For the past week, Rita has been a homemaker. We came back from vacation and her clinic informed her that there are very few elderly people left for her to stimulate with exercise. Or, in other words, her clinic has run out of work with two months in the year still to go.
I am baffled that a business can run this way, but it seems to be more or less normal here in Perth for business to hemorrhage money. Eric's office is an excellent example. On Melbourne Cup day (the infamous Australian day of celebration where everyone puts on their best, sluttiest dresses and watches a horse race on TV) Eric's office emptied at 11am. They went to a very nice restaurant which had been rented out to watch the race and lubricate clients. However, according to Eric, few people were talking to the clients. Instead, they got hammered all day, then went to the bar next door where the company credit card was already on file and the taps were once again open. This went on into the wee hours.
My office, which is full of Englishmen that couldn't give a "toss" about a horse race much less put on suits for it, watched it over lunch and then went back to work. If there hadn't been a TV set up for it, they wouldn't have watched it.
Sheena's office had an applause-o-meter (as noted in her comment somewhere). Everyone would applaud when they saw a very fancy hat, called a fascinator (Australia is not known for subtleties). And they got hammered too.
How can a business function like this? Sheena has had 5 minutes of work each day in an office that believes she is swamped. Rita's office has run out of clients for the last 1/6th of the year. Eric has had to pick up a supplementary job at Java Juice because he is a recruiter working partially on commission without a hope in hell of placing anyone. Not because he can't, but just because they are dead right now.
I'm pushing Rita to join Eric and work at Java Juice. It's not the worst gig in the world. I'll have an inexhaustible supply of wheat grass. Every boy's dream.
Digression: Rita and I went for a walk the night of The Cup, which is so popular in Melbourne that it has been dubbed a bank holiday. We walked past the Windsor Hotel, which was packed with Australians that were clearly unable to cope with the consequences of drinking all day and all night. Some girls were sitting on the curb in their unbelievably short dresses (in Perth, you aren't being risque unless you are hanging a bit of cheek). One girl was doing some good drunk crying, which is like crying except it's really confused that they look up in bewilderment occasionally. The guys had their untucked shirt tails sitting in pools of spilled beer, wearing their ties on their heads, and were trying to pick up these girls.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Thoughts from vacation
I have decided to scrap my big fat plan to relive Bali day by day as if Rita and I had been there overseeing elections. It's not that we didn't do enough stuff to warrant it; it's just that I don't want to be annoying. If I were sitting on the onset of a Canadian winter and someone in Australia took the time to detail every single pineapple in Bali, I'd probably become touchy.
I will however say this: I will forever have a problem with expensive vacation destinations. As it is, Rita and I are having a very tough time reasoning a four day trip to the south coast over Christmas. Feeling like a wealthy man for a week is a fantastic way to spend a vacation.
As we traveled through Bali I was constantly thinking: why didn't I arrange to backpack through Indonesia and Thailand as a teenager? Living on $15/day at the beach, traveling for $5 a ticket, eating spicy food and drinking cheap beer. That might have ruined me for life.
Some of the (German) divers that we met in Bali had owned dive shops in Thailand and Papua New Guinea. They were looking into opening the second dive shop in Burma, and they were buying property in Tulamben as a vacation home. My god. These people live and work in paradise doing something that I have to pay money for, and they make enough money to build a house in Bali? where is the justice in that?
To be fair, I guess that they'd be relatively unconcerned with moving away from family and friends. And they'd have to be ok with the occasional natural disaster or military coupe. One of the Thai dive shop owners was away from Aceh during the tsunamis, but he knew of a group that was diving while it came in. They were totally fine under the water. They went down: all good. They came up: everything destroyed and people dead.
It doesn't matter. You are apparently statistically safer in much of southeast Asia than you are in Europe. While that might seem a touch unbelievable (source unknown, too), going to Europe is not a guarantee that you won't get robbed or beat up on vacation. And European people have no problems with crapping on tourists and tourism.
Whereas. I can speak for the Balinese on this one: they know and appreciate that their economy is heavily based on tourism. As long as you are polite and friendly, they appreciate you coming to Bali and they want to make you happy. No ignoring you in cafes. No sneering at backpacks. And they'll always give you a fantastic price. It's also true of Thai people: no one in Australia had problems traveling in Thailand during the coupe, because tourism remained largely unaffected. They didn't want us tourists to not have a good time, after all.
It's really made me reevaluate my future traveling plans. Would I advise my children to backpack around Europe during university? I'd tell them to head straight to Bangkok and go from there. As for us, we'd both like to see more of the world. But I can't imagine that we'll stay away from Indonesia for too long.
The diving is too good.
I will however say this: I will forever have a problem with expensive vacation destinations. As it is, Rita and I are having a very tough time reasoning a four day trip to the south coast over Christmas. Feeling like a wealthy man for a week is a fantastic way to spend a vacation.
As we traveled through Bali I was constantly thinking: why didn't I arrange to backpack through Indonesia and Thailand as a teenager? Living on $15/day at the beach, traveling for $5 a ticket, eating spicy food and drinking cheap beer. That might have ruined me for life.
Some of the (German) divers that we met in Bali had owned dive shops in Thailand and Papua New Guinea. They were looking into opening the second dive shop in Burma, and they were buying property in Tulamben as a vacation home. My god. These people live and work in paradise doing something that I have to pay money for, and they make enough money to build a house in Bali? where is the justice in that?
To be fair, I guess that they'd be relatively unconcerned with moving away from family and friends. And they'd have to be ok with the occasional natural disaster or military coupe. One of the Thai dive shop owners was away from Aceh during the tsunamis, but he knew of a group that was diving while it came in. They were totally fine under the water. They went down: all good. They came up: everything destroyed and people dead.
It doesn't matter. You are apparently statistically safer in much of southeast Asia than you are in Europe. While that might seem a touch unbelievable (source unknown, too), going to Europe is not a guarantee that you won't get robbed or beat up on vacation. And European people have no problems with crapping on tourists and tourism.
Whereas. I can speak for the Balinese on this one: they know and appreciate that their economy is heavily based on tourism. As long as you are polite and friendly, they appreciate you coming to Bali and they want to make you happy. No ignoring you in cafes. No sneering at backpacks. And they'll always give you a fantastic price. It's also true of Thai people: no one in Australia had problems traveling in Thailand during the coupe, because tourism remained largely unaffected. They didn't want us tourists to not have a good time, after all.
It's really made me reevaluate my future traveling plans. Would I advise my children to backpack around Europe during university? I'd tell them to head straight to Bangkok and go from there. As for us, we'd both like to see more of the world. But I can't imagine that we'll stay away from Indonesia for too long.
The diving is too good.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
I'm fed up
I've been having a hell of a time with the computer. We've been editing pictures for days. I had a flickr batch ready to go, fat with all manner of tag, caption and title, when flickr uploader crashed on me. I wasn't myself for hours.
On top of that, I've been doing a computer programming course for the past three days. Sitting in a dark room staring at a computer from 9 to 5 does not put me in an agreeable frame of mind for doing the same at home. And yet here I am, addicted to punishment.
And THEN, we are trying to create a photobook online, and we spend an hour on that, and it crashes too. I was immediately rushed to the ice cream parlour. I just barely made it.
Here are the (initial) fruits of our labour: pictures from diving. If you don't enjoy the sh*t out of them, I am going to be seriously pissed.
In other Perth news, the Melbourne Cup was yesterday. This is a very important Victoria holiday, where people get dressed up, watch a horse race, and drink all day and all night. What's even more interesting, they hold this drinking tradition on a Tuesday. What's more, Australians really can't hold their liquor. More on this when I am not so mad at the computer.
On top of that, I've been doing a computer programming course for the past three days. Sitting in a dark room staring at a computer from 9 to 5 does not put me in an agreeable frame of mind for doing the same at home. And yet here I am, addicted to punishment.
And THEN, we are trying to create a photobook online, and we spend an hour on that, and it crashes too. I was immediately rushed to the ice cream parlour. I just barely made it.
Here are the (initial) fruits of our labour: pictures from diving. If you don't enjoy the sh*t out of them, I am going to be seriously pissed.
In other Perth news, the Melbourne Cup was yesterday. This is a very important Victoria holiday, where people get dressed up, watch a horse race, and drink all day and all night. What's even more interesting, they hold this drinking tradition on a Tuesday. What's more, Australians really can't hold their liquor. More on this when I am not so mad at the computer.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Something to assuage your thirst for images
We're moving quickly to filter our pictures from 1,000 down to a palatable 24. In the meantime, enjoy a diving video of Rita at 20m under the sea, at Kubu coral gardens in Tulamben. This production really opened my eyes; I am considering a move to film. Too much?
In other news, I am sorely regretting the fact that I didn't discover our camera's underwater setting until after we dove the wreck. I'm mildly soothed by the fact that the underwater visibility was 15m, which is amazing by most standards but not so hot for trying to shoot a 120m long ship.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Day 1: Under the sea in Tulamben
We're back from six wonderful days in Bali, and all five loads of laundry are finished. Our hands are full this time with over 1200 pictures from two cameras to delete filter through, and I have twice as many days with twice as many traveling companions to blog about. In order to simplify things - but also to allow me to remember things more creatively accurately - I'll have to write about Bali as a series. As I am not Quentin Tarantino, we'll begin at the beginning.
Having recently received our scuba diving degrees (the prestigious B.SD), Rita and I spent the first two days scuba diving in northern Bali. Southern Bali is the tourism centre and has the world-famous surfing, club districts, shopping, eating, and fancy hotels, as well as a few chilled-out areas. Northern Bali is for diving, volcano trekking, and surrounding yourself with Balinese people (as opposed to Australians and Russians). The next time we're in Bali, we'll probably spend most of our time in the north. I don't want an omlette and oj for breakfast; I want nasi goreng and a pint of Balinese coffee swimming with grinds.
We went with a dive shop in Tulamben called Ocean Sun which is run by Ricardo, the most relaxed German in the world. He took us on a thrilling drive over volcanoes with hair-pin switchbacks, through jungles, past rice paddies, and around clouds of motorcycles dappled with impossibly large trucks on the little 1.5 lane roads.
Ricardo is all about diving on a budget; he offers his own spartan rooms for $10/night, equipped with cold water and a fan. For an extra ten he booked us at the place across the road, where we lavishly refreshed ourselves with hot showers and slept luxuriously with a/c. Sometimes you have to go all out. And my hair goes all frizzy with no a/c.
Ocean Sun had also been the reason for my own personal early-life crisis earlier this month; they offer a full two month beginner-to-divemaster scuba course for $2300, which includes everything except lunch and dinner, which is $1 per meal anyway. At the end of the course you can apply for PADI divemaster certification, which allows you to write your own holiday ticket, permanently. Rita and I only narrowly decided that we couldn't afford it, and that decision took a week. It was an exciting week.
On the first day we dived the Liberty wreck, which is a 120m long coral reef née transport ship. This is Bali's primary diving attraction, and it has spurned an entire economy of scuba gear porters. Under the water we saw a garden of sand eels, a school of huge jackfish, a reef shark, a blue-spotted ray, and way too many other things to mention. On the beach, we saw tiny Balinese women carrying two to three scuba tanks on their heads. The tanks each weigh 18kg; to quote Rita, we had to see it to believe it. They charge pennies, but the income is very important to the local economy. We hung out with the goats and chickens while our gear was being loaded up.
The pictures will be up soon; we'll also post them in batches and we'll try to keep it concise. If anyone out there needs to have their arm twisted a bit to move to Bali and become a professional diver, I am your man.
Having recently received our scuba diving degrees (the prestigious B.SD), Rita and I spent the first two days scuba diving in northern Bali. Southern Bali is the tourism centre and has the world-famous surfing, club districts, shopping, eating, and fancy hotels, as well as a few chilled-out areas. Northern Bali is for diving, volcano trekking, and surrounding yourself with Balinese people (as opposed to Australians and Russians). The next time we're in Bali, we'll probably spend most of our time in the north. I don't want an omlette and oj for breakfast; I want nasi goreng and a pint of Balinese coffee swimming with grinds.
We went with a dive shop in Tulamben called Ocean Sun which is run by Ricardo, the most relaxed German in the world. He took us on a thrilling drive over volcanoes with hair-pin switchbacks, through jungles, past rice paddies, and around clouds of motorcycles dappled with impossibly large trucks on the little 1.5 lane roads.
Ricardo is all about diving on a budget; he offers his own spartan rooms for $10/night, equipped with cold water and a fan. For an extra ten he booked us at the place across the road, where we lavishly refreshed ourselves with hot showers and slept luxuriously with a/c. Sometimes you have to go all out. And my hair goes all frizzy with no a/c.
Ocean Sun had also been the reason for my own personal early-life crisis earlier this month; they offer a full two month beginner-to-divemaster scuba course for $2300, which includes everything except lunch and dinner, which is $1 per meal anyway. At the end of the course you can apply for PADI divemaster certification, which allows you to write your own holiday ticket, permanently. Rita and I only narrowly decided that we couldn't afford it, and that decision took a week. It was an exciting week.
On the first day we dived the Liberty wreck, which is a 120m long coral reef née transport ship. This is Bali's primary diving attraction, and it has spurned an entire economy of scuba gear porters. Under the water we saw a garden of sand eels, a school of huge jackfish, a reef shark, a blue-spotted ray, and way too many other things to mention. On the beach, we saw tiny Balinese women carrying two to three scuba tanks on their heads. The tanks each weigh 18kg; to quote Rita, we had to see it to believe it. They charge pennies, but the income is very important to the local economy. We hung out with the goats and chickens while our gear was being loaded up.
The pictures will be up soon; we'll also post them in batches and we'll try to keep it concise. If anyone out there needs to have their arm twisted a bit to move to Bali and become a professional diver, I am your man.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Hasta la vista, baby
We're leaving for Bali in five hours! Rarely will I place a non-sarcastic exclamation mark (the grammatical equivalent of a poodle's bouncy ball), but I think it'll be ok here.
We have one week to conquer an entire island. The following itinerary has been proposed:
Sunday - Arrive at 11pm, have celebratory drinks. We'll squeeze in some Indonesian television, which will show a repeat of the Chinese teenager battle of the bands. I will keep an eye out for the commercial featuring the beans in a can.
Monday - Wake up early and enjoy a free hotel breakfast. This will hopefully be fried rice with a fried egg on top. The other tasty variation is the noodles with fried egg on top. Then we meet our ride to Tulamben, which is where we'll be diving for the next two days. It's a three hour drive, and I hope to capture a few shots of tiny scooters laden with outrageous cargo, or a preponderance of very small children.
Upon arriving in Tulamben, we'll dive the USAT Liberty wreck. This was a WW2 cargo ship, until it hit a mine and was beached. Then it was a beached cargo ship, until the volcano erupted and power-slammed it into the ocean. Then it was a sunk cargo ship, until coral took a liking to it. Now it is a boat-shaped reef.
Tuesday - Finish diving the Liberty and surrounding reefs, and check out a few of the supremely photogenic northern fishing villages. We will hopefully drive back through Sideman and Candidasa, which is apparently the most beautiful road in Bali. Candidasa used to have an excellent coral reef, but it was blown up by developers to make cement. Stunning, isn't it.
Eric and Sheena arrive tonight. We meet them at the hotel in Nusa Dua and party until we poop.
Wednesday - A generally laid back day. We'll get a surf lesson in the morning from the local guys, and we'll walk the beach promenade of Nusa Dua. Rita will teach Sheena how to haggle like a Greek. We'll then return to the hotel, where Rita will show Sheena how to bake bougatsa. Eric and I will retire to a game of backgammon and mango juice. After Eric has been thoroughly defeated, we'll try to find a restaurant that will serve us salt and lime seafood that was living until just after we ordered it. If the sand under the table is not cleanly raked, I will withhold my $1 tip.
Thursday - Island tour. We will forgo the traditional Balinese dance show, because 27 dissonant metal xylophones at 7:30am gets me a bit cranky. We will go to the monkey rainforest, where I will covertly put a banana in Rita's pocket and watch mayhem ensue. No pictures can be taken, because these monkeys are fierce kleptomaniacs (Tom, is this how you derive your last name?) and will steal the camera. Lunch overlooking the volcano will be a highlight, as will the natural sulfur hot springs of Lovina. I expect to be cleansed, dammit.
Friday - Sheena and Rita will have the last of their 18 massages. We'll check out the world-famous surf spots on southern Bali and take pictures. Seminyak is also on the list, home to the very poshest restaurants and shops in Bali. I'm keen to see what that looks like, from afar. We'll find an all-night drinking spot and live it up big on our last night. Eric doesn't want to even go to bed, as our flight is early the next morning. I may turn passive aggressive and just fall asleep in the bar, but I'll try my hardest not to.
Saturday - Return home, go straight to beach. Everyone in my office teases me that I'm just on vacation for the whole year, so I might as well live up to expectations.
We have one week to conquer an entire island. The following itinerary has been proposed:
Sunday - Arrive at 11pm, have celebratory drinks. We'll squeeze in some Indonesian television, which will show a repeat of the Chinese teenager battle of the bands. I will keep an eye out for the commercial featuring the beans in a can.
Monday - Wake up early and enjoy a free hotel breakfast. This will hopefully be fried rice with a fried egg on top. The other tasty variation is the noodles with fried egg on top. Then we meet our ride to Tulamben, which is where we'll be diving for the next two days. It's a three hour drive, and I hope to capture a few shots of tiny scooters laden with outrageous cargo, or a preponderance of very small children.
Upon arriving in Tulamben, we'll dive the USAT Liberty wreck. This was a WW2 cargo ship, until it hit a mine and was beached. Then it was a beached cargo ship, until the volcano erupted and power-slammed it into the ocean. Then it was a sunk cargo ship, until coral took a liking to it. Now it is a boat-shaped reef.
Tuesday - Finish diving the Liberty and surrounding reefs, and check out a few of the supremely photogenic northern fishing villages. We will hopefully drive back through Sideman and Candidasa, which is apparently the most beautiful road in Bali. Candidasa used to have an excellent coral reef, but it was blown up by developers to make cement. Stunning, isn't it.
Eric and Sheena arrive tonight. We meet them at the hotel in Nusa Dua and party until we poop.
Wednesday - A generally laid back day. We'll get a surf lesson in the morning from the local guys, and we'll walk the beach promenade of Nusa Dua. Rita will teach Sheena how to haggle like a Greek. We'll then return to the hotel, where Rita will show Sheena how to bake bougatsa. Eric and I will retire to a game of backgammon and mango juice. After Eric has been thoroughly defeated, we'll try to find a restaurant that will serve us salt and lime seafood that was living until just after we ordered it. If the sand under the table is not cleanly raked, I will withhold my $1 tip.
Thursday - Island tour. We will forgo the traditional Balinese dance show, because 27 dissonant metal xylophones at 7:30am gets me a bit cranky. We will go to the monkey rainforest, where I will covertly put a banana in Rita's pocket and watch mayhem ensue. No pictures can be taken, because these monkeys are fierce kleptomaniacs (Tom, is this how you derive your last name?) and will steal the camera. Lunch overlooking the volcano will be a highlight, as will the natural sulfur hot springs of Lovina. I expect to be cleansed, dammit.
Friday - Sheena and Rita will have the last of their 18 massages. We'll check out the world-famous surf spots on southern Bali and take pictures. Seminyak is also on the list, home to the very poshest restaurants and shops in Bali. I'm keen to see what that looks like, from afar. We'll find an all-night drinking spot and live it up big on our last night. Eric doesn't want to even go to bed, as our flight is early the next morning. I may turn passive aggressive and just fall asleep in the bar, but I'll try my hardest not to.
Saturday - Return home, go straight to beach. Everyone in my office teases me that I'm just on vacation for the whole year, so I might as well live up to expectations.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Existential thoughts
I'd like to take some time out today from my usual depictions of hairy Australian spiders to put down thoughts on a topic dear to my heart: myself. Occasionally, when chatting with folks in Toronto, I will hear "yah, sorry, I haven't been keeping up with the blog". What gives?
Or, more accurately, why, on this auspicious week of 100 posts, would anyone think that I was doing this for any other reason than myself?
What I have come to realize is that my blog is not a diary. It was supposed to be one. It was supposed to be a nice collection of travel writing. What it has become is, well, not exactly that. More like a collection of editorials. With some leaf hating thrown in. And an existential metamorphosis.
I used to decry writing/blogging/crying as self-indulgent and a bit feminine. Now, I realize that there is nothing I'd rather be doing in my spare time than being self-indulgent (I can't say the same thing about being feminine). So I post blogs about funny things that happened or, occasionally, on why the Leafs are at their core the worst hockey team ever. And occasionally, when no one is around and I have the house to myself, I will lock the door and just have a really, good, cry. I'm an artiste.
I will admit: I do get a pang of pleasure after I write a new post. It's a little feeling of accomplishment pang, and that's why I post this blog. I don't post everything that I write, and it always has to pass the "Rita filter" for nonsense (she'll usually strike any analogy that involves pedophiles or puppies).
But this blog has had an unfortunate side effect. Sometimes when I speak to people on the phone, they are apologetic for not following the blog and thus not knowing what's going on. And so I reiterate: What gives?
I have considered not writing about traveling in favour of writing about funny things I see on the way to work (dolphins, this morning), but that would be dishonest. This trip is just giving me way too much material right now to censor out. Tomorrow, I am sailing for a team in the state championships. How am I not going to write about that? Especially if I have to pee off the boat half-way through the race.
So, to the point, if you don't read this blog, don't worry about it. I don't care.
But more to the point, if you are a trendy magazine editor looking for an edgy writer with a love of Mexican food, and you are not reading this blog, you really should be.
I also do weddings.
Or, more accurately, why, on this auspicious week of 100 posts, would anyone think that I was doing this for any other reason than myself?
What I have come to realize is that my blog is not a diary. It was supposed to be one. It was supposed to be a nice collection of travel writing. What it has become is, well, not exactly that. More like a collection of editorials. With some leaf hating thrown in. And an existential metamorphosis.
I used to decry writing/blogging/crying as self-indulgent and a bit feminine. Now, I realize that there is nothing I'd rather be doing in my spare time than being self-indulgent (I can't say the same thing about being feminine). So I post blogs about funny things that happened or, occasionally, on why the Leafs are at their core the worst hockey team ever. And occasionally, when no one is around and I have the house to myself, I will lock the door and just have a really, good, cry. I'm an artiste.
I will admit: I do get a pang of pleasure after I write a new post. It's a little feeling of accomplishment pang, and that's why I post this blog. I don't post everything that I write, and it always has to pass the "Rita filter" for nonsense (she'll usually strike any analogy that involves pedophiles or puppies).
But this blog has had an unfortunate side effect. Sometimes when I speak to people on the phone, they are apologetic for not following the blog and thus not knowing what's going on. And so I reiterate: What gives?
I have considered not writing about traveling in favour of writing about funny things I see on the way to work (dolphins, this morning), but that would be dishonest. This trip is just giving me way too much material right now to censor out. Tomorrow, I am sailing for a team in the state championships. How am I not going to write about that? Especially if I have to pee off the boat half-way through the race.
So, to the point, if you don't read this blog, don't worry about it. I don't care.
But more to the point, if you are a trendy magazine editor looking for an edgy writer with a love of Mexican food, and you are not reading this blog, you really should be.
I also do weddings.
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