Sailing Day 3

Tuesday, August 04, 2009
Today we did the least traveling but the most activity, by far. We started with another great breakfast from our chef, who hasn’t let us down once in any of the seven meals he has prepared yet. I have yet to leave a morsel and have often devoured the remainders of Hudson’s plate. After the eggs benedict, we had our first dive.
I was surprised how little preparation was required. We honestly spent about five minutes in chest deep water learning how to rid the mask of water, how to equilibrate pressure in the ears, and how to use the regulators. Then off we went on the dive. After hearing so much about the process of getting certified diving, I was impressed how easy it was to do an introductory dive. Granted they watched us like hawks and didn’t make the student:teacher ratio greater than 2:1, and they knew their stuff. I didn’t feel like I was taking a risk. In fact, I think it is a fabulous way to test the waters, if you will. And of all the places, the thought of having been out here without seeing the things that we saw; well, it would have been criminal.
The real experience was in the sensation of being in another world, however. To be totally removed from what was going on at the surface, and to realize, from the flip perspective, that all of this lies beneath and is going on as we float above. All this life, coral and fish, all of it in great colors and patterns, there all the time. Not just an event, but a continuous part of life that I have never seen, and most people never do see. But being down in it is quite different than even snorkeling. The latter is a far cry better than looking through aquarium glass, but there is a sense that you can only penetrate that environment a bit even snorkeling. When you are at the same depth of the fish, mixing among them at their more comfortable depth, you actually are interacting with them in their environment, not just spectating.
I did have some problems with the second dive, which was this afternoon in Butterfly Bay. I had much more difficulty getting the pain of pressure off of my ears. I really had to force the Eustachian tubes to open, more than I felt comfortable using. It detracted from the dive, providing a preoccupation from the views and the other SCUBA nuances. I eventually got down to the 8.5 meter mark, about the same as the first dive, but it took numerous equilibrations. I attribute the problems to swelling accompanying the sinus drainage that I have had the past couple of days. Future dives will tell.
I did snorkel a couple of times today as well, once before and once after lunch, and I have to say there is much less stress with cruising this way. I saw most of the same critters, though from limited perspective. And several of the species were curious, gregarious, or hungry. They would occasionally follow you, keenly watching. Several times I would pause to look around, only to see the same school of fish close behind. There were also a few larger fish that liked to mingle amongst the divers. These included a hump headed Maori wrasse, which weighs in at about 60 kg; and a giant travelly which reportedly can outrun a shark. I haven’t—and desire never to have—seen a shark in pursuit—of anything, but I believe this big fella could give a shark a run for his money. He slowly mosied around Joey and me while we did our afternoon snorkel, then he would slowly curve down and around some coral, maybe wander off for a minute, only to return and see what progress we had made—an insignificant distance in each case, I assure you. Then, without hesitation, he darted off. He was gone in an instant. I would have been more impressed if I hadn’t immediately pondered his motivation. Turns out it was nothing, either fun or a false alarm, but Joey missed his hyperwarp entirely by just looking away for a moment, even though the fish had been only about five feet below him.
Other things I have seen here: a green turtle, many sulfur-crested cockatoos, a sea eagle, and a dolphin that came around the boat tonight while we were all awaiting dessert in the dining area. We got to see the dolphin as he came to the surface several times while hunting the squid and small fish that dance in the fringes of the light emitted from the boat. It was peaceful, delightful.
Tomorrow we head to shore, take a rental car about three hours north back to Townsville, then fly back to Sydney. Thursday we depart for Uluru!

Sailing day 2

Monday, August 03, 2009
First let me say that I believe that I come from a long line of landlubbers. I do not have great sea-legs by any stretch. I seem to be able to handle what moderately sized lakes have to offer, but this application of medium-sized vessels (in this case a 32’, 250 ton ship, technically speaking) on open water is beyond the abilities of my middle ears. The trip out to Hook Island from Airlie Beach was over rough water with fairly strong winds. I fortunately did not have too full a stomach, and all stayed within the GI tract, but the impulse was there. At one point I felt the masseter muscles start to tighten up. That was my first clue to get above board and affix my eyes on the horizon. I also consumed a couple of lollies of crystallized ginger, these chewable, sugar-coated candies. I can see why they may not be the most desired sweets in the candy store, but they undoubtedly helped.
Today was a little bit better. Perhaps due to prophylactic ginger; perhaps by staying on the upper decks with large views, near the midportion of the boat; I managed to stay a touch more in control of the nausea. Much of the time we were working with the wind, so that the chop was less. Even though we were working against the tide, the pitching and yawing were less.
Unbelievable that many a person was at work today. Amongst our activities was, with Hudon at the helm, a trip into Tongue Bay, folowed by a dinghy ride to shore and a hike over to Whitehaven Beach. Apparently a fixture among these tours, it is a well known beach, and rightfully so. First are the spectacular views from the beach, and even moreso from the lookout points along the ridge halfway along the hike. The inlet has beautiful blue water streaking back and forth along the inlet amongst white sand. And that sand is just as wonderful tactilely as visually. It turns out that is because it has very fine grains and minimal organic pollutants. It is 98% silica, the highest in the world. As is everything along the Great Barrier Reef, it is illegal to take any of this sand, but the one exception has been the donation of some for the creation of the lens in the Hubble Telescope. Interesting stuff.
Down in the pools that form with the changes in the tide, there are multitudes of manta rays. It is rumored to also have plenty of baby sharks, though none of these materialized to anyone in our group of eighteen during our visit. The rays were abundant however, and in the warm shallow water, it was a delight to walk among them and see them glide slowly away, like gently repelled magnets. You could also see them well, numbering a couple of dozens, from the lookout points high above.
We had our first snorkeling experience after lunch, on the edge of Border Island. The current was running strongly out to sea along the steep shore, but if we continued to swim toward shore at a good clip, we could slowly make our way along the reef that snuggled the rock wall. The water was a bit clouded due to the turbulence, but I reckon we could see a good ten meters below in spots, enough that I could make out the four divers and two instructors from our boat. I saw a loggerhead turtle, a school of Dori fish (Funny how a cartoon can change their perception.), but otherwise only the occasional loner fish feeding on a relatively grey reef.
We are currently parked in a bay on the northwest end of Hook Island. We got a spot at one of only a handful of moorings that have been placed in the region. They are posts that the government has placed in inlets layered with thick coral. It was a surprise to the captain to find one free, so there was a change of plans, resulting in an extra site for us to dive. So tomorrow we just plunge off the ship itself and take in the sites before proceeding around to Butterfly Bay, our intended endpoint for today. I have high expectations, having seen a batfish just while we were mooring, and having heard the description of fish in this cove with “laborador-like” behavior, calleed hump-headed Maori wrasse. Sounded cute until the captain described their 60 kg stature. Sweet dreams tonight…

Photos by Joey:

1. We stopped to watch some harvesting of sugar cane, transported into town in the bins shown on small rails.
2. One of the best shots of the Whitehaven Beach
3. Hud at the helm
4. Joey and I go diving
5. Down time out on the back deck
   

The Vacation Part

We are now back from vacation. The Munns having been here for two great weeks, they have recently returned stateside. We all traveled to the islands of Queensland and then to "the Red Centre" over the first week, then I returned to work while they saw Sydney for a week. It was great.

Somehow I lost internet service on the open water and amongst the islands. Who knew? The blogs have had to be stored until we got back on land, and when I had time to catch my breath. Those Munns ran like mad. I hope they got to sleep on the plane!

I have a few entries, entered while holed up in my below-deck cabin, listening to the waves gently slosh against the boat. I will spread them out over a couple of days.

Sunday, August 02, 2009

It is the end of the first day of our three-day, three-night sailing adventure amongst the Whitsundays, and by we I mean Amenia, Joey, Hudson, and myself.

Yesterday we caught an early flight out of Sydney to Townsville then drove down to Airlie Beach, where we stayed at the Whitsunday Lodge Bed and Breakfast. After a little shopping, returning the rental car, and providing some medical care to a trauma patient, we hiked over to Abell Point to ship out for an evening sail out to Hook Island, where we are currently anchored and bobbing, much to the chagrin of my inner ear.

The trauma patient was an interesting one. You just never know when these moments will arise. I was milling about the central shopping area of Airlie Beach, buying some swimming shorts, checking out T-shirts as the Munns were returning from Abell Point when, as I crossed the street and stepped onto the sidewalk, I heard a rather large thud, as though someone had dropped something onto the concrete. In actuality, they had, but what this 17 year-old had dropped was his head! He had fallen from standing height off the curb into the street, striking the back of his head with significant force. He then seized for about 30 seconds, was out of it for about another 90, then gradually came around while brewing a fair subdermal hematoma, though he did donate a bit to his hair and forehead. The ambulance pulled up quickly enough, and he was off, though I was concerned for the level of care provided in these parts.

It turns out that he had a vasovagal response about 5 minutes after having his tongue pierced.

As for the trip, I think we have been really fortunate, for the most part. The B&B was in itself nothing spectacular, breakfast mediocre, but the people were great, the setting was nice, quite green, and well off the beaten path. Furthermore, Mother Nature has played along well, and the weather here in Queensland quite agreeable to both the Texans in their reprieve from summer and myself enjoying a bit of warmth.

The boat has been a good find, though this seems to have been due to luck. The husband of the woman who runs the B&B is a city manager and thereby indirectly oversees the health department, so he spoke with knowledge when he confirmed that we had chosen one of the better boats, and more importantly, one of the more reliable crews. On the flip side however, somewhere along the line some errors were made in the choosing of the cabins. I had intended for us to have the nicest cabin for Amenia and Joey, and a pair of bunkbeds for Hud and myself. Instead, we got the second best cabin, then the tiniest of double beds—better dubbed a generous single—down in the tail end of the bottom deck of the boat. Now the first I can live with, but the second was a rather poor result. Bed is fair sized, bathroom just next door and for only this cabin, though the entry is out in the hall. But we are here for the adventures, not as much for the sleeping arrangements, so I expect that this will still be a great trip. Hudson is currently collapsed upstairs with his parents, barely able to make it through the main course of dinner. Nothing to do witht he cabins, mind you, just that the time change still has him by the pituitary. For a single person, this cabin is not too bad.

Explanation of photos:

1. Boarding the Pacific Sunrise, the largest wooden vessel built in the southern hemisphere, they say. Darn good food and a fun crew.

2. The four of us above Whitehaven Beach, a gorgeous and large bunch of sand with the purest concentration of silica, 98%. Hence the only permitted removal has been for the construction of the Hubble telescope's lens.

3. Abandonment or a Jimmy Buffett album cover? Actually, Tim was leaving us at the shore for the above hike to Whitehaven Beach.

4. These crew members get to seet this stuff on a regular basis! Unfortunately this stuff includes gulls, Tim's nemesis, as their loitering results in dinghy dung.

5. Best three sunsets I can recall: off the shore of Baja California on the bike ride, bridge climb this week (saved for a later blog), and this photo.

The silver lining

Which feels better, the appearance of a silver lining from a dark cloud or the bright sunshine in a cloudless sky?

We have now crossed the halfway point of the year in several respects. The winter solstice was a couple of weeks ago and the days are finally starting to get longer. The calendar also supports of the notion; the seventh month has begun. In about two more weeks I will have completed three of the scheduled six two-month rotations of this fellowship. But it looks now that I will only be completing five of them, owed to the gestation of kid three (as opposed to kid Three, the beloved Trey), and owed to the increasing probability that there will be a job out there ready for me before January (Yeah, put your hands up in the aiyurr!). If it winds up that I only do five rotations, then the midpoint of this fellowship passed me by a couple of weeks ago!

So that puts us in the mindset of looking forward. Hmmm, the next six months: warmer weather, longer days, dining out on the patios of restaurants; and because it is on my mind due to planning vacation time, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and hopefully being back stateside for both. I excited by the prospect, but it looks like I will only have a week, maybe two, then a couple of long weekends free to see this huge country. If I don’t get to see much more than that, then the benefit of being here becomes only the hand fellowship. As a result, my dedication to get the most education out of each day is increased. Part of the reason the frequency of blogs has dropped off, for which I apologize… or take praise, however you see it.

Both days this weekend I got the chance to see parts of the city I had not gotten to before. Yesterday there was a workshop on dealing with fractures held at the University of New South Wales, located on the south side of the city. I decided to take the bicycle so that I could see more of the suburbs in between and to get some exercise, being that it has been a rather sedentary week. When you add in the time getting lost, it was about a 50 minute ride out, a little shorter coming back.

Thankfully, it has remained a beautiful weekend, despite what the weather reports had said earlier in the week, so the prospect of staying inside all day today was appalling. I got out for a run in the afternoon, heading out to the south toward the harbor. I headed down to an area west of the bridge that I have tended to overlook since it is separated from major routes by the railway, and it is out of the way for getting to any point B from point A. That and the fact that it is called Balls Head. But in its favor the nearby neighborhood looked pretty attractive through the glimpses from the train (on said railway), and the recent observation from a friend that it is probably the ideal location to take in the harbor, since the lookouts are directed east-southeast toward the Opera House, visible beneath the bridge. The sun is also more or less behind you in the evening, as it was when I was there, casting a fantastic golden light on the view.

I got down there and intended to hang out long enough to catch my breath and take in the view. It turned out that those two times weren’t compatible. I recuperated well before I had seen all that I wanted to see. The view was from about thirty feet above the shore and was quite serene, since much of the entire peninsula was free of construction. As sections of it still are, I suspect that it was used for government purposes even before a park was there. Additionally, both sides have coves consumed by marinas rather than residences. The result is solace, with heaps of greenery and a limited selection of sounds from the harbor—little waves lapping the shore; boats, but only those closeby; a few birds. And there were multiple levels in the rock for lookouts, picnic tables on the grassy flat spots, or just ledges for sitting.

For a while I watched all of the cheerful business on the water, thinking about Sydney from the perspective that it wouldn’t be long until I had moved back, but that all of this quotidian activity would continue, the sea planes giving tourists views of the harbors, the ferries quietly shuttling people from one pier to another, the jet boat giving thrill rides in the more open waters, water taxis taking those unwilling to take ferries to more specific destinations, the private yachts—with or without sails—intermingling, the cruise ships sitting at dock in Circular Quay or in Darling Harbor, like the one there today. All of this activity that of course I could have hypothesized going on, and in fact you might have felt something amiss had those things not been going on, but it is a more real event when you have witnessed it. I thought about Will Mason and his family, as he completed his fellowship just this week. While he is still in the country, seeing the sights here and there for about a month, he no longer lives in Sydney. This must have been what he was talking about when he started to miss the city even a couple of days before he was done.

Before I had a chance to consider heading back, or wanted to take advantage of it, I noticed that the behemoth of a cruise ship had begun to move away from the dock. Now I sat at a coffee shop at the dock in England and watched, I think, this very ship depart from Auckland back in January (when I was there picking up the work visa from the Australian embassy), and it is neither a speedy nor easy task to set that ship in motion

I am sure there is a reason for each time they blare their horn on this ship, much like there is a pattern and timing to those on a train, but I have never heard what it is for a ship, so from my ignorant perspective, it is entertaining to imagine what impulse this patient captain of the ship has to reach for the handle. I can understand giving it a blast 30 and maybe 10 minutes before departure: y’all best get your butts on board, lest I leave’em here! Not too different from the indications used by soccer moms. But as he had been pulled/pushed away from the dock (I couldn’t see what was going on at sea level due to the intervening little Berry Island.), he gave another long blast, an impressive sound that was not harsh on the ears, but suddenly made the entire city seem much smaller, as they all must have heard it. In fact, I have never heard an echo last so long, perhaps twice as long as the blast itself, as if the sound waves had been stacking up on each other and just took that much longer to settle back down. It could have been fair warning to all those little or even moderately-sized boats in his blind spots that he had completed his twenty-minute u-turn and was now moving forward. Or it could have been sheer exhilaration that he had beaten Christmas!

I began to think that this horn was the captains toy, his one-note musical instrument when he let it resound about five minutes later. Earlier, as he had been making his turns, I realized that that boat might reach halfway up to the bottom of the Harbour Bridge. As he slowly—and I mean slowly—gained momentum, working his way out of Darling Harbour into the main body and toward the bridge, the margins began to disappear, to the point that, as the nose was likely going under the bridge, a handful of us gathered on the shaded lookout were held in suspense. You knew that the thing had to make it under; the captain must know these things everywhere he goes, and, heck, he had gotten in there so he must be able to get out. But it just didn’t look like he was going to make it, like the rotating antenna might smack it, or like the chimney stacks might collect some dents as they scraped underneath. What if they had let off a bunch of obese folks and taken on some skinnier ones? I couldn’t help but interrupt our collective silence with, “Donk!”

Now I don’t know if the captain was signaling to a water taxi that had moved into his blind spot, or if he was just announcing his presence to all of those who hadn’t realized that he had been hiding on the other side of the Central Business District, but I heard the mariners’ equivalent of a trumpeting elephant that traipsed off into the jungle, out of sight. I could also picture the captain reaching impulsively for the handle of that horn, sounding the triumph in cruiseship limbo.

I headed back up toward St. Leonards, wondering if they would have changed the name of Balls Head had people been allowed to live there. But as for the first question, I think that the answer is the silver lining rather than the sunshine. Everything feels better, and that is better than when things feel good but you don’t realize it. It’s just that it takes you to the ugly conclusion that you need the clouds now and again.

As for the photos, I included these from a flight back to NZ in November, showing the harbor from above at about the right angle, just set back a few dozen kilometers; and the last demonstrating how much worse the view of the bridge and opera house is from the east.

Hunter and Upper Hunter Valleys

30 May 2009

I sit in the end room of a hotel that, by other standards, would be a motel. The difference being that we are in wine country. It is only my second venture out of Sydney, the first overnighter, and I see that I have been missing out. It ain’t New Zealand, but then it ain’t Sydney either. I have driven a couple of hours north into the Hunter Valley, the east coast’s wine country. There is some production in the south, and a very well known region south of Perth on the west coast, the Margaret River region. I haven’t gotten out to sense the desolation and sparsity of people that the vast majority of the country is, but this is countryside, and the towns are just a couple thousand people. The largest that I came to after leaving the suburbs was 22,000. Some would scarcely count as a town at all.
This is a chance to take a deep breath. I just don’t think that I am a city boy. I do enjoy the convenience that comes from being close to so many things. I revel in getting so many things done in daily life without starting a car. And there is a constant feeling that you are in a place where so many other people want to be. So city residence must be a good choice.

It may be. But it isn’t mine. I love the feeling that comes over me when I step out of that setting. I remember the same feeling when I drove north out of Madrid after being there a few months straight; I stopped the car a couple of hours after sunset just to look at all the stars, hear the masses of crickets. Today it was rolling down the window of the rental car and smelling grass, that Aspergillus smell when the grass gets some rain. And later in the day, even the smell of the weeds (milkweed?) was pleasant when I stopped to take pictures from the end of a dirt road on a hilltop overlooking the Hunter Valley around sunset.

Now, a couple of things I know are true. I would not appreciate it to the same degree if I lived out here. But is that to say that I wouldn’t enjoy it at all? Or, more importantly, that I wouldn’t enjoy it more than the city? I am pretty sure of the answer.

The other truth is that it is probably not feasible for me to live in the country. How miserable it would be to have to make a long drive to a hospital in the middle of the night. I stew over the frustration during those drives, so it is probably healthier to minimize the time spent doing it.

So I guess the point is—the points are—that, firstly, I am glad that I have family living in the country so that there is somewhere to go; and secondly, that a more moderately-sized city is a good compromise for my uptown girl and myself.

An overlooked criterion for choosing a place to live: wineries. The more of them that you cluster together, the better the restaurants will be. Santa Maria, where else can you find such secluded, truly quaint restaurants serving such high quality food? I am stunned by how good dinner was and yet how many other places there are around very similar. And no golden arches or DQ’s here. In other settings the diner linked to the motel should by all rights be a dive, where some of the gravy has dribbled off the side of the plate when splashed on the roast. But here are cloth napkin, low-lighting, swank joints where half the words on the menu are esoteric, French, or both. Some wear jeans, but only in the fashionable sense with an expensive shirt and a lot of hair gel. (Except for that one bloke that wore his with a hoodie whom I noticed when he went out to sit at a table on the deck to have a smoke in near freezing cold. ‘Nough said.). But it is not just the food that takes a step up; where there is good wine, there is good culture. Concerts, festivals, and the like abound here.

Just a thought: gaps in knowledge can be quite subtle and understated. I have seen this in surgery, albeit the place I focus most of my attention when comes to assuring these holes are minimized. But I came across one tonight while starting a new book, Down Under by Bill Bryson. Isn’t New Zealand part of the Australian continent? I have looked at the maps that include the continental shelves (okay, Google), and they seem to lie on the same one. They are very close to each other relative to any other bodies. Antarctica is close, but I don’t think either wants to claim association; and besides, we know that Australia and Antarctica are two continents. I just remember learning that Australia was the only continent that was a single country, and the only country that was a continent. Bryson said the same. But where does that leave the Kiwis?

The second day, following a great breakfast, was a departure from Hunter Valley to… Upper Hunter Valley. Out of the wineries, into thoroughbred country. Like the wineries, there are a couple of other clusters of farms, but this is one of the big ones, if not the big one, a claim fortified by the recent influx of international neighbors, particularly Sheikhs Hamdan and Makhtoum (sp?), big purchasers at the sales in Lexington and elsewhere around the world. It is not as continuous a collection as you see in Kentucky. Instead it intermingles with cattle ranches and small homes. All of the sudden amongst the barbed wire fences will be fancier fence railing, a big stone entrance with security cameras, intercoms, etc. A very pretty area with a more relaxed feel, and a bit of oddity and you really see them try to create luxury in the midst of nature.

The clouds rolled in not long after noon, of course just as I drove the rental car up onto a ridge for the best scenery. So the remainder of the trip was a splash through desolate dirt roads. Thank goodness for GPS systems and rental cars. I stopped once for a lone kangaroo up in the high altitudes, grazing in the cold mist. I just never thought of them as cold weather critters, but this fellow seemed pretty content.

Sunday, June 14, 2009

Yesterday I returned from a second trip up to Hunter Valley. Joao Panattoni, a friend from the hand surgery fellowship in Kentucky, flew over from Singapore for the week and wanted to take in the same scenery. It was a great trip. We saw a lot more kangaroos and mingled among a small mob of them, who seemed plenty alert but none too worried by our presence. We were never close enough to touch/get pummeled by any of them, but we got some good photos. Tasted some wine as well and got some education on the Australian viticulture.

Two months down

From May 24

This weekend marks two months since Ana and the kiddos moved back to Louisville, marking a good point to see how things are going.

Bachelor living is like riding a bike. The microwave and I have become good friends, and I have found that I spend more time doing the basics-- cooking, cleaning, laundry. No surprises there. At the same time, I have been spending more time working on hand surgery. So from a time management standpoint it has been good.

It is not worth the trade off, however. Again, no surprise. It is a rare opportunity to get to rewind the clock, go back to living in a manner similar to how it was before, erasing the bias that we all have telling us that the new way is better. I get more done this way, but it is a lonely time. I look forward to getting things back in order.

I have been doing some fun things around here though. For example, last night I found a good restaurant and movie theater down in the King's Cross area just east of the Central Business District (downtown to you and me). You can find it in the recent news as the place where the bloke was shot in the leg last weekend, big news for this land of limited guns. But the area is not as dangerous as the anecdote makes it seem. It is a lively area with clubs and bars and late night/ early morning night life. But tucked among these businesses, just a block off the central hubbub is the Govinda restaurant. Menu ordering on the ground level, buffet restaurant on the next floor up, movie theater on the next. But wait, there is more! The yoga classes and meditation rooms are on the ground floor, as well. Additionally it is a vegetarian restaurant, due to its hare krishna nature. I haven't frequented many, hare krishna or vegetarian, but since they had good movies showing right upstairs in a more quaint atmosphere, I was willing to give it a go. Consistent with my (few) past experiences, vegetarian restaurants do a great job of emphasizing spices. It was very good.

The movie and atmosphere were good, as well. The place probably only held about fifty people. It could have held more, but they would have to pull out all the cushions and pillows to put in chairs. It was much more comfortable, especially immediately after a meal, to lie back and watch the flick. They showed Easy Virtue-- again, good--likely due to it being an adaptation of a play. Much tidier weave to the plot than most movies.

Today I headed back down to the other side of the harbor, just a bit beyond King's Cross, to take in a game of Australian rules football. The only team in Sydney, the Swans (Go ahead, quake with fear at the mere name.) were hosting the Port Adelaide Power. You learn as you go with these things, and I found that I sat in the worst section of the stadium; the sun actually came out today-- for the first time in several days, as the front that caused flooding north of here lingered. I found that the sun sets directly opposite of section 11 this time of year. So for the glare in the photos, I apologize. Ana, I slopped the suncreen on a couple of times, as well as the SPF 30 lip balm. One for the skin cancer, two for the cold sore.

The game is actually admirable and interesting. It is easier to get your head around than the British sports of cricket and rugby. In short, it has the same ideas as most ball-and-goal sports, but instead of passing from hands to hands, like American football, or foot to foot, as in soccer, it is optionally bumping with your hand like you would serve underhand in volleyball, or to cover more ground quickly, punting to your teammate. As a result they are very accurate kickers. They also tend to be tall felows with a more lean build than in rugby, partly due to their height, partly due to all the running over this large field. The game moves around the field much quicker than other sports, and goals happen in a flash. So final scores tend to look more like basketball than soccer. Granted, they get six points for kicking through the central uprights.

This particular game was a rout. After just the first quarter, the mighty Swans (giggle) were leading 49-6! They went on to win by forty points.

So I have gotten out some, and there is plenty more to do. I have adjusted to the difference of the rest of the family being o'er yonder stateside, calling when the time change allows, making video calls. The trip home a month ago actually made a big difference. I thought it might actually be detrimental, but I guess seeing that I was still important to the kids but that they were getting on well without me made me feel better. I no longer subconsciously feel that this disruption causes any irreparable damage. It stings a bit, but there are some upsides. For example, I know that going home will be the best.

In the meanwhile, a few friends are coming over soon. Joao, a friend of mine from the hand surgery fellowship in Kentucky, originally from Brazil and currently in his second fellowship in Singapore, will be here for a week next month. Dita, a friend from animal science classes in college, whom I haven't seen since college, will be here and in New Zealand for a couple of weeks, as well. And Amenia and her son, Hudson, are going to be here in late July and August. Each will be really fun and will make for a good winter.

I have decided that, while supplies last, I will include the odd photo of the blog. This is from the children's hospital. Lord help the poor guy that can't recall what an egress is in the middle of the panic of an emergency.

Swept clean

From a 23 March, 2009, Ana's birthday, a week ago.

I admit that this is more written for my own benefit. I never want to forget what a bad day this has been. The next time I go out the door without kissing them goodbye, that I get frustrated getting their teeth brushed, that I grumble picking up the toys from the living room for the xth time in the same evening. I never want to forget Trey’s bewildered face, Ryan’s blown kiss, or the tears running so fast down Ana’s face, or those down my own for that matter. Or how Ryan’s lip quivered for a just a second as she sat in the tub last night and wrapped her head around the fact that I wasn’t going to be on the plane with her.

A heart-wrenching day. The worst I have had in years, at the very least. From a few weeks away, it all seemed so manageable, so much the right choice.

This afternoon, just minutes after they took off, I opened the door to the apartment, to an abyss six floors above ground. The place might have looked the same if the three of them were in the kids’ bedroom napping-- some lego blocks in the living room, the toy stroller with Ryan’s latest doll (named Trey, or as Ana and I call him, 3.2) partly covered by the blinds where it came to rest just a couple of hours earlier. The remaining grapes from the bunch they devoured after breakfast, now sitting unwanted at the table. The bedsheets wadded from when they each got up with the same routine of any normal day.

Then there is the closet. No clothes sticking out the top of semi-closed drawers, no dresses on the hangers, no stuffed animal and unmatched sock blocking the sliding mirror door from moving along its tracks. So hollow, except for the clothes unwanted or unable to fit in the suitcases, set aside to be donated. The permanence of the change sinks in. A small stack of bedtime story books sit on a single shelf, the rest barren. The same books that were so valuable to us for different reasons even just last night; for myself and Ana, for curling up with them with limited distractions before they drift off; for Ryan, for the adventures and images, as well as the chance to stay awake just a few more minutes.

No sounds: no Cinderella videos, no giggles, no one running to me —or doing the best they can—because the thing they want the most at that moment is my hug and kiss and attention.

No smells: for better or worse on this one, but I think more of Ana’s cooking, Ryan’s hair, Trey’s skin. Nothing.

Just a sterile apartment swept clean of love. Suddenly I realize how undecorated the walls are, how wonderfully the high chair sat like a throne at the end of the dining room table. I can almost see him sitting there, his waves, his looks. I feel like I just need to go pick him up to set him there to make the chair complete.

I can’t imagine going through this for three months, much less nine, missing both kids’ birthdays, not celebrating my own with them, Christmas. I stick by the decision that in the long run it will be for the better—better job, hopefully better income. In the short term, I am getting this education without the worry that my family is not getting the basics covered, or that Ana is feeling idle, or worse resentful. But I can tell you right now that it sucks. I have been slapped awake. On the good side, this is an opportunity few get to really feel how fortunate they are. And the images from today are more poignant than any for quite sometime. But the sadness is dreadful. As I mentioned, it makes for the worst day I have had in a really long time. I have been lucky not to lose someone really close to me, and there are plenty of circumstances that people are facing at any given moment far worse than this, but unlike most other circumstances, this has the bitterness of being self-induced, that jagged little pill. Albeit a response to outside forces, but right now other alternatives feel like they would have been better. I hope that my mind changes soon, and stays that way.

The big decision

Written 17 February 2009

Photos are gratuitous kids shots.

Wow, things have a way of drawing themselves out, and time slips past quickly. Like the speed at which the ground beneath you flows as you keep your eye on some distant object on the horizon that stands immobile.

That immobile object could be any of a number of new acquaintances, be it the Australian immigration service, the internet service crews here, or the construction across the street from our apartment. A solid six weeks have gone by, but the only change I have yet noticed is that I finally got my visa a couple of weeks ago, although I am still waiting on physician identification numbers and the like to come rolling in.

My hope is that the nine months will pass as quickly as the first few weeks. That I can keep my eyes on something slow, say, my learning, and the days of 2009 will be little more than painted lines on the highway.

Ana is headed back to the States, as most of you know. Trey and Ryan will of course go, as well. Despite living frugally over the past several months to accumulate some savings for the move, Sydney was more expensive than we had estimated. Additional delays in getting documents finalized meant that starting work could not happen for a then-undetermined amount of time. When there began to be a zero sum on the horizon, that no money would be in the account after a very close and estimable amount of time, decisions had to be made—find a way to cut expenses or increase, even obtain, income. Even breaking even when the paychecks started was questionable.

The stress was heavy. From my standpoint, the assurance of provisions for wife and kids was dwindling, and any answers on the horizon required preparations. If Ana was going to work here in Australia, the visa limited her to twenty hours weekly. That not only halves the income she could earn, but it limited her options of potential jobs. Many more are available for those willing and able to work full time. Furthermore, those jobs that accept part-timers are rarely lucrative to the level she could and has earned in the states. A final back-breaking point was that time at work for her would be time the two kids had to be in someone else’s care, and childcare here in Sydney is exorbitant, exacerbated by the recent shutdown of the largest childcare chain in Australia due to financial mismanagement. Decreased supply with stable demand means both high costs and increased length to wait lists. The childcare facility on the hospital grounds has a list now two years long.

At the point I could not ensure security, I came home, dropped my bag, and told Ana that the only answer might be for her to try to get her position back in Louisville. The look on her face and the excitement in her voice at the mere prospect was a strong argument in favor of that decision. She got right on it, and her phone call back to Cogent was met with equal excitement. It took a while to confirm her return with the executive office, but it was done, and her first day back will be the first of April.

Ryan will be back in school, and Trey will stay home with Lola, who thankfully is going to stay with them. Things for them will return to something similar to what it was less than a year ago. Sans Dad.

It is a tough but worthwhile decision. The security is a great lift of my shoulders. Ana will clearly be happier, and I can see that nine months of not working has been a task. I hope that it won’t matter that much to the kids in the long run, and that the difference made in the job I have, the place we live in the future, the opportunities provided them will outweigh the change to family structure they have the next couple of weeks.

As for myself, there are days when I look at the good differences the upcoming months hold—the time I can dedicated to reading and learning, more opportunities to exercise, ease of travel to go see Australia, maybe even other countries while here. It turns out Trey and Ryan aren’t as impressed with the harbor bridge as they are with jumping castles and dessert.

There are other days where the obvious losses seem greater. But the decisions are made, and we will have to see how it goes. Fortunately, all of it is transient.

The irony is that an increase in understanding of the system has led to less taxation. They give large rebates to those who work in the hospitals, splitting the tax deduction with the business, so my taxes will be half what it would be with other jobs here. They also give returns through a program that compensates you for coming to the big city with much higher standard of living as a result of a given job. And let me tell you, the cost of living here is higher than Louisville, Kentucky! But the rebates have made it more affordable. The job has started, so there is the assurance of income. Now making ends meet is doable. Estimates look like Ana’s end is doable with her income. It is nice to have that stress off, but the fact that going into debt didn’t come to fruition somehow makes the circumstances seem less real. But it all has worked out in the end, for now. So on the bad days, I'll just keep my eye on the horizon and let the painted stripes fly past. On the good days, I'll look a little closer and post the photos that I take.

Home found

Written 10 January 2009

Day five in Sydney, the first Saturday. A chance to kick back? Hardly. We have gotten to celebrate reaching a couple of goals, on time I might add. Yesterday we got our apartment. Today I am resting more assured that we will have all the necessities when we move in on Monday. There is still a good deal to do tomorrow, however.


Photo 1: balcony view south, towards downtown. Some buildings just east of downtown are in the distance.

Each tour of the neighborhoods had made us decrease our radius from the hospital considered suitable for living. Before my trip to Sydney at the end of November Ana had made an excellent list of houses and a couple of apartments within a maximum of an anticipated ten minute drive. In retrospect, that seems like a drive from a county away. First, ten minutes estimated on a Google map ain’t ten minutes big-city style. My guess is that the main thoroughfare past the hospital was not expected to handle the daily traffic it takes these days. While this area is nothing like Manhattan, it is far more congested than, say, North Dallas. Maybe the best comparison would be Austin. The roads here are fairly narrow and the undulations of the terrain lead to winding roads. When people are packed together, they have little room for others of different pace or knowledge of the area. You better have a plan when you hit the roads, keep your mind on it, and execute.


Photo 2: the view west, directly across the street. The nearest building the Royal North Shore Hospitals dialysis center. Middleground: the new research center and medical school library. Brown building in distance: the inpatient hospital, i.e., workplace. Commute time: four minutes, with traffic.

Another factor in shrinking the search was expense. Everything costs a good deal here. And the more we have hassled with making purchases to get settled in, the more we think about having to sell or give it away in just a few months. The beauty of it is that it keeps the contrast between need and want fairly clear. We aren’t going to rough it, but I also don’t think we will be hanging any Rembrandts on the walls. Or perhaps anything more than family photos, for that matter.

Photo 3: balcony view north. High-rises in distance is Chatswood, the upscale district of the city, proported best schools, etc. In between, the offices of two of the city's television stations, the main highway northward.

Maybe we will decorate by fate, searching only for huge bargains, or be okay with putting up nothing whatsoever. Point being that we finally decided on a place right across the street from the hospital complex. There are several apartment towers that oppose the huge grounds of the hospital. Our place will be lined up just a few hundred yards from the inpatient and surgical building, the hospital proper. Call should be pretty good. Additionally, the train station is even closer, due south about 200 meters. And the station is not just a platform and a ticket window. The tracks mainly travel above ground throughout the city, but it is very much a Metro layout and system. As a result, the “station” is placed amongst high-rise buildings and covered with a layer of commerce. An open-air plaza is right over the tracks, and the perimeter is lined with restaurants of quite a range. Of course, Mickey D’s is there, but there are a couple other fast food places indicative of the ethnic diversity of the city, a fresh fruit market, a very good restaurant with low lighting in the evenings, good wine it seems, and great coffee also served at a walk up counter. There is a pharmacy, a newsstand, and a grocery store. With everything so close and convenient, it is worth a little more to be in this area.


Photo 4: the view from the south balcony looking westward. Train tracks below and out of view (the train is electric, nearly silent). About 3 miles away: Tasman Sea.

Searches for a new home, new technology

Written 8 January 2009

Okay, I was just wrapping up the last blog, discussing some of it with Ana, when we realized that I should make an entry for today. So while I will post this a couple of days after the previous, realize that it took place on our second full day in Australia, amidst apartment hunting in the big city. Now it is the same big city that I was saying that I wouldn’t enjoy as much, but I also said that I was keeping an open mind and meant that I would unabashedly embrace the good things.

Our great revelation was compounded by two factors. First, while many blessings have befallen Aotearoa, the internet has hardly recognized the place. In fact, some study that a coworker quoted me listed New Zealand as having the poorest internet structure of any developed nation. Any. How did they let Ireland or Portugal slip past them? Even the way you get internet there is different. It is not just a matter of downloading or uploading speed. Only the big companies, such as the hospital where I worked, had unlimited access and high speed. And by high speed, I mean relative to dial up. You will see what I mean in a minute. The rest of us outside of the corporate world purchase quantities of download per month. For example, we bought a middle-of-the-road program allowing three gigabytes of download at high speed for NZ$40 per month. More downloads would cost more, and the same download quantity at higher speed would cost more. A lot more.

And for clarification, 3 Gb is enough to handle all our emails, web brousing, facebooking, and iTunes downloads, almost. We still ran over a little a couple of months. But we couldn’t venture into videos much and had to avoid sites that kept spooling information to you, updating their information every few seconds. We also couldn’t pull up Youtube videos of Sesame Street and the like for Ryan.

The second factor in this compounding process that I alluded to is that nothing progresses like technology. Six months in New Zealand has let other lands carry on at breakneck speed.

Zoom in to the four of us strolling (actually three of us strolling and one in a tike-toting backpack) along the sidewalk in a high-rise section of North Sydney after seeing the last of the open viewings of apartments that we had listed for the day. We stopped into a computer store to get some opinions on internet connections, companies, the quality available, etc. The very pleasant Chinese fellow, the presumed owner, was happy to talk to us about it and gave us a brochure from one of the many providers in the area, one with which he was apparently associated, since a blank on the brochures application page for the provider representative had already been filled in with his name. The plan provided 50 Gb of warp-speed downloading of 20 Mbps for AU$50 (about US$30). “So what plan did you have in New Zealand?” he asked. We responded that we got 3 Gb of high speed download for NZ$40. “Thirty gigabytes?” he questioned, as though his Mandarin ears had misinterpreted my American accent. The look he gave when he counted the fingers I held up to correct him told us what we needed to know. Things were about to get a whole lot better.

Bill Gates. NOT a Kiwi.