Prince of Persia

An actual photo from our office

"Please load up my kebab stick"

Sometimes life is like a video game. And yesterday in particular, our office became a palace, with its occupants transported to the golden age of the Middle East in which the legendary Prince of Persia attempted to battle his or her way in to rescue a princess. With the game's tune playing in the background (here's a reminder), the hero negotiated dastardly obstacles, ducking under tennis ball grenades that the palace jugglers were tossing between each other; avoiding booby traps including boiling water (in the form of a cup of tea), and most fearsome of all, the big boss would need to be defeated at the end of each level. And just when you think you've won, should you leave the room and return, everyone has regenerated and needs to be beaten again. Darn it !

Next week should prove even more exciting with the return of Chuckie Egg.

Verdant Meadows

High up in the mountains, in Yosemite National Park, grass and wildflowers grow where it's too wet for trees. As the snow melts, this area becomes marshy. You can't walk any further into this scene without sinking.

Pont Alexander, Shiny after Rain

Is this Paris France, or Paris Las Vegas?

New Types of Pain

Having suffered with a sore tooth for the last five days, I've discovered so many varieties of pain that they're worth listing for the reader's amusement.

1. Sharp pain - when eating something hard, pressure on the bad tooth can lead to stabbing pain so strong I squeal

2. Dull ache - most of the time, there's a chronic soreness, as if I was punched in the face an hour ago and my tissues are still inflamed and sensitive. It spreads as far as my jaw and an ear. It's enough to keep me up through the night.

3. Throbbing - when my heart-rate is raised, a pulsating throbbing pain starts up, as if my tooth is growing and   contracting rhythmically, and when at its largest, it hurts as if it might burst

4. Cruel dentist sadist torture pain - this is the worst. A few hours ago, the dentist drilled into the roots of the tooth and started scraping away the dead pulp. He went in deep with a sharp instrument and despite three injections to numb the area, it was exquisitely painful as he excavated and delved as far down as he could. He saw me squirm and my hands tense up as they gripped the armrests of the chair, and said that it was unusual for me to feel anything. I couldn't reply except with a "uhuh" while I was trying to rationalise my way through. All I could think was that I'm not going to die, despite the pain. It can't kill me. Then it was over. And the good news? I have another six days till I return to the chair of pain, for an encore session of delving and scraping and drilling.

Please send any donations or sympathy cards to Lewksphotos' Tooth Agony Fund.

Oregon's Bluest Lake

By popular request, let's continue looking at my US road-trip. And when I say popular request, I use it in the way tv stations do when they schedule yet another repeat because they're too cheap to be bothered finding new material.

This is Wizard Island in Crater Lake, and to get a sense of the enormous scale, let me tell you that the lake is 10km wide, and the island is almost 2km across. Plenty of room for dozens of wizards.

World Exclusive - New Fiction by Anonymous

Discovered on a network drive at work, a few pages of a story written by an anonymous office worker. In order to protect the innocent, I've translated the prose through a few languages in Google Translate (including Afrikaans, Chinese and Albanian) before publishing here in a world exclusive:

When he got home, he found his father was a quiet Sunday lunch time, between his parents barely a word. After eating, he spent an afternoon in your room and adjust the shelf on the table near the piles of books, coin cleaning, lining his model aircraft, to increase the window's height, his humor, crawling the United States, subject and up to date and accurate, then stacked three-dimensional network. The more he saw in his mother's grief, the more they continue to play the first game, this is how he saw it. His psychological magic number, four, six (four by four), 28, in fact, the number divisible by 4. For him, this is a good figure, then, there have been few, his family, father, mother, brothers, sisters. If they are considered bad luck, accidents and such things can be overcome not only their own, especially his family, especially his father. The third is the number of rogue should be avoided. He did not know him from the dark corners of my brain, which is then heated and inflamed come. But you can avoid it, because it is the number his father did not selleta.Sügavamat survive understanding was that when he was forty (four back) so, everything will be OK, his father is still the family members.

Kyotmunga Winery

Being forced to visit Kyotmunga Estate in the Chittering Valley every springtime is a chore, but it's critical to keep me supplied with my all time favourite white wine. Being such a discerning drinker, I won't settle for anything but the most deliciously sweet varieties, and they have truckloads of the stuff waiting for me each time.  

Mmmm grapes

Footy Colours

These colours of these pretty everlastings match those of the West Coast Eagles, and Claremont Football Club, both in action in the finals this weekend. So with this tenuous connection explained, here is today's photo, from Coalseam Conservation Park up north.

Stages of a Traditional Relationship

Some old-timers may recall the way it was back in the early days, before 1990. If you're too young, let me educate you about how you might have met your sweetheart and moved towards a life together forever, before the era of RSVP.com.

1. A chaperone is selected for the young lady, someone to watch over her and to ensure nothing untoward  happens, such as looking deeply into a gentleman's eyes, or dropping her handkerchief flirtatiously.

2. An announcement in the parish times is published, indicating that the young lady is to come out into society at an upcoming dance or ball. For the technologically advanced parents, they may post to an electronic bulletin board, Compuserve or AOL.

3. Parents of the young gentleman espy a suitable young lady, and make discreet enquiries with her parents.

4. Parents meet at church and sign a tentative agreement to proceed. If they are Catholic, then at this stage, the Pope's Emissary is asked for his blessing.

5. At some future social event, the young gentleman is permitted to introduce himself to the lady, and to chat amiably but in a civil manner about the local duck-hunting season, or about fencing techniques, or his interest in different varieties of tea. This is under the keen eye of the chaperone, who ensures the only touching is during a formal dance, or perhaps a polite kiss of her gloved hand at the end of the evening when they part.

6. Correspondence between the two sweethearts ensues. Every few days, a letter may be exchanged. They may even meet at the Floreat Library if they are very keen. On special occasions, a red rose may be sent.

7. The young gentleman formally requests permission from the lady's father for her hand in marriage.

8. The gentleman now can propose to the lady. And she will hopefully accept.

9. Engagement.

10. Marriage.

11. Often at this stage, the young gentleman is called away to the navy, or to do missionary work. This may keep them apart for up to a decade, or even longer, should he contract tuberculosis or cholera.

Adopting Adult Sons in Japan

Curiously, the most common form of adoption in Japan is of young men, mostly in their twenties. This is particularly beneficial in family businesses where the new kids can reinvigorate rivals, and displace any blood relatives who aren't pulling their weight. I am thinking that this might be a useful concept to bring not just to family firms in Australia but also any large organisation. More dads and uncles and sons and nephews in the workplace must be a good thing.

Demographic change and the family in Japan's aging society, John W. Traphagan, John Knight

Coalseam Conservation Park

And an upside down galah.

Stages of a Modern(ish) Relationship

1. Single and Solo
2. Looking and Desperate
3. Flirting (testing receptivity or for entertainment only)
4. Tickle-flirting (includes office-grabbing)

5. Dating (girlfriend + several boyfriends or vice versa). Red roses and hand-holding may have happened
== living together may occur here or beyond ==
6. Serious (girlfriend and boyfriend, exclusive, parents have been met)
== I Love You has been said by now ==
7. Limbo (waiting for the next stage) or Co-habiting Spousal-Equivalent  (for Communists and Satanists who never progress further)
8. Pre-engaged (floating)
9. Engaged
10. Honeymooner
11. Married

Imaginary Numbers in Everyday Life

Having studied imaginary numbers and their benefits in simplifying calculations in both mathematics and physics, it's obvious that they have a wider use.

In developments that could rock the traditional fields of accountancy and statistics, my colleagues and I have been exploring their application in both of these areas.

For instance, in my personal accounts, I now regard bills that are unjustly levied as being in imaginary dollars rather than real dollars. For instance, a parking fine that I don't agree with (i.e. all of them) would be classified as imaginary, and I would not in reality have to pay it. Similarly, a Lotto win by members of my family is also regarded as imaginary because the proceeds are not available for spending; instead they are instantaneously ploughed straight into buying more tickets.

Speeding Into the Night

Someone mistakenly thought that speed cameras had a 10pm bedtime.

Fleurs Near Mingenew

How Corrupt Are You?

Minor corruption and sinning in everyday life are sometimes necessary, but every little transgression adds up, no matter how insignificant it seems at the time. To guide you through this complex moral maze, I've listed a few common sins and their respective demerit points.

1 pt - lying when a female friend asks if she looks good in a new dress and she doesn't
1 pt - spoiling the ending of a detective novel by reading the last page first
2 pts - double-dipping at a dinner party - dunking a cracker into the guacamole more than once
2 pts - accidentally taking home office stationery and not returning it
3 pts - putting little pebbles or metal washers into a charity collection box rather than coins
3 pts - avoiding paying to leave a car park by driving out through the entrance
3 pts - texting and drinking a milkshake while driving
4 pts - cheating in an exam by storing equations in your calculator, or writing answers on your arm
4 pts - repeatedly killing by neglect bonsai plants you've received as gifts
5 pts - climbing through a hole in a fence to get into a football match for free
5 pts - holding someone else's unopened mail up to the light in hope of reading it
6 pts - intentionally entering toilets of the wrong gender 
7 pts - throwing slugs and snails into a neighbour's garden
8 pts - throwing dog poo into a neighbour's garden
8 pts - claiming it was your partner or friend not you who was driving through a speed camera
10 pts - driving at more than 200km/h 
12 pts - bringing in food past its use-by date for an office morning tea (+2 pts if it's already opened)

Deathly Spider Orchid

Spotted on Saturday at Mt Lesueur National Park.

Making Use of Dirty Undies

Where should you hide valuables at home? Assuming you don't have a safe but you do own some jewellery, collectibles, or antiques, what unexpected hiding place would confound a burglar? Firstly I must note that I have nothing of interest myself, so anyone planning a raid on Fortress Lewk is wasting their time. And in any case, my cats are liable to vomit on strangers due to their nerves, so it's not worth venturing inside unless you fancy being covered in salmon chunks.

Diversion is one strategy that may not save you, but could at least slow down any intruder and give them something to think about. If you have a desk with lockable drawers, or a lockable filing cabinet then people will waste time trying to open them. Another option would be to leave a note attached to the fridge referring to a non-existent safe (eg "Remember to check safe buried under backyard") or perhaps a receipt mentioning a fake rock containing a key could be left lying around.

The number one place that malcreants look is the bedroom, so avoid using a wardrobe, a dresser or mattress. But should you order some skidmarked undies, you can feel reasonably confident that nobody will venture inside.

 More creative safes can be found here.

The kitchen is the second most obvious hiding place; in a pantry, in a cutlery draw or even in the fridge. And should you cleverly put something valuable inside a box of cereal or in a biscuit tin, imagine a helpful partner  reading the expiry date on the packet and send it binward. Now who's too clever for their own good?

My favourite idea would be to use the traditional hollowed-out book trick. Should your house be bulging under the weight and wisdom of thousands of books, why not stick your family heirloom lucky diamonds and pearls inside a randomly chosen tome. Only an obsessive-compulsive thief would bother looking inside all 20 volumes of the Encyclopaedia Britannica, so sacrifice volume 15 (Perspiration - Rumpy-Pumpy) and cut out the insides to make the perfect hiding place.

Do you have any better ideas?

Golden Rays are Clichéd

Overlooking the Pinnacles last Friday. Or perhaps the plains of the Serengeti. You decide.

Aussie Stonehenge

Visiting the Pinnacles Desert  north of Perth this weekend, I arrived just in time to participate in the Druid Ceremony of Sunset. We sacrificed a bottle of champagne and some olives and a couple of small children and in exchange, the earth spirits granted us a victory by Claremont in the upcoming Grand Final. If it doesn't work, I'm going to ask for a refund - the champagne was very pricey.

The sacrificial child at right was lured here by a trail of lollies

Squirrel Sabotage

How unlucky am I? Having set up at Glacier Point for a beautiful picture of Yosemite's Half Dome, a squirrel saboteur popped up in the middle of the frame. Now I have no choice but to attempt to Photoshop him or her out.

The Fatal Metaphor

Is it a bad sign that the novel you've chosen to read has an unintelligible title? Having just enjoyed The Fatal Revenant by Stephen R. Donaldson, the eighth in his Chronicles of Thomas Covenant, the Unbeliever, I'm still at a loss to understand exactly what transposed in several passages due to the archaic and obscure language. Without reverting to a dictionary every few minutes, some sections will remain forever mysterious to me. For instance, can someone translate this line for me:

       Limned in argence, they performed a florid masque.

I am familiar with the individual words, but they're combined in an unusual way.

And these words are from a single chapter: orogeny, surquedrey, glode, chthonic, lambent, theurgy.  This esotericism may deter some readers, but I adore it. Rather than using prosaic and mundane language, his creative use of obscure words adds to the atmosphere of awe and splendour and intrigue. Even though it's a minor riddle to be unravelled, it's enriching and rewarding.

And no, I never worked out who or what the Fatal Revenant was. They could have at least sketched one on the front cover as a clue.

Descent into Redness

Surely this fantastical landscape can't be real. It must be a dreamland.

A trail of trekkers are heading into the main ampitheatre of Bryce Canyon, enticed by the thrill of discovery, curious to find what's around the next corner. But having headed enthusiastically for an hour down that same enticing path, I know that in the heat of the day, the suffering involved in walking up and out again can almost but not quite extinguish the joy.

Woof Woof

Can someone please translate this message for canines? I saw it in Bryce Canyon National Park in Utah and have been puzzled ever since.

Facing the Fearsome US Border Protection

One reason I flew into Canada rather than the US was to avoid the unpleasant American border protection agents, those rude and humourless and overweight souls who spend their hours hassling passengers, scanning  babies for concealed bombs, interrogating anyone who might have accidentally downloaded a copyrighted MP3 or movie, or might have radical vegetarian pamphlets concealed somewhere. And arriving at Vancouver airport, the Canuck equivalents were invariably over-the-top polite and friendly, so I was pleased with my decision.

And so with trepidation I neared the US border after leaving the Canadian Rockies and heading south into Montana and Glacier National Park. Expecting a grilling after reading horror stories from other travellers who had been detained for trivial incidents, or for joking in poor taste, I tidied the rental car so that it looked respectable and not in need of a rummage around, and was prepared for an interrogation. Arriving in Chief Mountain crossing, at the top of an achingly beautiful mountain pass, the signs were ominous as five stocky agents were hanging around, guns holstered, shiny Homeland Security badges on shirts, waiting to pounce. But when they started talking they were friendly, and all fears evaporated. They had a quick look inside the car and had no further interest, telling me to park and head inside the office to fill out a form and show my passport. Inside was an even friendlier bloke at a desk who handed over an immigration card, a German one. When this was queried, his colleague said "Willkommen" and swapped it for an English one. After completing the card, his checking of my passport was interrupted by his colleague in the back office who had found something funny on YouTube. The desk officer excused himself and went back to watch the video, then returned with a big grin to finish his processing. Then I went on my way, so pleased that I had made it into the US without any fuss, and also happy to see a bunch of blokes with guns on a remote mountain having such a fun time.

Underneath the Aquarium

At the California Academy of Sciences in San Francisco, you can walk under one of the aquariums. Mmmm fish.

Unusual Intersections II

Two more types of intersections that I never figured out in the US and Canada were flashing green traffic lights, and flashing amber lights.

Having no idea of their significance, I had to quickly decide how to handle these junctions. My approach was to be ultra-cautious and to assume that the flashing indicated danger, and so I sped up and zoomed through as fast as possible in order to leave the area a toute vitesse. Luckily there was no cross-traffic at the time, and I survived unscathed, but had anyone on a side street taken my approach, I would have ended up somewhat scathed.

Unusual Intersections I

What's an All-Way Stop? Yep, that's right, it's a common type of road intersection in the US, where two roads of similar importance meet without traffic lights. And it's incredibly puzzling if you're from the land of roundabouts. The idea is that everyone stops when they approach, and then the vehicles pass through in order of arrival. Fair enough, that sounds easy enough, but imagine the case where there are two or three cars queued up in each direction. You have remember the order of arrival of those ten or so cars, and who arrived earlier than you. In practice, people politely and cautiously take turns, after making eye contact with other drivers. It does make you feel part of the community, meeting the locals in this way, but it's certainly not as simple as whizzing through a roundabout.

Zion National Perk

On a sweltering day in Zion National Park, the ideal hiking destination is a waterfall. Being midsummer in the desert, the water has almost gone, but it's still refreshingly cool. But don't touch the water, it's contaminated with giardia.

Tacky?

The Paris Hotel in Vegas is so over the top it's beyond tacky, but I still love it. Here's a view of it from the outside, on the strip. To have the audacity to replicate Paris in the desert, but without getting advice from a Francophone on how to at least spell a few words of French correctly, is somewhat cocky. On the inside of the door of my room was a notice asking guests to observe a few rules, and it ended with "please" spelt "si vous plait".

Canyon Fatigue

At Canyonlands National Park in Utah, I exceeded my brain's capacity for storing views of canyons, and my body shut down. Eventually after freeing up space by deleting memories of calculus lectures at university, I was able to reboot and resume my tourism.

Incidentally, this is the location of the gruesome story of Aron Ralston who had his arm trapped by a falling boulder nearby, and after 127 hours, escaped by cutting it off with a knife. Luckily I didn't suffer the same fate, although I did crush my finger slightly when closing the glovebox of my car, so I can certainly understand what he went through.

Relaxed Driving

Being used to aggressive and sloppy Perth drivers, it was a pleasure to find friendly drivers in the US and Canada being the norm. Even in busy cities such as Vancouver and Seattle, I found tailgating rare, and there was little impatience. By contrast, this morning's ten minute commute to work featured two occasions when I wanted to change lanes but was blocked by a car in another lane who closed the gap immediately. On my recent trip I never had difficulty in changing lanes. And in the entire 12,500km, I never had to emergency brake because someone pulled out in front of me whereas I did that twice yesterday on a quiet Sunday afternoon in Perth.

Here I get the impression that everyone the roads is my enemy, and we're all competing to get to our destination first. Over there, I felt warm friendly feelings from fellow road-users. In Australia, when I see I truck approaching from behind, getting larger and larger in the rear-view mirror, I dread how close they get, and the pressure they put on you to speed up or pull-over to let them past. In Canada and the US, the trucks would stay a sensible distance behind and wait patiently for a chance to pass. I do miss being over there - it was so easy to burn off all the competition at the lights, even in my sluggish Corolla.

My Own Rainy Idaho

Driving from Wyoming to Utah I spent precisely three hours and eighteen minutes in Idaho, and every single minute it rained or threatened to. I entered the state in a car with hundreds of insect corpses splattered on the front, with muddy marks along the sides, and with grimy windows. Leaving the state, the car was shiny and glistening, all dirt gone. For that reason alone, I love Idaho.

Heavy Duty Benches

I saw many wonders at Yosemite National Park, but I was most impressed by their reinforced benches. The middle support is vital.

The Case for Compass Watches

With trusty compass watch on wrist, I felt well-equipped to navigate foreign lands. Was my confidence well-placed?

Yeah baby. I'm very pleased with how useful it was, but not in the way you'd expect. I rarely found myself hiking in wilderness areas in need of direction. Most of the time, the trails were well-marked, or I could use the sun or local landmarks to roughly orientate myself. But in the cities and even inside buildings, it was valuable being able to quickly find north. I especially recommend having a compass in Las Vegas. In the middle of those vast gaming floors, with no view of the outside world, it's hideous trying to figure out where you are. A quick look at the compass and you're lost no more. Surely the casinos wouldn't deliberately make it hard for you to leave, but there was a definite lack of signage and mappage, and with no windows to the outside world, it would be easy to give up and stay, rather than find an exit. 

The watch also came in handy because the cheap sat nav bought from Walmart was not trustworthy, especially first thing each morning. For the first few minutes after she was turned on, she'd give random directions. The worst occasion was in the city of Bend, Oregon. We left the hotel and wanted to hop on the highway north to Portland but ten to fifteen minutes later we had circled around the suburb and were back at the hotel ! If only we'd trusted the compass and just headed north. After that, I knew to always check that the sat nav directions were vaguely right.

Now that I'm back in familiar territory, I'll rarely use the compass, but it's nice to know it's there if I ever need to switch to Bear Grylls mode. 

Fish of Jelly

Seen at the Vancouver zoo, jellyfish putting on a light show. Their striking appearance seems fantastical but I assure you this photo has not been altered.

Driving on the Right

Of course I was trepidatious before driving on the wrong side of the road for the first time. I was secretly thinking that Thrifty were mad to let me hire a car for 40 days. But when I got behind the wheel of my Toyota Corolla at the start of my epic road-trip across the US and Canada, the difficulty was not what I expected.

Keeping to the right turned out to be the easiest change. I'd prepared a few "Keep Right" sticky notes for the inside of the car to remind me, but they weren't needed. My bigger problem was that being in a left hand drive car, I had to re-learn where to position the car in the lane. If I didn't concentrate, I'd drift over to the right of the lane as if I was on the right side of the car. Being in dense traffic in downtown Vancouver, it took all my focus to keep in the narrow lane, especially as we wound around curves and up hills.

The next problem was roundabouts. Luckily for me, they are very rare in North America, but it only takes one to destroy a car. Without thinking, the first couple I found, I was concentrating so hard on keeping right and travelling anticlockwise around the circle that I completely forget to look left for any traffic. It was only luck that nobody was around.

I was also caught out a few times when I had to reverse around corners, or into main roads. I'm a naturally fast reverser, and without consciously thinking, several times I scarily found myself reversed onto the wrong side of the road, facing oncoming traffic. After those episodes I knew to be cautious about reversing, and deliberately slowed myself down, to give myself time to envisage where I should go.

And finally, having the indicator stalk, gear stick and handbrake on my right instead of the left took some more brainpower to adapt to. For the first twenty times I tried to indicate, my wipers were turned on. But nobody died.