I have been in Australia for 23 days now. I meant to write a blog post sooner, but internet troubles (Australia has the worst broadband connection of any industrialized country, and although the internet provider won't fess up, we get brown outs if usage is high), travels, and the lethargy of an Australian summer have overtaken me.
My flight out here was full of small snags that managed to keep a 24 hour flight exciting, but none so big that afterwards seemed of any consequence: My window seat was stolen by a Korean exchange student so friendly it was hard to bear any sort of grudge. More worryingly, our flight out of Portland was held up for 45 mins so that several passengers "stuck in bad traffic" could make it to the airport. Those of us who had managed to factor traffic into our airport arrival time spent the flight staring at our watches, willing the plane to go faster so we could make our tight connection. In the SF aiport, all of us flying to Sydney ran through the aiport as a a herd of disgruntled passengers, making the shuttle to the international terminal less than 30 minutes before departure time. We needn't have worried, because our next flight was no where near ready to take off. After another half an hour at the gate, which more resembled a Chinese railway station than an international departure gate, we finally boarded over an hour late. Mutiny almost broke out when the captain informed us that a "light snack" would be served in over an hour. It was 11pm by that time, and none of us had eaten dinner. Luckily, the light snack turned out to be lasagna, bread, canned peaches and salad, so the mutiny was placated. The flight to Sydney was uncomfortable, as right after the plane took off the person in front of me reclined all the way, cutting off my leg room (and if I don't have enough leg room, I can't imagine how anyone over 5'5" could cope). Turns out United has invented a new class, economy with leg room, which unfortunately I wasn't sitting in. Our minds were distracted from such petty discomforts though, when we hit some major turbulence. I've found there's nothing like flying over the south pacific to remind you that you are hurtling through the air at enormous speeds in a tin can, and this time was no different. The plane shook violently from side to side and then started rising and falling, much like an elevator at great speeds. This was during night time, and everyone sat very still, pretending to still be asleep, given away only by the white knuckles on the armrest. After several minutes of tense stillness, the captain announced that everything was "perfectly safe" and the plane "was engineered to withstand much greater turbulence" but that we would be changing course to avoid a tropical storm. After what seemed like an eternity later, we landed, sleep deprived, in the Sydney airport. At his point I kicked myself for booking my ticket to Melbourne instead of Sydney, as now I had to fly Melbourne-Adelaide, instead of directly to Adelaide. Nonetheless, my flight to Melbourne was uneventful, my luggage showed up, and I went through customs relatively easily, although my hackey sack was almost confiscated. In the end, the woman couldn't figure out if it was stuffed with plastic or seeds, so she gave me the benefit of the doubt and let me through. I went to check into my Adelaide flight, only to find out it was cancelled, and I had been put on the next flight several hours later. On the whole not a big deal, except if you've spent the last 30 hours in airports/airplanes. When the man asked my why I hadn't checked my departure before getting to the airport, it was the last straw. "I've been flying for 30 hours. I've just come from San Fransisco via Sydney. I don't even know what day it is, I haven't slept in two days." I gave the man a desperate stare of half-crazed malice and sleep deprivation. "Ooh, that's rough mate" he said, and gave me 12 dollars in gift vouchers to McDonald's, the "maximum he was entitled to give out." Between McDonalds, gossip rags, and my book, I managed to make it until my flight. An hour later, my luggage and I arrived safely in Adelaide.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Friday, August 24, 2007
10 things I hate about Microsoft office
There are many many reasons I strongly dislike office, many which begin with 'autoformat.' However, now that I am living on the outskirts of the global empire (take your pick which one), I have a whole new set of issues.
1) the 'default' language button not only resets itself to US English for each new document (despite warning me that changing the default will affect all 'normal' templates), but it also resets itself EVERY time I open up an existing document.
2) If I notice in the middle of typing that the language has magically reset itself to US English, and change the default setting to Australian, the changes will only apply to what I type after I make the changes. Because, I mean, if someone changes their default language halfway through a document, the most logical explanation is they want the top half in US English and the bottom half in Australian English.
3) regardless of what form of English I pick, US, UK, or Australian, it will not accept -ise endings as legitimate. EVER.
4) I know this is basically the same point as above, but it bugs me enough to be a second point. SPELL CHECK WILL NOT ACCEPT LITRE AS A LEGITIMATE SPELLING. Maybe it's just because I have to write it all the time, as in "in 2007 Australia produced 1.3 billion litres of wine." On top of it, the second recommended spelling option is "litter."
5) Even more heinous, autoformat automatically changes words from British to American-- organise becomes organize, programme becomes program. Given that my first instinct is to write the American spelling anyways, I don't need any help in the random-American-spellings-scattered-throughout-my-document department.
6) This means that I must stare at irritating little red squiggly lines the entire time I'm typing my document, even though the words are properly spelled. It's a little act of in-your-face American chauvinism that makes me understand "why they hate us." It makes me want to draw little red squiggly lines on Bill Gates' glasses, so he is forced to look at them for the rest of his life. "Why don't you just turn off spell check?" you might ask. Well, unfortunately I do occasionally need help with an actual misspelled word. And isn't the WHOLE POINT of picking your language that then you can have a spell check that functions for that language?
7) Point 6 is getting a bit long, and I think it is kind of turning into a new point anyways. I wouldn't be as annoyed if they only offered US English, but to call something Australian English, and then have it be EXACTLY the SAME as American English is just #@*$ing insulting. And completely untrue.
8-10) I would write these out, but I have collapsed into pile of foaming vitriol.
1) the 'default' language button not only resets itself to US English for each new document (despite warning me that changing the default will affect all 'normal' templates), but it also resets itself EVERY time I open up an existing document.
2) If I notice in the middle of typing that the language has magically reset itself to US English, and change the default setting to Australian, the changes will only apply to what I type after I make the changes. Because, I mean, if someone changes their default language halfway through a document, the most logical explanation is they want the top half in US English and the bottom half in Australian English.
3) regardless of what form of English I pick, US, UK, or Australian, it will not accept -ise endings as legitimate. EVER.
4) I know this is basically the same point as above, but it bugs me enough to be a second point. SPELL CHECK WILL NOT ACCEPT LITRE AS A LEGITIMATE SPELLING. Maybe it's just because I have to write it all the time, as in "in 2007 Australia produced 1.3 billion litres of wine." On top of it, the second recommended spelling option is "litter."
5) Even more heinous, autoformat automatically changes words from British to American-- organise becomes organize, programme becomes program. Given that my first instinct is to write the American spelling anyways, I don't need any help in the random-American-spellings-scattered-throughout-my-document department.
6) This means that I must stare at irritating little red squiggly lines the entire time I'm typing my document, even though the words are properly spelled. It's a little act of in-your-face American chauvinism that makes me understand "why they hate us." It makes me want to draw little red squiggly lines on Bill Gates' glasses, so he is forced to look at them for the rest of his life. "Why don't you just turn off spell check?" you might ask. Well, unfortunately I do occasionally need help with an actual misspelled word. And isn't the WHOLE POINT of picking your language that then you can have a spell check that functions for that language?
7) Point 6 is getting a bit long, and I think it is kind of turning into a new point anyways. I wouldn't be as annoyed if they only offered US English, but to call something Australian English, and then have it be EXACTLY the SAME as American English is just #@*$ing insulting. And completely untrue.
8-10) I would write these out, but I have collapsed into pile of foaming vitriol.
Monday, August 6, 2007
marketing 101
Last week I went to the Adelaide wine industry expo, which basically consisted of a bunch of little booths, large machinery, and lots of wine industry people gathered to talk shop and sell things. Much of it was centered on the technical side of making and growing grapes, which is all a bit over my head, though there was a neat kit of little chemicals that simulated common wine flaws, which you could add to wine for staff training purposes. There was also a mechanical grape picker, which was easily as high as a small building. Apparently it's designed to be driven over the vines, so the empty space in the middle of the machine is at least 7 feet high, with big wheels and picker-thingies on either side (note my technical language).
Another item on display was the zork. Currently, there are two main ways to stop up a bottle of wine. One is the cork, and the other is the screw cap, or 'stelvin enclosure.' Corks, while traditional, are increasingly expensive and can possibly ruin the wine, either through oxidation (letting in too much air) or cork taint (average cork failure rate is estimated to be around 8%). Screw caps are cheaper and cannot 'fail' like corks, but some people argue that they do their job too well, and don't allow for the wine to 'breath' the way corks do, i.e., don't allow for a low level of oxidation, which many think necessary for a wine to mature. This isn't a big deal if you plan on drinking your wine within a couple of months, but it may make a difference if you plan to cellar your wine for 5-10 years. So, enter the zork. The zork is a resealable plastic closure with a tiny channel that allows for a very low level of oxidation. Its design combines the best of both worlds: it lets the wine mature but won't taint the wine. The down side? It's butt-ugly. It looks like a plastic blob is eating your bottle of wine. It's clunky and recalls a nalgene bottle, not elegance.
The problem is the zork designers forgot to ask themselves the first question in creating a product: is there a market for my product?
The answer is, well, no. According to statistics, 80% of wine is drunk on the day it's purchased, and I imagine that most of the remaining 20% is drunk not much later. Thus for the vast majority of wines, ageing isn't really an issue. And the stelvin, which is cheap, attractive, and environmentally friendly, does just fine. Wines that people want to keep around for a couple of years tend to be at the premium end of the scale (i.e. more than $20 a bottle). Wine makers at that end can afford to pay for high quality cork, which has a much lower failure rate (around 1-2%) than cheaper cork, which really pretty much solves the cork problem. Moreover, when people are paying that much a bottle, they generally want their wine to look sophisticated, not like film cannister died on top of it. If your wine costs $50 but the bottle looks like something people would be embarrassed to order in a nice restaurant, there's a bit of a problem. In fact, people buying a luxury product generally demand that the product doesn't look like the manufacturers cut corners in a rather obvious way. Not to mention wine afficianadoes tend to be into the 'tradition' of wine drinking, for whom popping the cork is an important part of the whole experience.
There may be a market for wealthy, outdoorsy gen-Xers who get into the whole design element, but that's a bit of a niche market.
Another item on display was the zork. Currently, there are two main ways to stop up a bottle of wine. One is the cork, and the other is the screw cap, or 'stelvin enclosure.' Corks, while traditional, are increasingly expensive and can possibly ruin the wine, either through oxidation (letting in too much air) or cork taint (average cork failure rate is estimated to be around 8%). Screw caps are cheaper and cannot 'fail' like corks, but some people argue that they do their job too well, and don't allow for the wine to 'breath' the way corks do, i.e., don't allow for a low level of oxidation, which many think necessary for a wine to mature. This isn't a big deal if you plan on drinking your wine within a couple of months, but it may make a difference if you plan to cellar your wine for 5-10 years. So, enter the zork. The zork is a resealable plastic closure with a tiny channel that allows for a very low level of oxidation. Its design combines the best of both worlds: it lets the wine mature but won't taint the wine. The down side? It's butt-ugly. It looks like a plastic blob is eating your bottle of wine. It's clunky and recalls a nalgene bottle, not elegance.
The problem is the zork designers forgot to ask themselves the first question in creating a product: is there a market for my product?
The answer is, well, no. According to statistics, 80% of wine is drunk on the day it's purchased, and I imagine that most of the remaining 20% is drunk not much later. Thus for the vast majority of wines, ageing isn't really an issue. And the stelvin, which is cheap, attractive, and environmentally friendly, does just fine. Wines that people want to keep around for a couple of years tend to be at the premium end of the scale (i.e. more than $20 a bottle). Wine makers at that end can afford to pay for high quality cork, which has a much lower failure rate (around 1-2%) than cheaper cork, which really pretty much solves the cork problem. Moreover, when people are paying that much a bottle, they generally want their wine to look sophisticated, not like film cannister died on top of it. If your wine costs $50 but the bottle looks like something people would be embarrassed to order in a nice restaurant, there's a bit of a problem. In fact, people buying a luxury product generally demand that the product doesn't look like the manufacturers cut corners in a rather obvious way. Not to mention wine afficianadoes tend to be into the 'tradition' of wine drinking, for whom popping the cork is an important part of the whole experience.
There may be a market for wealthy, outdoorsy gen-Xers who get into the whole design element, but that's a bit of a niche market.
You know you're a nerd when...
When I heard about the tragic bridge collapse in Minnesota, my first thought was, Lord Voldemort makes his first move." Though on second thought, wasn't there some freak tornado in Kansas a while back? Let's hope Harry Potter gets his act together before any more senseless muggle killings.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
PS
Botany bay is actually a bit south of Sydney. Sydney was built around Port Jackson. The first fleet landed at Botany bay, where Cook landed, hoping to settle there but found it too difficult and so sailed up the coast to Port Jackson. But even though no one actually lived there, Botany Bay became a generic term for the colony.
Botany Bay
I just got back from spending 5 days in Sydney. The harbor (harbour?) bridge and opera house were, indeed, stunning. After little Adelaide, which has a population of 1 million but has a city center of mainly 2-story 19th century buildings, Sydney felt like a proper metropolis. While the city was full of anonymous glass and drab 70s skyscrapers, its location of being spread out across various inlets and a peninsulas still made it incredibly scenic. It was also very green, which added to its attractiveness. From what I've heard, it's a more humid climate than Adelaide, and certainly, for 3 of the days there was a fairly constant drizzle. Most surprisingly, it was quite hilly, and in places it felt like San Fransisco (especially to my knees).
But underneath the modern glitz, Sydney has a lot of historical significance, as it was where the first fleet landed and set up camp in 1788. Unlike other countries, Australians haven't been too keen to glorify their convict origins, and much of the original city was torn down. We did get to see the preserved barracks, built in 1819 to house prisoners working for the state (most prisoners were assigned to a free family basically as slave labor. Some prisoners, generally the most recalcitrant ones, remained in the government's direct control to do public works). We spent a lot of time staring at things and squinting, trying to imagine what the land would have looked like 200 years ago.
We also saw the first Catholic and Anglican cathedrals built in Australia, an exhibit of Islamic Art at the art gallery, the house of the governor of New South Wales (not to be confused with the premier of NSW, who actually controls the government.) The governor of NSW is much like the Governor General, except on a state level instead of a federal one. In other words, it's an archaic and symbolic role characterised by incredible pomp and circumstance and excessive Anglophilia. The house, built in 1845 and located in the botanic gardens only a spitting distance from the opera house, was designed by an English architect who never set foot in Australia. The result is a Scottish castle, which is dark, formal, and apparently unbearably hot in the summer months. Outside it looks completely out of place next to the gum trees, and inside it looks like a 1960s movie set of a castle done up in the Georgian style (complete with gratuitous portraits of obscure British royals), due to a misguided attempt to 'contemporize' the furnishings. Dave thought it looked more like a VIP airport lounge. It was interesting though, to see oil portraits of the early governors from back when the governor of NSW was the governor of Australia. I especially wanted to see Governor Bligh, of mutiny on the bounty fame. After the mutiny, he became governor of Australia. He looked short and unpleasant, although apparently his harshness and competence served him better as commander of a penal colony than it did as a ship's captain.
We also went to the Sydney zoo, which is quite large and spread out through beautiful parkland. It was full of lots of Aussie animals, including 11 of the 15 most deadly snakes, saltwater crocodiles, which 'only' kill 1 person a year, according to the sign, a kangaroo with a joey in her pouch, and ridiculously cute koalas. The animals did their best to give us a show, one that would probably earn an R rating if it were broadcast on television. Highlights were: (stop reading if you are easily offended or under 17) An escape-bent emu intimidating a group of Japanese business men in the petting zoo, a bit of sexual role-reversal involving a very frisky lioness and a quite grumpy lion, and a chimpanzee digging around in his butt hole, pulling out a big shit, and then eating it. Didn't realize chimps ate their own feces, though maybe it was deranged behavior as a result of confinement. More tamely, both the tiger and the cobra were came up to the glass to let us get a good look. My one disappointment was that the dingos didn't make an appearance.
On our final day, we took a ferry to Manly, a little resort town about 30 min. There was a very scenic 9 km hike that we did part of, but after 5 days of 8 hours of standing/walking straight, our feet started to rebel. We did get to see a bit of what the natural landscape around Sydney looked like though. Again, it was amazing how lush and green it was, and also how deceiving the landscape is, as it is almost completely unsuitable for agriculture.
But underneath the modern glitz, Sydney has a lot of historical significance, as it was where the first fleet landed and set up camp in 1788. Unlike other countries, Australians haven't been too keen to glorify their convict origins, and much of the original city was torn down. We did get to see the preserved barracks, built in 1819 to house prisoners working for the state (most prisoners were assigned to a free family basically as slave labor. Some prisoners, generally the most recalcitrant ones, remained in the government's direct control to do public works). We spent a lot of time staring at things and squinting, trying to imagine what the land would have looked like 200 years ago.
We also saw the first Catholic and Anglican cathedrals built in Australia, an exhibit of Islamic Art at the art gallery, the house of the governor of New South Wales (not to be confused with the premier of NSW, who actually controls the government.) The governor of NSW is much like the Governor General, except on a state level instead of a federal one. In other words, it's an archaic and symbolic role characterised by incredible pomp and circumstance and excessive Anglophilia. The house, built in 1845 and located in the botanic gardens only a spitting distance from the opera house, was designed by an English architect who never set foot in Australia. The result is a Scottish castle, which is dark, formal, and apparently unbearably hot in the summer months. Outside it looks completely out of place next to the gum trees, and inside it looks like a 1960s movie set of a castle done up in the Georgian style (complete with gratuitous portraits of obscure British royals), due to a misguided attempt to 'contemporize' the furnishings. Dave thought it looked more like a VIP airport lounge. It was interesting though, to see oil portraits of the early governors from back when the governor of NSW was the governor of Australia. I especially wanted to see Governor Bligh, of mutiny on the bounty fame. After the mutiny, he became governor of Australia. He looked short and unpleasant, although apparently his harshness and competence served him better as commander of a penal colony than it did as a ship's captain.
We also went to the Sydney zoo, which is quite large and spread out through beautiful parkland. It was full of lots of Aussie animals, including 11 of the 15 most deadly snakes, saltwater crocodiles, which 'only' kill 1 person a year, according to the sign, a kangaroo with a joey in her pouch, and ridiculously cute koalas. The animals did their best to give us a show, one that would probably earn an R rating if it were broadcast on television. Highlights were: (stop reading if you are easily offended or under 17) An escape-bent emu intimidating a group of Japanese business men in the petting zoo, a bit of sexual role-reversal involving a very frisky lioness and a quite grumpy lion, and a chimpanzee digging around in his butt hole, pulling out a big shit, and then eating it. Didn't realize chimps ate their own feces, though maybe it was deranged behavior as a result of confinement. More tamely, both the tiger and the cobra were came up to the glass to let us get a good look. My one disappointment was that the dingos didn't make an appearance.
On our final day, we took a ferry to Manly, a little resort town about 30 min. There was a very scenic 9 km hike that we did part of, but after 5 days of 8 hours of standing/walking straight, our feet started to rebel. We did get to see a bit of what the natural landscape around Sydney looked like though. Again, it was amazing how lush and green it was, and also how deceiving the landscape is, as it is almost completely unsuitable for agriculture.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
where the bloody hell are you?
is the Australian government's official tourism slogan.
In South Australia, our slogan is "Welcome to South Australia, now officially the poorest, most drug ridden state in the nation." (Well, at least until Northern Territories decides to join the federation. But as that's not looking too likely, our reputation is safe.) The most recent census data has just been published. Adelaide is the oldest capital city in terms of residents' age, and we just beat out Hobart (Tasmania) by $5 a week for the lowest average income. The federal government has asked the SA government to take special organized crime action against biker gangs, called bikies here and to stamp out a burgeoning meth, or ice, epidemic. (The two seem to go together.)
The opposition leader in the state government has just called for a crack-down (no pun intended) on a supposed rash of drug-addicted women who have children for the $5000 baby bonus. I'm highly skeptical, of course. If you're a drug addict and want some fast cash, holding up a pub or convenience store would be an easier option than getting pregnant, waiting 9 months, and then having and raising a child. (You don't get the baby bonus if you're not actually going to be raising it, of course.)
In South Australia, our slogan is "Welcome to South Australia, now officially the poorest, most drug ridden state in the nation." (Well, at least until Northern Territories decides to join the federation. But as that's not looking too likely, our reputation is safe.) The most recent census data has just been published. Adelaide is the oldest capital city in terms of residents' age, and we just beat out Hobart (Tasmania) by $5 a week for the lowest average income. The federal government has asked the SA government to take special organized crime action against biker gangs, called bikies here and to stamp out a burgeoning meth, or ice, epidemic. (The two seem to go together.)
The opposition leader in the state government has just called for a crack-down (no pun intended) on a supposed rash of drug-addicted women who have children for the $5000 baby bonus. I'm highly skeptical, of course. If you're a drug addict and want some fast cash, holding up a pub or convenience store would be an easier option than getting pregnant, waiting 9 months, and then having and raising a child. (You don't get the baby bonus if you're not actually going to be raising it, of course.)
Friday, July 13, 2007
Bad Carma
There's some Chinese saying about "bad luck comes but in threes, happiness comes but alone," or something like that. Anyways, now is a bad time to be a car in the Lewis family. About two weeks ago, I had a why-don't-I-sink-into-the-ground-and-die moment when I got into a minor car accident in Dave's mother's car (a combination of a moment of spaciness and driving while American). No one was hurt, and both cars involved were still drivable, but I did manage to rack up a pretty penny in damages (who knew a little plastic thingy could be so expensive??) Insurance covered most everything, though I did have to pay a hefty "you're young and irresponsible" surcharge. Dave's parents, and the other driver, I might add, were remarkably nice about the whole thing. (They probably realised that the humiliation of having to explain to the police AND the insurance agent that I was "the son's girlfriend" was punishment enough.)
However, the whole family is doing their part to make me feel better. Dave's brother managed to also get into a fender bender in the family's pick-up truck (called a Ute over here) only a few days after mine. And then to top it off, Dave's sister's car broke down on Wednesday and will need $800 dollars of repairs, none of it covered by insurance.
And it's not just cars. On Thursday the meat toaster (it looks like a big toaster, but it grills meat instead of bread) exploded. No one was injured and nothing was damaged besides the appliance itself (even the lamb inside was ok), but it sounded like a rifle shot. Dave's mother said sadly after it happened, "it was a wedding gift, and they don't make them any more." (Gee, can't imagine why not. Maybe it has to do with the whole exploding thing.)
And today, one of the taps in the shower broke. The taps are old and irreplaceable and completely calcified, so fixing the problem involved four hours of wrenching them apart, decalcifying the taps and then trying to put a million fiddly little parts back together again.
This is all in the past two weeks. It doesn't even include the TV breaking. Anyways, I'd better stop writing before my computer combusts or something.
However, the whole family is doing their part to make me feel better. Dave's brother managed to also get into a fender bender in the family's pick-up truck (called a Ute over here) only a few days after mine. And then to top it off, Dave's sister's car broke down on Wednesday and will need $800 dollars of repairs, none of it covered by insurance.
And it's not just cars. On Thursday the meat toaster (it looks like a big toaster, but it grills meat instead of bread) exploded. No one was injured and nothing was damaged besides the appliance itself (even the lamb inside was ok), but it sounded like a rifle shot. Dave's mother said sadly after it happened, "it was a wedding gift, and they don't make them any more." (Gee, can't imagine why not. Maybe it has to do with the whole exploding thing.)
And today, one of the taps in the shower broke. The taps are old and irreplaceable and completely calcified, so fixing the problem involved four hours of wrenching them apart, decalcifying the taps and then trying to put a million fiddly little parts back together again.
This is all in the past two weeks. It doesn't even include the TV breaking. Anyways, I'd better stop writing before my computer combusts or something.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Pushing up the roses?
In the Zoroastrian religion, dead bodies are left in tall "towers of silence" for vultures to pick apart. In the Lutheran faith, we turn bodies into mulch.
I just read that Swedish scientists have discovered a a way to compost human bodies, which is a more environmentally-friendly burial method than the old 'sticking a body in the ground,' as it avoids release of methane gas and other harmful chemicals a decomposing body lets off. To do so, first the body must be frozen, chopped up into tiny particles, and then finally placed in a potato sack (that's the main gist. There may have been one or two more steps.) Although distasteful to some, the Lutheran Church of Sweden has officially endorsed the new method. (Of course, it does help that the church has a 5% stake in the company.) The benefits of this method are unmistakable--not only can you save the environment, you can get a bumper crop of tomatoes, a fact probably not overlooked by those ever practical and thrifty Swedes.
I just read that Swedish scientists have discovered a a way to compost human bodies, which is a more environmentally-friendly burial method than the old 'sticking a body in the ground,' as it avoids release of methane gas and other harmful chemicals a decomposing body lets off. To do so, first the body must be frozen, chopped up into tiny particles, and then finally placed in a potato sack (that's the main gist. There may have been one or two more steps.) Although distasteful to some, the Lutheran Church of Sweden has officially endorsed the new method. (Of course, it does help that the church has a 5% stake in the company.) The benefits of this method are unmistakable--not only can you save the environment, you can get a bumper crop of tomatoes, a fact probably not overlooked by those ever practical and thrifty Swedes.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
fishn'chips
New York has placed itself at the controversial forefront of public health by banning transfats. It's Australia though, land of fish n' chips and the meat pie, which has one of the lowest transfat consumption rates of the modern world. According a radio interview with a public health official, Australians are already well below the recommended daily consumption rates. In fact, I think we might have been the only western industrialized nation to be below the recommended amounts. Indeed, margarines (way more popular than butter here) and deep fried foods are often made with olive oil, and are pretty much transfat free (many fish n' chip shops are owned by Greek and Lebanese families, which may have some connection with the use of olive oil.)
As an American, I also find it strange that corn syrup is basically nonexistent in foods here. Even packaged cookies, which in America would be jam-packed with corn syrup and partially hydrogenated fats, are corn-syrup and trans-fat free. Syrups, jams, canned foods also are without corn syrup as that hidden second ingredient. Of course, this doesn't stop Australia from being the third most obese nation in the world (after the US and the UK, of course), and I don't really know if heart disease and diabetes rates are lower than in the US. But at least I know that I'm not unknowingly killing my arteries or giving myself diabetes.
As an American, I also find it strange that corn syrup is basically nonexistent in foods here. Even packaged cookies, which in America would be jam-packed with corn syrup and partially hydrogenated fats, are corn-syrup and trans-fat free. Syrups, jams, canned foods also are without corn syrup as that hidden second ingredient. Of course, this doesn't stop Australia from being the third most obese nation in the world (after the US and the UK, of course), and I don't really know if heart disease and diabetes rates are lower than in the US. But at least I know that I'm not unknowingly killing my arteries or giving myself diabetes.
Friday, June 15, 2007
Always winter but never Christmas
While you are all preparing for the summer solstice, I am sitting at work wearing a knit cap (ok, admittedly it's because I put my hat on when my hair was wet, and now I'm forced to wear it all day or have hat hair from hell.) The sun has barely risen when leave for work at 7:30, and it's dark at 5:30. Also, it's gotten cold. Not objectively cold--though after several months of 30 degree weather, 15 degrees feels pretty chilly. And at night, it does get cold here, lows are around 5 degrees, though it was only 2 degrees last night. (There was actually FROST on the grass and car!). Of course, what makes the cold worse is that Australian home's aren't really all that prepared for it. Dave's house has heating in the kitchen/family room through the floor, and a little fireplace, which isn't bad, but it's a huge drafty room with high ceilings and lots of windows & doors. There's no heat at all upstairs, though we finally got a little mini heater. That's better than most. Few homes have any heating beyond a fire place, mainly because it doesn't often get this cold. My hostel has no heat either, just a little oil heater in the TV room, at reception, and a sauna out back. In fact, if you're sitting indoors, the cold seems worse than it actually is. Often I'll be at home shivering in a sweater and scarf. When I go out I'll bundle up with a jacket, scarf, and hat, but then when I go out I don't get more than a block without having to take it all off, and by the time I've gotten to my destination, I'll even have my sleeves pushed up. Of course, back inside I'm putting it all back on.
But what's most depressing is that we get the worst parts of winter--short days, rain--without the best parts, which is all the festive holidays designed to ward off winter depression. No Christmas, New Years, Hannukah, Kwanzaa, no anything, unless you count the Queen's Birthday. As such, there's no excuse to put up lots of decorations and lights, have lots of parties, and stuff yourself silly, and sing Christmas carols. Australians swear that their system is better. They say nothing beats a summertime Christmas, where you can go to the beach and have seafood and surf. But to me, I'd rather have my fun spaced out. Summertime is already fun enough without having to throw a major holiday. Summer is when you can have picnics at 8 pm and eat fresh berries and go camping and surfing or swimming outdoors and hiking--it doesn't need Christmas.
Winter, on the other hand, is just bloody depressing. And while you can surf and eat seafood in the summer when it's not Christmas, you definitely can't do special Christmasy things when its not actually Christmas. Somehow it's completely unacceptable to put up a tree, or sing 'deck the halls' or exchange presents unless it's actually December 25, nevermind that probably wasn't the actual date of Jesus' birth. Plus, since Christmas is traditionally a northern hemisphere holiday, all the traditions are designed for winter. A Christmas tree in the summer when it's light until 9 seems a bit pointless, and no one wants to eat ham and gingerbread and drink mulled wine or spiced cider when it's above 90 degrees. And of course, 'let it snow' doesn't have the same ring when you're at the beach. So it seems like Christmas in summer is a bit worthless--after all, all the traditional things aren't as important, and you can be off having fun regardless. But in the winter, you just have to be depressed and pasty with no respite.
But what's most depressing is that we get the worst parts of winter--short days, rain--without the best parts, which is all the festive holidays designed to ward off winter depression. No Christmas, New Years, Hannukah, Kwanzaa, no anything, unless you count the Queen's Birthday. As such, there's no excuse to put up lots of decorations and lights, have lots of parties, and stuff yourself silly, and sing Christmas carols. Australians swear that their system is better. They say nothing beats a summertime Christmas, where you can go to the beach and have seafood and surf. But to me, I'd rather have my fun spaced out. Summertime is already fun enough without having to throw a major holiday. Summer is when you can have picnics at 8 pm and eat fresh berries and go camping and surfing or swimming outdoors and hiking--it doesn't need Christmas.
Winter, on the other hand, is just bloody depressing. And while you can surf and eat seafood in the summer when it's not Christmas, you definitely can't do special Christmasy things when its not actually Christmas. Somehow it's completely unacceptable to put up a tree, or sing 'deck the halls' or exchange presents unless it's actually December 25, nevermind that probably wasn't the actual date of Jesus' birth. Plus, since Christmas is traditionally a northern hemisphere holiday, all the traditions are designed for winter. A Christmas tree in the summer when it's light until 9 seems a bit pointless, and no one wants to eat ham and gingerbread and drink mulled wine or spiced cider when it's above 90 degrees. And of course, 'let it snow' doesn't have the same ring when you're at the beach. So it seems like Christmas in summer is a bit worthless--after all, all the traditional things aren't as important, and you can be off having fun regardless. But in the winter, you just have to be depressed and pasty with no respite.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
oy mate!
look at those neville begs on that charlie wheeler!
10 points if you can figure out what that means.
10 points if you can figure out what that means.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
I'd like that one, over there
As I said earlier, trying to imitate an Adelaide accent is even harder than trying to do some sort of "Crocodile Dundee" accent, mainly because I can't get the 'a' sound down without sounding incredibly ridiculous. The worst (for me) is the word pastie, which is like a meat or veggie-filled turnover (or as the Aussies would say, a veg-filled turnover). Since it's not a decoration worn by a stripper, it's not pronounced "pay-stie" as I first thought, but neither is it "pasty" with short a (like in path). It's p-ah-stie, which when I say my tongue goes to the back of my mouth and it comes out all quavery, like I'm imitating a 19th century upper-class British grandmother. And of course, I can't say it without bursting out laughing. It's not exactly appropriate to walk into a bakery, order something in the manner of an effete British noble, and then burst out laughing, so I'm in a bit of a tight spot, since they're a fairly common part of an Australian diet. If you're not a fan of the gelatinous meat-filled pie, pasties are the way to go, since they're generally filled with actual recognizable vegetables and pieces of meat. When I'm with another Australian, I let them do the ordering. If I'm on my own, I generally end up pointing.
At the hostel we play the radio during the day, and it's on a popular music station. Unfortunately, they seem to play the same 4 songs over and over again. All by Kylie Minogue. It's no use changing stations because ALL stations play the same thing. Yes, I know she is the only world famous pop singer to come out of Australia. But please, couldn't they mix it up a little, with something more interesting, like, say, N'Sync, or perhaps a TV commercial jingle?
* * *
I read in the paper yesterday that the Dutch people who produce 'Big Brother' (If you're my mother, the show is about people who have to live with each other for months on end and have their lives videotaped and shown to millions) are planning a show called 'Big Donor' where three people compete for a kidney from a terminally ill woman. At the end, people vote on who should get the kidney, though the woman has the final say. Not quite sure what to say, except ethical considerations aside, is it even legal? Even the Netherlands must have laws against something like this, or perhaps there's an international law?
* * *
I read in the paper yesterday that the Dutch people who produce 'Big Brother' (If you're my mother, the show is about people who have to live with each other for months on end and have their lives videotaped and shown to millions) are planning a show called 'Big Donor' where three people compete for a kidney from a terminally ill woman. At the end, people vote on who should get the kidney, though the woman has the final say. Not quite sure what to say, except ethical considerations aside, is it even legal? Even the Netherlands must have laws against something like this, or perhaps there's an international law?
Saturday, May 26, 2007
G'day G'day
After almost three months in Australia, I'm getting accustomed to hearing Australian accents all the time. When I speak myself, I am quite conscious of my own American accent, especially the hardness of my Rs. I haven't picked up much of an Aussie accent, though my "g'day" has gotten pretty good. (Strangely enough though, when I'm watching television, it will sometimes take me quite awhile before I'm aware that the speaker is British or American. It seems that there's some sort of commonality to the TV news anchor or documentary narrator that spans all dialects of English.) The accent in Adelaide is a bit different from the standard Australian accent, it's formally called "cultivated Australian" and is much closer to British English. There are two other dialects, "broad" (think the Crocodile Hunter, RIP) and "standard" (think Nicole Kidman). For example, in Adelaide the word "rather" rhymes with how we pronounce "father", as do all words with a short a in the middle, like chance, path etc. People on the east coast say chance and rather the same way we do, except more nasally. Adelaidians claim it's because they were settled by second sons of wealthy British elites and pious German protestants instead of filthy convicts or Irish (which I guess would explain the huge preponderance of Anglican and Lutheran churches--there's literally almost a church on every corner in town). My guess is they preserved it over time for the pure snob factor. (no, actually people in Adelaide are very nice and friendly--though where did your father go to school again?). Another difference is elsewhere in Australia people say 'haitch' for the letter 'h', which in Adelaide might get you shot. Same goes with 'yous.'
Though also, some 's'es get pronounced as 'sh', for example assume becomes ashume etc. Occasionally, some one will say schedule like shedule. And of course, no one pronounces their Rs unless at the beginning of the word. Also, words like 'mate' and day get more of an 'ai' pronunciation, though less of that in Adelaide than in other parts of Australia. Which makes the Adelaide accent much harder to pick up, because it's actually more of a cross between an English and an Australian accent. I suppose English people might be better at imitating it though.
Though also, some 's'es get pronounced as 'sh', for example assume becomes ashume etc. Occasionally, some one will say schedule like shedule. And of course, no one pronounces their Rs unless at the beginning of the word. Also, words like 'mate' and day get more of an 'ai' pronunciation, though less of that in Adelaide than in other parts of Australia. Which makes the Adelaide accent much harder to pick up, because it's actually more of a cross between an English and an Australian accent. I suppose English people might be better at imitating it though.
Do you speak English? pt. 2
I went to a deli the other day, the kind where they assemble a sandwich per your instruction from behind a glass counter. First, I had to choose my type of bread. They had a bread that vaguely looked whole wheat, so I asked for the wheat bread. "Okay," said the woman, and she grabbed what looked like (to me) white bread. "No no--can I have that bread?" I pointed at the wheat bread.
"Oh, you mean the oat bread." she said. Things went along okay, as I remembered to pronounce the t in chicken fillet (rhymes with millet in Australian, not ballet). But then we got to the cheese section, and things became difficult. None of the cheeses looked terribly appealing, but there was an orange cheddar type cheese, so I asked for cheddar. The woman began to put this waxy white cheese on my sandwich.
"No wait--I want the orange one instead, what's that called" I said.
"Oh, you mean the Old English" she replied, giving me a bemused look. Next I asked for green bell pepper, and she stared at me like she had no clue what I was talking about. Finally, after more gesturing and pointing on my part, she said, "Oh, you mean the capsicum."
"Oh, you mean the oat bread." she said. Things went along okay, as I remembered to pronounce the t in chicken fillet (rhymes with millet in Australian, not ballet). But then we got to the cheese section, and things became difficult. None of the cheeses looked terribly appealing, but there was an orange cheddar type cheese, so I asked for cheddar. The woman began to put this waxy white cheese on my sandwich.
"No wait--I want the orange one instead, what's that called" I said.
"Oh, you mean the Old English" she replied, giving me a bemused look. Next I asked for green bell pepper, and she stared at me like she had no clue what I was talking about. Finally, after more gesturing and pointing on my part, she said, "Oh, you mean the capsicum."
Monday, May 21, 2007
pie floater
I finally had a pie floater, South Australia's main specialty dish. It consists of a meat pie floating in a bowl of pea soup sprinkled with a liberal serving of ketchup (hence the name, pie floater). It's a dish sold from carts on the street, generally at night for people leaving the bar who want a late night snack. Generally I think the later it is and more inebriated you are, the better a pie floater tastes. The cart has a selection of different types of meat pies (steak and kidney, steak and mushroom, chunky beef, etc.) and then a big vat of pea soup. You pick your pie, and then the woman ladles out a bowl of soup and places the pie on top. We got our pie floater to go, which isn't the best idea, because by the time the we got home the pie was completely soggy.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Grapes of Wrath redux
which, fyi, in South Australia is pronounced more like "the grapes of wroth"
Anyways, here are some pictures from the grape harvest: Top left: me in action (or is it
inaction?) Top right: putting grapes on the truck2nd row:me with my kill.
Next: the farmhouse
Below: the vineyard
Bottom: a row of grapes
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Do you speak English?
The other day I went to the supermarket to buy ingredients to make sushi. It was a couple of minutes before closing, and instead of searching the aisles for the rice, I thought it would be faster to ask. I walked up to an attendent and said, "excuse me, where can I find the rice."
she responded with a blank look. "what?" she said.
"um, do you know where the rice is?" I replied.
Again, she stared at me blankly, this time with a bit of panic. "what?" she said.
I was beginning to feel a bit desperate. Rice is a fairly simple word, and I couldn't think of any other way to say it. I tried agian, slowly, and as clearly as possible: "RICE."
Again, she looked at me blankly. "I don't know what you're saying."
Feeling very foolish, I tried to describe it. "Um, it's white, and you eat it in a bowl, with chopsticks" I mimed eating a bowl of rice, hoping no one else in the store was watching. I hadn't expected to have to do this in an English speaking country.
"Oh, RICE" she said, pronouncing it more like "Ray-uce" "I don't know where that is."
she responded with a blank look. "what?" she said.
"um, do you know where the rice is?" I replied.
Again, she stared at me blankly, this time with a bit of panic. "what?" she said.
I was beginning to feel a bit desperate. Rice is a fairly simple word, and I couldn't think of any other way to say it. I tried agian, slowly, and as clearly as possible: "RICE."
Again, she looked at me blankly. "I don't know what you're saying."
Feeling very foolish, I tried to describe it. "Um, it's white, and you eat it in a bowl, with chopsticks" I mimed eating a bowl of rice, hoping no one else in the store was watching. I hadn't expected to have to do this in an English speaking country.
"Oh, RICE" she said, pronouncing it more like "Ray-uce" "I don't know where that is."
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