Sunburnt Down Under

IIHF Division II Hockey Championship, Day Five: Last Day of School Edition

2010-04-20T07:17:00.000-07:00

Final day of the tournament
And so we come to the end of a hockey-filled week in Mexico City. Five days, fifteen games, all for the low, low price of $C33. Walking into the Pista de Hielo Lomas Verdes, with its refrigerated air, was like stepping back into Canada. After eight months in Mexico, it was the perfect antidote to homesickness. For a week I had the good fortune to lose myself in the poetry of the game, sometimes played well, sometimes played frustratingly poorly, but always with a passion that any Canadian would recognize.

At times, the stands were nearly empty (I’m pretty sure I was the non-employee who attended every game; make of that what you will). All the better to focus on the game itself, stripped of any imagined patriotic, ethnic or nationalist significance. The teams all represented different countries, but I had no horse in this race. I just wanted to see some good hockey.

Canadians, it will surprise no one, take their hockey way too seriously, to the point that it sometimes stands in for our national character. If Team Canada had lost at the Olympics, as it easily could have, you can be sure that the usual suspects would have weighed in about what this meant for the country (hint: nothing good). As it happens, “we” won, and instead Canadians across the country basked in the reflected glory of “our” Olympians.

Of course, we regular Canadians have no right to even this indirect glory. The triumph belongs to the players alone, and perhaps their families and friends. It has nothing to do with “Canada.”

What’s good about the game is in the game itself. This basic truth is a bit clearer in an empty arena, surrounded only by the friends and family members of the players giving it their all for the 60 minutes it takes to win or lose a game. The victories and defeats are theirs, and theirs alone. As spectators, we can only watch and admire. Claiming victory for “our” team is presumptuous.

This is even clear during Mexico’s matches, when the arena was packed with cheering fans. The arena, though, is small – capacity of maybe a thousand or so – and I’m told that everyone in that arena had some connection with the minuscule world of Mexican hockey. The cheers were for Mexico, but they were also underpinned by personal relationships.

Too often, sport is hijacked by opportunists in support of ideologies and agendas that have nothing to do with either the people playing the game or the game itself. Nationalism. Beer. Support for the military and wars. Civic pride. Sometimes this is harmless fun: sports are always more fun when you’re cheering for or against a team, and you have to choose a side somehow.

But it can also go too far, such as when a city ponies up tax money to help pay for a private arena, or when Don Cherry disgracefully uses his Coach’s Corner pulpit to push the idiotic “support our troops” bludgeon to shout down those of us who believe that Canada’s military involvement in Afghanistan is a tragic mistake that is wasting Canadian lives and money in support of foolish, unworkable policies. Players may be motivated by historic grudges, but we as spectators have no right to bring our own to the match and should be wary of doing so.

Hockey, like any sport played well, is culture; it’s art in motion. It possesses an intrinsic value too often obscured by whether “our” side wins or loses. To watch hockey, as a Canadian, in Mexico, away from the jingoism, commercialism and nationalism of the Olympics and Hockey Night in Canada, is to appreciate anew the game for what it is: fast, sometimes brutal, exciting, elegant, and filled with passion.

It was worth every penny.

Bah. Enough already with the mushiness. On to the recaps!

Day Five: Saturday, April 17, 2010
Australia 5, Belgium 2
I’ve been trying to figure out how to describe Australia’s style of play. They don’t have Spain’s explosive speed, though they’re not slow. They lack Belgium’s fluidity, but they can skate and they certainly play like a cohesive unit. They’re not built like tanks like the Bulgarians, but they’re a strong, physical team. Rather, they possess a superior complete game: if no one factor stands out, neither does one notice many systemic flaws.

Oh, and they’re lucky enough to have a great goalie. He stood tall for the Aussies in the first and second periods especially, stopping some quality Belgian chances. And when he was finished holding the fort, frustrating Belgium, Australia’s offence grabbed the puck and took care of business at the other end of the ice. In the end, it looks like this game was a tale of two goaltenders, and today at least, Australia came out on top.

Great goaltending, good defence and good offence. Yeah, I guess that’ll win you some games.

Spain 9, Turkey 1
This game felt like the last day of school: everyone knows how it’s going to end and everyone’s already received their report cards, but you still have to show up. Spain, well, Spain played like a team that had already won the tournament, which means they won without running up the score. After a six-goal first period, they let up considerably, contenting themselves with containing Turkey’s weak counter-attack. And in keeping with the anti-climatic nature of the game, Spain’s postgame on-ice celebration was much more subdued than the elation they expressed after the narrowly beat the upstart Mexican team the previous night.

That’s not to say that Turkey didn’t have their moments, even in such a lopsided game. Their goalie made a spectacular diving glove save in the second period, maybe one of the best of the tournament. After the save, his teammates celebrated with him: a small victory in a tough game.

Bulgaria 5, Mexico 2
After Mexico’s last hard-fought loss against Spain, I had thought that Mexico had a short at winning this game. However, there would be no miracle on ice tonight. Even though Mexico was first on the board with a nice passing play (Mexico doesn’t pass much, but seem to score every time they do) about five minutes into the game, Bulgaria quickly tied it. By the end of the first period, Bulgaria had staked an insurmountable 4-1 lead.

For the rest of the game, Bulgaria contented themselves with protecting their lead against a Mexican team that continued to exhibit the same strengths (speed, an aggressive forecheck, good defence, bursts of individual flair and talent) and weaknesses (inability to set up plays quickly, passing, inability to capitalize on scoring chances) they had throughout the tournament. Bulgaria, meanwhile, managed to salvage a second win in what has to have been a disappointing tournament for a team whose talent didn’t seem to match their 2-3 record.

Final Thoughts and Stray Observations

So that’s how it ends: undefeated Spain moving up to Division I, Australia finishing second, Belgium third, Bulgaria fourth, Mexico fifth, and Turkey relegated to Division III.

Congrats to Spain on a fantastic tournament. But, if the catcalls from the Mexican puck bunnies during the awards ceremony are anything to go by, the Australian team won where it counts.

****

The PA system could have been better. The sound was muddy and it completely cut out randomly throughout the tournament. During the awards presentation that followed the Mexico-Bulgaria game, I couldn’t understand what the individual awards were for. And the announcer was speaking in English.

The erratic PA system led to a disturbing moment at the beginning of the Mexico-Bulgaria game, in which the announcer called for a moment of silence for someone who had died. I can’t tell you more than that because all I could make out was something along the lines of (said in English) “please stand to pay respects for… brutally murdered … young girl … be sorely missed,” followed by a song in Spanish. Very uncomfortable, at least for me.

****

I don’t watch enough international hockey to know if this is common, but I really enjoyed how the teams saluted the crowd and their fans at the end of each game, raising their sticks in the air. Even nicer that the crowds unanimously returned the favour to all the teams. Nice display of sportsmanship.

****

On the third day of the tournament, a bus wrangler guy with a raspy voice helped me get the right bus from the metro station to the arena. We talked a bit about the tournament. This morning (Day Five), he asked me for the score in the Mexico-Spain game, and I told him Mexico lost 4-2, but played really well.

“No me mientes!” he exclaimed – don’t lie to me! “Mexico is terrible at hockey!”

Dude, just for the record, and on the extremely remote chance that you ever read this, I wasn’t kidding. Mexico has potential. If they play the way they played against Spain, that is.

****

I wrote part of this article at an American-themed restaurant next to the arena. Signs that it’s an American-themed restaurant? Wings and burgers on the menu, which also included Duff beer and Krusty Burgers for the kids (the burgers, not the beer). And a life-size Sgt. Rock-style toy soldier army statue out front, leaning forward, growling, gun at the ready. Give that soldier a cigar and the image would be complete.

****

Did you know that one can access the engines of Mexico City’s microbuses, those mainly green VW-sized minivans that provide an important part of the city’s public transit, from inside the bus? I found this out on the way home after Day Four’s games. Bus started to stall, or rev too much, or something, during a rainstorm, and they opened her up, took a look, and then drove her for about another kilometer – with the cover off – before giving up and flagging us down another bus. Sure, it was a bit odd hearing, seeing and smelling a broken engine from the inside of the bus, but the transit system here is still more efficient than Ottawa’s.

****

After watching three live games a day for five of the last seven days, I can now turn my attention to the first round of the NHL playoffs. Truly an embarrassment of hockey riches.

IIHF Division II Hockey Championship, Day Four: Playoff Hockey!

2010-04-17T08:41:00.000-07:00

Five quick notes from Day Four of the tournament.

1. Every time a team scores (and there have been a hell of a lot of goals in the past four days), the announcer plays canned applause, followed by that overused Gary Glitter abomination. I wish he’d stop. When the stands are empty (generally, the first two games of the day), it just reinforces how empty the arena is. When they’re full, you don’t need it.

Seriously. Canned applause invites unfavourable comparisons to Montreal Expos games at the cavernous and reliably deserted Big O before they mercifully moved the team out of town.

2. While it’s easy to make fun of soccer’s low-scoring, coma-inducing tendencies, in hockey, blowouts aren’t that exciting either. Counting today, of the tournament’s 12 games, only four have been competitive (with either team having a chance to win it going into the third), and one of those was eventually decided by a five-goal margin.

The result? In the absence of any serious tension or (to date) major upsets, my enjoyment of this tournament has come largely as a result of seeing good plays well executed.

3. I was reminded today by a fellow who works for the Mexican hockey team that for the Mexican players (and doubtless for the other teams as well), it’s an accomplishment just to be playing Division II hockey. In Canada, our world championship teams “suffer” from a lack of preparation because the players usually join the team once their NHL teams are out of the playoffs. In Mexico, not only did some of the players get to town only a week or so ago, but the best Mexican players are often unavailable because the team can’t afford to pay their regular teams (sometimes AHL franchises and the like) enough insurance money.

Remembering things like that, and the fact that these are players who aren’t playing 80-plus games a year at an elite level, makes every goal, good play and blocked shot that much more impressive.

4. I think I mentioned this before, but of the away teams, Australian and Spanish fans are the noisiest and most exuberant, and on a per-fan basis, nobody can touch the Aussies.

5. Probably the oddest thing about this tournament is that they don’t serve alcohol in the arena. That’s right: spectators willingly gather to watch a sporting event for its own merits, without the promise of booze. That’s more than can be said about baseball.

Day Four: Friday, April 16, 2010
Belgium 5, Bulgaria 4
Keep in mind that I’ve never seen any of these teams play before this week, but I can’t imagine that the Bulgarian team is very happy with their tournament: crushing Turkey only to be crushed in return by Australia and (unsurprisingly) Spain, and then losing a close game to Belgium. Despite its closeness, Bulgaria never held a lead, though they managed to tie it twice in the second (3-3 and then 4-4), before finally ceding the winning fifth goal in the third, as Belgium capitalized on a five-minute major with that period’s only goal.

As with the other games, Bulgaria has skill and discipline, though Belgium was the faster team. Bulgaria was also helped by some stellar goaltending, notably for a spell in the second period in which Belgium, up 4-3 attacked hard but to no avail. While this game lacked the speed and end-to-end action of the previous day’s Belgium-Spain game, it was nice to finally see a game in which the outcome was in doubt right to the end.

Australia 10, Turkey 1
Despite the lopsided score, this one seemed to have the potential to be much, much worse for Turkey. Australia, thankfully, refrained from completely humiliating Turkey: during a short-handed three-on-two in the second, for example, the Australian player elected to dump the puck into the corner rather than press the advantage. When you already know that you’re going to win, there’s no point in hammering home the point.

And since Turkey’s had such a rough tournament, kudos to their fans who cheered so enthusiastically when Turkey posted their one goal of the game. Very classy.

On an unrelated note, the announcer played Men At Work’s “Down Under” after several of Australia’s goals. Nice to see they’re having fun up in the booth.

Spain 4, Mexico 2
Oh, man. Given the two countries’ history, Spain versus Mexico was destined to be the tournament’s marquee game, and the two teams delivered a tense, exciting game, with a huge assist from the overcapacity crowd. As with Mexico’s first game, the stands were packed, and fans were lined up two deep behind the glass in the end zones. The cheering started in earnest eight minutes before the game itself began. The atmosphere was as electric as any NHL playoff game.

The festive mood carried over to the game itself, with the crowd cheering every hit in a physical game. And Mexico, somewhat to my surprise, gave them lots to cheer about. Where Belgium tried (and failed) to skate with the faster, skilled Spanish side, Mexico concentrated on playing smart, picking their chances and (in the first few minutes) icing the puck a lot. As their reward, where Belgium finally collapsed in the third, Mexico stayed with Spain to the bitter end.

Spain opened the scoring first, with a power-play goal in the first period on the second of consecutive Mexican penalties. By the midway point of the second, the tournament’s best team was up 2-0 over the home team.

Still, helped by good defencee and some fine goaltending (including stoning Spain on a breakaway in the third), Mexico never gave up, and were rewarded for their persistence with a power-play goal with 20 seconds to go in the second period to make the score 2-1. The crowd? Deafening.

And when they tied it in the third, they got even louder. Mexico actually had a chance to win this one, and in fact they had every opportunity. Not only did the teams spend a lot of time in the Spanish end of the rink, but Spain took several penalties, including a few five-on-threes and a five-minute major to end the game. Still, Mexico was unable to translate these advantages into goals.

For all their speed and skill, from my vantage point in the stands, it looked like the Mexican players could not complete a pass to save their lives. Instead, they’d opt for the wraparaound, or for the dramatic deke. When the forwards would pass to the defence, it would take the defenceman a second or two to set up for the shot, giving Spain precious time to move into position.

In the end, it took a perfect deflection in front of the Mexican net from a pass from the middle of the left circle to put Spain ahead for good, with just over eight-and-a-half minutes to go in the third. A short-handed empty-net goal finished it all.

Spain celebrated like they’d won the Stanley Cup. Mexico, looking dejected, but not that dejected, were saluted with verve by their fans, and with good reason. Against the best team in the tournament, and in a tournament in which tight games have been the exception, Mexico more than held their own. Their defence and goaltending were excellent, and while they need to work on their offence, they demonstrated both great individual talent and team potential. If, for countries in which hockey is more curiosity than religion, simply getting to the Division II level is an accomplishment, Mexico proved that they belong there, and have the potential to go even higher.

Final Thoughts
With Spain (4-0) having sewn up first place and a trip to Division I, and Turkey (0-4) heading to Division III, second through fifth are the only spots still up for grabs. In a fortuitous bit of scheduling, the final day’s games see Australia (3-1) and Belgium (3-1) fight it out for second, and Bulgaria (1-3) and Mexico (1-3) battle for fourth. These two games should be exciting; for the first time in the tournament, it’s not immediately clear who’s going to win. As for the other game, as I said the other day, it’s too bad that Turkey’s final game will be against Spain.

IIHF Division II Hockey Championship, Day Three: Mexican Heartbreaker

2010-04-15T11:23:00.000-07:00

Putting aside the games themselves for a moment, there’s one question that I’m sure readers of these tiny, pithy dispatches (hi, Dad!) are wondering: “What music do they play during hockey games in Mexico?”

Short answer: Lots of Rage Against the Machine and The Strokes. I’m not just talking “Bombtrack” or “Wake Up” (the Matrix theme): they go deep into Rage’s catalogue. In the three days of the tournament, I’ve even heard a truncated version of NWA’s “Fuck Tha Police” (cut off halfway through the first “fuck,” unfortunately). That was pretty cool: you won’t be hearing that at the ACC anytime soon.

The music has, for the most part, been surprisingly decent, seemingly selected by someone with an affinity for British and what used to be called “Alternative” music back in the day. They still play some typical arena fare – generic grunge and dance music, “We Will Rock You” and that Gary Glitter annoyance – which are probably required by the terms of the IIHF tournament contract, but it’s been balanced off by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, the Killers, the Kills, and Anthrax and Public Enemy doing “Bring the Noise.” I even heard “Boys Don’t Cry” by The Cure, surely one of the least sporty songs ever. And has anyone ever heard VHS or Beta’s fantastic and completely arena-appropriate “Night on Fire” during a Canadian hockey game?

One of the afternoon games even featured not only Motorhead (“Ace of Spades,” natch), but some hyper-aggressive metal that wouldn’t be let within 100 kms of an NHL arena.

Canada was also represented by Hot Hot Heat (“Goodnight Goodnight”), and even by Stompin’ Tom, doing “Sudbury Saturday Night,” of all things – just kidding! If you like hockey, you can probably guess what Stompin' Tom song played. Oh, and a special appearance by Skid Row’s “Youth Gone Wild.”

Ah, memories. I still have my Skid Row “Skids Across Canada” T-Shirt from when they opened for Aerosmith on their P.U.M.P. tour, back in 1863.

I regret nothing.

What I haven’t heard, outside of Mexico’s first game and the Mexican Hat Dance, which gets played every time Mexico scores, is any Mexican music, or any music in Spanish for that matter. The closest you get is Pitbull’s “I Know You Want Me” and “Hotel Room Service,” which are also at the top of the metro bootleg CD vendors chart (just behind the Black Eyed Peas’ assembled-by-machines-for-human-enjoyment hit “I’ve Got a Feeling”).

On to the recap! (No photos, unfortunately. My stupid camera died after one shot. You’ll just have to paint pictures with your mind.)

Day Three, Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Belgium 13, Turkey 1
I was really dreading this game. By this point in the tournament, it’s clear that Turkey has trouble skating with Mexico, let along a smooth-flowing Belgian team that continues to impress and are generally a joy to watch. The Turkish players showed flashes of individual talent and speed, but the outcome of this game was never in doubt. Turkey did take too many penalties that (as in their previous game against Mexico) led to too many power-play goals, but so many of the penalties were the result of attempts to slow down a superior Belgian team that it’s unlikely that a more disciplined Turkish team would have fared much better.

I couldn’t see many, or any, Turkish fans in the “crowd” of about 25 spectators, which is too bad: if ever a team needed moral support, it’s Turkey.

Spain 10, Bulgaria 3
I still haven’t figured out whether Bulgaria is as bad as their 1-2 record suggests. After humiliating Turkey, Bulgaria has been dismantled by Australia and now Spain. On individual plays, it doesn’t seem like Bulgaria’s playing badly: they demonstrated some great passing and stickhandling ability in the plays leading to their second goal, and their goalie has played well in bursts. Bulgaria’s collapse was slightly less dramatic than Belgium’s, but the end result was the same, and even included a short-handed goal with just over a minute to go in the game.

Oh, and Spain’s final goal was a penalty shot, in which the goalie wasn’t allowed to use his stick. I’ve never seen or heard of this happening before.

That said, Bulgaria has the distinction of being the only team to have a lead over Spain, 2-1 early in the game. It only lasted about ten seconds, but it’s something. I’ll be surprised if Spain loses a game or fails to blow out its remaining opponents.

Australia 5, Mexico 2
What a heartbreaker. Mexico really, somehow, had a chance to win this one. I had been expecting to see a repeat of Australia’s manhandling of Bulgaria. Instead, the capacity crowd was treated to an energized Mexican side that, despite their continued inability to play as a cohesive unit, spent a considerable amount of time buzzing the Australian net.

Australia didn’t help their own cause, starting the game by having to kill a two-man power play. They eventually managed a 2-0 lead, the first goal courtesy of a generous rebound and the second a rocket over the shoulder of the remarkably tiny Mexican goaltender.

Improbably, Mexico finally capitalized on their power play with a shot from the blue line that made it 2-1 and brought the fans to their feet. Unfortunately for Mexico, Australia replied with a fluke goal, dribbling over the Mexican goaltender’s glove hand to make it 3-1.

But Australia couldn’t finish Mexico off. Mexico’s tiny goalie kept his team in the game with some brilliant goaltending, which helped Mexico kill off a 4-on-3 Australian power play. He couldn’t do anything about Mexico’s main deficiencies, however: a lack of passing and set plays. It’s a lot easier to defend against a team, even when the other team has a two-man advantage, if you know that the player with the puck is either going to shoot, or make a weak pass.

Again, improbably, Mexico in the third period managed not only to kill off a two-man advantage, but in a rare display of precision passing across the Australian goalmouth, scored the best goal of the tournament. 3-2, and the crowd is on their feat, roaring “Sí, se puede!” (“Yes we can!”) Nobody cheers like Mexicans. If a band, or their team, performs competently, they’ll cheer enthusiastically. And if the people they’re watching pull off something fantastic, they go nuts. Mexican fans are, hands down, the best fans in the world.

Which made it extra devastating when, with nine minutes to go, Australia put the game away with a nice goal that had the tiny (a couple dozen, maybe) Australian contingent somehow matching the entire hundreds-strong (maybe thousands; I’m no good at crowd estimates) in volume.

Like Bulgaria, I can’t get a handle on the Australian team. This game shouldn’t have been as close as it was. Was it Mexico’s sheer force of will and fantastic individual playmaking (and there were many examples of brilliant individual plays), egged on by a supportive crowd that nearly cost Australia the game? At any rate, Australia’s final game, against Belgium, is going to tell us a lot about both teams.

Final Thoughts
Here’s how things stand, three days into the five-day tournament. Spain, barring highly unlikely collapses against Mexico and Turkey, should end this tournament undefeated; they also have the highest goal differential (+18).

The real battle is for second place, and right now Belgium (2-1, +10 goal differential) has the edge over Australia (2-1, +4); the two teams play each other on Saturday, the final day of the tournament. Mexico, surprisingly to me, is currently in fourth place, with a 1-2 record and a surprising +1 goal differential; kudos to Mexico’s goaltending. However, the battle for fourth place will likely come down to Saturday, when Mexico faces Bulgaria (1-2, -5). Winless Turkey (-28 goal differential), well, playing against better teams is the only way to become better yourself. Too bad they have to end the tournament playing Spain on Saturday.

IIHF Division II Championship: Day Two

2010-04-13T10:12:00.000-07:00

Twenty years from now, when I’m looking back on my eight months in Mexico, I’m probably not going to remember the many, many days I spent writing and interviewing people for my dissertation. It’ll be the interesting things I’ve done here that’ll stick. Like seeing Hello Seahorse!, the best band you’ve never heard of, performing in front of Diego Rivera’s striking Museo Anahuacalli. Spending time in the National Anthropology Museum. And figuring out, out of desperation, how Mexico’s anarchic-seeming microbus system works.

The Pista de Hielo de Lomas Verdes, where the IIHF Division II (Group A) championship is being held, is a little out of the way. Technically, it’s not even in the Distrito Federal, but in the State of Mexico. From where I live in the south of the city, it takes over an hour to get there, longer if you don’t know what you’re doing. Getting there from my damp but homey little hovel requires a subway trip the city centre (abut 40-45 minutes), a transfer to an east-west subway line (another 30 or so minutes), and then either a taxi or microbus to the arena (about 10 minutes, much more if there’s traffic).

Yesterday (Sunday), I took a cab to the games, but afterwards, I had to flag a microbus to get back to the metro, before it closes at midnight (I made it with about 20 minutes to spare). Today, on the way here, I couldn’t find a trustworthy-looking cab among the myriad buses, so with the help of one of the bus wranglers, I managed to find one heading in my direction – think a natural-gas powered modern VW minivan (Mexico’s microbuses run the gamut from the ultra-modern to those that are kept running through the judicious application of duct tape and sheer force of personality). Mexico’s non-metro transit system is not user-friendly, especially if you don’t speak Spanish. Luckily, I speak Spanish, but even then, it was thanks to a friendly passenger that I managed to get off at the right spot. Victory!

Day Two, Monday, April 12, 2010
Australia 11, Bulgaria 4
This is all a long way of saying that I was late in joining the 20 or so people in the crowd and missed the first period of the Austraila-Bulgaria matchup, and too bad: it looks like it was a corker. By the time I showed up, Australia, which had been shut out the day before by Spain, was enjoying a 3-0 lead and playing with the confidence that I guess comes with a 3-0 first-period lead. Nine minutes into the second period, Australia was up 7-1. The full-throated Aussie contingent were obviously pleased by the result (disclosure: My wife recently received her Australian citizenship, and I find the cheer, “C’mon Aussie!” to be quite charming).

It’s not that Bulgaria played a bad game: Australia had a lot of great chances and were able to capitalize. And while Australia deserves full credit for their victory, I like to think that Bulgaria’s loss was partly the result of karmic payback for Sunday’s crushing of Turkey.

Spain 6, Belgium 1
You’d never guess it from the final score, but this was easily the best, most evenly matched game of the tournament, featuring end-to-end action, a high level of play, fantastic passing and saves, and lots of scoring chances. Only a late-game collapse by Belgium kept this one from being a stunner.

Despite the score, Belgium actually had a great game. They held the game to a scoreless tie after one period, and were down only 2-1 at the end of the second. The difference was speed: while Belgium was able to play with Spain for about 40 minutes, Spain’s explosive speed eventually wore down what is a skilled, disciplined team. Belgium started to fade at the end of the second, and were kept in the game by some fantastic goaltending, but eventually the dam broke.

Belgium and Spain’s national colours are so similar (Black, Gold/Yellow, Red) that the game physically resembled an intersquad match. And kudos both to the Belgian and Spanish fans in the crowd (which had swelled to about 50 people, including the Australian team, who graciously autographed some hockey jerseys and sticks for some local kids). One girl even had a home-made “Vamos España” sign (looks like the team took her advice), though I don’t understand why the Belgian fans chanted, “Go Belgium Go” (not a translation). I’ll avoid drawing any conclusions about what this might tell us about intra-Belgian language politics.

Mexico 9, Turkey 2
And the blowouts continue. In contrast to the overcapacity opening-night crowd, today the rink was about half-full, but no less enthusiastic for the relative lack of numbers. This was an important game for Mexico, as the relatively weak Turkish side represented its best chance to hear the Mexican national anthem at the end of the match. And while Turkey’s skill level was closer to Mexico’s than it was to Bulgaria’s, Turkey had trouble skating with a Mexican side that still displayed all the weaknesses it did in its opening match against Belgium.

The result was a chippy, penalty-filled game, in which Turkey’s frustration boiled over into slashes, holding calls, roughing penalties and even a couple of skirmishes/fights. Unfortunately, the Mexican players gave as good as they got, taking their fair share of penalties instead of taking the high road and letting Turkey implode. The result was eight straight power play goals (Mexico scored three even-strength goals late in the third).

The difference between Turkey and Mexico, and the other teams in the tournament seems to boil down to teamwork. Both teams boast very smart and talented individual players who pulled off some fantastic plays and goals. However, they both lack the cohesion that would allow them to play as a unit. As a result, players seem more likely to try to make individual plays, rather than try for the three-way passes that lead to the really pretty goals; it’s also easier to defend against individual, as opposed to team, plays.

When you think about it, it’s not surprising: we’re talking about two countries for whom hockey is not exactly a national passion. As a Mexican fan pointed out to me, the Mexican team practices only about five hours a week, hardly enough to reach Canadian levels of team skill. From a fan’s point of view, so long as the teams are evenly matched (Mexico was better than Turkey, but not so much better that they didn’t have to give their all), the hockey’s bound to be entertaining.

Final Thoughts, Day Two
As the tournament comes into focus, it seems to be Spain's to lose: they're just too fast and skilled for any other team to keep up for long. I'm still looking forward to seeing Belgium play Bulgaria on Friday, and Australia seems to be a wild card: given their convincing defeat of Bulgaria, their loss to Spain may say more about how good Spain is than about the Aussies' skill level.

Meanwhile, Mexico may have just gotten their only guaranteed win of the tournament, though their match against Spain will undoubtedly rouse the home fans to fine form. As for Turkey, it's a long, hard road to the end of the tournament, and it's not going to get any easier. If they can stay out of the penalty box (if they'd played a penalty-free game, Mexico would have won by a close 3-2 score), they have a chance to stay somewhat competitive.

And coming soon: pictures! My camera's batteries died on Sunday and I wasn't able to get replacements for Day Two. But Wednesday is another day...

At the IIHF Division II World Hockey Championships (or, yes, they do play hockey in Mexico)

2010-04-12T09:25:00.000-07:00

For a homesick Canadian who’s been in Mexico for eight months and is ready to come home, the International Ice Hockey World Championship (Division II) is a godsend: a chilly bit of Canada amidst the sunny warmth of Mexico City. From April 11 to 17, Mexico City’s Pista de Hielo Lomas Verdes is hosting the third tier of the world’s hockey powers: Australia (ranked 34th in the world), Belgium (number 36), Bulgaria (31), Mexico (32) and Turkey (37). One hundred (about $9 Canadian) gets you three games a day.

The rink
The arena itself is an honest-to-goodness community hockey rink, right down to the homey stale sweat smell. The stands – general admission benches – can maybe hold a thousand people at most, but based on the first day, overcrowding is unlikely to be a problem: for the first two games, I seem to be the only person with no personal or familial connection with the players on the ice (the Mexican team games, however, are another story). The result is actually quite nice: the atmosphere seems to be a mixture of partisan passion mixed with subdued conviviality. After the noisy, mindless nationalism of the Olympics, it’s nice to see some sports where the volume is turned down a bit.

Other nice skating rink touches: the disco ball hanging from the centre-ice scoreboard, which itself sports a timer that seems to have trouble with the number two. As an expat, it was nice to see a Canadian flag decal on the zamboni and hear Victoria’s Hot Hot Heat on the PA (doing “Goodnight Goodnight”). A few folks were even sporting NHL jerseys, although judging by what I saw (an Islanders logo, the old Canucks hockey stick logo, a Toronto Maple Leafs jersey), their NHL loyalties were formed in the 1970s or 1980s (or, in the case of the Leafs fan, pre-1967).

So far, the hockey itself has been what you would expect from teams ranked lower than even Great Britain (24). None of these teams would give even West Germany a run for its money, but, hey, it’s hockey, their worst player is better than I could ever hope to be, and for a few hours, it’s like I’m back in Canada.

Over the next week, I hope to get to as many games as possible. Short daily recaps to follow.

Day One: Sunday, April 11, 2010
Spain 6, Australia 0
The first of three no-contests on the day, as Spain completely dominates Australia. It’s not that Australia is terrible, it’s that Spain has more speed and skill than the outmatched Aussie crew. That said, the Australian goalie made some nice saves to keep the score down to 6-0, and some of the individual Australian players made some nice plays, but there’s no doubt that, in this game at least, Spain was the more complete team.

That said, the gold medal in team spirit for the first day goes to the tiny group of Australian fans, whose racket belied their small numbers.

Bulgaria 12, Turkey 3
This game was Canada-women’s-hockey-vs.-anyone-but-the-U.S. ugly.

If Spain outmatched Australia, Bulgaria had their way with Turkey. It was actually painful to watch; at times it seemed like the Bulgarians were just toying with the Turkish side. The Bulgarians would execute their plays seemingly in slow motion, taking their time to set things up just right, knowing that even at half-speed Turkey couldn’t keep up. The score, if anything, is generous to Turkey: after finishing the first period 4-0, Bulgaria let up; but every time Turkey scored, Bulgaria replied almost instantly, as if to deliver the message that they could score at will. And they did, including two classless goals in the final minute, with the game far, far out of reach. I don’t care if goal differentials are important in this tournament: it’s no fun seeing a team get embarrassed when they’re already down.

Oh, and the Bulgarian players? Built like tanks.

Opening Ceremonies
With two games in the books, the by-now-over-capacity crowd, ready to see the home team take on Belgium, is treated to an opening ceremony: girls in tight black outfits skating the flags of the participating teams, as well as the IIHF banner around the ice, joined eventually by the captain of each team, and two kids, dressed in traditional outfits, holding the name of each country.

(Although judging by the outfits, men’s traditional outfits in the participating countries consists of a pressed white shirt and dark pants. Or maybe just women have traditional costumes.)

I’d also never seen this before: the opening ceremonies were actually followed by Mexico and Belgium’s pre-game warmup and a fresh flooding of the ice. An odd choice, to say the least.

Belgium 5, Mexico 2
Easily the best game of the day, and not only because of the overcapacity crowd boisterously cheering on the home team, but because these were the teams nearest in skill to each other. Even here, however, there was no doubt about who the superior team was: Belgium scored on their first two shots, and 86 seconds into the game, the score was 2-0. Of the six teams, on the first day of the tournament, Belgium seemed to be the most cohesive (which will come as a surprise to anyone familiar with Belgium’s sclerotic federal politics, which make Canada’s seem like a model of sanity and rationality). Their passing was excellent; in contrast to the Mexican team, which seemed to be a collection of individuals making individual plays, the Belgians seemed to have set plays that they executed effectively and efficiently. They were easily the smoothest skating side of the day.

And in contrast to the compact Bulgarians, the lanky Belgians resemble an entire team of Zdeno Charas. Maybe it’s something in the water (or in that sweet, sweet delicious Belgian chocolate).

Final Thoughts, Day One
After three games, the tournament seems to be shaping up into two tiers: Spain, Belgium and Bulgaria in one, and Australia, Turkey and Mexico in the other. Turkey is the weakest team in the field: their skating and playmaking reveals hints of uncertainty, although they often play with skill as well. As for Australian and Mexico, the jury’s still out on their tournament: it would be nice to see them complement their individual efforts with a stronger team identity. And I’m really looking forward to seeing Belgium play Bulgaria on Friday.

The Unbearable Lightness of Soccer

2010-04-07T12:26:00.000-07:00

Finally saw my first Mexican soccer – sorry, football – game last weekend. The atmosphere was amazing. Both the home and away teams had their vocal fans in the end zones, drumming on drums, chanting chants and generally having a good time. Extra points for the very serious-seeming away fans, dressed in dark blue, confined to a packed section in the away end zone and surrounded completely by police in full riot gear. I’d never seen humourless cheering before: people expressing their support for their team with military precision, complete with expertly memorized cheers and choreographed one-arm salutes. It was all very menacing, in a rote, going-through-the-motions Disney World Magical Football Hooliganism Ride sort of way.

As a Canadian hockey fan, I’d always envied soccer fans their passion, their chants, their non-scoreboard-directed cheering and their general rowdiness, but I'd never understood what was really going on. During this soccer – sorry, football – game I realized that all the chanting, all the hooliganism is a way for fans to distract themselves from the fact that soccer is, even at the top levels, a crashing bore.

Did a player skin his knee? Call out the ambulance! Fetch the stretchers! Oh, look: another nifty play at midfield that failed to develop into anything. What fun: a sport where the big question isn’t, “What will the final score be?” but rather, “Will anyone score? At all?”

A corner kick! Will it result in a goal? (Answer: No.)

We’re talking about a game whose shootout, on a net the size of a garage, has exactly the same odds (and therefore drama) of football’s – sorry, real football’s – starting coin toss.

The beautiful game? Maybe, but an oil painting can be beautiful, too, and I don’t see many people heading to the National Gallery to heckle the Group of Seven.

Come to think of it, the typical soccer game moves about as fast as an oil painting.

It's not like there aren't sports in which stuff actually happens on a regular basis. Like hockey. Or basketball. Or baseball, which really doesn’t deserve its knock as a boring sport. With baseball, the drama develops in staccato bursts that build upon one another.

Not so soccer, the Seinfeld of sports, best understood as the Brits’ overcompensating apology for cricket, a sport in which a game’s score can run into the thousands, if not millions, and that requires missing a week of work in order to attend. I mean, really: where’s the moderation?

We drink to forget. Were soccer crowds to stop their cheering and focus intently on the, um, “action” on the field, they would soon be ripping out their fingernails from the sheer boredom – the ennui, if you will – of it all. From there it would be only a few short steps to the contemplation of the meaningless of existence, existential despair and, finally, mass suicide.

Why do soccer fans cheer? To avoid staring into the abyss.

Oh, and the game’s final score? 1-0.

Of course it was.

A sincere call for more Cabinet-level airport freak-outs

2010-03-19T10:32:00.000-07:00

Lots of schadenfreude going on with two Conservative ministers getting in trouble for airport freak-outs. I like a bout of karmic comeuppance as much as the next person, but, actually, it’s kind of nice to see these ministers acting like normal human beings.

Let’s face it: since roughly eight-and-a-half years ago, using Canadian airports has become a nightmare in which travelers are forced to undergo one indignity after another, all in the name of better security – security that any sane human being knows we’re not getting. Instead of security, we have a ridiculous mishmash of insane policies designed to provide what one expert in such matters might refer to as "the illusion of security." As Mary Lou Finlay colourfully puts it, we have a "system that … subjects little old ladies and parents with babies to the stupidity of removing their coats and jackets and shoes and belts while some minimum-wage ape paws through their personal belongings in search of a stray nail file with which the owner undoubtedly intended to take out an airliner."

Flying – or, rather, getting to your plane – has become incredibly stressful, with the long lineups, security checkpoints staffed by minimum-wage rent-a-cops, and arbitrary rules limiting how much toothpaste we can bring on a plane. The surprise isn’t that these two Cabinet ministers flipped out. The surprise is that this doesn’t happen more often.

Granted, Helena Guergis sounds like she completely lost her marbles in her Air Canada-directed freak-out, but again: there’s not a Air Canada customer alive who hasn’t been driven to violent frustration by what passes for customer service from that airline. Let he who is without sin… .

So Jean-Pierre Blackburn tried to take more than 100 mL of tequila onto a plane. Good for him: after dealing with Canada’s insane and insulting airport security rules, I’d need more than 100 mL to calm down, too.

(Seriously: how would you use a bottle of tequila to hijack a plane? I know I’d also need at least two sticks of gum and a piece of string.)

One of the ugliest things one human being can do to another is to force a person to submit to their will. The only thing worse than this is when the dominated person is forced to do something that she knows is stupid, wrong and/or counterproductive. Daily, thousands of Canadians at airports across the country are forced to submit to rules that any thinking person knows are ridiculous and humiliating.

Secondaried because your last name is Russian, 15 years after the end of the Cold War? Check.

Had the book you're reading searched and its title noted? Check.

Forced to take off your shoes and walk barefoot through a metal detector? Check.

Forced to remove your belt and have your pants fall down, all because your belt, like pretty much all belts, has a metal buckle? Check.

Forced to have your picture taken, naked, before you can get on a plane? Check.

Forced to give away a bottle of perfectly fine tequila that will end up who-knows where, because some idiot somewhere decided that people could only bring 100 mL of liquid on a plane? Check.

Flying has become a exercise in ritual humiliation and shaming, as people who know better are forced to shut up and take it in the name of being allowed to travel freely. As far as I’m concerned, we need more Cabinet-minister airport freak-outs, not fewer. Maybe if our betters are humiliated enough times, they’ll try to restore some sanity into our airport security systems.

Eight Random Notes about Mexico

2010-02-17T12:06:00.000-08:00

Mexico City has been a truly amazing place to spend the past six months. The people I’ve met are friendly and more than forgiving of a foreigner’s mangling of their mother tongue. The crowds at the concerts I’ve attended displayed a joyous enthusiasm I’ve never seen in Canada or the United States. The food (with a couple of exceptions) is hella-good. Professionally, the people I’ve interviewed for my dissertation have been more than generous with their time. And the weather, well, a clear, sunny sky and 25 degrees are more than enough to quell any nascent homesickness.

Like any new city, Mexico City has, for this Canadian (and Natasha), its share of oddities, some of which make life interesting, and some that perplex. Natasha and I have put together a list of the 8 things that surprise, perplex and confuse us about this world-class city.
- Blayne

1. Dogs in sweaters

They’re everywhere. From the primmest poodle to the muddiest mutt, few Mexican dogs leave home without a coat to go over their own fur coat. Even the strays always seem to be rocking the latest canine fashion accessories.

2. Winter jackets when it’s not winter

For snow-hardened Canadians, Mexico City’s temperate climate – it seems to hardly ever drops below 20 degrees during the day – is just about the best thing this city has going for it. Which makes it all the more surprising to see stalls outside the metro stations selling heavy mittens, toques and scarves, and, on mornings when it’s about 10 degrees, everyone decked out in winter coats as if it were downtown Winnipeg in the middle of January. Which makes the following all the more surprising.

3. A winter festival done right

Every February, Ottawa holds an outdoor winter festival, called Winterlude. On those years in which nature doesn’t pull a Cypress Mountain, the idea is that Ottawans and tourists who consider freezing temperatures a novelty and not a sheer torture can enjoy skating on the world’s longest outdoor skating rink and other wholesome winter activities.

We’ve always thought that Winterlude would be even more enjoyable if it could be held in the summer, when the weather is actually nice. So you can imagine our pleasant surprise when we found out that every year Mexico City hosts a bunch of wintery activities in its main downtown square, the Zocalo. They’d set up a skating rink, a snowmobile track for the kids, even a toboggan run!

The sun was shining, the weather was warm and all the attractions were packed with happy kids and their families, most of whom likely had never seen snow before. Oh, and it was interesting to note that the event was sponsored by Research in Motion and Pepsi. It’s disappointing to see that the Canadian and Ottawa governments weren’t on the ball enough to sponsor it themselves. It would’ve been a great way to promote Winterlude, and for the feds, it would have been a useful way to build goodwill with Mexicans, who aren’t feeling very charitable toward Canada these days.

4. Oversized curbs and sidewalks with gaping holes

Think your city’s infrastructure has problems? Frustrated by a particularly potholed street? Mexico City would drive you nuts. Uneven sidewalks scarred by huge holes capable of swallowing medium-sized dogs and only sometimes covered by wooden planks, and whole sidewalk sections upended by tree roots are only the beginning. Mexican infrastructure, particularly their sidewalks, seem to have been built in fits and starts, with the result that none of it fits together. A sidewalk may have a wheelchair ramp, but be too narrow for any wheelchair to manage. Everywhere is evidence of projects begun – lamppost bases with the wires sticking out, metal stubs of stop signs clipped just above the surface – but never completed. These construction remnants, the result of rampant corruption according to a recent exhibition at the (absolutely fantastic) Mexican Museo Nacional de Antropolgía, are so common that they even have a name: ONOs (objetos no ovidables).

And the street curbs – many of which are almost a foot high – are the bane of the short-legged.

Of course, this only goes for the non-touristy neighbourhoods. As always, the rich manage to find a way to take care of themselves.

5. Cats at the Palacio Nacional

We’ve always been fans of Parliament Hill’s feral cat colony. We’re charmed by the idea that, right behind the seat of government and federal power you can find a raggedy colony of cats and the odd raccoon and groundhog. And these aren’t Ottawa “fat cats” suckling on the public teat: they’re fed (and spayed and neutered) through the generosity of individual donors.

So we’re pleased to note that, while Canadians and Mexicans may not think they have much in common, Mexican leaders also share their seat of power with a bunch of cute, if ragged-looking, cats. If you wander around the gardens inside the walls of the Palacio Nacional, just off the Zocalo, you’ll come across at least a dozen cats, sunning themselves, sleeping under trees or cacti or just hanging out. Judging by their size and the numerous food bowls around, they seem well cared for.

6. Food misfires

Mexico is justly celebrated for its delicious food – tacos, quesadillas, Oaxacan cheese, tequila, mescal… you get the idea. These tasty triumphs make Mexico’s misfires all the more surprising. Take the Mexican version of sushi. If you have ever thought that sushi’s delicate and subtle blending of raw fish and vegetables could be improved by slathering entire rolls with the tasteless gooiness of Philadelphia cream cheese, then by all means, enjoy the best sushi Mexico has to offer. We’ll stick to the quesadillas.

And given what we’d heard about how great Mexican, specifically Oaxacan, chocolate is, we were surprised how sugary and granular it was, at least the eating kind (Oaxacan hot chocolate rocks). The stuff we bought, which we believe is representative of Oaxacan chocolate, was so inedible that we couldn’t figure out anyone we disliked enough to give it to. Chocolate: Invented in Mexico, perfected in Belgium.

We’re also not sure why Mexican pastries are so dry.

7. Subway car peddlers

CDs, DVDs, pens, Tic Tacs, puzzle books, prayer books, keychain flashlights: if you want any of these, all you have to do is get on the metro and eventually a subway vendor will get onto your car and announce his/her wares and how they can be yours for a low price, typically five to ten pesos (i.e., 40-90 cents).

The best are the CD vendors, who play 5-10 second snippets of the songs they’re selling. On the one hand, these are evil, bootlegged copies that violate copyright law. On the other hand, counting how often a song or group gets played is a nifty way to gauge a song’s worldwide popularity, since they never bootleg the unpopular stuff. Based on our time in Mexico, we’d put the Beatles at the top of the all-time bootleg chart, with the Black Eyed Peas (and, *shudder*, “I’ve Got a Feeling”) as the most popular current group.

8. Bootlegged concert merchandise

Back home in Canada, if you want a souvenir from a concert but don’t want to pay $40 for an official T-shirt, you can usually count on some guy selling cheap knock-offs outside the venue for $10. In Mexico, you can get knock off T-shirts. And key chains. And shot glasses. And beer steins. And pillows (heart-shaped in the case of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs). And bags. And pins. And CDs. And concert DVDs. And pens. If it’s solid and you can put a band logo on it, chances are you can find it outside any major concert event.

While their quality varies, some of the stuff can be quite well-made and remarkably creative. I don’t regret a lot of things in life, but until the end of my days I’ll regret not picking up that Depeche Mode concert T-shirt featuring the band, drawn as Simpsons characters and being held captive (along with Homer) in individual glass cages by Kang and Kodos.

Painting from Cultural Bazaar

2010-01-04T07:19:00.000-08:00

We bought this great painting by H. Landa at the Bazar del Sabado y Tianguis. It's a market held every Saturday--an outdoor painting and arts-and-crafts and an indoor craft gallery (higher quality). Inside the market building we had freshly made corn tortillas--very tasty. The artist's other paintngs are seen hanging on the fence in the park. Now I have to make sure that Air Canada doesn't crush the painting on my flight back.

Ohana means nobody gets left behind (or forgotten)*

2010-01-02T17:27:00.001-08:00

Natasha and I aren’t exactly what you would call organized-tour folk. Vacations, from where we sit (ideally, on a beach enjoying delicious mojitos), should be about taking it easy and taking in the sites at your own pace. Pre-set agendas, set times at various predetermined locations – invariably not enough or too much – all that rushing around while a tour boss rides herd over everyone: it’s all a bit too much like work.

But sometimes a tour is the best way to get to something you want to see. Late last week we were in Oaxaca, an artistic centre of Mexico with a couple of interesting ruins close to town, but far enough to require some sort of transportation. And so we booked a tour with a company called Monte Alban Tours. The itinerary: the world’s oldest tree, a Zapotec rug-weaving demonstration, the ancient city of Mitla, and a stop at a market about 30 minutes outside of Oaxaca.

For all our dislike of tours, they do have their upsides. You don’t have to worry about tiny things like finding your way around a strange country where you don’t speak the language (I speak Spanish; Natasha doesn’t) and you might meet some interesting people. Even the set timetable can be a bonus: at least you know that you’ll be back in town in time for dinner.

At least, that’s the theory. Through our guesthouse, we signed up for the three-hour tour – that alone should have been a sign that we were headed for trouble – only to be told that they were offering a special that day: a six-hour tour to a waterfall and a mescal factory on top of the tree, carpets, ruins and market. Yet when we were picked up by the tour bus, the tour had shrunk back to the tree, carpets, ruins and market. Which was fine by us: we were mainly interested in the ruins.

Less fine was the bus or, rather, minivan. Fifteen people crammed into a 14-seat minivan without air conditioning is exactly as much fun as it sounds. Or perhaps that was just their way of building anticipation for our arrival at The Tree in the small town of Tule, 20 minutes later.

While many communities around the world are based on various wood-products industries, I feel confident in claiming that Tule is the world’s only tree (singular)-based economy. What can I say about this tree? It is wide (54 metres), though not tall, and old (2,000-3,000 years). Given the fact that it requires over 10,000 gallons of water per day to survive in a very dry area plagued by water shortages, its continued existence seems to depend exclusively on tourists (like us) dumb enough to pay five pesos to be near – but not within touching distance – of the tree. The fact that tourists (including us) would pay any amount of money to be near a tree (a tree!) that you can see just fine outside the tree’s fence is proof that being on vacation robs people of any sense when it comes to money.

We did manage to catch a break at The Tree, as we were switched to an air-conditioned van in which we were able to enjoy the novelty of each of us having a seat to ourselves.

Which brings us to the big double-edged sword of organized tours: the other tourists. We were the youngest ones on the bus by a good 15 years, except for a Chinese woman, Joy, a Mandarin teacher at the University of Virginia. We immediately hit it off with her, enjoyed some good conversation and exchanged Facebook info (so very 2009).

Talking with people who are doing interesting things is one of the best things about traveling. In Puerto Escondido, we learned about the problems with patenting seeds and the difficulty of importing corn into Mexico from some folks from Idaho, and talked Australian politics and speeding laws with a whole slew of Aussies. Unfortunately, for all the interesting, interested people one meets while traveling, one inevitably comes across their boorish opposites.

Sitting in the middle seats of the minivan, our idyllic conversation with Joy was swamped in volume by two older American women, friends of a sort. They were walking stereotypes of the Ugly American: self-impressed, self-involved, spectacularly dull and unwilling to let anyone else get a word in edgewise. One sat in the front of the van, the other in the back, dominating the hapless souls unlucky enough to be trapped next to them. Natasha theorizes that each one’s need to dominate conversation was so strong that the two could not be seated together.

Oh, what we learned from them! “I have 20 close friends with whom I do various activities, such as skiing, but not one of them is a woman of substance,” claimed one of the white-haired matrons, whose lack of self-awareness was nothing short of remarkable. Sounding like a character out of an Edith Wharton novel, the van was informed haughtily of their real-estate holdings, including a beautiful apartment in San Miguel – a town described by the Rough Guide to Mexico as “inward-looking, often pretentious and gossip-ridden,” which, judging from our betters in the van, is exactly right. “My apartment costs more because it has so much light. I always need to be in the light,” claimed one or the other (to be truthful, they have blurred together in my mind into a single unpleasant stereotype). From their freely offered biographies, they were easy to peg as artist hangers-on – the type of people who wear beaded necklaces, flowing scarves, custom-designed earrings and who just won’t shut up about how now is the perfect time to purchase property in Mexico. Oh, and whose command of Spanish, despite spending half the year here, is practically non-existent, a mixture of gestures and English pronounced with a faux-Spanish accent. One even claimed to have her own personal shaman, a clear sign that they exist in their own peculiar world.

In short, they were not the type of people with whom you would want to be trapped on a desert island, or, say, depend on to help convince the tour driver not to abandon one of his charges in a market 30 minutes outside of Oaxaca.

To be honest, I’d always wondered what happens when someone is, let’s say, 20 minutes late getting back to an organized tour. Would the tour guide go look for the lost soul, ignoring his set schedule to ensure that, in the proud tradition of the U.S. Army Rangers, Disney cartoons and tour guides the world over, that no one gets left behind? Would the other tourists, in the spirit of common humanity and the fact that you’ve all just spent four hours together, insist that the need not to strand a newfound companion far from home in an unfamiliar small town where they don’t speak the language outweighs their desire to hit the bar before the end of happy hour?

Apparently the mercenaries running Monte Alban Tours and our Fellow Americans have never seen Saving Private Ryan, let alone Lilo and Stitch. Apparently for them, completing a tour one tourist short of what you started out with is considered to be an acceptable loss. And so, when Joy was 15 minutes late returning to the bus from her explorations of what is an incredibly rambling market, she was greeted by Natasha, sitting alone on the curb. I was in the market, looking for Joy.

“The tour bus left,” reported Natasha to an incredulous Joy.

“No, really,” said Joy. “Where’s the bus?”

The bus had, indeed, left. Nobody even suggested that the tour bus wait, although one woman, an American who had been living in Oaxaca for the past year, pointed out the direction of the second-class bus station from where we could catch a ride back to Oaxaca, since Natasha and I had made it clear that we weren’t going to leave Joy behind. One of the Ugly American women charmingly dismissed the whole situation, opining that Joy was operating on “Chinese time,” as in: “I remember I had a dinner party for some Chinese and American friends. The Americans showed up on time at 8 p.m., while the Chinese showed up at 11:30 p.m.” She somehow forgot to mention that at that same party, she even shook the hand of a Chinese man and didn’t even think anything of it.

The irony is that getting left behind turned out to be the best part of the day. Liberated from the shackles of the itinerary, out of range of the fatal snobbery of the American artist hangers-on, the three of us were free to explore the market, checking out the food stalls, the crafts, the bootleg CDs and DVDs, just soaking up the ambiance in a way that’s impossible when you’re thinking about getting to your next event. We enjoyed a great meal: I had some of the tastiest roast chicken I’d ever come across and Joy and Natasha both had some great tacos.

As for getting back to town? Piece of cake: 75 pesos for a half-hour taxi ride. And the lack of pretentious gits going on about their love of aht? Priceless.

* With apologies to Disney, Lilo and Stitch and the people of Hawaii.

Baby sea turtles

2009-12-28T14:23:00.000-08:00

My favourite activity in Puerto Escondido was releasing endangered baby sea turtles safely into the ocean. Our hostess Adelina at our guesthouse, Quinta Lili, drove us and two other guests to where the turtle eggs are carefully protected (see white buckets) from their main predators (sea birds and stray dogs). The beach, which is not an official sanctuary, is about 15 minutes away from the guesthouse. The fenced area is on a stretch of beach between two beach houses.

After they hatch, the baby turtles are kept in the dark buckets until sunset so the turtles can scurry to the ocean unharmed. The darkness also keeps the turtles inactive so they can conserve energy for their long swim.

The release of the turtles (also called Liberacion de tortugas) is organized by the local environmental group, Selva Negra (or Black Jungle). This group
does not yet receive government funding. The government is also not involved in saving baby sea turtles in this area of Puerto. Adelina, seen with the blue bucket, is very involved with Selva Negra, and attends most turtle releases and is a passionate advocate for the turtles.

At sunset we lined up with a group of locals and tourists, washed our hands in seawater and stood to receive our turtle. Depending on the season, there are three types of turtles: black, green and leatherback. I'm holding a green sea turtles which is the smallest of the three.

Adelina carefully nudges the slowest turtles, including the one I held, into the surf.

Blayne and I enjoy a spectacular sunset (not sure what the spots are).

Beaches of Puerto Escondido

2009-12-28T13:40:00.000-08:00

Some scenes from our exploration of Puerto Escondido's beaches.

Puerto Escondido

2009-12-28T12:53:00.000-08:00

So Natasha and I spent Christmas week in beautiful Puerto Escondido, a small seaside town in southern Mexico. When your days consist of meandering down to the beach, swimming a bit, and ordering drinks (the mojitos at Rosarito’s on Zicatela beach were excellent), there’s not much to say. I managed to read a few heavy books: an unauthorized history of The Simpsons, Paul Shaffer’s thoroughly enjoyable memoir, and Ta-Nehisi Coates’ memoir of growing up as the son of a Black Panther in Baltimore (a very good, if not great, first book, though his blog sings). Natasha stuck to books on organized crime and the heroin trade. Your typical beach reads, in other words.

The nice thing about Puerto Escondido is the choice of beaches within a 30-minute walk. And even though it was the week before Christmas, they weren’t crowded at all. Zicatela beach is the most famous. Apparently it’s known as the “Mexican pipeline” for the good surfing, but we actually didn’t see many surfers, at least from the reclining chairs in front of Rosarito’s. Playa Principal is more like a working harbour (quite a few small fishing boats are moored there) than your typical resort beach, and is lined by many restaurants. We had a nice romantic dinner our first evening there at Pascale’s. I had the bouillabaisse and Natasha had what she says is the best tuna (seared) she’s ever tasted.

The other beaches are a bit away from these main ones, but are still pretty easy to get to and are much better for swimming and beginner surfers. Playa Manzanillo and Playa Carrizalillo are more like coves and seemed to be most popular with Mexican families. We had excellent fish tacos and fish quesadillas at one of the many beachside stalls at Manzanillo. Natasha particularly liked the fresh coconut: once you’re finished drinking it, they slice the coconut open (with a machete!) and serve the coconut fruit with hot salsa and lime.

And if you like seclusion, Playa Bachocho was long, windswept and practically deserted. It was my kind of seclusion, though, with two unobtrusive resorts within easy walking distance when your pale, pale skin starts to char.

Actually, the best part was our guest house, Quinta Lili. I’ve been known to lay on the superlatives a bit thick (a la Lionel Hutz), so I’ll quote Natasha, who says that Quinta Lili is, without exception, the best hotel/B&B/whatever we’ve ever stayed at. And we’ve been to Tokyo.

It’s a family operation (five rooms) run mainly by Luis and Adelina. Luis designed the place himself, based on a nautical theme, with each room having its own distinctive design. The rooms are ultra-comfortable, and there’s a small pool and Jacuzzi out front. Luis and Adelina took great care of us: within a few hours of arriving, Adelina had volunteered to drive us to help release some sea turtles. The highlight was a Christmas Eve dinner they hosted for the guests (an interesting, eclectic bunch themselves) at Quinta Lili and their brand new hotel. We didn't have turkey, but the prawns and sea bass were spectacular. The breakfasts were very tasty, and included fresh fruit and traditional Mexican breakfast food. Natasha's favourite was the potato tacos.

Have a look:

Stray cats and Parliament

2009-12-25T12:49:00.001-08:00

I always thought that stray cats were a special feature of the Canadian Parliament. (Parliament Hill is home to a colony of stray cats: Insert Canadian Senate joke here.)

However, on the grounds of the Palacio Nacional (which is sort of like the Mexican White House), we found over a dozen well-fed but skittish stray cats living amongst the plants. Everyone talks about the Diego Rivera murals in the Palacio Nacional, but for us, the cats and the cactus garden (how cool is it that the Mexican President's official residence contains a cactus garden that is open to tourists?) was a highlight.

Winterlude with fake snow

2009-12-25T11:58:00.001-08:00

I didn't expect to see snowmobiles and children sledding in the heart of Mexico City, not only because it was twenty-five degrees but also because I had deliberately escaped Ottawa to avoid the snow. Blayne thought it was a Christmas parade until we heard the roar of snowmobiles and saw children flying down the icy ramp of a fake toboggan hill. Suddenly all the people wearing heavy sweaters, coats, mittens and matching earmuffs made sense--we were at a winter festival sponsored by Pepsi and Blackberry.

The second picture shows children packing snow into snowman sculptures. Note the presence of official volunteers assisting the children unfamiliar with snow.

Templo Mayor

2009-12-19T15:24:00.000-08:00

In Mexico City, Blayne and I wandered around Templo Mayor which was one of the main Aztec temple sites (near
the Zocalo) when Mexico City was Tenochtitlan. The temples were destroyed when the Spanish conquerors took over the city. In 1978, city workers discovered parts of the ruin and eventually the excavation site widened to uncover the ruins of the temples.

Given that this was a series of Aztec temples, blood was a reoccurring theme. My favourite part is the large collection of obsidian knives that people used for 'auto-sacrifice' or as the museum explained 'devotees cut into themselves or cut fleshy bits off themselves to fill an offering bowl or soak fabric to offer to the gods.' I also liked this bat-faced god.

Christmas poinsettias -- Mexican style

2009-12-19T14:54:00.000-08:00

Friday night, December 18th, we walked through Coyoacan, a charming area with a laid-back atmosphere. We wandered through Jardin Centenario at the centre of old Coyoacan. For those more familiar with poinsettias sitting indoors during the Christmas season, here are poinsettias Mexican style--outside and alive. It's the first time I actually liked poinsettias!

After wandering through the park we headed to dinner at a local restaurant recommended by Blayne's neighbour Hugo. It was packed with groups celebrating Christmas, including a group of women in a private room we heard chanting what sounded like cheerleader songs. Great food--a perfect beginning to an escape from icy Ottawa.

In Mexico

2009-12-19T07:42:00.000-08:00

For those of you who are still subscribed to the blog, Natasha and I are at the start of a three-week vacation in Mexico. We're here in Mexico City until Sunday, then it's off to Puerto Escondido (beach and sun) and Oaxaca (culture) before returning here on Dec. 30. Stories and photos to follow. We hope you enjoy them.

B&N

Downgraded from economy class (an Air Canada horror story)

2009-12-19T06:40:00.000-08:00

This is a bit of a rant about Air Canada. Because of my trip to Australia last year, Air Canada gave me a book of upgrade coupons. Since it was Air Canada, I fully expected the coupons to be invalid and completely worthless under normal circumstances. So I was pleasantly surprised yesterday when I was upgraded from economy to executive class for the first leg (Ottawa to Toronto) of my 6:00 am flight to Mexico City. It was pretty exciting, being my first time among the privileged few. I savoured the larger seat, the leg room (even though I'm short) and the fresh orange juice, yoghurt and fruit.

I didn't really expect to be upgraded again for my flight from Toronto to Mexico City, but I certainly didn't expect I'd end up where I did. In Toronto, I joined the general queue to board the aircraft. When I handed my passport and e-ticket to the Air Canada attendant, he scanned the ticket, frowned, and then kept typing and sighing. He then handed my ticket to another woman who said, "Oh, that's her." This isn't good, I thought. The Air Canada woman explained: "We really tried to upgrade you but there was a problem and we couldn't, but by that time we had given away your original seat. So we've downgraded you."

I didn't even know such a thing was possible. What's lower than economy? Steerage?

"What does that mean?" I asked. "Do I still have a seat?" "Oh, yes," she said, "but now it's an aisle seat in the last row." I had paid an extra $20.00 for window seats -- I always travel in window seats.

What's so much worse than seat 12A (window)? Thanks to Air Canada's new downgrading program (pay $20 to choose your seat, be tempted with an upgrade, lose your original seat), I now know the answer: seat 29C (aisle). I pushed my way to the back of the aircraft and to my irritation found that 29C is actually a crew seat. That can't recline. And that is right next to the bathrooms.

To make matters more surreal, for some reason my presence in Downgrade Section upset the flight crew. The flight attendants were annoyed that I got their seat, apparently believing that I had somehow demanded this prime location. Demanded their seat? Like any sane Canadian I didn't even really want to be on their plane. If I had had an option I would have chosen a Soviet-era Aeroflot flight over Canada's national airliner.

This isn't to say it wasn't an educational experience, it was just I learned some things I didn't really want to know. When you're sitting with the blue-noses in Economy class you don't think much about airplane bathrooms. I, for one, had no idea that so many people continue to ignore their parents' advice to go before you leave home. As soon as the pilot turned off the seatbelt sign, the stampede for the bathrooms began and didn't let up for the entire flight. Almost immediately, the area around 29C (so prized by a certain type of flight attendant) was enveloped by the not-so-fragrant odours of human sewage -- unfiltered even by the sickly chemical smell that would be familiar to anyone who's ever taken a long-distance bus trip. At some points even the flight attendants were gagging. Throughout the five-hour flight, there was a constant stream of people bumping my seat in their haste to get to the bathroom. This crowd was exacerbated by the flight attendants shoving the drink carts through the throng.

I also learned quite a bit about an Air Canada flight attendant's duties. When they're not expressing barely concealed envy and contempt for the fortunate few in Downgrade Class, they seem to spend most of their time cursing the various storage units that won't properly open, broken chairs and roast-beef sandwich shortages. Actually, I guess this prickly attitude won't come as a surprise to anyone who's ever tried to complain about Air Canada's subpar customer service (their numbers are legion).

In the time-honoured retail-industry tradition that the flight attendant is always right, they even managed to get my seat in the end. Near the end of the flight, as I was attempting to escape my odoriferous present through the magic of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince: The Motion Picture, a flight attendant told me that I would have to give up my seat to a crew member. But where would I go? I was half-expecting to be told, "We're just over Mexico City, here's a parachute," before being herded toward the back exit and charged a $20 early-exit fee.

Instead (fortunately or unfortunately, I'm not sure), they moved me to the middle seat (29B, for those of you keeping track at home). But there was already a guy sitting there, who they moved -- I am not making this up -- to an empty seat... in economy class.

I can't wait for the flight back. Maybe I'll get to see where they stow the animals.

Why we went

2009-01-27T17:33:00.000-08:00

More not-so-live blogging still to come, but first a quick story followed by a longish essay:

Last week, on our way to the Inauguration, the American customs officer asked Natasha and I why we were traveling to the U.S. He seemed a bit puzzled when we told him. “You’re Canadians. Why are you interested in it? I mean, I know why we’re interested, but why are you?”

His question caught me by surprise. I had to think a bit before lamely coming up with something about how it was an inspiring moment in world history. Natasha was more to the point: she wanted to see the back of Bush.

The guard wasn’t the first person to ask us that question. When a clerk at an Inauguration-souvenir store a few blocks from the Capitol hit us with the same question, I fell back on platitudes, despite having had several hours to come up with a decent answer to an obvious question.

This question bugged me for the rest of the trip. At first, I didn't have a good answer to why we'd dropped a couple thousand dollars on airfare, hotel rooms and souvenirs (so many buttons!) to stand in the cold and witness, via Jumbotron, the inauguration of the 44th American President? There's the whole Bush-is-gone thing but it’s not like we’d worked on Obama's campaign or anything.

I don't think it was a case of celebrity worship: we watch the Oscars to see who won, not who’s wearing what. I also don't think it was simply a matter of wanting to watch History Being Made. The Inauguration, as stirring as it was, wasn’t the world’s victory party; it was an American moment. Talking with Americans during the Inaugural celebrations, it became obvious to me that although everyone in the world understands that Obama’s inauguration is Important, non-Americans really can’t get just how much a President Obama means to so many Americans.

After the Inauguration, we chatted with an African-American woman from South Carolina. As a student, she had lived through the integration of the schools. On top of the black-white tensions, the texts in black schools were several years behind those of white schools. While the smart students did fine in their new schools, others weren’t able to keep up. She, and so many others, could hardly believe that this day had come.

Tom, a UPS worker from New Jersey, white, who we met during the festivities, told us that he’d previously been to Washington twice: in 1963, where he witnessed King’s “I Have a Dream” speech; and in 1968, when he had been “detained” while protesting the Vietnam War.

These stories were humbling to listen to and gave us, as outsiders, a brief glimpse of the massive social forces Americans have overcome. You can’t help but admire the millions of Americans who worked to make this day possible, on the campaign trail and during the preceding years of struggle. This was their day: a chance to celebrate how far they’d come, even if they still have far to go.

Theirs, and Obama’s, stories are intensely American, reflecting the possibility of renewal inherent in the idea of the United States, an idea realized not just in Obama’s presidency, but, more importantly, in the grassroots campaign that got him elected.

But it’s not a uniquely American story, or it need not be.

Which brings me, in an incredibly roundabout, overthought way, to why we went to Washington.

I think part of the reason that I became so invested in Obama’s campaign was because I wanted to witness the triumph, if just this once, of millions of anonymous citizens working to elect a worthy man with honourable priorities. To see what it’s like when people come together in support of a good cause, to change their society for the better.

And then to bring this American spirit of optimism back to Canada.

Canada has been very lucky in its history. While we have never produced an Obama, neither have we had to: with the exception of Canada’s ongoing inexcusable treatment of the First Nations peoples, no original sin blots Canada’s soul as slavery does the Americans’.

Still, we have many challenges to overcome. The stillbirth of our last Parliament demonstrated that we are no longer served well by our current leaders or our outdated system of government. Our Parliament is listing toward a fully realized “friendly dictatorship,” demonstrated by the Prime Minister’s success at suspending Parliament, with the acquiescence of a figurehead Governor General who has yet to justify her actions to Canadians.

Our leaders have yet to come to grips with the seismic changes that will continue to rock our economy, to say nothing of the reality of climate change. Despite the current absence of a national-unity crisis, the country seems held together more by inertia than any positive sense of we-feeling.

For me, the hope inherent in Obama’s victory is not that everything will be fine with the right leader. It’s that if millions of Americans can work together to overcome hundreds of years of racism and slavery, surely we can create a more just, prosperous and representative Canada.

There’s a lot to do, and if Canada is to deal with these crises – if Canada is to change for the better – much of the burden is going to fall on ordinary Canadians becoming involved in the life of their city, their province and their country.

For Americans, Obama’s election was, at the very least, a giant downpayment on King’s dream. For this Canadian, it's more like a starter’s pistol at the beginning of a marathon: there’s a long way to go, and it’s time to get started.

A not-so-live blogging of Inauguration Day, Part I: How Not to Plan an Inauguration

2009-01-22T16:23:00.000-08:00

As early as the DNC in August, we had been toying with the idea of going down to Washington to witness Barack Obama's inauguration: it was sure to be a seminal moment in American history and we wanted to experience it first hand. After a few weeks of consideration, on September 27, confident (or maybe just hoping) that Obama would beat John McCain, we booked a hotel room and plane reservations. Already, over a month to go before the election, the city was filling up. The only room we could find anywhere near DC for less than $600 anight was at the Four Points Sheraton in New Carrollton.

New Carrollton, if you don't know your DC suburbs (and why would anyone want to?) is the easternmost stop on the DC metro line, 45 minutes from the Capitol; the hotel itself is a five-minute cab ride from the metro stop. Still, we had a place to stay. We paid for everything in advance, so we were doubly happy when Obama won on November 4. We were heading to Washington!

January 20, 2009

3 a.m.: We don't have tickets to the parade or the Inauguration itself, so our plan is to get to the National Mall as early as possible and join the throngs. The metro station opens at 4 a.m., so we're up at 3. Our hotel room's plumbing leaves something to desired: the tub's tap hangs loosely from the wall, and getting the hot water to flow requires a complex pagan ritual involving a wrench and lots of cursing.

Bathed, and dressed in layers suitable for either an unusually cold January day in Washington or a warm January day in Ottawa, we embark on our journey.

3:55 a.m.: As we drive up to the New Carrollton station, we get our first glimpse of how massive today is gong to be. The trains don't start running for a few more minutes, and it's six hours until the festivities start, but there's already a massive line of hundreds of people waiting for the metro station to open. Everyone is glittering with Obama paraphernalia -- buttons, hats, t-shirts, scarves. Some are dressed in heavy coats and mittens, others wrapped in colourful blankets.

4:02 a.m.: We catch the second train downtown; it's crowded but nothing like the crush that we would see later in the day. The mood on the subway, despite the early hour, is upbeat.

4:40 a.m.: We get off at the L'Enfant Plaza stop, the closest to the Mall's 7th Avenue entrance, and join the massive line snaking down the block. While we wait for the Mall to open, we listen to the people around us talking about where they'd traveled from, why they are there and what the day means to them. There's a lot of "I never thought this would happen in my lifetime" going on.

Like the people on the subway, the crowd's mood is excited, but remarkably peaceful and mellow. When a group of folks try to cut in line and push their way to the front, they're rebuked with an indignant: "There's a line here, everyone's waiting, don't push to the front." When some other people tried to squeeze between the line and the fence, one woman shouts, "Obama doesn't want you to push; he wants everybody to get in." This invocation of Obama works, and the crowd calms down.

5:15 a.m.: The street is filled not just with people, but with several large, idling buses filled with (warm) police officers.

Even though the Mall isn't supposed to open for almost two hours, the line starts to move, which we think is a good thing.

5:45 a.m.: We're very close to 7th Avenue when things get weird. The line has stopped moving, but no one's quite sure why. Eventually we overhear a volunteer on the other side of the fence, and later a single police officer, tell someone on our side of the fence that the area on the Mall up to 7th Avenue is already full, and that we should all move down to the 12th Avenue entrance. But most people don't hear this, and so everyone for the most part just stands there, waiting. Oh, except for several red-toqued Girl Guide volunteers, who have to get inside and are reduced to trying to shove their way through this tightly packed throng. Apparently, security had not thought about how volunteers would be able to use this entrance. Security incompetence would become a recurring theme throughout the day.

Volunteer leaders try vainly to push through the crowd, leading Boy and Girl Scout volunteers, all holding hands and wearing red volunteer hats. The leaders plead with the crowd to let them through but there's nowhere for us to move.

At this point the crowd starts getting a bit agitated, or as agitated as blissed-out Obama supporters can get. No information is forthcoming from security and no one but a few volunteers are getting through the gate. With all the confusion -- is the entrance open? What's going on at the front of the line? -- we began to worry that the situation may become dangerous. It would only take a few people shoving toward the entrance to cause a panic and to crush people.

Keystone Kops to the rescue

So. You're in charge of a really big security operation. You know that millions of people will be descending on the city, but you've had months to prepare. It's a scheduled event in a known location. You know that crowds are going to show up early. Obviously, you're going to have a plan that involves the orderly entrance and exit from the area. You're going to have your officers in place before people show up, ready to go when the crowds start gathering.

Ah, but Bush is still in power, and systematic incompetence is still the order of the day.

Exhibit A: While everyone's trying to figure out what's up with the 7th Avenue entrance, and we're all packed together like the proverbial sardines, the crowd suddenly surges backward, and we're all crushed together, even tighter than before. Natasha can't breathe and the two of us are pushed apart.

It turns out that the police decided that right that moment would be the perfect time to drive several police cars through the crowd. They then establish a corridor so dozens of police officers (one of them, hand to God, carrying a box of donuts) could march into the area where they probably should have already been. People all around us are crying out that they're being hurt and are yelling at the police to stop moving through the crowd.

The police continue their march, oblivious.

It would have been nice if they had helped the volunteers into the site, but I guess that never occurred to them.

As the police officers finish their march through the crowd, the two of us are finally able to push through, on our way to the fabled 12th Avenue entrance. Several people, still unaware that the 7th Avenue entrance is "closed," ask us why we're leaving. As we flee the scene, thousands of people are still crushed around the entrance.

6 a.m.: Keystone Kops Exhibit B: Several blocks away, we find a walkway to the Mall through the grounds of one of the Smithsonian buildings. We've arrived. There are already thousands of people here, mostly gathered around the many Jumbotrons, but the place is nowhere close to capacity. And there are no security guards, no checkpoints to be seen. We still have no idea why they had a checkpoint at 7th Avenue.

Some people have evidently been on the Mall for a while, and are curled up in sleeping bags, barely visible in the dim light. We carefully step over their bodies, heading toward the Capitol. We cross 7th Avenue and get a great spot near the second-closest Jumbotron to the Capitol and settle in for the five-hour wait for the festivities to begin.

More to come...

For some excellent pictures of the inauguration, see this link. And here.

Video at Great Barrier Reef

2009-01-04T04:20:00.000-08:00

This video was taken when we were snorkeling at the Great Barrier Reef. The fish were amazingly bright and beautiful. The striped fish you see in the beginning is a clownfish.

Shark video

2009-01-04T03:46:00.000-08:00

I know Blayne promised sharks during our vacation and this video delivers! Sadly a man was killed by a shark (in Perth) while we were in Australia but we were assured that despite many reports, shark deaths are extremely rare in Australia.

I took this video with our rented underwater camera during our excursion to the Great Barrier Reef off Port Douglas. This is a reef shark: a relatively small shark compared to the great while sharks of the Jaws movies. But sharks nonetheless. I know that sharks can't back up (thanks to the Discovery Channel) and I was hoping while I was swimming after the shark in this film that it wouldn't suddenly turn and attack me. I don't think it was even aware of me.

Spiders

2009-01-04T03:26:00.000-08:00

[Hunstman spider photographed in Bob and Jenny's bathroom. This spider is defined as "low-risk, non-aggressive with a painful bite"]

I should state that I'm quite scared of spiders. I don't like the idea of spiders anywhere near me, particularly if they might scuttle over my body or lurk unseen while I'm sleeping. But I was fascinated by the spiders in Australia. It could be that so many of them are so toxic and deadly. It could be the enormous size and hairiness of so many of the spiders. I was a little horrified how large the above Huntsman spider was and how hairy.

[Golden orb-weaving spider from brave Internet photographer]

In Bob and Jenny's front garden they showed me another enormous spider: the golden orb-weaving spider. True to its name, the silk of the web had a golden sheen in the sunlight. Luckily its bite is also non-toxic to humans though its size would make me avoid going anywhere near it. My pictures of it didn't turn out as a slight breeze made the web sway and I certainly didn't want to get too close or hold it!

Family pictures in Brisbane

2009-01-04T03:01:00.000-08:00

[Jillian and Lesley at Chrissie]

[Lesley, Jenny, Bob and myself in their beautiful yard in Morayfield, Brisbane]

[Blayne holding Spirot who refused to be held by me but whistled to me]

[Bob holding Spirot: the bird prefers men!]

Beaches

2009-01-04T02:07:00.000-08:00

[Manly beach, Sydney]

[Manly beach]

We preferred Manly beach to the crowds of Bondi who were mostly sunbathing. Manly was filled with surfers the day we were there including a number of surfing schools. And there's lots of room to stretch out without laying on someone else's towel!

[Protected ocean pool between Manly and Shelly beaches]

[View of Shelly beach in distance from walkway between beaches]

[Walkway to Shelly beach from Manly beach]

[Shelly Beach]

Dad used to spearfish with his brothers at Shelly beach so we wanted to visit. To our surprise, this area has been transformed into a marine reserve. I'm not sure if it's because Dad and his brothers were such successful fisherman or whether they had wounded so much sea life! It's a pretty little beach that is protected by the surf and filled with snorkelers.

[Bondi Beach in Sydney]

Darling Harbour

2009-01-04T01:50:00.000-08:00

These pictures are of Darling Harbour in Sydney. It's what Toronto's waterfront could be if it wasn't all condo developments. It's a mixture of museums, aquariums, shopping, restaurants, hotels and condos all surrounded by walkways and fountains. I particularly like the circular fountain pictured here: it was very popular with children. Although these pictures don't capture his performance, there was a busker juggling a running chainsaw, knives and a flaming baton while balancing on a bicycle on a pole near the fountain.

Our Australian Education

2008-12-29T21:33:00.000-08:00

Today’s our last day in Australia. After spending Sunday and Monday at the beach (an overcrowded Bondi and a more relaxing Manley and Shelly, respectively), today we’re heading back to the Sydney fish market for oysters and prawns, we’re going to do some shopping and we’re going to finish the day with a play, Rabbit.

Theatre-wise, we’ve had a great run over the past month. We’ve managed to see three distinctly Australian plays, with Rabbit being our fourth. Taken together, they’ve given us an unorthodox education in what Australia’s all about.

Politics was covered by John Doyle’s The Pig Iron People (at the Sydney Opera House), a comedy set in 1997, the year John Howard, the conservative (down here, they’re called Liberals) who wrote all of Stephen Harper’s best lines, came to power. Alternately broadly funny and quite moving, it’s a thoughtful play about the fear of societal change represented by the election of Howard. Though some of Doyle’s “Old Australia” characters stray close to caricature, he never condescends to them. The Pig Iron People is an honest (and, most importantly, funny) attempt to understand a pivotal period in Australian history.

If you want to understand the role of sport – particularly cricket – in Australian life, you could do worse than the amazing Shane Warne: The Musical (the Athenaeum Theatre in Melbourne). Imagine if Wayne Gretzky were a charismatic, boozing, chain-smoking womanizer and you’ll have an idea of who Shane Warne is and his role in Australian society: Warne’s name comes up twice in a book I’m reading on recent Australian political history.

Now imagine that story live on stage, set to music. The songs are great, ranging in style from rock ballads, to electronica, to an off-colour tune Noel Coward would have been happy to claim as his own. While you won’t get all the jokes if you haven’t read the tabloid headlines (thanks to Natasha’s Uncle Valdy for filling us in), and while Natasha’s Uncle Bob still had to explain the rules of cricket to me, the story of a talented athlete undone by his own appetites and a public unable to separate what happens on the field and off is a universal story.

Oh, and Warnie attended opening night, front row centre. How cool is that?

Last, but not least is Priscilla, Queen of the Desert: The Musical (Star City Casino, Sydney), based on the movie of the same name. It was fabulooous! Natasha calls it a “gargantuan bedazzlement." We’d never been to a big-budget jukebox musical and we totally enjoyed ourselves: the costumes, the sets (Natasha particularly liked how Priscilla, the bus, came across as a character in her own right) and, of course, the songs, especially the first-act-ending “I Will Survive.” Priscilla is Australian through and through, a fact reinforced by cameos by koalas, emus and the Sydney Opera House.

Though apparently it closed early, the fact that a Big Gay Musical like Priscilla would be staged shows how much Australia has changed over the past 30 years, and how the 1997 election of John Howard dramatized in The Pig Iron People represented the last gasp of an old Australia. Judging by the stories, creativity and energy of these three plays, the new Australia promises to be an exciting place. It would be fun to come along for the ride.

Shower curtains redux

2008-12-29T21:29:00.000-08:00

So it turns out a lack of shower curtains isn’t an Australian thing; it’s a crappy hotel thing. We’re staying at the somewhat anticlimactic Holiday Inn Potts Point: big room, working bathroom doors, shower curtains, nice bed. It’s right next to Kings Cross, Sydney’s red-light district, which travel sites and several of Natasha’s Australian relatives all said is a dangerous, loud place, but we’ve had no problems. The hotel itself is tucked away slightly from the action, making it an oasis of calm.

The only unusual thing about the hotel is that we’ve had to take the elevator to our first-floor room because we can’t find the stairs. More accurately, we can’t find a door to the streets that doesn’t set off the fire alarm when it’s opened.

I sure hope they don’t have security cameras on that particular door. Man, was that an annoying sound.

It was good practice, though, since the next morning everyone had to evacuate the hotel briefly because of a fire alarm. If you’ve ever wondered what a hotel fire alarm sounds like, initially, it’s actually a pleasant intermittent beeping sound that I mistook for a hidden clock radio (I had just woken up; Natasha was finishing up in the bathroom), only it was coming from the ceiling.

That was the it-could-be-a-fire pre-buzzer. The actual you’re-all-going-to-die earsplitter followed. Not pleasant. So we grabbed our valuables (passports, digital camera, Apple products; we left behind: our Australian wines and my coursework) and joined a calm queue of other guests as we assembled at the designated rescue place behind the hotel. It was all so orderly it could have taken place at a Canadian university.

(Photo: Sydney's firies keeping us safe from harm.)

Yet another botanical garden

2008-12-26T22:38:00.000-08:00

On boxing day we toured another botanical garden. It was Blayne's type of garden tour--a quick peripheral tour through the garden on the way to another location, this one being the Brisbane Gallery of Modern Art. Trailing after Bob, Jenny, Lesley and Blayne, I managed to get a few shots of the garden. The small pond covered in water lilies is home to a number of ducks, lizards, water turtles and eels. The large tree is the Bo tree or sacred ficus (ficus religiosa). The description that stood at the base of the tree explained that this tree grows like a strangler vine and kills the original tree it surrounds but it's rarely cut down because it is known as the wisdom tree, and who would cut that? This tree was planted in the 1870s. One branch of this tree has to be supported by props (see fence) or it will break off.
The picture above shows Brisbane's bouganvillia walkway along the South Bank beach. It was controversial when it was built but the walkway is absolutely spectacular as it winds its way through shops, pedestrian areas, swimming areas and restaurants. The arch of trees below is a popular spot for wedding pictures.

Glass House Mountains

2008-12-26T21:32:00.000-08:00

Today we went for a drive to the Glass House Mountains about 45 minutes from Morayfield. Captain Cook "discovered" and then named the mountains. From the look-out point I took these pictures of the mountains. The mountains pictured here I believe are Mount Beerwah and Mount Tibrogargan.

We then drove to another look-out point and I took pictures of the surrounding rainforest and countryside. In these pictures you can just see several small farms with cows. From these look-outs we drove through plantations of pineapple, avacados, and macademia nuts. As some of you may know, pineapples don't grow on trees like coconuts (as I previously believed) but on short, little scrubby bushes. I stand corrected.To round off our Australian wine tasting experience we stopped in for a pre-lunch wine tasting at the Maleny Mountain Winery. As grapes do not grow well near the Australian coast in northern Queensland, most of the grapes for this winery are grown in New South Wales and then shipped to the winery. The varietal that does grow well in this rainforest region is the chambourcin grape. We bought a bottle of white wine for dinner since Blayne is making his traditional spicy Thai soup and green chicken and chick pea curries.

Possums!

2008-12-26T14:01:00.000-08:00

On boxing day, Bob, Jenny, Lesley, Blayne and I went for a ferry cruise along the Brisbane river. Before we got on the ferry, we spotted a possum being chased by crows, perhaps because it stole eggs. After the possum escaped from the crows, I managed to get several close-up shots while it determined how it should escape. In these pictures, it's climbing mangrove trees that are growing in the water beside the ferry stop.

Bob and Jenny's place has quite a population of the poisonous and invasive cane toads. The toads were imported from the United States to try to kill scarab bugs that were attacking the sugar cane but instead they escaped from the research lab. Much like the invasive rabbits, they increased the cane toads increased their population dramatically without any natural predators but unlike the rabbits the cane toads are happily eating and poisoning other species.

This lizard was spotted in the Brisbane botanical gardens and sunning itself outside the Gallery of Modern Art. It appears to be a different kind of lizard than the one I saw in Canberra.

How warm was my pool

2008-12-26T02:50:00.000-08:00

It probably goes without saying that the best thing about being in Australia in December is not being in Canada in December. This was never clearer to me than yesterday – that would be Christmas – which I kicked off with a swim in Natasha’s Uncle Bob and Aunt Jenny’s pool and which we finished with a walk along the beaches of Bribie Island, about 20 minutes by car from their house.

Today we finally got to see a bit of Brisbane, in what apparently is the best way to see the town, by water taxi on the Brisbane River, which is probably the defining geographical characteristic of this city of over one million people. The CityCat fleet of catamarans is completely integrated with the town’s extensive bus and rail system, but it also doubles as a budget river cruise. If you like river tours or appreciate transit systems that actually work (hi there, Ottawa!), it’s the only way to travel.

(Brisbane from the river.)

On shore, the highlight of the day was our stop at Brisbane’s Gallery of Modern Art, a wonderfully whimsical gallery that’s more PS1 than MOMA. Like all galleries, several artworks were accompanied by descriptions; unlike most galleries, several of these descriptions were also accompanied by descriptions written for kids. Frankly, I found the descriptions for children to be more clearly written and informative than the overly complex regular descriptions. This may be due to my art illiteracy or my impatience with pointless jargon: take your pick.

Sadly, the State Library of Queensland's exhibit Game on!, in which you can play dozens of classic video games, was closed.

Briebie Island

2008-12-25T14:41:00.000-08:00

On Christmas day we went to the Bribie Island and walked along the beach. It's a Christmas tradition in Australia to play cricket on the beach (albeit rather badly it seems) and we saw a number of games underway. And we also saw a number of Christmas picnics (prawns on the barbie!) with the wrappings from presents spread everywhere. It's incredibly luxurious to walk barefoot along a long sandy beach on Christmas day! The pictures show Bob, Lesley, Blayne and I strolling along the beach in the late afternoon. The picture of the pier shows the Glasshouse Mountains in the background (look for the faint conical mountains in the background).

More photos of the Great Barrier Reef

2008-12-24T21:47:00.000-08:00

Here are a few more pictures of the Great Barrier Reef taken by myself with an underwater camera.

Pictures of Brisbane

2008-12-24T21:13:00.000-08:00

Here are a few photos of Morayfield in Brisbane.
1. Bob shows us the lemon trees on his property.
2. An African tulip tree.
3. It's a bit difficult to see but you can see the dark jabitocoba fruit in the bush. Instead of growing in bunches on stems the fruit grows directly on the stem.
4. Blayne examines a lemonade tree: we had fresh lemon juice for breakfast and it's delicious with a bit of soda water.
5. The dam is at the end of Bob and Jenny's property and we saw some lovely golden dragonflies and black butterflies.

Broken Social Scene = candy!

2008-12-24T18:57:00.001-08:00

Most unexpected appearance by a Canadian band in an Australian commercial for what are undoubtedly tasty treats.

Brisbane: "Beautiful today, perfect tomorrow"

2008-12-24T17:28:00.000-08:00

Yesterday we traveled from Biggera Waters to Morayfields, both suburbs of Brisbane. Colin and Rita, who drove us here, say that the slogan for Brisbane is "beautiful today, perfect tomorrow." And that has certainly described the weather we've experienced so far. It was a beautiful drive yesterday but despite all the signs warning of kagaroo and koala crossings we saw neither. We dropped Tegan off at her house (see picture) and then continued to Morayfields.

Now we're staying with my Uncle Bob, Aunt Jenny and cousins Jill and Lesley. They have 5 acres of property--two acres of yard with mostly native fruit and other trees and then the remaining area which is left fallow and leads up to a dam. We took a walk through the yard with Bob and Jenny identifying all the trees--African tulip (see picture), camphor laurel, bananas, several types of lemons (including the sweet lemonade) and oranges (mandarin, naval and valencia), mangoes, ficus, ice cream bean tree, macademia nuts and jaboticoba. I was pleased to try the jaboticoba (see picture of berries) since I had read about it on a website about exotic tropical fruits. The fruit--seen in a picture above--are grape-sized with one large seed and a relatively inedible skin. The flavour was grape-like with a bit of black current and blackberry mixed in. It's not a fruit that I would regularly eat but it was great to try. Jenny gave me a jar of homemake jaboticoba jam.

Eating bugs in Brisbane

2008-12-23T13:48:00.000-08:00

Yesterday we spent the morning at Main Beach (a short drive away) playing in the waves and collecting beautiful shells. There were hundreds of people at another beach a short distance away but this beach was relatively uncrowed although the surf was a bit rough. The lifeguard on duty warned the swimmers to stay within the flags because the undertow was particularly strong. It was another perfect cloudless and sunny day.

Keely and Tegan play in the pool which is 34 degrees most days. The last picture shows Moreton Bay "bugs" which are sort of a cross between crayfish and lobster but it's a separate species. We ate the bugs for dinner: delicious and I thought they tasted tasting than lobster.

I'll add a video of Blayne playing in the waves later when the Internet speed is better.

The warmth continues in Brisbane

2008-12-21T23:36:00.000-08:00

Well here we are in sunny and warm Brisbane--the Gold Coast. We left beautiful Cairns at 6 am yesterday (December 21) for Brisbane and then took the train for an hour into the suburb of Biggera Waters. It was a family reunion: my Aunt Rita and Uncle Colin and their three daughters Linda, Lisa and Lara (also known as Ra) who each brought their children. Linda's children are Liam, Cael and Keely, Lisa's are Morgan, Dylan, and Tegan and Lara's are Isis and Ishka.

The first picture shows the back of Colin and Rita's house with the dock on the river that leads to the ocean. The second picture shows all the cousins: Blayne, Natasha, Linda, Liam, Dylan, Lisa, Morgan, Lara, Isis, Cael, Keely, Tegan and Ishka. In the last picture Blayne and Keely behind him are swimming at Rainbow Bay near Colin and Rita's house. The skyline of Brisbane is in the background. We took a drive along the beaches today, including Surfer's Paradise.

The Poseidon Adventure

2008-12-20T00:02:00.000-08:00

We planned our snorkeling at the Great Barrier Reef to be a highlight of our trip. We both were looking forward to it immensely and were concerned when we both caught a cold. While I had mostly recovered, Blayne vowed that great quantities of decongestant cold medicine would get him through the day—if he could (just) breathe, he could snorkel.

After an excellent recommendation from a travel agent at a local information centre, we decided to book a tour to the Great Barrier Reef through Poseidon tours, despite its ominous name. They actually had a poster on board touting “The Poseidon Adventure.” Why not just name the ship Titanic?

Anyway, prior to arriving in Cairns, we were overwhelmed with the number of tour boat operators and found it difficult to determine which would be the best for us. Poseidon has an advanced eco-tourism accreditation (good environmental procedures), a reef instructor, a great reputation for smallish groups, and three dives at separate sites on the outer Great Barrier Reef. If this sounds like a promotion of Poseidon, it is—we plan to write a positive review of our experience in TripAdvisor.

The day started brutally early—we were picked up from the Bay Village hotel was at 6:50 a.m. to transport us to Port Douglas, on the outskirts of Cairns over an hour away. En route to Port Douglas, our driver delighted, as all Australians seem to, in telling us about the dangers that Australian flora and fauna pose to tourists and locals alike. “Don’t swim in the ocean,” he said, “it’s box jellyfish season.” Of course we already knew that, having been informed by our taxi driver from the airport. But the bus driver pointed out that the normal jellyfish nets were useless against the smallest form of poisonous jellyfish. “They’re as small as your fingernail and there are several people in hospital for stings right now. Swim only in swimming pools.” This informative commentary was not especially moral-boosting as we were about to spend the entire day in the ocean.

All the snorkelers gathered on the top deck while the scuba divers (or bubble heads as the crew called them) gathered on the lower deck. The crew, except for the crusty skipper Richard, was all young, fit, incredibly tanned and good looking. They were also incredibly gregarious, trying to soothe the fears of several people who couldn’t swim yet wanted to snorkel on the reef.

The lecture about the dangers of Australian sea life continued when we were all on the Poseidon heading out to the outer Greater Barrier Reef. On the upper deck Gareth, a marine biologist from South Africa, described the procedure for treating a sting on the hand from a beautiful spiny lion fish that is slow moving and incredibly poisonous. “I heat up a kettle and pour the incredibly hot water on your hand. And you don’t even care how hot the water is because you’re in so much pain. I’ve had people beg me to cut their hands off after they’ve been stung. And then we call a helicopter to take you to the hospital.” Blayne and I looked at one another, not sure if this was all a story designed to scare the tourists or a factual description of treatment. It's true. According to the reef website, "You have virtually no chance of surviving the venomous sting, unless treated immediately. The pain is so excruciating and overwhelming that you would most likely go into shock and drown before reaching the shore."

Gareth said that anyone stung by a box jellyfish would also be flown by helicopter to the hospital. He stressed that nothing should be touched on the reef: not only was the reef to delicate to withstand contact but that many of the beautiful, colourful things that we would want to touch would be poisonous.

After these stories no one had any complaints when we were told that we all had to wear bright blue lycra suits to thwart any jellyfish. The crew referred to the suits as the “Teletubby suits.” After a brief introduction to the art of snorkeling, we struggled into our skin-tight, electric blue suits and jumped into the 29-degree C water.

From Kuranda by skyrail

2008-12-19T23:59:00.001-08:00

After our jungle trek, we took the skyrail down the mountain. It was an absolutely exhilarating ride. The skyrail passes over the rainforest (all part of a U.N. world heritage site). It takes over an hour to travel down the mountain by skyrail—7.5 kms of cable with towers that were lifted into place by helicopters to avoid disturbing the rainforest. As a result, the forest is pristine. We got off the skyrail at two sites to look at the view down the mountain from platforms and to take short treks through the rainforest. At the Red Peak station we joined a guided tour given by an Aboriginal man. The most interesting part was about the cassowary, the bird that likes to chase people and can disembowel someone with its claws. But apparently cassowaries are not simply amoral killing machines. The guide said that the cassowary, a protected species with only several hundred to over a thousand left in the wild, has the unique ability to pass seeds from rainforest fruit through its system. Only the cassowary can digest the fruit and cause the seeds to germinate. If the cassowary goes extinct then over 400 plants will lose their ability to germinate their seeds and will also go extinct. The guide also said that the cassowary is the dreaming animal (seems to be like the totem spirit to Canadian aboriginal peoples) to his people. In their creation stories, they descended from the cassowary.

The pictures show the train to Kuranda slowly ascending the mountain along a very narrow track--there's only room for one train except at one point in the journey. The train stops once at a look-out over Barron Falls and I'm standing in front of the falls. It's a much bigger falls in times where rainfall is heavier. We traveled down the mountain in one of the skyrail compartments: it's a very smooth ride except when the skyrail car passes from one tower to another. I took the sweeping shots of Cairns and the rainforest from the skyrail car. The skyrail was an unforgettable experience. You fly over the rainforest and peer down on it—observing birds, nests, waterfalls, and animals. It’s absolutely undisturbed by people.

Greetings from Cairns

2008-12-19T23:55:00.000-08:00

As you've probably noticed, Natasha's been doing most of the blogging, mainly because I've been laid out with a nasty cold since last Tuesday. I've got some longer posts coming, mainly about our theatre adventures so far. Without even trying, we've so far managed to see three homegrown Australian productions, with one more to come at the end of the month, and they've all been fabulous, in both senses of the word.

Some quick observations, though:

1. Snorkelling the Great Barrier Reef is just about exactly as amazing as you could possibly imagine. Check out Natasha's photos to get an idea of how awesome it is. And, as Natasha's video shows, I delivered on my promise of a shark attack. Promises made, promises kept!
2. It is possible to snorkel while your lungs are being scraped raw by a persistent cough and your head feels like it's going to explode every time you swim underwater, but I wouldn't recommend it.
3. Multiple doses of Sudafed and sheer willpower can hold off an illness for about a day, but you'll pay for it the next day.
4. Your television programming choices in Cairns on a Saturday afternon: cricket, two ballets, lawn bowling and race cars. We chose the cricket.
5. I'm still trying to figure out the rules to cricket.
6. It is better be sick where it's warm than healthy where there's a foot of snow on the ground.
7. The real reason I'm excited to be in Cairns.

Kuranda rainforest

2008-12-19T17:24:00.001-08:00

Since Blayne and I have both been fighting colds, we decided to start our tour of Cairns slowly. We dropped into an information centre in Cairns and on the advice of the travel agent, booked a tour to Kuranda on December 18th and a tour of the Great Barrier Reef for the 19th. We thought that a jungle trek would improve our congested heads.

The mountaintop village and historic rainforest park of Kuranda is accessible by car, train and sky-rail. We took the historic train from Cairns to Kuranda, a journey of just over an hour and a climb from sea level to 334 metres. The rail-line was built in the mid-to late-1800s and the number of injuries and deaths related by the narration on the train was staggering. Many died of bubonic plague, malaria, and accidents like tunnel cave-ins. Although the narration didn’t make clear why the railway was constructed, it appears it was built for gold mining and tropical timber logging. The railway itself was a staggering feat of engineering, as the narration kept repeating, with cliffs that were chiseled away on one side and tunnels dug by hand through mountains and gorges on the other.

Once in Kuranda, and having secured more medication for Blayne, we wandered around looking at the many little craft shops. Then we set off on a trek through the rainforest, which is a protected world-heritage site. We saw a number of lizards and several turkey-sized birds stalking through the jungle. Some insects were making the most incredible buzzing noise like a cicada, only much more intense. Blayne finally spotted a brownish-gray moth that was making the noise, an observation that was verified when I took pictures of it and the noise increased considerably. The noise that thousands of these moths made was deafeningly painful.

Finally, a tropical villa

2008-12-19T17:05:00.000-08:00

We arrived in Cairns on December 17th—a welcome departure from rainy and cool Melbourne. Stepping out of the plane onto the tarmac in Cairns was like walking into a tropical greenhouse: it was over 30 degrees and very humid. The hotel, Bay Leaf Tropical Retreat, was another welcome change from Melbourne. You’ve seen our other accommodations: they were all a bit spartan, unless you’ve got a thing for bunk-beds or wee bathrooms. But the Bay Village in Cairns is lovely and—not a surprise in the tropical north that is Cairns—filled with tropical rainforest plants. After a tiny bathroom in Melbourne and a bunk bed in Sydney, the room looks refreshingly normal and spacious. And yes, we were upgraded again and have a single bed in addition to the queen-sized bed.

The hotel itself is set up in a hacienda style: a low-rise hotel set around either a pool surrounded by gardens gardens with Balinese statues and wrought-iron lamps. We were upgraded again but there is no bunk-bed this time; instead we got a queen-sized bed and a single bed. As you can see from the picture, the room itself is easily twice or three times the size of our room in Sydney!! And we’re only two blocks from the ocean. Strangely, for a resort town, there is no beach in downtown Cairns. Instead, there’s a long boardwalk overlooking the ocean and surrounded by grass and picnic areas leading to an enormous community swimming pool. The beaches are in the northern suburbs.

The restaurant attached to the hotel—the Bayleaf Balinese—is exquisite. After being drenched in a brief monsoon rain shower during our afternoon walk in Cairns, we decided to try the hotel restaurant. It’s well known in Cairns for having authentic Balinese food and its reputation is well deserved. Very tasty. Blayne claimed that the spicy chicken soup cured him of his fever.

I love the tropical garden right outside the room. We're enjoying staying in a hot, humid climate after the relative chilliness of Melbourne. And reading about "smowmagedon" back home makes us happy we're here! Can one become a refugee from winter storms?

Australian hotels (II)

2008-12-15T20:45:00.000-08:00

Our paid accommodation so far this trip can best be described as “quirky.” I’ve already written about the cramped, YMCA stylings of the Pensione hotel Sydney, but it’s probably worth mentioning its unique setup. See if you can spot the security problems.

The front entrance is on George St., Sydney’s main drag and a lot like Toronto’s Yonge St. You can get to reception by taking the elevator or stairs to the first floor: it’s through the door and down the hall. After 10 p.m. you need a code to get in, but any time before then, anyone can walk off the street and get to anywhere in the hotel without passing the reception desk.

My favourite quirk is that you need your pass card to take the elevator anywhere but the first floor, or you can just walk up the stairs.

With those features, you can chalk down our decision to move on from the guesthouse to the Melbourne branch of the Pensione Hotel to morbid curiosity or an extreme preference for low prices. Thankfully, I am happy to report that the Pensione Melbourne has a “traditional” reception area, and its rooms are roomier (you could easily fit a bunk bed in here), with a comfortable queen bed, a 30-inch plasma TV, and in-room Internet. This hotel feels much more boutique-y than the Pensione Sydney.

But who designed the bathroom? (Check out Natasha's photos below.) It would be fine if it were simply small (which it is), but it feels like it was designed by some alien totally unfamiliar with how earth humans use bathrooms.

The sliding frosted glass door is a nice touch; too bad it’s designed not to close all the way or to keep the bathroom light from flooding a darkened room at 2 a.m. If the light doesn’t wake your partner up, the sounds we try to keep behind closed doors will.

There’s a fancy-looking small rectangular sink, which, again, would be pleasant enough, if the overhanging shelf didn’t completely cover it. Result: it’s hard to shave or brush your teeth without getting water everywhere.

And what is it with Australians and their aversion to shower curtains? The shower, like the Pensione Sydney’s, is only partly enclosed by glass, which means that you can’t help but flood the entire bathroom every time you shower. That might account for the drain in the middle of the bathroom floor.

We’re leaving tomorrow for Cairns. Can’t wait to see what the rooms are like there.

More photos from the Koala Sanctuary

2008-12-15T19:32:00.000-08:00

Here are some more pictures from the Koala Sanctuary. I'm feeding the kangaroos some cereal that I bought at the sanctuary while Blayne cuddles with Tadpole the koala. The sulphur-crested cockatoos are incredibly flirtatious and like to whistle and talk to visitors. Some in this sanctuary have been abandoned by their former owners as they're very curious, loud and somewhat destructive. This one also tried to steal my umbrella. We also watched a sheep-shearing demonstration and I tried my hand at shearing. The shearer is a professional who shears thousands each year.

Photos from the Koala Sanctuary

2008-12-15T19:07:00.000-08:00

Here are some of my photos from the Koala Sanctuary outside of Sydney. The wombat is named Matilda and she's 17 years old. She is a little grouchy and bites and scratches so only the handler can hold her. She smelled like a ferret and had rough, coarse fur. The bird is the cassawarry--the strange and fierce emu-like bird.

The kangaroos were incredibly friendly, or at least very interested in the food that we bought at the sanctuary for them. We watched the little fairy penguins being fed by the handler--they flip the fish in the air to eat it head first.

Pensione Hotel Melbourne

2008-12-15T18:57:00.000-08:00

Here are some pictures of our tiny, boutique hotel room in Melbourne. Note in the picture of the bathroom that I took this photo while standing on the toilet in order to get the full tininess of the room. It's a cute, little bathroom until you find that every move you make in the shower soaks the entire room. So if you like soggy cosmetics and towels, this bathroom is for you.

The glass door of the bathroom behind Blayne really lights up the room in the middle of the night. It's better in theory than in practice. However, the rest of the room provides lots of room for our luggage, especially our many bottles of wine. And this is the first room that we have wifi!!! And it's free--included in our package!!!

Blayne tries Vegemite

2008-12-15T14:50:00.000-08:00

After years of complaining that Vegemite was not really a food but a cruel joke perpetuated by Australians on tourists, Blayne has tried Vegemite. For those unfamiliar with this particular form of gourmet food, Vegemite is a black, salty and bitter-tasting yeast spread that provides a large percentage of one's daily vitamin B. It's also pretty much universally abhorrent to people who aren't Australian or who haven't grown up on it. But for those who love it, we love it a lot!!

I grew up on Vegemite and particularly enjoy it on toast with aged Cheddar and a slice of tomato. Blayne, who ate a tiny piece of toasted smeared with a small amount of Vegemite, pronounced that it taste better than it smelt. He doesn't plan to tried it again.

I plan to bring Vegemite back for Dad and myself. I was delighted yesterday when we passed a Vegemite manufacturing facility in Melbourne: the home of Vegemite!!!

Great Ocean Road

2008-12-15T14:12:00.000-08:00

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Yesterday we left cloudy Melbourne early in the morning and took a day trip along the Great Ocean Road looking for the great views we saw on the postcards and a little sunshine. Blayne's cousin Navin drove the car and Blayne's aunt Pettie and uncle Charles packed a trunk of snacks--we provided cookies--and we headed out of town. While I was carsick for part of the trip--the road is incredibly narrow and filled with sharp turns--the views made up for any motion sickness.

We stopped at famous surfing beach, Bells Beach, to watch the surfers--there were a number of surfers enjoying the waves even though the day was a bit windy and chilly in the morning. One surfer brought an old dog which ignored the Ritz crackers I tried to feed him and watched the surfing instead.

Driving along the Great Ocean Road with the ocean and endless sandy beaches on one side and sheer, rocky cliffs and green hills opposite was breath-taking. There are incredible homes that are supported on columns that lean out over the cliffs to maximize ocean views but in many areas there are no homes at all and the beaches are perfect and empty.

We had lunch in beautiful Apollo Bay--there is a string of cafes, restaurants and shops opposite a long, pristine beach. The weather was perfect: sunny and wind-free. For lunch at the Bay Leaf Cafe, Blayne tried grilled kangaroo (served medium rare) and loved it. I had sardines stuffed with feta and peppers. Apollo Bay is also home to a commercial fishing fleet and Charles engaged one of the local fisherman in conversation, quizzing him about fishing in the area and the commercial fishery.

One the way back to Melbourne we drove inland past pastoral sheep farms of green and rolling hills. Blayne and Charles kept exclaiming that the scenery looked like scenes from Lord of the Rings. We saw a group of kangaroos grazing alongside sheep. We drove through a few, tiny farming villages.

As you can see from the pictures, the day warmed up considerably and we ended up with a beautiful sunny day!

Kangaroo

2008-12-15T14:03:00.001-08:00

Tastes a lot like beef. Yum! I’m gonna get me some more.

Australian hotels (I)

2008-12-15T14:01:00.000-08:00

Writing this from Melbourne, Tuesday morning. We’ve been in town since Saturday, and our stay has coincided with the most rain the area’s had in years. So, the good news is that we Canadians are to thank for breaking a decade-long drought. The bad news is it’s not a lot of fun to be outside in a rainstorm.

On the plus side, we were able to spend a lot of time visiting with my cousin Navin and his girlfriend Lauren, as well as my Uncle Charles and Aunt Petty, who are from Toronto but visiting Navin and Lauren for a few months. It’s a Haggart family reunion south of the equator! Navin also took us, Charles and Petty on a day trip down the Great Ocean Road. It fully lives up to its name; Natasha will post some photos and commentary.

Navin and Lauren live in a two-bedroom low-rise apartment in Fairfield, a suburb of Melbourne (think Bloor West Village, both in terms of distance to downtown and its funky shops and restaurants), so our initial plan was to stay at a guesthouse 15 minutes by foot from their place.

I always look for a few things in a guesthouse. A comfy bed, good location, a TV/VCR with a good selection of videos, a basket of fresh fruit and crumpets. But, and this may simply be a matter of personal taste, I try to avoid the guesthouses with long-term residents who swear at you and try to intimidate you when you ask them to please turn down the television, as there are folks trying to sleep in the next room. Especially when you’re the only three people in the house.

This fellow was straight from central casting. Bald, in the shaved-head mental-patient style, smelling of booze, with dark, sunken eyes, prominent forehead, big hands and short fingers, he mentioned in his profanity-laced, um, explanation of the proper way to ask someone to turn down the TV that he’d been there for six months.

And I always thought locks on the room were to protect your belongings.

We left early the next morning. We told the guesthouse owner, Lindsey, a Dude-type fellow with long-grey hair, and he comped the night and offered us a self-contained suite in the back of the house, but we decided that it was perhaps time to see what else Melbourne had to offer in terms of low-end accommodation.

Cassowarry

2008-12-11T20:14:00.000-08:00

This bird is not one that you want to sneak up on. It's not quite as tall as an emu but it has enormous claws and the sign on its enclosure warned visitors that it is unpredictable and bad-tempered. With its strange head plate and vibrant face it also looks like it's ready for battle. Unlike many of the other animals at the sanctuary it had a double fence surrounding its enclosure. And the two males were separated so they wouldn't fight. These pictures are better than mine since I had to photograph it through the fence.

There are numerous accounts of cassowarries attacking people, most of the time when it perceived danger but there are also lots of accounts of people being attacked without provoking the bird. It's large enough to kill people and has injured people by slashing at them with its long, sharp claws. I've read of joggers being chased and treed while the bird waits below: it's particularly aggressive when its young is around.

Koala sanctuary

2008-12-11T19:54:00.000-08:00

Like all tourists to Australia I wanted to see kangaroos, koalas, parrots, and any other kind of animal I could, but I didn't want to see them in tiny, crowded zoos. So we were excited to see that Sydney has the Koala Park Sanctuary. It's a short train and bus ride from Sydney and since it's pouring rain today we had the whole park pretty much to ourselves. We arrived in time to feed the koalas: they're incredibly docile but then start to move slowly. One knocked another from the tree and then bit her when she tried to resume her branch. They sleep like large grey boulders lodged in the crook of a tree and only sleepily blink at you. They do move around a bit and are actually quite agile jumping from branch to branch.

After viewing and cuddling the koalas, we went to feed the fairy penguins. They're the smallest penguins, just a few kilograms. They waddle up to the feeder and then flip the fish in the air to eat it head first. Then we went to visit the wombat Matilda. She's been at the sanctuary since her mother was killed by a car. She's noctural and not very alert but has long claws and her teeth never stop growing. She smelled like a ferret.

Then we bought food (it looked like cheerios) to feed to the kangaroos. You can go in the pen with them as the aggressive males are in another enclosure. I feed them but they get really excited when they see the food and they ripped the bag open with their claws. Two mothers had babies in their pouches with just the head poking out! We had to back out of the enclosure when we were out of food.

We also took a look at the emus, dingoes (they were all digging under a rock), all kinds of parrots, and wallabeys. Peacocks were wandering around. Most of the animals are put in enclosures at night to protect them but the dingoes are caged to protect the other animals. Once a peacock flew into their area and didn't make it out in one piece. The dingoes are very playful looking!

We also spent time talking with the cockatoos: they whistle and say hello and bye-bye. One of them is removed whenever the santuary is open because he screams obscenities and some visitors complained. I found them incredibly charming.

These are Internet pictures but I'll add my own once I download them.

Crazy Australian Wildlife

2008-12-11T19:46:00.000-08:00

Last night we went for tapas in Darlinghurst. As we walked back to the hotel in the twilight I looked up and saw a huge flock of black birds pouring silently from Hyde Park. And then I realized that they weren't birds: it was an enormous flock of bats. They flew as a flock out of the park and then broke off to dart at insects. As we wandered along I saw a dark shape running through the park and then climbing a tree. It was a possum! Although I didn't want to frighten the possum with my camera flash, it looked much like this one!

Mollymook pictures

2008-12-11T19:36:00.000-08:00

Here are a few pictures of Mollymook that we couldn't upload at the time since the uncles don't have an Internet connection and the connection we used at the Ulladulla library was too slow. These pictures are of the Mollymook beach that is 300 steps from the uncles' house, their club (second home, really), and the tide-pool rocks at the edge of the beach.

Oysters: Natural and Kilpatrick

2008-12-11T01:59:00.000-08:00

Uncles Wally and Vit are passionate about oysters. And since every body of water around has its own micro-niche of oyster colonies they can afford to be picky and prefer the bodies of water that are closest to them. Uncle Wally bought 5 dozen oysters for us and we had them in two styles: natural (a mixture of fresh lemon juice with black pepper) and Kilpatrick (a mixture of boubon, aged cheddar and for everyone but me, bacon, warmed until the cheese melts). In these pictures Uncle Wally shucks the oysters and makes the famous Kilpatrick sauce. The beer is for the cook.

Clean skins

2008-12-10T21:59:00.001-08:00

A word about “clean skin” wine: Uncle Vit introduced me to this cultural phenomenon. When large wineries decide that they have too much wine from last year’s batch, they want to sell it off at discount prices. But like many large companies, they don’t want to see their products with low prices attached. So they replace the original labels with “clean skins”: plain labels that state the region the wine is from and its varietal. And the price is incredible. Uncle Vit bought a case for approximately $5.00 each—very drinkable. This is definitely a concept we should explore in Canada—though I’m sure the Ontario LCBO wouldn’t like it.

Darling Harbour

2008-12-10T21:44:00.001-08:00

Here's Blayne a short walk from our hotel in Haymarket (Chinatown). The Darling Harbour is all decorated for Aussie Christmas!

Uncles Wally and Vit

2008-12-10T21:34:00.000-08:00

Here we are in Mollymook drinking with the Uncles Wally and Vit. We were at a barbeque hosted by their friends Ian, Rodney and Sharon. This is just before Uncle Wally brought out the natural oysters!

Pig Iron People

2008-12-10T21:22:00.000-08:00

Saw a fantastic play at the Sydney Opera House: Australian playwright John Doyle's Pig Iron People. Our last few plays in Ottawa were a tremendous disappointment (National Arts Centre plays ruined by the painful extravagances of Peter Hinton). As well, we saw a horrible play the last time we were in New York (Boeing Boeing), we were anxious to see something good. Pig Iron People was excellent: funny, biting, and tremendously sad without being sentimental. There were a number of caustic reference's to John Howard's rule as Prime Minister (the perpetually angry and emotionally abusive neighbour in the play is named John Howard, his wife is named Janette and they live on Liberal street). Luckily after spending several days with the uncles we understood even the sly references to the Howard administration.

(Photos: Us in front of the Sydney Opera House, of course.)

Hotel Pensione

2008-12-10T21:20:00.000-08:00

Here's the our hotel room that Blayne described. The offer is open if anyone arrives tomorrow and needs a bunk (literally!).

Wine tour, Hunter Valley

2008-12-10T21:18:00.000-08:00

So we spent Wednesday on a wine tour of the Hunter Valley, which took us to four boutique wineries, including one that produces about 800 cases a year and is run out of a corrugated tin shed and whose symbol is a dog.

I'm informed by those who know more about these things than I do (i.e., the Internet) that the Hunter Valley "is Australia's oldest and one of its most well-known wine regions." Beautiful region. When it comes to wine-growing regions, Natasha and I are most familiar with the Oakanagan, and this is definitely much lusher.

The Hunter Valley is known for its Shiraz (Shirazes? Shirazi?), but we found them to be a bit harsher than we're used to. Apparently only the bland stuff gets exported, while the "good stuff" stays in Australia. So we ended up picking up mostly Semillion (a white wine) and some sweeter dessert wines, which are a lot like Canadian ice wines, but less syurpy.

We don't usually do these tours, but this one (Boutique Wine Tours) worked out very well. The group was small (13 people, plus Jason, the tour guide), the tastings were fun (though I still can't tell the difference between anything more subtle than a red and a white), and we got enough wine to keep us happy. We got to four wineries on the tour and one on our own during lunch. At lunch we also sampled a number of local cheeses and bought a cheddar.

Our only complaint: I don't feel the need to see Sideways (which we watched on the way back) ever again. It may be the quintissential wine movie, but like over-analysis of wine, it gets old really quickly.

(Photos: The Hunter Valley as seen fromAudrey Wilkinson Vineyard; Blayne with cheese at McGuigan Wines; and impressed with vats at Iron Gate Estate.)

Harbour cruise

2008-12-10T21:06:00.000-08:00

We caught an afternoon harbour tour on Tuesday—the best way everyone said to see Sydney’s sights. When we started the tour in Darling Harbour we were the only people on the top level of the boat: a private cruise. We cruised around for 90 minutes in the perfect sunshine with a free drink in hand. The tour commentary was largely unobtrusive and at times inaudible because of the wind on the top level. The recorded commentary was also fascinated with Australian and Hollywood celebrities, detailing the prices and locations of exclusive homes bought by Russell Crowe and John Travolta. During the tour, Blayne and I were briefly joined by a group of Chinese tourists who briefly snapped photos before fleeing the wind. The harbour is a mixture of exclusive homes and beautiful parks dotting the harbour that were originally military installations. It's a great way to see the city. There are excellent views of the Sydney Opera House.

Sydney, Day One

2008-12-08T14:53:00.001-08:00

Four-hour bus ride from Mollymook to Sydney. Mostly uneventful, except for the mentally disturbed, bushy-bearded fellow sitting right behind us. His on-the-road odour was, thankfully, overpowered by the chemically septic scent of the onboard toilet, which was close to overflowing, according to an overly perky, thin, pigtailed woman in her early 40s. The bearded fellow’s only luggage was a dirty cloth bag and a plastic bag filled with at least four boxes of crackers. The bus driver didn’t want him to bring the crackers on board because you’re not allowed to eat or drink on Australian buses, but he told the driver, “That’s not my snack, that’s my luggage,” so he was allowed to board, crackers and all. His habit of repeatedly punching his fist into his hand and muttering/laughing to himself was somewhat disturbing, but we were able to change seats after about 30 minutes.

The overperky woman also almost ran afoul of the no food or drink rule with her coffee. Informed by the bus driver that she was not allowed to drink it on the bus because she might spill the coffee once the bus started moving, she replied, “If I spill any of it, I’ll use my head to mop it up,” and proceeded to chug the hot coffee before holding the empty cup triumphantly aloft.

We kept our fruit in our bag.

It was raining, cool and overcast when we got to Sydney, but our hotel was only a few blocks from the bus station, so we didn’t get too wet. We’re staying at the Pensione Hotel, which advertises itself as a “boutique hotel.” This “boutique” hotel’s style is best described as Dorm Room/YMCA: cramped, clean and utilitarian. The bathroom is almost as large as the main “room” (I hesitate to use the word “room” because it implies “space”). The room has an Ikea-esque wardrobe and dresser, a tiny desk, a ceiling-mounted television (hospital-waiting-room style), an ottoman chair and a Rothko on the wall. That must be the boutique part.

We were upgraded from a double to a triple, which is a double bed plus (I kid you not) a bunk bed. So if you can get to Sydney before the end of the week and don’t have a fear of heights, you can stay with us. On the plus side, while 95 percent of the floor space is occupied by bedding of one kind or another, we have a great view of a roof and can hear the late-night screams of partiers along George Street, Sydney’s main strip. The location’s good, though, right in the heart of Chinatown.

Last night, after some tasty conveyer-belt sushi at Sushi Rio, we walked around Darling Harbour and checked out its myriad shops, bars and restaurants. It’s the launching point for harbour tours (I believe) and many other things besides, so we’ll be back and will describe it in more detail later.

Some notes on God’s Country

2008-12-08T14:47:00.000-08:00

We’re in Sydney now, after four days visiting Natasha’s uncles, Vit and Valdy in Mollymook, a seaside resort town about three hours south of Sydney by bus, or two hours from Canberra. Natasha’ll have more to say below, and we’ll be posting a whole slew of pictures (we have yet to find a fast wireless connection in this country), but, man, what a great part of the world. It barely rates a mention in the Rough Guide, but once there, you’d never want to leave. It’s gorgeous. The ocean’s the main thing, of course, a white-sand beach that stretches for 1.5 km. There’s waves but not too many. There’s fishing, golfing, and snorkeling, if those are your things, and, we’re informed, some pretty good restaurants. The seafood isn’t bad, either. The water was unseasonably cold, about the temperature of an Eastern Ontario lake in late spring, so we didn’t swim much, but the beach was about as good as any Canadian escaping from -20 degree weather could hope for.

Part of the reason for this trip was to meet Natasha’s relatives, most of whom she’s never seen before, so it was great to spend time with Vit and Valdy, Natasha’s father’s brothers. There’s a definite family resemblance, most obviously their easygoing manner. They got to Mollymook early, 40 years ago, when it was not much more than a few houses. They’ve built several homes in the area, including their own, which is only 300 steps to their club/drinking hole (most of their travel stories employ pubs as their geographical frame of reference). If you’re interested, they are also selling another home they built, with a seriously great ocean view, just around the corner. They’ve since retired to an idyllic life of golf (three times a week), swimming, travel, hanging around with friends and enjoying the finer things in life.

Another family resemblance: they entertained us in style, including several feeds of Sydney Bay Rock Oysters ($AU5.50 a dozen), an evening with their mates at their golf club, right on the ocean, and a BBQ with their friends Ian and Sharon, and Rodney and their kids. Valdy also introduced me to Beenleigh dark rum, a sweet rum that’s not as heavy as Goslings, our usual go-to rum, and made from sugar cane around Brisbane. Apparently it’s pretty rare, so I’m going to be keeping my eye out for it over the next few weeks.

Kookaburas: the jerks of the bird world

2008-12-04T20:18:00.000-08:00

I'm not a birder but I do like seeing birds that I've never seen before. And there are some pretty interesting birds here: fabulously beautiful parrots that make horrible screaming noises and dainty little fairy wrens that are bright blue and so delicate. But my favourite have to be the kookaburas with their insane cackling laugh.

Kookaburas gather outside the uncles' house every morning and evening. The old guy who lives in the apartment downstairs feeds them so they come in flocks. Kookaburas are apparently quite a problem bird in the area. They eat duckings on the golf course and baby fairy wrens which are bright blue and just lovely. They dive-bomb the mailman as they hate that he rides around on a bit delivering mail. And they also dive-bomb people who walk past their nests so some locals wear their sunglasses on the back on their heads to fool the birds. Blayne noted that they seem to be the jerks of the bird world.

God's country

2008-12-04T19:41:00.000-08:00

Uncle Wally calls Mollymook "God's country." And it is, especially if God's interests include fishing and golfing. It's certainly an idyllic and laid-back sleepy ocean resort town. We took the bus from Canberra to Bateman's Bay--just a spot on the map says Uncle Wally--and then Uncle Wally drove us 35 minutes to Mollymook. We passed Pebbly Beach which is famous for its kangaroos that frolic in the ocean. Uncles Vit and Wally live in a big house that's exactly 300 steps from their golfing/drinking club and the ocean. There's a 'Bogey Hole', a large rock pool that's a protected tidal pool and is a calm area for swimming. The sand is perfectly soft. Last night there was a "nor-easterly" wind and a bunch of blue jellyfish washed up on shore.

The uncles enjoy travelling around Australia in their fitted-out caravan camper to golf courses and pubs. Most stories start with "we were in search of a pub" or "as we left the pub." And tonight we'll experience the club! We're having raw oysters and whiskey (which I think is called oysters kilpatrick) for tea and then we're heading off to the club to have a few drinks and to play keno and the poky (poker) machines. In Australia, the drinking establishments are divided into pubs and clubs--clubs don't pay property tax and any profits made must be reinvested into the club. Their club is undergoing a $3-million renovation. Saturday night we're off to a BBQ at a friend of the uncles who lives right on the lake.

Question Time (or, the adults go to work)

2008-12-02T17:52:00.000-08:00

Writing from the Pancake Parlour Restaurant (tasty pancakes, horrifically slow wi-fi), where I’ve wasted the morning trying to submit my grades for the course I’ve been teaching and catching up on the political implosion back home in Canada.

Actually, Australia’s as good a place as any to appreciate what’s been going on. Sometimes it takes some distance to see how childish, provincial and destructive our politics have become. It'll be interesting to see how far Harper is willing to go to avoid a no-confidence vote.

Which brings us to Question Time, Australia’s version of Question Period. As she mentions below, Natasha and I spent yesterday at Parliament House, including sitting in on the 90-minute Question Time. I know it’s a mistake to judge an entire country’s political process by listening to politicians talk for an hour and a half, but it was pretty impressive.

If our experience is anything to go by, at the very least, Australia seems to be governed by adults intent on tackling the important issues of the day. How very refreshing.

Some brief highlights:

There was no clapping or pounding on desks. Instead, while some questions and answers attracted jeers from the other side, support was usually expressed via a quick “Hear, hear.” I’d never realized exactly how thuggish and goat-like our own MPs sound with all their hand-slapping and desk-thumping.
The set-up is pretty interesting, with the two main parties’ front rows sitting on benches, not at desks. Ministers, the Prime Minister and the main opposition leaders answer questions at a lectern on a table in the centre aisle. The Prime Minister and the opposition leader sit at the table, across from each other.
The questions were, for the most part, substantive, and the whole thing gave the impression of an opposition actually holding the government to account. Ministers either answered the questions (more or less) or were so obviously dodging the question that the effect was the same.
Canada made an appearance in an answer about the state of the Australian financial system. Apparently ours compares well with Australia’s, which apparently is in trouble but not near collapse. The big issue here: several Australian banks are not passing on the central bank’s interest-rate cuts. Not good.
Interestingly, on the news this morning, a panel discussion with a government Labour member and an opposition Liberal (actually conservative) member, Canada came up again, with the Liberal member using Canadian Finance Minister Jim Flaherty’s widely discredited claim that Canada’s budget is going to remain in surplus to bolster his party’s attack on the government.
Bonus points: Minister for the Environment, Heritage and the Arts (and former Midnight Oil frontman) Peter Garrett answered a question. (Ministers all seem to hold many unconnected portfolios.) He did not dance, but his answer (about the nationalization of a water basin [I think]) caused an opposition member to freak out so much that she was ejected from the House!
The Speaker always sounded pretty laid back, even when calling for order. Could be the accent.
It was nice to see a Prime Minister (Kevin Rudd) who seemed both good-humored, at ease with himself and in command of his portfolio. We haven’t had one of those in Canada in a very long time.

Cricket, anyone?

2008-12-02T17:26:00.001-08:00

Of course a House of Parliament isn’t really complete without a cricket pitch and a lawn bowling green. So, back in the day, the parliamentarians built a pitch and bowling green among the rose gardens surrounding the (now former) Parliament building. It’s good to have sports facilities as top priorities, that and rose gardens! The cricket pitch is now gone and replaced with tennis courts. The roses are spectacular with hundreds of varieties that have been specially bred for the Australian climate.

House of Parliament

2008-12-02T16:58:00.000-08:00

The Australian House of Parliament was a bit of a boondoogle when it was built.

It cost over a billion dollars in 1988 (about $75 for every Australian)—an astronomical amount. As the Australian Rough Guide notes, the former Prime Minister Malcolm Fraser who commissioned the building noted it was “my one very serious political mistake.”

It takes four people to raise and lower the flag from the massive four-piece flagpole that can be seen from kilometers away. They try not to lower the flag unnecessarily as it takes such an effort and celebrities no longer get the half-mast treatment. However, I like the building. Visitors can wander rather freely about the public areas looking at the art (Aboriginal paintings, portraits of former Prime Ministers, and a Canadian Inuit sculpture of a dancing walrus) and crafts (currently a quilt show). Most impressive of the artifacts is one of four remaining copies of the Magna Carta.

One can also ride unescorted to the grass-covered roof, wander about and take in a great view of Canberra and the Australian war memorial. There’s something about sitting in the sun on the grass on a roof of Parliament that’s very relaxing. Even when the parrots are screaming. No snipers or bomb-detecting dogs either.

Welcome to Kangaroomu

2008-12-02T16:54:00.000-08:00

“Kangaroomu”—it was on the list of names in the running for the title of the Australian capital. Also in the running were “Shakespeare,” “New London” and “New England.” Of course Canberra won but I do think Kangaroomu—a Dr. Seussian combination of two of Australia’s most iconic fauna, the kangaroo and emu—would have been the most Australian (and funniest) choice. And it would be one more thing that we could find so amusing about Australia. Another option could have been “Koalapus” (koala and platapus) or maybe “Dingocroc” (dingo and crocodile). Or maybe since Australians have a way of making everything sound cutesy, “Croco.”

We learned this bit of fascinating Australia lore during our tour of the Australian House of Parliament. We also learned that Prime Minister McEwan (1967-1968) went swimming in the state of Victoria one day and disappeared never to be heard from again. Conspiracy theories raged that maybe he was a Chinese spy who returned to China or that he was kidnapped by in Russian nuclear submarine. In a traditionally Australian sense of dry humour and sentimentality, a swimming pool in Victoria was named in McEwan’s honour.

Greetings…from the future

2008-11-30T16:46:00.000-08:00

Writing from the Sydney Airport food court (though what with the Subway and the McDonald’s, you can only tell you’re in Australia by the sign advertising “Coffee and Brekkie”) early Monday morning, Sunday back home.

The best thing about long flights is that it gives you a chance to get a whack of reading done. My in-flight reading list:

Thomas Frank’s The Wrecking Crew: How Conservatives Rule. I started this before the U.S. election and it may be a moot point in the U.S., but anyone wanting to understand the motivations behind Stephen Harper’s seemingly suicidal inability to stop trying to destroy the Liberals – as opposed to simply trying to implement conservative policies and, you know, govern – could do much worse than this book.

Paul Krugman’s The Return of Depression Economics and the Crisis of 2008. Newly updated (as of October) and very accessible book by this year’s Nobel Economics prize winner. Another piece of essential reading, this time for anyone who’s wondering exactly how we’ve ended up in the most serious global economic crisis since the 1930s.

Charlie Savage’s Takeover: The Return of the Imperial Presidency and the Subversion of American Democracy. Winner of the Pulitzer Prize, and deservedly so. Savage, a journalist with the Boston Globe outlines the ways in which Bush and Cheney have spent the past eight years attacking the very idea that the President has to follow the law. A sobering read, especially for those of us with high hopes for Obama's presidency, since power once claimed by the presidency is rarely relinquished. Takeover implicitly suggests that Obama should be judged not only on his actual policies, but on the degree to which he respects Congress and the rule of law.

Also started reading Stephen Clarkson’s Does North America Exist? Governing the Continent after NAFTA and 9/11. Clarkson’s work was one of the things that inspired me to do a PhD in North American relations, and 50 pages in he hasn’t disappointed yet.

(And since I’m blogging from the future, this tidbit of info might be of interest to all you Canadians: Prime Minister Hedy Fry. Who would’ve guessed?)

War Memorial

2008-11-29T15:42:00.000-08:00

At the end of a long walk yesterday, I went to see the national war memorial. It's a pretty impressive building. The orientation of the memorial--set in direct line with the old Parliament and the new Parliament buildings across the lake from the memorial--reminded me of the National Mall in Washington. And like Washington, it's a long, dusty hot walk from one memorial to the next. But instead of pigeons and ducks everywhere as there are in Washington, there were hundreds of white and pink parrots screaming.

Gods and ghosts

2008-11-29T15:34:00.001-08:00

The other exhibit that I wanted to see at the National Gallery was "Gods, Ghosts and Men" the first major exhibition of Pacific art to be held in Australia for nearly twenty years, covering Melanesian and Polynesian sculptural traditions of Papua New Guinea, Vanuatu, the Solomon Islands, Easter Island, New Zealand and the Marquesas Islands. It was a very interesting, sometime creepily eerie exhibit as the lights are dimmed and some of the sculptures have eyes that seem to be watching you. A particular favourite is made of leaves and bark and represents beings between the world of the living and the dead. One consults him before important decisions.

Aboriginal burial poles

2008-11-29T15:17:00.000-08:00

Well, I was very excited about the National Gallery which the Australia Rough Guide described, wrongly it turns out, as having a large and rather magnificent collection of Aboriginal artwork. The collection is limited to one small room crammed next to the conceptual art display of metal shelving and crystal mirrors. It is quite an interesting exhibit: a hundred or so burial poles from different peoples representing all the Aboriginal people who died under Australian rule and who weren't properly buried. Bones are placed in these hollowed-out logs. The burial poles show animals and fish that are particularly important to that tribe of people. And the dots represent important physical or spiritual places. When I looked in the gallery bookshop I thought I missed an entire Aboriginal section but the bookstore clerk informed me that all the pieces I wanted to see were in storage.

Back from Australia! (the movie)

2008-11-29T08:45:00.000-08:00

My plane leaves for Sydney and Canberra (via Washington and LA) in a few hours, but I figured I’d get a head start on my month in Australia via yesterday’s10 am showing of the latest Baz Luhrmann epic, the fittingly named Australia. At the very least, I hoped to add to my limited knowledge about the continent/country, my only previous knowledge coming from The Simpsons, Monty Python, Patrick O’Brian, Men at Work and Midnight Oil (does INXS count as an Australian band, or were they traded sometime in the 90s?).

I didn’t expect much, given the middling-to-nasty reviews it’s received. But, wow. It takes major stones to name your film after a country and, for my money, I think Luhrmann pulled it off. Roger Ebert calls it "exuberantly old fashioned," and he's exactly right. Its plot isn't exactly groundbreaking: Will uptight British aristocrat Nicole Kidman save her cattle ranch? Will she find True Love with the impeccably muscled Hugh Jackman? Will mean ol’ King Carney steal the ranch? Will the Japs’ bombing of Darwin ruin everything? And what will happen to the adorable young Nullah, half-white, half-aboriginal and outcast in two cultures? It's a big melodrama, and if that's not your thing, you'd best move on. As for me, I laughed, I cried, I decided to spend a month Down Under.

It also didn’t hurt that the night before I’d seen the nearly unwatchable Quantum of Solace. At least Luhrmann knows how to assemble a film.

Australia’s been criticized for offering up one Australian stereotype after another (Kangaroos? Check. Aborigines with mystical connection to the land? Check. Parched landscape? Check. Exclamatory use of the word “crikey”? Triple check.), but I think this critique misses the point. Luhrmann’s isn't really talking about Australia's history, but rather its symbols and myths and archetypes, in particular the importance of a connection to the land. In the movie, both whites and aborigines are judged in large part by their sympathy for and understanding of the Australian outback. To get meta for a second, Luhrmann's Australia is a story about Australia's story. When you're working on that level, it's hard to avoid stereotypes. And anyway, you don’t go see a movie by the director of Moulin Rouge! expecting gritty realism.

We’ll see how the actual country compares.

Gymea Lily

2008-11-24T21:03:00.000-08:00

Here's one of my favourite plants from the botanical gardens. It's a gymea lily, described as " Sword-like leaves more than 1 m long surround a huge flower spike up to 6 m high, bearing at its apex a large cluster of bright red flowers, each 10 cm across." They're planted along roads in Sydney to cut CO2 emissions. And they're edible, or at least the fibres can be pounded into some kind of edible product. Mmm.

Water Dragon Lizards

2008-11-24T20:26:00.001-08:00

Hi all,

It's a beautiful, sunny day!! I spent all morning and afternoon wandering around the enormous National Botanical Gardens. Those who don't like gardens (like Blayne) would find this excruciatingly boring but I found it so relaxing. And as there are poisonous snakes like the brown snake, potentially dangerous. I was a little paranoid about snakes and spiders. There was a sign warning of brown snakes and giving the advice to back away slowly from any sightings but I didn't see any snakes. I did see a lot of eastern water dragons. For such a grand name they are rather small little lizards with long tails. They like to sun themselves on rocks. I learned that they will eat almost anything and can spend 90 minutes under water. Above is a picture from the garden's website of a water dragon. I got lots of pictures of the water dragons but the parrots were too fast. They just swoop from tree to tree screaming at each other. It sounds really awful.

I spent two hours wandering around by myself and then went on a guided tour with two other Canadians, a British garden fanatic and two Aussies. The guide, Peter, pointed out which plants were used by Aboriginal peoples as food. One plant is mildly toxic/sedative to fish. Aboriginals used to throw a branch into water and then wait for the fish to become intoxicated/sedated and then retrieve them. The garden created a rainforest using an existing dry gully. They added thousands of mister sprinklers and planted fast-growing trees to add cover. The result is an enormous rainforest that replicates rainforest plants from Tasmania to Cairns. For those who are interested, there are over 600 varieties of eucalypts (eucalptus) but koalas only eat two varieties! I walked from the botanical gardens along Lake Burley Griffen where there are paths all along the lake.

Canada is definitely not getting the full Cadbury-brand line of chocolates. At a grocery store near the hotel there is an enormous line of chocolates that I've never seen in Canada or the U.S.: Jamaican rum and raisin, Turkish delight, lemon cheesecake, bosenberry shortcake, and creme brulee. Some may know my obsession with a finding good no-fat, no-sugar yoghurts. Australia has some pretty fabulous yoghurt selection: peach cheesecake, mango tiramisu and berry brulee.

I'm off to find somewhere interesting for dinner. I did find a good wine-bar with wine flights.

Now Down Under

2008-11-23T21:09:00.000-08:00

Hi all,

I've arrived. The trip was a bit long and grueling (30 hours) but at least I had three seats to myself so I could stretch out and sleep. {Blayne: The X-Files movie is desperately awful; I was cringing that poor Skully and Mulder had to endure such a pathetic plot that involves organ trafficking and two-head Russian dog experiments. Skully and Mulder are also lovers but without a spark of passion.}

The first interesting bit of Australian trivia I learned upon landing. The Aussies take quarantine very seriously. All international planes are sprayed with (an apparently) non-toxic spray designed to kill any microbes that enter the country. The flight attendants also spray the interior of the plane, all on the orders of the Australian Quarantine Department. Apparently the spray is WHO-approved but I say people holding handkerchiefs against their mouths. But the beagles that sniff all arrivees and their luggage are just adorable. They all wear little red shoes for some reason.

My Quantas flight from Sydney followed the coast for a bit--so many secluded beaches!!--and then it headed inland. The vegetation is a dull green and reminds me of the landscape in the B.C. Okanagan. The dirt is bright orange, yellow and red! And in the taxi from the airport I saw flocks of pink parrots. The taxi driver explained that Australians try not to kill the prettiest parrots--the rosellas and the kings (I think) but apparently the grey parrots are pretty stupid and fly under moving cars. The taxi driver has accidently killed several recently. I can hear the parrots screaming right now as I sit in the Internet cafe. The weather is great: over 20 degrees. I arrived at the right time since it snowed in the mountains last week in a freak storm that killed a lot of fruit and veggies.

Tomorrow I'm off to take a look at the Aboriginal art at the Australian National Gallery and also tour the National Botanical Gardens. I'm particularly interested in spotting water dragon lizards that run on their hind legs when they're scared. As well, I want to see all the bats that come out at night and cruise through the garden.

Cheerio

Leaving the frozen north

2008-11-21T16:16:00.000-08:00

Hello all,

It's very easy to leave frozen Ottawa so I'm all packed and ready to go. And perhaps never come back!

We'll be blogging as we travel throughout Australia so you'll be able to keep up with our adventures. Here's a preview of the travels to come: where: I'll be in Canberra from November 24 to December 4th. Blayne will arrive in Canberra on December 1st so we'll have some time to explore Canberra in between my meetings. From Canberra we take a bus to visit my uncles Vit and Valdi in Mollymook. We'll spend a few days in sleepy Mollymook with its beach and winery and then we're off to Sydney on December 8th. We'll stay in Sydney until the 13th but we do plan to spend a day touring wineries in Hunter Valley outside of Sydney.

From Sydney we leave for Melbourne to visit Blayne's cousin Navin and his uncle Charles and aunt Petty who'll be in Melbourne at the same time as us. And keeping with our theme of exploring Australia's wineries and wine regions, we plan to take a side-trip to a winery outside Melbourne. After relaxing in Melbourne we head to Cairns on December 17th where we'll go snorkeling on the Great Barrier Reef before it is completely destroyed. And then we're off to Brisbane to visit my relatives and spend Christmas with them. A no-turkey, no-snow Christmas! I'm not sure if there are wineries around Brisbane, but if there are, we'll find them. We end our trip in beautiful Sydney again! And then we'll have to be deported because we'll refuse to leave.

Stay tuned! Blayne is promising to live-blog his 30-hour flight until he gets to Canberra, or until his computer or mind gives out.