University of Queensland, Gatton

Left: Liz Quinn, who, among her many duties, directs community musical theater in the Brisbane area - "The Sound Of Music" at the moment, and "Oliver!" early next year. She was born in a Nazi concentration camp: her parents kept sane by staging theatrical skits with other prisoners.


On Friday, I went into work with Andrew, as Head of the Centre for Pesticide Application and Safety, University of Queensland, Gatton. We drove down the west slope of the D'Aguilar Mountains, through the beautiful, exotic-looking forest down into the Shire of Esk, along the shores of Brisbane's principal water reservoir, Lake Wivenhoe, and across the farming district of Fernvale and Lowood, passing termite mounds and schoolies arriving by bus for class, before arriving at the college station.

Andrew said he gets only 17,000 km per set of tires, which I found dumbfounding at first, but understood better when I saw how quickly he travelled the winding mountain roads. Andrew has, or has had, homes in America - Lake Tahoe, Missouri, Florida - and relatives in Britain - and so, has interests on three continents.

Left: Wind tunnel facility at the University of Queensland, Gatton.


These days, Gatton is a satellite campus of the big University of Queensland St. Lucia campus, at Brisbane. In WWII the U.S. commandeered the campus for a hospital for convalescing soldiers. I met Liz Quinn, Murray Byrnes, and Chris O'Donnell. I visited the wind tunnel facility with Murray, and Chris showed me the mouse and sewage treatment research facilities.

We ate at the campus dining hall, and, when I got lost upon my return, I was escorted back to the Centre for Pesticide Application and Safety by a campus safety officer, decked out in his official, black cowboy-like hat, and shorts (Sherlock-Holmes-like, he said my confusion was obvious, despite my efforts to hide it).

Tappy, The Most Determined Bird On Mt. Glorious

Whee-ooo-wheet! Whee-ooo-whee-ooo-whee-ooo-wheet!

Every morning, and often every afternoon, Tappy, Andrew's nemesis, flutters and taps against the windows of Andrew's home. Tappy is captivated by his reflection, probably mistaking the image for another bird, but sometimes Tappy flutters before dawn, suggesting that his behavior is now compulsive.

It's not clear what kind of bird Tappy is. He's very pretty, with his yellow breast - I'm guessing a Rufous Whistler.

Andrew once captured Tappy and drove him 30 miles from home. Andrew had a day of peace, before Tappy flew the way back and began tapping again.

Whee-ooo-wheet! Whee-ooo-whee-ooo-whee-ooo-wheet!

Mount Glorious

Left: A cold Carpet Python hugs the rock for warmth.


Andrew answered the call: turned out, the airport authorities wouldn't let him park in front of the terminal, making him circle about. I was very happy to see him!

We drove across the semi-tropical northern suburbs of Brisbane towards the D'Aguilar Mountains, and his home on the crest, at Mt. Glorious. I take great pride in my navigational ability, but I was confused. I thought we were driving south, but it was west: the trouble was, as in all places in the Southern Hemisphere, the sun was in the northern sky, off to the right. There had been recent rains, so the city had greened up from its wintertime dowdy brown (both Brisbane and Sacramento have rains from November - April, but that's winter in Sacramento, but summer here).

The drive was scary - everyone drives on the left here - and it was especially frightening on the mountain curves, where it appeared as if accidents were always imminent.

Beautiful, beautiful mountain home, in the open, deciduous Australian forest! We checked out the rain barrels when we arrived. Everyone here collects rain on the roof, stores it big barrels, and filters it for household use - there is no water service in the mountains, or, for that matter, in the farming areas either (groundwater apparently being unreliable). The roof water is good enough to drink, but many prefer to buy drinking water for actual drinking. He also has a gray water system, taking wash water for sprinkling over landscaping. There is also a septic system for toilet water. This tripartite system is very common in Australia, is subsidized by the government, and is absolutely vital, given the droughts that Australia is frequently subject too.

The wildlife here is amazing! We watched two of Andrew's favorite kookaburras tending their nest just outside the back deck. This area is one of the homelands for a variety of parrot species. The parrots haven't been coming close, but they make such a racket in the tree tops, squawking and muttering to themselves, that the forest sounds like a pet store. I've seen Yellow-tailed Black Cockatoos and Crimson Rosellas not far away, and seen Sulphur-Crested Cockatoos and Galahs from the distance. The Bell Miners, called Bellbirds, can be heard with their distinctive bell sound in many places. Australian Magpies and Pied Currawongs are common everywhere.

We took a small drive to the village of Mt. Glorious, and bought honey and trinkets. We took a walk down a mountain trail. On the way back, we saw a snake hiding under a rock, but it wasn't clear where it's head was. I decided to touch it, to see if there was a reaction. Andrew stepped back: "It looks like a python - non-poisonous, but no guarantees!" I touched the snake, and felt its skin quiver, but there was no other reaction - the weather was really too cold for snakes, and their reflexes were greatly-dulled.

Sydney To Brisbane

Left: Downtown Sydney, as seen from our landing aircraft. The famed Opera House is visible on the left edge of downtown.


The flight got bumpy passing through the clouds near Sydney, where a massive cold front from Antarctica had just passed, and where it was still raining. The plane came in from the east, looped over Botany Bay and the Sydney suburbs (many swimming pools down there) and came in from the north, passing downtown, and landing beside famous Botany Bay.

As it turned out, I arrived in Sydney on a landmark day: the coldest November 16th in one hundred years! High winds, rainfall, and snowfall were occurring all across the region - shockingly late in the season!

Debarkation put me in the duty-free shopping zone. I saw a sign saying 'Tourist Refund Scheme', which sounded like a big conspiracy, but since I was a tourist, and could use a refund, I immediately sought out the office, asking them to explain who they were. Turns out, if you buy a large amount of goods ($500 AU or more, if I remember rightly), you could get a refund on the taxes involved (all very confusing). I bought several things in the duty-free zone and waited for the connecting flight to Brisbane.

The duty-free area of the airport sported big signs warning of the dangers of cigarettes, but none at all about the dangers of alcohol, which was also being sold in vast quantities.

I boarded the crowded Boeing 767 for the flight to Brisbane, and sat next to the Great Britain Rugby Team, heading to Brisbane for a weekend match. They were difficult to talk to: thick, lower-class British accents. Their time spent not listening to I-Pods was spent bopping each other on the heads with newspapers. The fellow next to me said he wasn't worried about the upcoming match: "yeah, well be all right!"

"Spot of Tea?" the stewardess asked, before handing me a box. The box had a cherry muffin in it - the tea followed later (the serving crew was harried because of the short duration of the flight).

The eastern coast of Australia was socked in with clouds, but sometimes you could see beaches, green grazing land, river valleys, small cities, and other features. The Gold Coast was laced with canals, and as we approached Brisbane, big beaches, green and brown colored water signifying shallows and river sediments, and in the distance, forest-fire smoke, were all in evidence.

As we came into the flat, sunny, mangrove-laced coast for landing, the aircraft wobbled in the turbulence generated by the high winds. As we debarked, the British Rugby team began mocking the way Australians speak: "G'day, mate! G'day mate!" they said. They seemed like a nice enough bunch of blokes, but still, I wished that when Saturday came around, they'd get a good taste of Australian mud.

I was beginning to get a bit scattered, after travelling so much. The exit interview was odd - the hippie-like fellow wanted to know where I was staying, but he was nice: he explained, in the event of a disease outbreak on the plane, they had to know how to find me fast.

My arrangement with Andrew was to meet on the departing flights upper level of the International Terminal, but no one was there. Suddenly I felt very alone and very vulnerable: as far from home as I'd ever been, stranded on a distant Pacific coast, on a very windy day, in a near-empty airport terminal.

Across The Wide Pacific

Left: South Pacific sunrise, north of Nadi


Emergency procedures were explained, focusing a lot on water evacuation procedures. We were handed a free packet of conveniences that seemed to be quite odd: a pair of socks, what may have been a tampon, some kind of multi-strapped thang, out of which one might be able to fashion a really lame eyepatch - the sleeping mask said to be there wasn't - but I liked the carrying case, so I kept it.

I had determined beforehand not to eat onboard: no use challenging the digestive system trapped in an aluminum tube, but as soon as we were airbone, a delicious meal was served and my resolve collapsed:

• Chicken with rice and peppers;
• mixed salad with ranch dressing;
• biscuit with butter;
• maccaroon (which I skipped); and,
• coffee and hot chocolate.

quickly followed up by a snack pack with:

• chocolate chip cookies;
• potato chips;
• mints; and,
• water.

I am loving this!

Interestingly, the serving crew is entirely male: the only females are serving business class passengers.

My plan to sleep across the Pacific was foiled when the fellow in the seat in front of me came into the aisle seat in my row, so as to allow his elderly mother to sleep. Tried to sleep but couldn't. Eventually, she awakened (mother & son were from South Carolina and were on Eastern time), so about 5 a.m. California time, her son took my hint and allowed me to lie down. I got about three hours of sleep. I dreamed about various anxieties - Sparky getting eaten by a dog, etc.

Some turbulence started when we made our closest approach to the Hawaiian Islands (about 700 miles??) Turbulence continued all across the Intertropical Convergence Zone (ITCZ). Mysterious plane movement: our elevation increased abruptly from 11,000 to 11,600 meters, and we jogged directly south about 100 miles, north of Nadi, about 1/3 the way to the equator. We passed directly over New Caledonia, north of Naamea. Temperatures dropped all during the flight, from -31 deg F near Hawaii to near -59 deg F near Australia, but after Walt's experience recently, I don't trust these measurements. Surprisingly little turbulence near Australia - maybe the high elevation was a good thing, preventing us from effects of the big cold front.

The in-flight entertainment center had many options - radio, movies, where we were on the globe, etc. Some options weren't that appetizing: a show explaining how to make cricket bats - what kind of wood to choose, how to cut it, etc. - struck me as too technical. They did have Kylie's last 'Showgirl' concerts before she took ill, and so I watched that avidly, looking for things of interest. I was struck by the fast pace (althought that may have been editing). They also had an in-flight duty-free shopping option for high-end goods.

Breakfast was an egg omelette-type thing, sausage, muffin, coffee, and orange slices.

I'm just loving this!

Departure

Frantic efforts to get ready undermined by work tasks. Spastic packing.

Took Sparky to Steve & Jan. Only quiet growling from Mrs. Lovett.

E. took me to airport Tuesday evening. At the airport, we practiced how to leave the airport, so as to minimize confusion after I left.

Flew Southwest 1645 to LAX. Sacramento, Modesto, and the cities of the Central were in a clear, warm, sodium glow. Strangely, and in contrast, LA was in a warm sodium haze. The Boeing 737 crossed the coast near Malibu, turned east, and passed over a very metallic, futuristic, science-fiction looking downtown LA, before making a U-turn and landing from the east at LAX.

Sixty or eighty polyglot airlines there - Air New Zealand, Thai Air, American, US Air, etc., and in the distance, a kangaroo on a 747's tail fin, signifying Qantas. Got off at Terminal 1.

Passenger pickup at LAX a frantic bowling lane full of limousines and buses and various vehicles. Crazy. Took Bus A to Terminal 4.

The World's Most Undisciplined Packer entered the bus. Two ginormous suitcases! Labels in bright orange said 'HEAVY.'

Qantas corner of terminal very quiet, behind ridiculously-packed San Salvador Airlines. The World's Most Undisciplined Packing Couple stood in line in front of me. Bright orange labels on their three ginormous suitcases instructed Qantas personnel to bend their knees before lifting the suitcases.

Suddenly a steely-eyed man in full dress uniform cut in front of me. Omigod! The Pilot! I caught his eye: he hesitated. "G'day, mate," he said, in an accent as broad and flat as Australia's Outback. Later, he and the co-pilot and the navigator formed a trio as they approached the gate, chins up, stride purposeful and confident. There are times when these little displays of determination can be overdone, but under the circumstances, about to undertake a journey across the vast Pacific, it was immensely-comforting. These appeared to be exactly the right kind of people you wanted in charge if trouble developed.

Baffled by the security ropes - I was reprimanded for trying to duck under a barrier. At the gate, the 747's nose stuck in the window like 'Silver Streak.'

Aisle seat 61-C was near the 747's galley. Aussie in the window seat, said "Tuesday night flight half-empty." Continuing, he said the regulars had their eyes open waiting for opportunities. Lifting an armrest, and pointing to the empty seats in front of me, he said, with raised eyebrows, "best way is to put your bag on the seat in front of you." I got it! Instead of sleeping in a sitting position, and even though I'm flying economy-class, I can lay down and sleep across the Pacific on this overnight flight! The joy!

Australian Hiatus


Characteristic hand gesture suggests Kylie's singing "It's In Your Eyes", from the European 'Showgirl' tour.

Off to the Antipodes! I will endeavor to blog, but there are no guarantees - it may be sporadic. Pictures will likely have to wait until I return.

This time of year, I believe Queensland is 18 hours ahead of Sacramento (which sometimes works out as 6 hours behind and 1 day ahead). So, if it's 8 p.m. Sunday in Sacramento, it's 2 p.m. Monday in Brisbane. Note that Brisbane and Sydney are one hour apart (Queensland doesn't go on daylight savings time, unlike Victoria and New South Wales). Since I'm such a night owl here in California, in Queensland, I'll be an early bird! Coming back, I'm sure I'll be seriously screwed up with jet lag, but that's the price to pay! This world clock is helpful.

The time zone change is weird - like the twilight zone. Formally, it takes about 41 hours to fly there, and two hours to get back. I'll be taking three flights in quick succession to get there (SMF to LAX: LAX to SYD: SYD to BNE), and two back (BNE to LAX: LAX to SMF). The actual trans-Pacific flighttime is about 14 1/2 hours. The weather forecast looks great almost all the way across, but with the chance of some of the normal storminess to be expected in the Intertropical Convergence Zone (ITCZ; 10 degrees north of the equator), and also there will be a cold front just east of Australia that may provide some significant bumpiness as we fly in.

Welcomes

I'm paging through the book "Cook - The Extraordinary Voyages of Captain James Cook", by Nicholas Thomas (Walker & Co., New York, 2003), checking on how the Australian Aborigines welcomed the 'discoverer' of Australia, Captain James Cook:

Cook and his men had experienced a variety of tense and pleasurable encounters in Tahiti and around New Zealand and were ready to resisted or greeted, but not all prepared to be ignored. They were bewildered by the indifference of people who ought to have been awed and astonished by the unprecedented spectacle of a British ship.

... Cook saw another indigenous group, who fled. He landed at places people had just left. He, Solander, and Tupaia tried to follow others, but they kept walking away. Still others were sighted 'who made off as soon as they saw us'. One officer met with a couple of old people and two children. He tried to give them a bird that he had shot, which they refused. On returning to the shelters that they had first visited, the mariners found, moreover, that the ribbons and trinkets left on or by the bark hut had not been touched.

Cantankerous Boomer

Getting tired of the pretenses and the posers:

I'm supposed to be inspired by the free spirits of women my age who are joyfully running their first marathons, getting Ph.D.s in Klingon studies, starting wineries in the Loire Valley or rebelliously letting their hair go gray. But if they were really like me, they still wouldn't know what to do with their hair, whatever its color, or even have a favorite brand of pantyhose yet. It's doubtful, too, that like me they're still getting most of their sustenance in the candy aisle at CVS.

The. Worst. Political. Analogy. Ever.

Between Pop Singer Kylie Minogue and Australian Prime Minister John Howard:

In a column in today's Australian newspaper, Mr Howard was said to be trying to emulate the pop diva's music in his leadership by being "safe and predictable".

... "If the Australian people believe that the Government I lead has given them a sense of safety and predictability, well I'm not ashamed of that," Mr Howard told ABC radio in Sydney.

... While Mark Juddery's column drew some uncomplimentary parallels between Mr Howard and Minogue - including their shared lack of innovation - the Prime Minister was far from offended by the comparison.

"I'm certainly not offended, I'm flattered," he said.

"She's a very popular, talented entertainer and I'm a - I hope - safe, predictable, serious, committed prime minister."

The analogy ended when program host Virginia Trioli promised not to make any gags about Minogue's signature gold hot pants.

"I think that's wise," Mr Howard said.

Making Sense Of The Election

Politics always generates mixed metaphors and strange analogies:

Republicans must resolve their own questions: Can they reconstitute conservatism to make it attractive once again beyond the party's base? GOP strategist Mary Matalin said the Reaganite model of low taxes, smaller government and strong defense can again serve the party well, if it is updated. "It needs to put some Britney Spears clothes on it," she said.

Like, a bare midriff with a cute belly-button ring? Won't necessarily appeal to the Christina Aguileras of the world. Does it matter that it would be the same old message - "Baby, One More Time" - rather than something distinctly new? Keep that rumored sex tape far, far away! And who takes the place of K-Fed?

Mexican Cuisine, And The Law

What some people ask judges to decide .... Equivocal progress on the frontier of American jursiprudence:

Is a burrito a sandwich?

The Panera Bread Co. bakery-and-cafe chain says yes. But a judge said no, ruling against Panera in its bid to prevent a Mexican restaurant from moving into the same shopping mall.

Panera has a clause in its lease that prevents the White City Shopping Center in Shrewsbury from renting to another sandwich shop. Panera tried to invoke that clause to stop the opening of an Qdoba Mexican Grill.

... The difference, the judge ruled, comes down to two slices of bread versus one tortilla.

... Qdoba, owned by San Diego-based Jack in the Box Inc., called food experts to testify on its behalf.

Among them was Cambridge chef Chris Schlesinger, who said in an affidavit: "I know of no chef or culinary historian who would call a burrito a sandwich. Indeed, the notion would be absurd to any credible chef or culinary historian."

Food safety regulation is also an untapped vein for humor. There was story several years ago in the press regarding the bureaucrats at the European Union in Brussels worried about plastic bananas, and whether they could be confused for the real things by infants. What they failed to understand was the plastic bananas in question were seven feet long. Even the most addled infants wouldn't confuse these fakes for the real things, but the distinction seemed to be eluding the bureaucrats.

Frat House Pledge Week?

Or a musical gone awry?:

Campus police and administrators are investigating possible hazing at the frat house on Oct. 26. According to police, a caller heard profane screaming, sobbing and moaning coming from the house. Police said they found pledges crawling on their hands and knees and wearing pink fairy wings, a rainbow-colored wing and a diaper, a striped prison uniform, a pink tank top, women's underwear and a blonde wig.

Scrambling

My trip starts tomorrow, but I have still to pack. I had hoped to buy some new clothes, shoes, and what-not, but I can see I'll run out of time, so I'll just keep on keepin' on. Still some straggling home repair going on. Probably have to suspend that till December. Still have to wash the rabbit and the dog. Steve and Jan have offered to take Sparky for the interim, and I'll likely take them up on that (provided it's OK with Mrs. Lovett). The workplace stuff is still a pile of craziness, and Wei will have to deal with that. I'll be a sleepless shambles, but at least trapped in an airline seat, suspended 7 miles above the middle of the Pacific Ocean, expectations are low.

Brilliant Pigeons

Pigeons are team-players:

In two recent studies, scientists discovered the common pigeon is astonishingly sophisticated, having an amazing long-term memory and the ability to make group decisions based on different sets of conditions.

... In the same study, detailed today in the journal Current Biology, the scientists showed that birds flying in pairs took more efficient routes home than those flying alone, suggesting that traveling in numbers brings navigational benefits to individual group members.

Shakespeare On The Potomac

Columnist Andrew Sullivan mixes Shakespeare and Freud to conjure the most interesting analysis of the recent election to date:

Last week the American people forced the family intervention. They knew what they were doing. If you combine W’s shrewdness with Poppy’s wisdom you might have the beginning of a new day in world politics. This Shakespearean drama is not over. We have merely finished Act IV. W has two more years. The Democrats will force him to move domestically to the centre, and Daddy’s team will not abandon the son in his hour of need. Their price was Rumsfeld’s head, and they now have it on a platter.

Clarifying The Law

The City Attorney Brad Jerbic won the case, but seems surprised by the spin on the victory. "The ordinance never banned lap dances," Jerbic says. Yes, but the Las Vegas law bans the sort of things one would expect in a lap dance. So, the spin seems justified.

So, what now? Will the Las Vegas economy collapse? Will the lure of the forbidden start a boom?

Anniversary

November 11, 1988: Sacramento first becomes acquainted with one of its more-colorful citizens, Dorothea Puente.

Oliver! Opening Night

Friday night was nice - full of strange surprises, though:

Ate dinner with Sally Forment at Morrison's in Woodland. Nice lamb sirloin. Never suspected this nice restaurant co-exists in the same town as Sonic (apologies to Sonic's ex-manager Eric - come back from Yuba City!)

The show was nice...a little ponderous at times, with some confusion in "Consider Yourself," but certainly better than many opening nights. The audience really like Brian and Monique! Blake Thomas is winning as Oliver and Chris Petersen energetically carries the show forward as The Artful Dodger.

At intermission, word came that none of the toilets worked, and indeed, no water was available in the theater at all. Trouble! So, several of us amateur sleuths spent the top of Act II staring at the befuddling circuitry for the New Theater pumps and trying to figure out why they had stopped working. Fagin himself came up and (without glasses) tried puzzling through the Owner's Manuals. Eventually, we succeeded in figuring out where the manual override switches were, and restored the water system.

Why the pumps stopped is a mystery. I suppose it's possible everyone flushed a toilet at the same instant and the pumps lost their prime, but why it hasn't happened before, I don't know.

Fred Brooks, a long-time Season Ticket holder, had a plan. Brooks, who years ago established the Parks, Recreation, and Community Services Department for the City of Davis, and now lives in retirement in Chico, wanted to honor Steve and Jan Isaacson for their dedication in establishing Community Theater in Davis. At the end of the show, we stopped the proceedings, and Fred Brooks presented his gorgeous plaque to honor Steve and Jan. The presentation had added impact because it was totally unexpected.

Brooks said:

It's very important to honor people for their hard work while they are still alive to appreciate it. Words of appreciation don't do much good after people die.

That's an excellent philosophy! Say "thank you" to the people around you today!

Oliver! Opens Tonight

Some pictures from dress rehearsal Thursday evening for tonight's opening at DMTC.

"I Shall Scream!" - Mr. Bumble (Brian McCann) and Widow Corney (Monique McKisson).

"Boy for Sale" - (Dan Petersen), Mr. Bumble (Brian McCann), and Oliver (Blake Thomas).

"That's Your Funeral" - Mr. Sowerberry (Mike Elfant), Oliver (Blake Thomas), and Mrs. Sowerberry (Dannette Vassar): Mr. Bumble (Brian McCann) in background.

"Pick-a-Pocket" - Fagin (Steve Isaacson).