich that take American bank cards, but I have no idea where they are
The instructions for how to call back to the states are safely locked in Joe's head, which was now rapidly traveling westward.
I sleep fitfully.

(Lunch: Bavarian pretzel on streets of Munich [tough and stale]. Dinner: schweinenbraten and Hacker-Pschorrs at the guesthouse in Starnberg.)

*** Wednesday, Nov 10 *** In which Mark breathes a sigh of relief
I eat a big breakfast, because I do not know when I'll be able to eat again.

I manage to figure out how to dial the American Express emergency travel number; they inform me that there is an AmEx travel office in Munich that would let me essentially forge a check from my bank for cash. After getting lost several times I manage to find it. When I finally get the cash in my hand, I guess the relief is evident on my face, because the cashier says "You can eat now, yes?"

I head out to Ottobeuren, which features a Benedictine abbey that is really phenomenal. It is supposedly the crowning achievement of the Baroque period; so incredibly detailed that it is almost tiring to look at.

I then decide to head down and spend the night in the Alps. I find a guesthouse in Tiefenberg, outside of Oberstdorf, that has a nice view of the Alps from my balcony of my room. As it is nearly winter but skiing season is not yet in swing, I am the only guest.

[Breakfast: standard German fruhstuck with big spread of meats, breads, and cheeses. Dinner: [Oberstdorf] Chicken heine-something mit brat- kartoffelen. I discover why Germany is not famous for their chicken dishes.]

*** Thursday, Nov 11 *** In which Mark visits the Royal Castles
After getting desperately lost in the Alps, I make my way to two of the Royal Castles of King Ludwig II, Neuschwannstein and Hohenschwangau. Hohenschwangau is impressive but I would have enjoyed it more if I could understand a word the tour guide was saying. Fortunately, Neuschwanstein has a tour in English (Neuschwannstein, by the way, is the one that the Cinderella castle at Disney World is modelled after).

After these castles I dip down into Austria. I blow just about a whole roll of film in the vicinity of Plansee, at a beautiful emerald-green lake nestled in the Alps.

I return to Germany and check into a hotel in Oberammergau, which incidentally is the city where a massive world-famous Passion Play is performed every ten years. They apparently do a massive business of selling crucifixes and other religious knick-knacks here.

(Breakfast: basically the same spread as before, only with addition of a bowl of cold cereal in what appears to be curdled milk. Not wanted to offend my hosts, I try some, and am relieved to find out it is just peach yogurt. Dinner: Rinderschmorrbraten, with several Paulaners, in Oberammergau.)

*** Friday, Nov 12 *** In which Mark castles again
I set out for yet another Ludwig castle -- Linderhof. While smaller than the other two, Linderhof is nontheless very impressive inside.

The rest of the day I had just set aside to wander around through the Alps some more. Some cities I travel through: Garmisch-Partenkchn., Mittenwald, Walchensee, Bad Tolz, Gmund, Bad Weissee, Tegernsee, Schliersee.

I plan on just sleeping at the airport my last night so I head back into Munich. After pizza dinner (I was Jonesing again) I wander the streets in search of a bar to kill some time; I settle on a little French restaurant that has two beautiful women working the bar. Flirting in an odd mixture of German, French and English, I discover my favorite beer yet (Wiehanstephan Export Dunkels); after a few of these, I buy a couple to go and head for the airport.

(Breakfast: usual. Denied lunch because of the idiotic German law where all businesses close from 2PM to 5PM. Dinner: pizza in Munich.)

*** Saturday, Nov 13 *** In which Mark flies home
I sleep well in the airport, and board the plane in the morning. The flight home didn't quite compare with the flight out -- I was stuck back in Business class with the common folk. Oh well, sometimes you have to tough it out.

Some photos from the Perth trip here.

Good fun. Drank wine, spelunked, saw new birds, smelled flowers, saw Australia's southwesternmost point, listened to burned CDs of Fresh Air, Prairie Home Companion, All Things Considered, and What'Ya Know?. We miss NPR!

The cloud hanging over my trip to West Australia (which I'll be posting pictures of soon) was the fact that I have to give a speech tomorrow at work, to a big group of invited clients, on the subject of Web 2.0 as it relates to content management. Surely the biggest such speech in my career, and all the scheduled practice sessions and feedback from partners of the firm really bring home what a big deal it is. It's also really making me face up to my limitations as a speaker. I simply can't speak extemporaneously, and so I'm memorizing as much of it as I can, and relying on my notes much more than the two other speakers. I only have to speak for 15 minutes, but it may seem like an eternity, and I'm still worried that I'm going to get flustered or something, as I still sometimes do. But oddly I'm not really nervous. I just want it to be done with at this point. In fact I'm just posting this because I'm so sick of practicing this speech. I'll let you know how it goes.

Update: It went about as expected. I was a bit nervous, certainly noticeably so, but not debilitatingly so, and got through it okay. The last talk I blogged about I mentioned liking public speaking, but this one seemed more like a chore, and I'm just glad it's over.

You'll notice I have updated the Computronium blog in a while. I did take a couple of weeks off, but when I came back, I couldn't seem to log in, and so put off debugging the problem for another night. Well, it looks like the reason I couldn't log in was because the site was hacked. You'll notice that now all the posts are signed "Mazhar_Fashist", who is not me, and is probably a team of guys.

I'm steaming mad right now. Guys who do this sort of thing are like bombers at 30,000 feet who don't see the damage they do. Or worse, they know and don't care.

I'm having a hard time finding a description of how the hack was done (probably some sort of SQL injection) so I haven't fixed things yet. Fortunately it looks like their only goal is defacement. I'll probably have to reinstall the whole mess, but even if I do, how will I know it won't happen again? Wordpress, which the blog is run on, is a nice slick piece of software, but suffers from its own popularity, and thus is a target for hackers. I could try something less popular but there's always a tradeoff between popularity and slickness.

A festering pox on those assholes!

Weekend wrap-up.

Thursday night: The Hoodoo Gurus concert was fabbo. I forgot how many great songs they have, and left wishing they'd played for another couple of hours. Quick set list, from memory: I Want You Back, Leilani, I Was A Kamikaze Pilot, Bittersweet, In The Wild, Like Wow - Wipeout, Out That Door, What's My Scene, Come Anytime, Miss Free Love '69, 1000 Miles Away, Form A Circle, and a lot of newer stuff I wasn't familiar with. Oddly, they didn't sound as tight as they did when I saw them (cough) eighteen years ago, but they were still great. Opening act was Radio Birdman -- one of Australia's very first punk groups -- and Marjorie bought the t-shirt.

Friday: My soccer team's "vote count" night, where they tallied all the votes we'd been submitting after each game for top three players. As I knew, this was an off year for me, and I wasn't even in the top three vote getters for any individual game. But I finished tenth overall, which is not bad. Fun night though.

Saturday: Watched the first three installments of the "Up" Series, which chronicles the lives of a group of Britons from different classes, starting at age 7 and revisiting them every seven years. I highly recommend it; it's thoroughly engrossing. We'll probably watch the next three tonight, which will only leave the most recent episode which just came out (49 Up).

Today: Laika's getting a house call from the vet. Who makes house calls anymore?

Marji votes and Marky votes and little dogs need surg'ry.

After taking Laika to another vet and confirming that she needs surgery (worse still, her other leg is likely to come down with the same issue), we went off to vote for the first time since becoming Australia citizens. It's a local election, and seemed pretty similar to voting in America, except 1) it's mandatory, and 2) we had to fill in a number for each candidate, from one to nine, in the order of our preference. It's an interesting system -- if my first choice isn't in the running, my vote goes to my second choice, then on to my third, etc... I think it's a brilliant system, much needed in America, but will probably never fly, due to those with a vested interest in keeping the system two-party.

Then we went and saw Ratatouille, which gets my vote.

Our broken family. Marjorie: sprained ankle from rolling it off of our too-high welcome mat.

Mark: Two sprained ribs from a vicious kick to the chest. Oddly it took a week for any discomfort to appear.

Laika: Ligament damage to left rear leg, which will require surgery. The answer to your next question is "lots and lots of money".

Everybody out of the water. Marjorie is an expert on sharks, despite or because of being somewhat phobic about them, but her famous meltdown on a reef in Cancun is a story for another day.

For some reason, I've never seen a shark while snorkeling, and I've done a lot of snorkeling. I must emit a natural repellent. But being in and around the ocean much of my life, I've definitely seen a few.

The topper was one day out surfing in Melbourne (the Florida one) with my friends Earl and Mike just after high school. The conditions were perfect; warm sun, clear water, good sized waves, glassy conditions. There were probably thirty guys out, but there was no peak spot so everyone was getting a lot of waves. Things were fine and carefree until a school of sharks, each probably six to eight feet long, decided to mingle with us.

Things can get exaggerated in memory, but I'm sure there were at least twenty of them. The weird thing is, only a couple of guys went in to the beach. The conditions were so nice, and the sharks were swimming about so lazily, that it was hard to believe that these sharks would want to spoil the party.

They definitely added a nervous tension though, like bikers crashing your keg party. You could see that, where surfers normally sit on their board waiting for waves, a number of guys were lying prone instead, so their feet weren't quite so dangly. To make the sharks seem less dangerous we started naming them. One in particular (who I think we named "Fred" for some reason) popped his dorsal fin up right in the middle of the triangle formed by myself and my two friends, as we were sitting only twenty feet apart or so.

There's no exciting ending to this story, fortunately or unfortunately; we just shared the water with them for a while without incident, and came in, a little bit exhilarated and maybe a little bit relieved.

Marjorie and I both cracked up over this New Yorker article. Jim, this one's especially for you.

I had pretty much given up on social networking websites, after efforts on Friendster and MySpace, but I've been convinced by workmates to give Facebook a go. It does seem a good bit livelier in general on first blush. So like come join and stuff.

The days are just packed. On Saturday, golf with my soccer mates; I shot a 76. Okay, that was thanks to Calloway scoring; in the real world, I shot a miserable 110, and that's parring 3 holes. It's like, I'm playing at least once a year, but for some reason am not improving. Still lots of fun.

Sunday, our soccer match was an absolute classic, and reminded me why I still play. Fought back from 3-0 down against a bunch of prats; took a 4-3 lead, let them tie it again, then won the day with a late goal.

Last night we saw Ryan Adams from a far closer to the ceiling of the venue than the stage. Unfortunately he's still going through his tortured artist phase and played in near darkness all night; for the first two songs, I even thought the black silhouette of his backup guitarist was him. But they at least sounded amazing.

My trip home today took a little longer than usual.

I was leaving on our office elevator when it decided it didn't want to go any further. It clunked to a stop and the digital readout switched off. I looked at the clock on my phone: 5:35pm. There were five other people stuck with me; we called the emergency line and settled in for a long wait. One woman had just talked to her husband who was waiting by the curb. Another was on his way to a movie. Nervous jokes were made about how much air we had, how high up we were, etc. Everyone had cell phones and could connect out, fortunately, so there wasn't a lot to fret about. We weren't sure where exactly we were stuck, but had guessed in the basement carpark level, because we were only hearing noises above us. The repair guys made it there relatively quickly and the doors finally opened at 6:20. Turns out we were on the 14th floor. Not fun, but without plans for the evening, I figured I was better off than some of the others stuck with me. Forty-five minutes can't be too bad for elevator repair time.

We have a new nephew! Wesley was born to Marjorie's sister last night our time. A little before predicted, but well within the drop zone. Weighing in at 5.8 pounds. Huzzah!

On several occasions in the past I've used this forum to geek out a bit, but I usually hold back.

So for my birthday this year I bought myself a new website, with the primary purpose being to start a blog where I have free reign to geek out. I've spent a couple of weeks setting it up, and now it's pretty much ready to go. I also spent some time just writing down topics that I want to blog about -- I came up with about sixty-five, plus another dozen or so that could be attempted with a little investigation, so I'll have no shortage of things to write about!

The main theme will be computer programming, with occasional asides into astronomy, math, and physics. So I hereby annouce Computronium: the blog. Let me know what you think!

Took a nice long walk around Albert Park Lake today. Saw a rakali, which was cool; I've never seen a rat dive before!

During a stop for lunch Laika escaped and bolted off to confront a black swan. Bad idea. Luckily Marjorie was able to grab her lead, but not before Laika crashed into the water. The lady serving us lunch told us that these swans have a tendency to drown dogs by sitting on top of them while they're trying to swim.

Through a combination of nature shows and personal experience, we have learned that you NEVER mess with swans, badgers, hippos, cassowaries, or hyenas (besides the obvious poisonous critters).

There's a tradition in my family that whenever we would move somewhere new, I was always the first family member to need to visit the emergency room.

I kept this tradition alive since marrying, too -- in Singapore I had to go in for kidney stones. Well, today I got to visit my first Melbourne emergency room. Nothing serious -- I knocked heads with a guy on the soccer pitch and lost. Three stitches in my hairline at the very top middle of my forehead, and an ugly abrasion on my cheek. I think it's the first time in soccer that I ever went down and stopped caring about the run of play. Head wounds bleed, big time, so I as soon as I put my hand to my head, it came away covered in blood.

Luckily there's a guy on our team that used to do facial surgery. He set me up right, and got me on my way. I was in and out of the emergency room in just over an hour, and all covered by Medicare. I even was back to work the bar for the first team three hours later.

Today for my birthday Marjorie stayed home from work and cooked me a Thanksgiving dinner. How good is that? I skipped lunch just so I could make a bigger pig of myself. Turkeys are pricey down here but we get a lot of meals out of one bird. She invented a new dessert for the occasion, too -- she blended vanilla ice cream with Maltesers in the food processor and refroze. Yum!

Friday night we invited people from our respective workplaces out for drinks to celebrate citizenship. It was good fun, especially now that the pubs are smoke free. Marjorie led a quick "Aussie Aussie Aussie!" ("Oi Oi Oi!") cheer during a toast.

Sudden citizenship realization: we have a queen!

Aussie Aussie Aussie! Our nationality is now officially hyphenated. We had our Australian citizenship ceremony last night. Check out some random photos (sorry about the random ordering, but Flickr stupidly allows you to only create three photo sets for free, so those are retrieved by tag).

It started with the mayor reading a huge list of apologies from elected officials that couldn't make it. Then there were speeches from the two (besides the mayor) that did attend; one was Aborigine and talked about her ancestors, which was interesting. Then we did the swearing in, and the handing out of certificates. They pronounced my name as "Schitznius". *Sigh* We also got plants to plant, and a pin. Finally we sang the national anthem (badly).

There were maybe thirty of us who were getting sworn in, and surprisingly, twenty-one different countries represented. The ones I remember are: Vietnam, New Zealand, UK, Samoa, Poland, Singapore, Sri Lanka, South Africa. I think we were the only Americans this time around.

They signed us up to vote straight away. There were tea and sandwiches afterwards, but we went out for a nice dinner at The Dogs Bar (sans dog) instead.

To infinity and beyond! I never understand people who denigrate anything modern, and pine for an earlier time, when art was better. They miss out on so much. I'm sure people like that will have ancestors who will look back on our time as a golden age, and continue to ignore the great works produced in their own future time.

Today we checked out the Pixar exhibit at the ACMI. I'm a big fan of all the Pixar movies I've seen (and am looking forward to Ratatouille). Even without the animated exhibits, this would have been worth attending, just for the artwork. The skill involved in their storyboards, color sketches, and close up studies is plainly evident. Add in the brilliant characterizations, story lines, dialog, and world-building, and it's clear that these movies will be timeless. It's amazing also to see how much work they do and later discard. One quote they had posted gave an idea of what it must be like to work on one of these movies; they describe it as everyone involved holding hands and jumping from an airplane, and then building the parachute on the way down.

The highlight, though, was the zoetrope. This video doesn't quite do it justice but you get the idea.

Back in my old hometown of Atlanta, they're tearing down the old party district, Buckhead. While I long ago outgrew it -- well before I even left Atlanta -- I must admit I had some excellent times there, back in my post-college, new in town, swinging bachelor days.

But now is not a time for talk of such things. Today marks the nine-year anniversary of Marjorie and I's [*] first date. Happy anniversary, baby! She's all sickly though so it doesn't look like we'll be doing much.

[*] Surely "Marjorie and I's" is wrong? But "Marjorie and my" doesn't sound right either.

My company had its end-of-the-fiscal-year party Friday night, which I had an excellent time at (well, I'm almost certain I did). It was held at the bowling alley downstairs from our office, and we had a tournament. I bowled out of my skin all night (136, 148, 144, and 115) and ended up finishing fourth. It was won by our resident Olympian (he actually has a gold medal for playing on the field hockey team for Australia) who was a no better bowler than anyone but turned it on at the end, finishing the final round with three consecutive strikes in the final frame. I guess that's why he's an Olympian.

There was a company bar tab, which I overindulged on, shall we say. Marjorie came to join me later in the evening but pretty much had to just rescue me. I don't remember anything after about 6 p.m., including the tram ride home and the pizza that Marjorie made me eat (bless her heart).

When I lived back in Orlando I famously passed out in the back seat on the way home from club hopping one night, and suddenly startled awake saying, "David Koresh!" for no fathomable reason. Well, I've got some new ones from Friday night; as I was passing out on the couch I apparently started saying nonsensical things, like "George Clooney is kind of creepy" and "Look, Tony got a split" (the latter apparently having something to do with bowling).

Bummed! I just went to buy myself an internet domain, only to find that it's already been taken. I had the perfect name -- schnitzi.us -- not least so that my email could have been mark@schnitzi.us, but someone just snagged it, only one month ago. That was my one and only idea for an internet domain. Phooey.

Weekend roundup: Friday night -- karaoke with some of Marjorie's work people. We signed up to sing The Pogues' "Fairytale of New York" which probably wasn't the best choice for the crowd we were in (who were doing all sorts of cheesy 80's songs). Fortunately or unfortunately, they couldn't find the song, so instead we ended up singing Pat Benatar's "Love Is A Battlefield" (complete with shoulder shakes like the video), which had more of the proper cheesiness. Good fun, and we even stayed out past one (shocking).

Saturday night Marjorie indulged my current Gilbert and Sullivan obsession by going with me to see The Mikado. Despite being a small production, we thought they put on a damn good show. Of course, they had to modernize it a touch -- Ko-ko's version of I've Got A Little List was sung about a list he was keeping on his palm pilot, and the words were modified to talk about people talking loudly on cellphones, for instance -- but all in all it was a very good production.

Middle Park's soccer woes continued again this morning as we dropped yet another game. We played very well but couldn't score as usual, and we allowed a late goal on a perfectly struck free kick to lose it 1-0.

Clean joke.

A talking dog goes into a hardware store and says, "I'd like to apply for a job."

The owner says, "Um, we're not really hiring right now. Why don't you try the circus?"

The dog says, "Why would the circus need a plumber?"

How eccentric was my last Saturday? I went and saw The Pirates of Penzance by myself, then went shopping for ukuleles, and finished the day drinking port and playing Balderdash at some friends' house.

The next day we went on an organized lagoon around Aitutaki's lagoon with Aitutaki Adventures. Part of the tour was showing us all the places where Survivor: Cook Islands was filmed. We never watched the show, but by the accounts we heard, the Survivor people were very conscientious and everyone there was happy to have them. (The tourists, maybe not so much, because they took every free room on the island.) The tour even started from a jetty that the Survivor people built for the show and left for the islanders.

The tour itself was quite amazing. We started just by stopping out in the middle of the channel, where very large turtles (not sure what breed) were popping their heads up left and right. There was no wind, and the water was exceeding clear, so we could see them swim by with no problem. We could also identify fish species easily twenty feet down, and also saw a number of giant clams. The lagoon is full of patches of coral that come up and almost reach the surface, so one must be careful navigating.

We stopped by some of the outer islands, and saw some nesting birds (red-tailed terns) that are apparently very rare. The snorkeling was great; we stopped in four different places, and it was all just a big tropical fish tank. The coolest sighting was probably a spotted eel. They had a big spread of lunch for us too, which was very nice.

We headed back to Rarotonga the next day, and rented a car. I had a tip that the place to buy a ukulele there is at the prison; apparently the prisoners make them. So we tracked it down -- it's not that big of an island -- and Marjorie sent me in by myself to inquire (how could she not be curious about a prison on an island in the middle of the Pacific?). But it was a bad tip; all they had was cheap touristy ukes. There was another beautiful one I wanted to buy that I saw on our first trip through at the music store, but we came back through for Saturday and Sunday only, when all the stores were closed. Phoo.

We did a brief hike up into the hard-to-find Takitumu conservation area. If ever there's a place to spot dinosaurs, this was it, but instead we only maybe spotted the rare Rarotonga Flycatcher that's endemic there; we never got a good look at it though. Actually, if you see anything other than a mynah bird or a chicken on the Cook Islands, you're doing okay; the birding was disappointing.

We had another great snorkel experience on our last full day, just picking a spot off the side of the road. For some strange reason, I had a posse of fish that followed me around the whole time, and swam in a circle around me. It was really bizarre. We have pictures of it, which we'll post eventually.

Arriving back in Melbourne airport, we checked our messages to discover that the repairs on our toilet were far from finished. Lovely. Just what you want to hear after an eight hour flight; that you don't even have a working toilet to go home to. That killed any happy island buzz that we had accumulated, in an instant. Our landlord arranged a hotel for us, that we soon came to realize was the dingy Bukowski-esque down the street from our first short term apartment here, that we used to walk by and make fun of. To give you an idea -- our dog Laika likes to roll in dead birds and fish on the beach. When we took her by the hotel she immediately keyed on one spot on the floor and started rolling in it. Presumably that was where they found the dead junkie. We ended up staying only one night there, but keeping the keys just to have a place to run to for a working bathroom.

It was Tuesday night we arrived back home; they finally finished our bathroom on Saturday evening. Do you know how great it is to have a working bathroom again? One of the many things we take for granted.