California dreaming

I'm back in California. I finally made onto a flight to Los Angeles today after an unplanned 24-hour delay. Yesterday I arrived at Heathrow only to discover that my flight had been rescheduled several months ago. Somehow I'd lost the updated details and as a result my flight had departed several hours earlier. British Airways took pity on me and rebooked me on today's flight.

It's rather chilly in Los Angeles this evening. I cannot recall it being quite so cool here. However, the weather was sunny this afternoon and it seemed a shame to pass up an opportunity to be outdoors. I caught a cab to Hancock Park, home of the La Brea Tar Pits. This is an amazing natural phenomenon located in the heart of this major metropolitan city. In the park are a series of pits where crude oil and asphalt seep slowly from the ground.

The sticky black sludge has been collecting in shallow pools for more than 40,000 years. For eons it's quietly trapped thousands and thousands of unsuspecting animals including giant Ground Sloths, Mammoths and Sabre-tooth Tigers. Since 1914 the fossilised bones of these animals have been progressively excavated and cleaned. Today you can see a just few of these remarkably well preserved specimens in a purpose-built museum. I'll share more details tomorrow.

Approaching zero

The Met Office is forecasting an overnight temperature of 0°C in London tonight. On a more positive note the skies have cleared after serveral days of wet, stormy weather. However, we're being told to expect more rain tomorrow evening, on the back of more than 24mm of rain over the weekend. The Met Office says this month will go down in history books as the UK's 5th wettest November on record.

History will also record that November 20, 2009 witnessed the nation's heaviest ever rainfall. On this day the Lake District endured a staggering 314.4 millimeter (12.3 inches) of rain over a 24-hour period. Unsurprisingly, many towns in the area were affected by severe flooding, with hundreds trapped in their homes and at least one person killed.

UPDATE - December 5
The Met Office has officially declared November as the nation's wettest month on record.

Give an inch, they'll take a metre

The UK’s perpetual confusion between metric and imperial measures has cost Garry and I a fortune. In accordance with EU law, energy utilities are required to charge for services using cubic metres. As a result the local gas company regularly converts imperial meter readings to a metric equivalent and charges customers accordingly. This is a common practice in the UK where many older homes still operate meters that read gas volume in cubic feet rather than cubic metres.

This is exactly what our gas company has been doing, which would have been perfectly OK had our meter been taking an imperial measure. It was not. As a result, our already metric reading was consistently converted to metric, resulting in a calculation that more than doubled our actual use. For almost four years the gas company has overcharged us to the cumulative tune of more than £2,500. We were gob-smacked when the error was discovered. Without warning, our regular gas bill switched from a standard debit to a massive credit.

Regular readers may recall me blogging several years ago about the size of our gas bill. At the time we thought it was a result of price inflation that had hit the UK. Now we know we were being systematically ripped off. Garry ran the utility and secured a cash refund. We’re putting the unexpected windfall toward the cost of vacation already booked for 2010. Garry also tells me I can run the heating for longer each day as it’s clearly costing far less than we thought.

The UK’s stunted shift to metric measurement fascinates me. In 1969 the Government set up the Metrication Board with a remit to educate the public and promote the adoption of metric standards. 1975 was set as the target date for completing the bulk of this conversion. However, the pace of change proved far slower than expected. The change became politicized, caught up in the nation’s perpetual animosity towards the European Union, resulting in the disbanding of the Metrication Board in 1980.


Animosity was further fueled by a realization that the UK has already signed the European Directive 71/354 supporting the EU’s drive to universal metric use. The UK was legally commited to a metric future, but could set its own transition timetable. This resulted in the measures for pre-packaged goods changing in 1995, while in 2000 it became illegal to sell loose products in markets and stalls using imperial measures. The only exception was that of draught beer which could still be measured in pints.

Today, aside from beer, it seems that only distance and speed is continue to be measured in imperial units (miles and miles per hour). Almost every other aspect of daily life is metric. Temperature is measured in Celsius, weight in kilograms, liquids in litres and so on. Even the nation’s currency was converted to a metric or decimal form back in 1971. The reluctance to finally change distance and speed measures is at odds with everything else that’s happened.

I’m not sure what people fear. I recall how relatively painless the conversion experience seemed in New Zealand. In 1972 road signs were converted to metric in a matter of weeks. I recall households being issued with stickers they could place on imperial speedometers to indicate signed speed limits in km/h. We happily drove our family car for years with these stickers in place. At school, our maths class taught imperial measures one year then metric measures in subsequent years.

The irony of the UK’s resistance to a final phase of conversion isn’t lost on historians. The modern concept of a decimal measurement system actually originated in Britain. According to the UK Metric Association, the distinguished scientist and philosopher, Bishop John Wilkins, founder of the Royal Society, proposed a metric system in 1668. His "Standard" unit was almost exactly one metre and like the metre was to be divided using decimal units. He also proposed decimal units of volume and weight similar to the modern litre and kilogram.

However, it was France that first applied his ideas, going metric in 1799. The metric system was fatally tarred this point forward as a foreign, notably European, imposition. Today, only three countries have yet to adopt what’s now known as the International System of Units; Myanmar, Liberia and the United States. Perhaps Americans still believe that if they give an inch, others will take a mile? The British certainly do.

Sky high in Shanghai

Two years ago I blogged about the emerging World Financial Centre in Shanghai. At the time the building was just weeks away from being topped out, rising more than 492 meters (1,614.2 ft) above the city. Last weekend I was back in Shanghai and couldn't resist an opportunity to visit the stunning, glossy observation deck that spans the building's crown, 474 m (1,555 ft) above the street.


Access to the three-level observation deck is gained via a high-speed lift that rises from a dimly lit, black tiled basement lobby, ten metres below ground. An exhilarating ride whisks you to the 97th floor at a speed of more than 10 metres per second (36 km / h). As you ascend the elevator counts up the metres above the ground. A bright, sunny atrium then greets visitors with a spectacular view of downtown Shanghai and the Huang Pu River below.

A second lift takes you up another 35 metres to a soaring glass walkway, which includes a floor of heart-stopping glass panels. This is the world's highest observation deck. It also marks the top of the distinctive bottle-opener shaped hole in the building's crest. Souviner stands elsewhere in the complex tout large silver bottle-openers modelled on its distinctive shape.


It goes without saying that the view from 474 metres is spectacular. Perhaps the most awe inspiring sight is the bird's eye view of the neighbouring Jin Mao Tower, currently the world's seventh tallest building. At 421 metres it soars above the surrounding city. However, when viewed from the world's highest observation deck, it looks more like a toy. How times have changed. In 2003, Garry and I enjoyed cocktails at Cloud Nine, the world's highest bar located on the Jin Mao Tower's 87th floor. We felt we were drinking in the clouds.


A sculpture at the base of the World Financial Centre also captures my imagination. Without a hint of irony, a giant horseshoe magnet frames the building, symbolising the growing global pull of China's burgeoning economy. Since the 1980s, the Chinese economy has grown at an average annual rate of 9%. Thirty years ago China set the goal of quadrupling its gross domestic product btween 1980 and the year 2000. This goal was achieved in 1995, five years ahead of schedule.

Shanghai sights

I arrived home last night from a quick four-day business trip to Shanghai. These photos capture highlights from a couple of excursions squeezed in during spare moments. The colourful, baubled tower in these images is the Oriental Pearl Tower, one of Shanghai most famous landmarks. It's 468 metres high but, as the image above shows, its height has since been surpassed by two even taller buildings. This image was taken from the 100th Floor observation deck of the new World Financial Centre, at 492 metres, it's currently the world's second tallest building.

Here for another year

We've signed a renewal for our Swiss Cottage lease. We're here for another year in the UK. It's hard to believe we're less than eight weeks away from the start of our fifth year in the same house. The weather this weekend certainly hasn't inspired us to retire in London. We've had a shocking Autumn storm swept across the country bringing heavy rain and winds up to 100mp/h along the coast, 60mp/h in London. However, today dawned with perfectly clear, bright blue sunny skies and all was forgiven.

Priscilla

We've been celebrating Garry's birthday in style this week. On Thursday evening we had tickets to Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, dead centre, eight rows from the stage. As the end of our fourth year in London draws to a close we both enjoyed an opportunity to rekindle memories of home. For several hours the Palace Theatre in Soho was filled with all manner of Australiana. Garry came away declaring it one of the best musical productions he'd seen in London.

Familiar names and icons cascaded across the revolving stage all evening. Highlights (of which there were many) included a satirical but surprisingly accurate reenactment of the Imperial Hotel, numerous indigenous roadkill and the surreal spectacle of Jason Donovan singing a Kylie medley. Jason was superb job as Tick, the middle-aged drag queen who co-opts his friends into joining him on a road trip across Australia's hot, dry interior.


Afterward we went for dinner at our favourite Thai restaurant Chiang Mai. However, our 'official' celebration meal took place the following evening. I'd booked us into Roussillion a contemporary French-influenced Michelin Star restaurant. Garry and I had seen it featured in a popular BBC television show called MasterChef. We enjoyed an evening of fabulous food and wine, finally rolling the door shortly after midnight. The kitchen even created a special gingerbread and orange icecream birthday platter.

Turning blue

The Met Office is forecasting a frosty high of 7°C tomorrow after an overnight low of 3°C. Today's high was 9°C. It's all a bit of a shock after experiencing October temperatures several degree above normal. With temperatures regularly peaking in single figures it's hard to deny that Winter is almost upon us. As you'd expect, the central heating is now on permenantly twice a day; morning and night. Christmas and the shortest day, December 21 (Winter Solstice), are now less than six weeks away.

Surgery update

My mother is back home after surgery to remove her breast cancer tumour. The operation appears to have gone as planned. We'll have full test results back within two weeks. With a little luck the news will continue to be positive. I hope my Mum makes a full and rapid recovery.

Are you in or out?

This week’s headlines brought to life another of those quirky British traits. Despite living on an island barely 35 kilometres off the coast of France, the British have an odd and often divisive love-hate relationship with the rest of Europe. At times belligerent nationalism and latent animosity towards Europe is considered healthier than embracing it. I’ve always struggled to comprehend why treating the rest of the continent with such distain is seen as progressive and endearing. As an outsider looking in, I'd argue that the opposite is true.

French and the German citizens are far more comfortable reconciling nationalism and trans-regional passion in equal measure. The British in contrast seem to struggle with the concept of being equally national and equally European. Even their language reflects this sentiment. People regularly talk of, “flying to Europe for the weekend” as if the United Kingdom wasn’t part of the continent.

Personally, I consider the European Union (EU) a glorious experiment in supra-national federalism. At University I once wrote a paper about its steady expansion from the initial Treaty of Rome to the accession of Spain and Portugal in 1986. I found it fascinating to watch the EU's jurisdiction expand across more and more territory, while progressively harmonizing pages of national legislation and introducing a common currency. The EU seemed a perfect anecdote to the zealous nationalism that had dragged the entire globe into two bloody wars.

This week the EU took another, somewhat tortured, step toward greater union as the Lisbon Treaty was ratified by the last of its 27 member states. This treaty has been almost eight years in the making. As the new millennium dawned it was clear that integrating nations of the former Soviet Bloc into the EU would make it unwieldy unless its voting practices and institutions were reformed. The original intent was to pull together the EU’s numerous treaties and agreements as a single Constitution. However, the document eventually produced was soundly rejected by French and Dutch voters in 2005.

Two years later European leaders stripped back aspects of the Constitution, reducing it to a treaty able to be ratified without referendum in all but one nation, Ireland. This new treaty, known as the Lisbon Treaty, was subsequently rejected by Irish voters in June 2008, but ratified by all other national parliaments. On Tuesday, Vaclav Klaus, the President of the Czech Republic finally signed an accession law previously passed by the nation’s parliament. His was the last signature required after the Irish Republic passed a second referendum in support of the treaty on October 3. Next month the treaty will officially become law across the EU.

Here in the UK the week has been filled with headlines as the British Conservative Party finally dropped its opposition to the treaty. The media also speculated on the possibility of local candidates filling two posts created by the Treaty of Lisbon; President of the European Council and, High Representative (effectively the EU’s new Foreign Minister). Former Prime Minister, Tony Blair, is being touted as the first President, while the current British foreign secretary David Miliband is considered a front runner for High Representative. I cannot help but note the irony of a nation that keeps Europe at arm’s length, while keenly lobbying for its citizen’s to fill the EU’s most coveted roles.

1000 days to go

The national media are full of stories about the London 2012 Summer Olympic Games at the moment. Much of the news is focused on this weekend, which marks 1000 days to the Opening Ceremony. We've seen plenty of images of construction that's well underway, like that shown above. The emerging stadium isan 80,000 seat arena, that converts into a more easily maintained 25,000 seat venue after the Games.

I've been fascinated reading about the regeneration of canals around the Olympic Park. Many were built during the Victorian era, but have since fallen into neglect. They're part of the Bow Back Rivers system – which runs north from the River Thames to the Regent’s Canal. The last barges passed through these waterways more than 50 years ago. However a £19 million project of canal dredging and cleaning was recently completed, including the first canal lock to be built in London for at least 20 years.

A splash of Autumn colour

Its Autumn! This afternoon's street scene left me in no doubt. Our clocks also go back an hour tonight as Summer Time finally ends, while tomorrow marks two months until Christmas. Where did the year go?

An odd twist of fate

Breast cancer is the most common form of invasive cancer among women in the USA, the UK, Australia and New Zealand. In the UK alone, an average of 125 women are diagnosed every day, or more than 45,000 annually. In New Zealand more than 2,400 are diagnosed annually. While it strikes all age groups, older women are at higher risk. In Australia the average age of diagnosis is 60 years. In the UK 80% of women diagnosed are aged 50 and over.

I’ve certainly known women afflicted by breast cancer. Thankfully, each was treated successfully and has gone on to live a healthy life. These experiences reinforced a sense that breast cancer is something that happens to other people – that is – until now. Two weeks ago my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. She’s currently undergoing tests including biopsies and MRI scans, with surgery scheduled for November 6. Doctors believe the disease has been caught early and thus the prognosis is very promising.

Regular readers will know that my father had been fighting his own battle with cancer since April last year. Encouragingly, his most recent therapy has gone well. Follow-up tests confirm results in line with expectations and his quality of life is markedly better.

I really feel for my parents. In an odd twist of fate, my father has gone from cancer patient to primary care giver, while my mother has gone from primary care giver to cancer patient. I couldn’t have scripted a better soap opera plot if I tried. At a personal level, it’s taken awhile to reconcile the concept of both parents fighting cancer simultaneously. As I said to a colleague recently, “I know they’re mortal, but I'd expected them to remind me of this reality sequentially.”

As a result, December’s family reunion in New Zealand has taken on new meaning. The family diaspora is coming together for an early Christmas. My brother Hamish, is bringing in his entire family from Austria, while I’ll be flying in after working in California. We were last all together six years ago, also for Christmas.

Cavtat

I travel a lot – for business and leisure. After a while one town starts to look much like the last; one local icon invites comparison with another and each hotel feels like the last. It takes something rather quirky and unexpected to make a lasting impact. Cavtat (pronounced "tsavtat"), a small village nestled on a narrow pine-clad peninsular, is one such place. We based ourselves here on the advice of my Uncle and Aunt (Thanks Dick and Jan). Without their tip I’m sure we’d have never bothered.

Cavtat consists of largely plain stone buildings, capped by bright, red-tiled roofs. Its sea-front plaza looks out across a small, sheltered bay dotted with simple fishing boat. It’s not fancy by any stretch of the imagination. However, the combination of simplicity in such an idyllic location is magic. My travel-wary soul was replenished moments after sighting Cavtat from the opposing shore of its postcard perfect harbour.


Cavtat is the original Dubrovnik. Like so many towns in the area it began life as a Greek settlement. Called Epidauros at the time, it fell under Roman rule in 228 BC and became a colony in the Roman province of Dalmatia. In the early 7th Century invading Slavs and Avars ransacked the town. Refugees who fled the violence eventually created a new settlement 17 kilometres up the coast. This new town eventually became the city of Dubrovnik.


Beyond bucket-loads of natural beauty, Cavtat is also an incredibly convenient location. It’s five kilometers from the airport, half an hour by bus or 40 minutes by boat from Dubrovnik and within easy reach of day trips to Montenegro. We stayed at Hotel Croatia, a rather uninspiring concrete hulk on a hill overlooking the harbour. Despite its ugly exterior the hotel bar offered stunning views of Cavtat. Our room ialso held a balcony looking out across small islands dotting the Adriatic Sea.


We spent our first afternoon in Croatia wandering the shores of Cavtat harbour, dining at a simply water-front restaurant and venturing up a small hill to see the Racic Mausoleum. This popular local sight is a domed art-deco chapel built on the edge of the town’s cemetery. Designed by sculptor Ivan Mestrovic, it’s a striking white stone building that maintains a silent vigil over the distant seawall defenses of Dubrovnik. It’s a spectacular view that’s simply wasted on the dead.


Spectacular coastal views aren’t hard to find in Croatia. On our third day in the country we hired a car and made plans to drive south to the Montenegrin town of Kotor. Enroute to the border we took a detour to Prevlaka, a long, narrow peninsular that constitutes the southernmost tip of Croatia. This landmark location sits at the entrance of the Gulf of Kotor and thus provides a picturesque view of the coast. In 1991 the Yugoslav National Army captured the area and based itself her for the duration of the siege of Dubronvik. Signs of their presence remain today, including taunting graffiti painted on the walls of old Austro-Hungarian fort at Point Ostra.


Garry and I spent more than an hour at Prevlaka, walking 2.5 kilometres from the national park carpark to Point Ostra. As we walked I struggled to reconcile the peaceful view with the concept that this was a battle zone less than twenty years ago. The UN was still monitoring the area until 2002 when it was finally given back to Croatia. I still struggle with the concept this peninsular and Dubrovnik were both European war zone in my lifetime.

Dubrovnik

Dubronvik didn’t disappoint. This medieval walled city was everything I hoped it would be - and more. Built in the 11th century, its spectacular walls provide a stunning view of the Adriatic and unforgettable glimpses of the postcard city they surround. The present structures date from the rebuilding that followed a devastating earthquake in 1667. Everywhere you look, brown buildings and their red tiled roofs fill the view, window boxes adorn narrow pathways and boats bob in sheltered harbour.


We entered the old city by boat; just like merchants visiting centuries ago. As we passed the soaring six-metre thick walls of St John fort, a sky of dramatic rainclouds filled the horizon. The entire scenic was a true Hollywood moment. I was left wondering how any army could bombard such a beautiful location; an event that actually happened in 1991-92. For months the former Yugoslav National Armed Forces attacked the city with gunships and artillery during the Croatian War of Independence. While everything has long since been repaired, you can identify the dozens of buildings damaged using a map located just inside the city’s land-locked Pile Gate.


A new musuem dedicated to the Croatian War of Independence has been created inside the Imperial Fort. The fort sits on the 400 metre summit of Mount Srd, directly behind Dubrovnik. When our flight home was delayed Garry and I took time out to drive up to the fort. This massive concrete structure was built by Napoleon's occupying army in 1808. Inside we saw news footage of Dubronvik's old city under attack, including scenes of the fort itself being hit.

Getting to the fort took nerves of steel. Access is via a narrow single-lane road that winds its way up a steep rock face, before precariously tracing the cliff top. However, the spectacular view from the fort’s rooftop made the heart-stopping journey well worthwhile. From this vantage point Dubrovnik’s defensive cliff-hugging location becomes all too apparent. Below us the red-roofed old town dazzled as the Elaphite islands stretched off into the distance.


Its ancient walls are also clear to see. They completely surround the old town, a circumference of almost two kilometers, reaching a height of 25 meters in places. The wall is unique in Europe. Almost nowhere else is a town wall so well preserved. You can walk the entire length of the wall’s crest. Periodically your journey is interrupted by one of fifteen towers, all built in the 16th century. Some even let you climb higher to get a better view. We spent several hours watching the city’s landscape unfold, briefly interrupted by an unforeseen rain shower. The view of red tiled roofs is something I’ll never forget.


We then wandered through the old city’s cobbled laneways, including Stradun the original main street that dissects the entire area from north to south. We briefly visited the local cathedral (a poor cousin to some of Europe’s other houses of worship) and the Franciscan Monastery which includes a 14th century cloister. The Monastery also includes the oldest pharmacy in Europe still in operation. The locals claim it opened for business in 1317. I was a little disappointed by what I saw but subsequently impressed by two spectacular missile holes from 1991 still visible in the interior walls.


An unexpected highlight of our visit was lunch. We discovered a delightful pizza restaurant tucked into a tiny cellar off a quiet laneway. Dining at rustic wooden tables in stone clad room made us feel as if we’d stepped back in time to an era when Dubrovnik was an independent city state commanding the entire Dalmatian Coast.

We were also pleased we’d chosen autumn to visit. The crowds were heavy in many places despite the inclement weather. It's clear that Dubrovnik is engulfed by tourist chaos at the height of Summer. Unfortunately for us, last weekend was unseasonably cold. More than one local told us the weather was highly unusual. However, even in the cold, Dubrovnik is magic. Visit if you can!