The sound of the ocean

Just a very quick update!

Garry and I are now five days into our Central American stopover en route to Australia. We arrived last night in Cancun, Mexico, after 2.5 fascinating days in Panama City. I've written a few posts on our Panama adventures, which you can read below. Photos will have to wait until I download them from my camera. 

However, right at this moment - as I type, I can see and hear the Caribbean Sea washing over a beach of golden sand directly below our hotel balcony. It's time to kick back and enjoy some full-time resort pampering.

UPDATE:  11 August

You can read more about our hotel and Cancun here.

Across the Continental Divide

Garry anointed today as Geek’s Day as this morning we completed a partial transit of the Panama Canal. Our day began with a short bus trip to the small town of Gamboa which sits on the shores of Lake Gatun in central Panama. Lake Gatun makes up almost a third of the Panama Canal’s length (24.2 kilometers across the isthmus). It’s an artificial lake, constructed to hold the vast amount of water required to operate the canals locks.


From Gaboa a small passenger boat took us along the canal, through the Gaillard (Culebra) Cut and on towards two sets of locks that finally lower ships 26 metres to sea level and the Pacific coast. Our entire voyage took little more than 3.5 hours to complete, taking us almost 40 kilometres along the canal’s 77 kilometre length.

Without doubt the Gaillard Cut is the canal’s most spectacular engineering feat. This 12.6km waterway slices through the Continental Divide separating each coast of the Panama isthmus. It’s simply an enormous manmade valley, 540 metres wide at the top, with walls rising an impressive 52 metres above the canal itself. More than 76 million cubic metres m³ of rock and soil was removed over several decades before the cut was finally completed in 1913.


Today the cut boasts another spectacular engineering feat, the Centennial Bridge. This is a cable-stayed bridge spanning 1,052 metres across the canal at an attitude of 80 metres. The sight of a Panamax ship passing under this bridge through the Gaillard Cut gave us the best possible sense of how incredible an engineering feat the canal had been. We were told that the bridge’s West Tower had been built 50 metres inland to allow space for the future widening of the canal. Such forethought was wise as we soon past a massive excavation site where the canal is now being widened to accommodate post-Panamax sized ships – all part of the new expansion program due for completion in 2014.


Passing through the three locks that take you down to sea level was an amazing experience – even for a non-Geek like Garry. Two separate sets of locks lower each ship in three stages. The first, single-stage Pedro Miguel lock, takes you down 9.5 metres from the Gaillard Cut to Miraflores Lake. The second stage, is a twin set of locks at Miraflores that drop you 16.5 meters at mid-tide along a 1.7 kilometres course. Mid-tide is an important distinction as the Pacific Ocean coast boasts tides that rise and fall almost six metres. As a result the final set of lock gates at Miraflores are the tallest on the entire canal, rising an astonishing 25 metres from the bottom of the lock.


The experience of dropping 9 metres inside a water-tight concrete chamber is almost impossible to describe. One moment you’re at the level of the surrounding countryside. Within minutes you find yourself deep inside a giant concrete arena with slimy, wet walls towering above. It’s another moment that brings home the canal’s amazing engineering feats. Geeky or not, today's partial transit was a journey to remember.


Our next stop in Central America was Cancun and the Yucatan peninsular. Click here to travel with us.

Panama City

Our first full day in Panama started with a mid-morning drive to the Miraflores Locks. Here two pairs of locks lift ships more than 56 feet from the Pacific Ocean to a small lake. This marks the start of an 80km journey across the Panama isthmus to the Caribbean. A four-storey visitor’s centre offers uninterrupted views of giant sea-going vessels passing through the locks. Almost 40 ships a day pass through these locks, more than 14,000 every year.


Watching these enormous ocean-going vessels pass metres away is breathtaking. We spent almost an hour watching a giant car-carrying ship vessel and an equally spectacular container ship pass through the Miraflores Locks. Each ship barely fitted into the lock with less than 50cm clearance on each side, hence the term Panamax (Panama Canal Maximum size) given to these ships. An increasing number of ships are built precisely to the Panamax limit, ensuring that the maximum amount of cargo can always be carried by a single vessel through the canal. However, the tight fit in each lock means that such ships are only allowed to transit during daylight hours.


An extensive museum inside explained everything in more detail, including a new $ 5.25 billion expansion of the canal that started last year. Here we learnt that it takes little more than eight hours for a ship to transit the canal, saving an alternative 16-day voyage around Cape Horn. The average toll is around US$54,000, rising to US$300,000 or more for a guaranteed priority booking.

Our tour guide then took us up Cerro Ancon, a small hill overlooking the canal. The summit also offered a stunning view of Panama Bay and the city’s rapidly changing skyline. After a brief stop for lunch, the remainder of our day was spent touring Panama City. First, we drove along the Amador Causeway, a three-kilometre breakwater protecting the canal entrance. Almost ten per cent of the fill excavated from the canal was used to construct this roadway linking four small islands to the mainland.

We then toured the city’s Colonial district, a small cluttered district that once formed the heart of old Panama City. The entire city had once been surrounded by a broad, protective stone wall. Today only a small remnant remains. However, the area's narrow French and Spanish-inspired laneways are a joy to explore. The streetscape bore more than a passing resemblance to the French Quarters in New Orleans, while a poignant waterfront memorial commemorates the 22,000 lives lost during failed French efforts to build the Panama Canal.


Our final stop for the day was Panama Viejo, the oldest European settlement on the Pacific coast of the Americas. It was founded in 1519 by the conquistador Pedrarías Dávila and rapidly became the gateway for Spain’s conquest of Latin America. Today, nothing more than stone wall ruins remain. The entire city was burnt to the ground in 1671 during a fierce battle with the English pirate Henry Morgan.


One sight among the ruins captured my imagination - a simple old stone bridge crossing a narrow creek. This bridge was the start of a road that once took plundered Incan treasures from the Pacific coast, across Panama to the Caribbean, and on to Spain. Our guide explained that thousands of slaves had crossed this bridge each year carrying the treasure on their backs. Mules were never used because slaves were far cheaper to purchase and maintain. It's quite a contrast to the mighty ocean-going vessels that transit the same route today.


Click here to read about our own transit of the Panama isthmus.

Third world welcome

Garry and I have arrived in Panama. Our BA flight departed Heathrow shortly after 9.30am, reaching Miami nine hours later. The contrast between Miami airport and the efficient, shiny new Terminal Five couldn’t have been starker. Security took five minutes to complete at Heathrow. In Miami we queued for half an hour in a tiny immigration lounge for a regular entry visa.

International transit doesn’t exist in the USA. Its Government actively discourages such passengers, considering them a threat to national security. As a result, every arriving passenger is forced to enter the nation before catching their transfer flight. However, the US Government has decidedly odd rules regarding transit luggage.

At Heathrow we were told we’d have to collect our bags in Miami and transfer them ourselves. We waited in the baggage hall for 20 minutes. Not one bag appeared. We approached an American Airlines representative and were advised that the airline automatically transfers luggage destined for Central America. We later discovered that automatic transfer was only available to foreign airlines transferring bags to American-owned airlines. Passengers transferring from one American airline to another always have to collect their bags. Surprisingly, this restriction was introduced after 9/11. I wonder why are foreign airlines considered safer than American ones?

Our arrival in Panama took bureaucratic contradiction to the next level. Shortly after landing the pilot announced that our terminal gate was occupied. He went on to explain that we’d been instructed to sit for an hour on the tarmac until a gate became available. We eventually disembarked, only to be confronted with arrows to immigration and baggage collection pointing in opposite directions.

We took a stab at the right hand corridor and soon found ourselves standing at an immigration counter. It was here we learnt a few lessons in third-world border security. Garry entered the country within minutes despite the fact that his immigration officer had never heard of the United Kingdom. His paperwork was processed without hesitation. Meanwhile, I handed over the same paperwork to a second officer and was told I didn’t have the appropriate Tourist Card issued by my airline. No such card was mentioned during our flight and no airline representative greeted us on arrival with said cards.

Without warning the Immigration Officer took my passport and pointed me in the direction of the baggage hall. He instructed me to get a Tourist Card from the nearest airline official and come back to him. I couldn’t believe it. I was being invited to enter the country without a passport. For the next twenty minutes, in the middle of the night, I was sent from one airline representative to another, each vaguely pointing to opposing ends of the baggage hall in a vain search for a Tourist Card. I was even directed to go back through two passport control counters into the immigration zone.

Defeated, I returned to the immigration officer I had first encountered. He took pity on me and without a word of explanation walked me through the airport to a tiny temporary podium on the opposite side of the building. Here a young man was handing out American Airline’s Tourist Cards for US$5 each. I was now free to enter Panama.

Perhaps the most priceless moment throughout the entire experience was being escorted past Garry by two immigration officials. Given that I was confused as he was I simply shrugged my shoulders and disappeared into the distance. I'm sure he thought I'd been arrested.

Our next adventure involved our luggage. The baggage hall had six carousels. None had flights listed on their accompanying screens despite rows of bags circulating underneath. After several stampedes around the hall passengers on our flight were finally united with their bags. The fun continued as we exited the customs hall. We were now almost three hours behind schedule. It soon became apparent that our tour representative was nowhere to be seen. Several weary calls to the tour company ensued before being instructed to catch a cab to our hotel on the promise that all expenses would be reimbursed.

Almost 21 hours after we’d left home we finally found ourselves in a hotel in Panama. It was amusing to reflect on our experience passing through three airports. Two felt distinctly third world, one did not. Luggage transiting through the USA can be transferred automatically while people cannot. Two passengers, travelling on Australian passports, can gain access to the same country via completely different means for no apparent reason. American Airlines is unable to correctly instruct non-American customers on basic travel needs. If simply getting to Panama was any guide, the rest of our holiday was set to be one huge adventure.

Life as a fox

Our neighbourhood fox is looking decidedly healthy these days. I originally though he had some sort of nasty mange but have come to realise that he's simply been moulting his winter coat. We recently spotted him with a companion in the neighbour's yard so we're hoping to see a couple of mini-foxes before Summer is done.


Last week we also had a baby seagull learning to fly from a window sill directly below our flat. The poor bird either fell out of its rooftop nest, or boldly decided to give flight a go without success. The young fledging sat on the window sill for two days before finally making it to the ground via a small window-box roof. It was gone the following morning. We suspect our fox friends enjoyed a gourmet meal overnight.

Life as a soap opera

My brother the Olympian

Regular readers will have noticed that it's been several weeks since my last post. Needless to say plenty has happened. In fact recent events have almost surpassed those of a prime-time soap opera. In my wildest dreams I couldn't have crafted a plot to outpace the last two weeks and consider it credible.

First up, my father went into hospital for a second round of major cancer surgery. A two hour operation saw five tumours safely removed from his liver. All tests confirm that his cancer has been successfully contained. He'll live for many more years in perfectly good health. Dad's condition is so rare that the liver specialist admitted this was the first such case he'd encountered in his entire professional career.

A few days later my brother Hamish heard that he'd been selected to join the Austrian Olympic Team in Beijing. He'll be a mechanic for the Mountain Bike team. As a member of the support crew he'll participate in the Closing Ceremony. It's incredible to think that he'll be on centre field inside Beijing's stunning Birdnest Stadium during the closing festivities.

However, as with all good soap operas, our run of good news came to an abrupt end on Friday, July 11. The previous day Garry and I flew to Berlin with my best friend Brendan and his partner, Grant, for a three-day weekend. Our plans were disrupted early the next morning by news that Grant's mother had died unexpectedly in Sydney. Airline strikes and schedule challenges meant that Grant couldn't fly home until Monday morning. He eventually decided there was little he could do for 48 hours and we all agreed to continue with the weekend in Berlin. I'll share more about our time away in a later post.

Grant's news was followed on Sunday evening by word that my Auntie Pam's partner had also passed away. Bob had been unwell for some time so his death was not unexpected. However, as with any death, her news was heart-breaking to hear. Sadly my Mum couldn't travel to be with her sister as my Dad had just been discharged from hospital after his major surgery.

Our soap opera week was taken to another level barely 24 hours later. Hamish contacted the family early Tuesday morning to share news that his father-in-law had died. Hermann Wieser was 68 and in perfect health. His passing was completely unexpected and came as a huge shock to all of us. Hermann's funeral was held in Kitzbuhel yesterday. I flew in from London along with nine other people to attend the service and burial.

The service, while conducted in German, was very moving. It was held in an old, ornate and gilded Catholic church overlooking the town. Its hillside location is stunning, surrounded by towering mountains. The service was well attended with standing room only. I was particularly moved when the sun briefly appeared as the funeral procession slowly made its way to the grave site. The alpine backdrop, traditional churchyard and sombre stream of black-clad mourners all lit by brief sunshine were the hallmark of a classic Hollywood scene. As I reflected on the moment I couldn't think of a more fitting tribute to a life well-lived.

With so much sadness in the air it was almost a relief to close off recent events with a family celebration. Today was my niece's sixth birthday. With so many people still in town it seemed appropriate to come together and celebrate a life that's just beginning. Nicole was excited to receive lots of shiny new toys and was just as happy to share a large icecream cake with the extended family. Hopefully our soap opera session has now run its course and life is back to its more mundane pace.

Odds and sods

Brendan and I recently spent a day sight-seeing in London, visiting places I'd yet to see. This included a trip to Crystal Palace, once home to the famous Victorian glass building that gave the area its name. We also visited Hyde Park, enabling me to finally see the popular Peter Pan statue I've always heard about.


Our day of sights began with a train ride to Crystal Palace. Here a large park spreads across a hillside overlooking South London. It was also home to the cast-iron and glass building built to house the Great Exhibition of 1851. Originally erected in Hyde Park, it was later moved to the park that now bares its name. It's main entrance was dominated by two water jets shooting 76 metres into the air.


Sadly the structure burnt down in 1936. Today, the only visible remains are a series of brick terraces, grand staircases and a few surviving sculptures. We found a small reproduction of the facade in one corner that simply hints at the grandeur that once dominated the hill. Today, the site's most prominent feature is London's main television transmission tower.


We later tried to visit the Victorian dinosaur park, but the gates were closed thanks to a local government strike. Instead we made our way back into town, stopping to walk the banks of the Thames. I took Brendan on my tourist river walk past the London Eye, over Westminster Bridge, past Big Ben (stopped for the classic red bus and clock tower photo) and along Embankment to Cleopatra's Needle.


We then made our way to the Science Museum. I'm always fascinated by the Apollo 10 capsule displayed in the main hall. I still marvel at the thought that this machine once orbited the moon. Equally fascinating is the world's first MRI scanner.


Our final stop for the day was Hyde Park. We stopped to watch the locals paddling in the Diana memorial fountain, before wandering along the Serpentine Lake to the bronze Peter Pan statue. Unveiled in 1912, the statue depicts Peter Pan standing on a tree trunk watched by woodland animals and fairies. We also encountered an unusually friendly rat who had absolutely no qualms climbing onto my shoe.

Berlin

The forthcoming Summer Olympics have focused plenty attention on China’s national capital and its incredible transformation. In recent times the city has opened a new airport terminal, underground metro lines, spectacular sports stadiums and dramatic new public buildings. I’ve read articles that compare the city’s development to that of Paris, London or New York during their respective economic heyday.

I first visited Beijing in 1998. Since then I’ve returned regularly for business, witnessing first-hand the remarkable transformation. I still recall standing at a major intersection, a few short blocks away from Tiananmen Square, and being transfixed by the expanse of bicycles I could see in every direction. Today, the same intersection is just as chaotic, but the bicycles have been replaced by a noisy sea of cars.


I’ve seen only one other city, Berlin, transform itself in a similar manner over the same time frame. My first trip to Berlin in August 1990 came only nine months after the Wall had fallen, and a month before reunification of the post-war German nations. At the time, we’d hitch-hiked into Berlin along one of the three autobahns that had once linked it with the West. Ominous border booths and fences were still in place (but not in use) and the East Germany Ostmark was still in circulation.


I’ve returned in 1996, 2002 and again last weekend when Garry and I ventured to Berlin with two friends from Australia; Brendan and Grant. This was my fourth time in the city, their first. We stayed on the banks of the Spree River, in Mitte, a neighbourhood that was once part of East Berlin.


Each time I’ve visited, the city’s progressive transformation has captivated me. In 1990, Potsdamer Platz was nothing more than an empty field in the heart of the city surrounded by the last remnants of the infamous Berlin Wall. Six years later the same location was an astonishing forest of construction cranes stretching for almost a kilometre. Another six years on and it was home to a modern, light-filled public atrium linking half a dozen ultra-modern glass towers.


Today, a further six years on and the city continues to surprise and delight me. This time I noted the new soaring Hauptbahnhof terminal, a new stadium on the banks of the Spree and entire neighbourhoods in former East Berlin that had become fashionable café zones. Even the restored Reichstag was sporting a new metro station. I was glad to see a few decaying remnants of the old Cold War city still remain.


The East Side Gallery is still in place. This preserved portion of the Berlin Wall on the northern bank of the Spree River was transformed into an outdoor art gallery after the wall fell. Its stark concrete wall is painted with colourful murals, many with political themes reflecting on the city’s release from decades of fear and oppression. In 1996 the paint was bright and the images larger than life. Today, the same artwork is faded and blotted by graffiti.


Checkpoint Charlie has become a cliché tourist spot. The once imposing border post has been replaced by a Disney-clean guard booth flanked by meticulously arranged sandbags and two flag-bearing uniformed soldiers. You can pose in front of its perfect façade once you’ve greased each soldier’s palm with a few euros. It was hard to fathom that the city’s once frightening reality had become little more than a tourist’s happy snap.


I was relieved to see a few poignant memorials to the city’s painful past have been sensitively preserved. Perhaps the most striking of these was the Topography of Terror, a open-air display near Potsdamer Platz that documents the history of the Nazi Gestapo. A preserved, tattered section of the Berlin Wall provides a sombre backdrop. It’s here that you’re reminded of how much heartache the city’s citizens have endured for almost eighty years.


I was also glad to see that the simple Wall Victims Memorials was still in place near Brandenburger Tor. This memorial consists of a line of white crosses that immortal individuals killed attempting to escape from East Berlin. The last of these victims died less than nine months before the wall fell. Brandenburger Tor itself has been transformed. A once isolated landmark demarcating the border between East and West Berlin is now overshadowed by a ring of uninspiring modern buildings that link it directly to the surrounding neighbourhood. Personally, I think it’s lost much of its grandeur in the process.


Other familiar sights remain untouched by progress. Over the course of the long weekend I took the boys up the TV tower at Alexanderplatz, past the Kaiser-Wilhelm-Gedachtniskirche war memorial church and along the grand boulevard of Unter den Linden. Each was as memorable as the last time I saw it.


However, perhaps the most memorable highlight was the Pergamon Museum on Museumsinsel (Museum Island). Here we saw the impressive Pergamon Altar, a reconstructed Roman temple, that gave the museum its name. The altar sits in a large glass-roof atrium, the height of a three-storey building, making for a breath-taking experience as you enter the museum itself.


Two years ago, Garry and I were fortunate enough to visit the ancient town of Pergamon in Turkey. At the time, our tour guide showed us a low-profile, grass-covered platform and noted that it had once been home to the very same altar. Recalling its original location brought this museum artefact to life in a rare and wonderful moment. Once again, Garry and I were reminded of the unique experience afforded by our life in London.

Guest appearances

We’ve had two friends from Australia staying with us for more than a week. Brendan and Grant are seeing the sights at a pace, along with Brendan’s flatmate, another good friend, John. As well as the regular tourist sights and sounds, they’ve fitted in at least one highlight Garry and I have yet to experience. 48 hours after landing at Gatwick they successfully queued for Wimbledon, securing tickets for the N0.2 court. Unfortunately Brendan came home with a shocking bout of food poisoning and spent the rest of the evening throwing up. Not quite the souvenir he's anticipated.


Last weekend Garry and I took the boys to Borough Markets, one of our favourite London experiences. We came home with a fresh Ostrich egg – a first for all of us. Later in the week it was transformed into a delicious leek and spinach frittata. It proved ideal for feeding eight hungry dinner guests, possibly the only recipe that requires the equivalent of 18 eggs. Our neighbourhood fox even put in a brief guest appearance.


I took our guests for a tour of Greenwich, including a visit to the Painted Hall at the Old Royal Naval College. It's been 18 years since I last saw the hall. We also wandered through the Old Royal Observatory. Something I've never done. I was surprised to discover a surviving segment of William Herschel's telescope on display. This very instrument was used to discover the planet Uranus, on March 13, 1781. Yet another piece of history comes to life in Europe.


Last Sunday we also made an early morning dash to Stonehenge and on to Salisbury before dropping John off at Heathrow. It was wonderful to be visiting old favourites with close friends. Stonehenge was as remarkable as ever, its bold shape backlit by intermittent sunshine. Next weekend we’re off to Berlin for three days. The boys will then be off to Paris for three days.