That's DR Dildo to you!

The Big M

Not to be confused with 'Super M' (the milkshake), 'The Big M' is Montreal, the biggest city in Quebec. I was invited to attend a workshop there last week and jumped at the opportunity. It was my first time in a big city in Canada (St. John's is only about the size of George) and although I was only there for a short time I saw enough to want to go back for a longer visit.

Those of you who read my last entry will have heard about the disappointing start this trip got off to. I was gutted to have to watch the NHL game between Montreal and Toronto on TV instead of at the Bell Centre, particularly as it turned out to be a cracker game. In the build up to the game it was described as the greatest rivalry in Canadian sport. Both sides were desperate for points to make the playoffs so there was a lot at stake. In the end Montreal ran out 5-4 winners in a game played at a really high tempo (and temper) with lots of physicality in front of a sell out crowd. All I got out of it was some good karma - when I phoned the hotel to tell them I was arriving late I told them to give my ticket to anyone in the staff who wanted it. I will now take this up with Air Canada who have made "The List" of hated companies (if you have an option of flying Air Canada or any other airline in the world, take the other one).


OK, I’ve had my bitch session, now back to the trip. I had heard that Montreal has been described as the most European of the North American cities. I was staying in the Old City and there definitely is a distinctive European feel to the place: narrow streets (some cobbled), old buildings, lots of statues, elaborate churches (the Notre Dame Basilica), and everyone speaking French. The St Lawrence River flows though the city and I could tell that in the summertime it must be incredibly beautiful. It’s still impressive in the winter though and I had a good look around the Old City in the first few days. Like a lot of the larger European cities, Montreal is also very cosmopolitan (particularly compared to St. John’s). There are people from all over and it has a Latin Quarter and a Chinese Quarter as well. My hotel was pretty close to Chinatown and I got some great food there (more on that later). I was also approached by a Chinese hooker in the Red Light district just on the other side of Chinatown. I had been walking around taking photos, looking like a real tourist (which I was, so I had the right). Naively, I didn’t even realize I had stumbled into the Red Light district, even though I had just taken a photograph of a dodgy character walking down the pavement through a path of red lights.
“Are you alone?”
“Yes I am.” Pause, realisation hits in. “But I’m not looking for anyone at the moment.”
“Ahh, are you sure?”
“Yes”
“Do you have a cigarette then?”
“No.”
I could tell she was disappointed, and not just because of the money and the cigarette. The joys of the big city!

The workshop itself was poor. And this is me being polite. The goal was to set conservation priorities for the estuary and Gulf of St Lawrence large ocean management area (LOMA). It was run by the Oceans division of DFO (I am a part of the Science division) and it seemed as though they were trying to achieve their goals in the least scientific way possible: no analysis of data, rather just gathering “experts” to discuss what they thought was best. Given that I was invited and I don’t know a damn thing about the Gulf of St Lawrence, there were obviously a few flaws in their “expert” approach. They also failed to adequately and clearly define how the decision process was to be undertaken. Basically, it was like throwing a bunch of headless chickens into a room and hoping that they would end up in a straight line – we all had the legs and wings to move around and make a big noise, but nobody really new what the hell they were doing (or rather there was no consensus at all on what we were doing).

So the days spent at the workshop were tedious and irritating, particularly because the weather outside was clear and sunny and unseasonably warm for Montreal (warmer than -10C). Then a blizzard hit, the night before the one day that I had off to explore the city. The snow carried on into the next day so walking around above ground wasn’t an option. So I caught the subway into the downtown area. Montreal has a nice subway system, a lot smaller than the London underground obviously, and it wasn’t hard to find my way around using it. I was very happy with a photo I took of the train arriving at one of the stations (note how you can see the people on the opposite platform 'through' the train).

When I stop to think about it, I suppose at first glance I'm not the best person to travel with. Not only do the Air Travel Gods seem to constantly piss in my drink, but I have a knack at getting lost when all odds are against it. I have been lost in all major cities in South Africa (except Bloem, because I've never really spent much time there) and I have now been lost in the only two cities I have been to in Canada. To make things worse, both of the times I have been lost in St. John's and Montreal were during snow storms. This adds a new dimension to the confusion. Everything looks different in the snow and its hard to spot clear landmarks. Also when you're (hopefully) wrapped up in many layers with your hood right down over you face like Kenny in South Park its hard to gather your bearings and just have a good look around. The downtown area of Montreal has 38km of underground malls and I couldn't for the life of me find an entrance to any part of this. After stumbling about in the snow for half an hour I eventually found one. Later I found out that I could have connected straight from my subway station into the mall network. But while at first glance I appear to be a jinxed traveller, it must be noted that my unrivalled experience in dealing with airline cock-ups and knowing how to cope when lost actually makes me the ideal, panic-free travel companion.

So anyway, the 38km of shopping and eating areas is divided up among various levels and sub-malls. You can pretty much cross the whole city centre under there. It was nice, and fairly impressive, but they’re just shops after all and I got a little bored getting lost amongst the plethora of retail outlets. I surfaced for air occasionally and above ground the snow was piling up. Parking your car in this weather appears to be risky business and I saw a few guys stuck in the snow and plenty more trying audacious moves to park in foot-deep snow.

The food in Montreal was very good. My hotel had an excellent breakfast, my favourite part of which was the make your own waffles section. I also had some really good paninis, Vietnamese food and Bison steak (at a Jazz venue in town – Montreal is famous for its Jazz) but three items in particular were noteworthy. Firstly, I had one (well, five) of the best crème brûlées I have ever had from a little bistro near the workshop venue. Secondly, I had a vietnamese drink (can’t remember what it was called) that I had to ask the guy if it actually was a beverage when I ordered it. It was red beans, tapioca and tofu topped with crushed ice and coconut milk. Sounds weird I know, but very refreshing and surprisingly good. Lastly, the famous Montreal Smoked Meat sandwich. I had had these before at Montreal Airport at a pub called Moe’s (seriously) where it was their speciality, but I didn’t realise it was a citywide speciality. Basically its just bread (homemade) with mustard, an unfeasibly large amount of smoked beef and a pickle on the side. Now I’ve had many sandwiches in the past, bought and made, but I have never had this much meat on one sandwich. The meat layer is literally about three times as thick as the two slices of bread together. Fantastic. Not for vegetarians.

Well that’s it for Montreal. I will definitely go back someday (maybe actually catch an NHL game this time) and from what I saw I think it’s a must for any tourist in Canada. I have posted more pictures on my flickr site (just click the link with all the pictures on the left). Oh by the way, my flight back to St. John's was only delayed by 5 hours, making it one of my more successful trips in recent time.

Superpowers (I Wish I Didn't Have)

I had a dream last night. I think I was in Mthatha (mixed with a few other places) but I can't exactly remember all the people I was with. I remember that I needed to be at the airport by 17h00 to catch a flight to Durban (I don't know why I would want to go to Durban, but no, it wasn’t to watch a Sharks game), but all the people I was with kept getting distracted by silly things. I kept telling the driver that we were running out of time but he (she?) didn't seem to care. Eventually I realised that it was too late and I was never going to make the flight to Durbs.

Then my alarm woke me up - 04h20, just enough time to get all my stuff together and catch my cab at 04h30. Unlike in my dream I got to the airport on time. But sure enough, after 30min in the check in queue we were informed that the flight had been cancelled and we all had to be rebooked! The soonest possible flight I could get on leaves tomorrow, same time - about 12 hours too late for me to get to Montreal for the NHL game I had a ticket for. $200 down the drain! The Canadiens vs The Maple Leafs - biggest game/rivalry in Canadian ice hockey. Bitter.

This is becoming a habit with me and I have started to develop an ostrich sense about certain situations when I just know that I'm going to be flightless again. It happened on the way to Copenhagen: an innocuous enough announcement – “There will be a ten minute delay in boarding” – and my ostrich sense started to tingle. Sure enough, 40min later they informed us that due to “serious hydraulic failure” the flight was cancelled and we had to be rebooked on a BA flight. I ended up arriving 9 hours late in Copenhagen, middle of the night, without my luggage (this was just one of many incidents on that trip!). Then again on the way back from Copenhagen: I arrive at the boarding gate in Montreal to see only one person and hear an announcement that the boarding gate had changed - the ostrich sense started to kick. We made it all the way to St John’s, circled it a couple of times, and then the pilot announced that wind and ice conditions made it too dangerous to land. We were diverted to Halifax where we got to wait around for hours, mostly in queues, before catching a rescheduled flight. I arrived in St John’s 9 hours late and caught a cold from the guy next to me on the rescheduled flight.

So my ostrich sense is well developed. I really had these premonitions of flight delays that ultimately came true. But I never realised that it was powerful enough to operate even as I sleep. Now if only I could find a way of harnessing these powers for Good…

This ostrich will fly again some day!

The Snow Has Fallen

We've had a couple big storms in the last week. On Monday night more than a foot of snow fell, amidst winds of 110km/h gusting up to 130km/h, adding to the already large piles of snow along our road. We had a few flurries during the week then last night we had another foot of snow (although this time it fell more sedately). So I have made a four minute video to show what its looking like around my house at the moment. As I type it's starting to snow again...

(Really hoping the weather calms down a bit because I am scheduled to fly out to Montreal for the week on Monday. I have tickets to an NHL game on Monday night - cost a fortune - so I'll be really pissed off if I have another flight delayed by 12 hours!)

København!

PART 1

Last week I was lucky enough to get the chance to go to Copenhagen for a week. The official reason was to attend the ICES WKFLR. Marine biology is a field laden with acronyms and abbreviations, so in layman's terms thats the International Council for the Exploration of the Sea worskshop on Fisheries Libraries in R (R being a programming language). The idea was to make stock assessment and ICES WG scientists from around the world, in particular the NAFO region, competent in EDA, SR relationships, XSA, SCURBA and ICA analyses using a common platform of FLR. FLR uses the open source R, instead of the less accessible SAS, for carrying out VPA and ADAPT style analyses for developing BRP based HCRs to be evaluated in MSEs (I only know what half of those are). Apparently this is pretty central to the work I'm supposed to be doing for the DFO at NAFC, funded by the NSERC. But enough BS, basically 25 scientists from Europe and North America, no more than 3 per country, were nominated by their various governing bodies to attend this meeting so there was an eclectic mix of nationalities including Danish (obviously), Canadians, Poles, Irish, Latvians, Faroe Islanders (that's not what they're called but it sounds better than Faroese, which they actually are) and even the odd South African. I won't go into any more detail on the workshop itself, because it wasn't particularly exciting and we spend most of our time hunched over our laptops, inputing lots of numbers and outputing lots of different numbers and pictures with lots of dots, circles and curvy lines. There was a nice coffee machine there.

So, the trip itself. I always get excited before I fly anywhere. I don't know why. When I was young it was probably because it was something new and exciting (and there were free chips!). Now I've done it so often and I have enough money to not even get that excited about the prospect of free booze. I suppose its the same kind of excitement I get from buying a scratch card. I know there is sweet FA chance of winning anything decent and that I will most likely lose. But there's always that chance that I just might win 4 or 5 bucks and effectively get what I paid for. And this feels like some sort of victory because I didn't actually LOSE. I am constantly hoping that I just might get what I paid the airline for i.e. get to where it says on the ticket, when it says on the ticket. Unfortunately I am starting to realise that this is very rarely the case. The trip to Copenhagen was like getting a scratch card with three identical symbols that say 'You owe us another R50', three brown eyes. But thats another story in itself. Basically I arrived in Copenhagen 10 hours late without my luggage. I also didn't have a single Krone to my name and only a vague idea of where my hotel actually was in Copenhagen.

Given my situation I decided it best to make my first port of call the pub, and a pint of Carlsberg (probably the best beer in the world they would have you believe). I caught the end of the Handball World Cup quarter final (which saw Denmark walk over the Czechs) while I calmed my nerves and quietly cursed Air Canada and the entire Star Alliance. The bar lady was a pleasure to look at and very helpful too giving me detailed instructions on how to get get to my hotel by bus. I paid very close attention to her and caught bits of what she said and managed to find the hotel on the first go. I was staying right in the middle of Copenhagen at The Square Hotel. ICES headquarters was a short walk down H. C. Andersen Blvd and most of the good sites in the city and toursit spots were also within walking distance. The centre of town is fairly Americanised and within a two block radius of the hotel there were 3 McDonalds, 2 Burger Kings, KFC, 3 7Elevens and the Church of Scientology. Scottish and Irish pubs are also popular, but I generally tried to avoid all these places (in particular the Scientologists) in favour of more traditional Danish establishments (like the plentiful sausage (Polsen) stalls scatterred around town).

More to follow...

Sunny Scandanavia!

I'm in Copenhagen for the week. I won't bore you with the horrendous details of my trip over here (yet, that is a topic for another blog entry!), but I made it, and I'm loving it at the moment. Great city but I'm very happy that I'm not here on my own dollar. Expensive is putting it mildly. There are attractive woman, but I haven't been blown away as the city's reputation led me to believe I would. I'm staying at a great hotel right on the town square so I've been able to walk around and see a great deal without having to go far. Compared to St. John's the weather here is fantastic. There is no snow and its been above zero most of the time. When I left St. John's it took me more than half an hour, in FREEZING, gusting winds and snow, to shovel a pathway from my front door to the road so that I would be able to reach the taxi to take me to the airport. There'll be more to come of this trip but now I have to get back to watching Roma beat AC while drinking Tuborg and Carlsberg at R50 a pop.

Now in W I D E S C R E E N ! ! !

I grew tired of the narrow column format that almost all blogs seem to have as their bog standard (prehaps to make short posts look as if they are a little longer and that something notable has been written). So after playing around with the template a bit I finally managed to get a wider format. Hopefully this hasn't affected how the blog is viewed on other PCs - so please let me know if you are now having problems viewing the whole blog. To celebrate the new widescreen format I have posted a panorama picture from Haga Haga, stretching from the Miller abode, "Threeboys", on the right to the beach on the left.
Unfortunately the pictures won't stretch all the way accross and still come out the same size, so to view them in their full splendour you still have to click on them (or right-click, "Open link in new window").

I See The Sea, And The Sea Sees Me

I saw the sea today. Not a great claim from somebody who lives in a seaside city, on an island no less. But, as I've said before, St John's is well hidden from the sea behind the back of high sea cliffs that surround its harbour. You do obviously see the harbour often and I get a brief glimpse of the sea on my walk to work, but beautiful vistas of great expanses of ocean are not seen with much regularity.

So this afternoon, when staring at my computer screen started to lose its appeal (well, about six hours after it lost its appeal), I decided to take a walk out in the woods behind NAFC (the Northwest Atlantic Fisheries Centre - where I work). It was -9C with a windchill of -20C but the sun was shining proudly and the wind didn't seem to be chilling to its full potential. It was incredibly beautiful out there. The snow had melted from the trees but still covered the road, and it glowed an upbeat white in the sun. There were no sounds except a few birds who had forgotten to fly south for the winter and the crunching, crackling noise of the snow getting compacted underfoot (and "Queens Of The Stone Age" playing through my iPod).


Just off the road behind the building there was a fairly large pond completely frozen over the top but still flowing beneath the ice, feeding a small stream that runs past NAFC. So the first thing I did was what any self-respecting curious person would do (curiousity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought him back), I threw various sized rocks at it to see if I could break it. That ice wasn't giving at all though (and probably won't till May), but I did only have limited firepower at my disposal (I know what you're thinking Phill, and you're probably right - if I'd had a brick I could have done it). Nevertheless, I decided against trying to walk accross it.


The road wound on for about a kilometer and a half untill the sea came into view between through the gap between the trees. Various birds of many descriptions were flying above it (though not being a twitcher I can't fill you in on the details of their taxonomy) and, as a marine biologist and sea-lover, it felt good to see the sea again. The sun, rapidly decending for the night, allowed me one more glance of the ocean before hiding away behind the clouds. So I turned to head back noticing that the wind had been at my back all the way down, which was probably why I hadn't felt that cold. Within five minutes my nose was numb and I had started to lose feeling in most of my face. It's tempting to lick your lips as the wind drys and cools them, but believe me with a windchill of -20C this is not advisable. Still, I made it back to the warmth of my office (and a steaming cup of coffee) feeling invigorated, refreshed and very happy to be working in a place where I can escape to surroundings like that whenever the feeling grabs me (and Mother Nature allows me).

The Think-back Blog

Well I promised fresh posts but as of yet I have failed to deliver. Various things have got in the way but I won't bore you with the details. Instead I'll pull a trick that sitcom producers have used for years: in the absense of any new ideas or for the want of an easy week with minimal work they produce clip shows from previous episodes. Last year this time I had just returned from a great trip up the west coast and into Namibia with Steve. I sent out a trilogy of four e-mails at the time but many of you would not have got those. So with that in mind I take you back to 1 January 2005 for some highlights of an unforgettable trip through driest, hottest Africa...

(I have included a few pictures here but the complete set can be found on my flickr sight: http://www.flickr.com/photos/55214460@N00/sets/72057594049172046/)

Following a sleepless New Year’s Night, Steve and I began preparing for a camping trip we were setting off on that very afternoon. We had to be in Lambert’s Bay by six and still had to pack, shop and say goodbye to everyone before heading off. We had no confirmed plans beyond the first night. Sometimes the least organised trips can be the best and this turned out to be one of those. We timed the trip up to perfection and had arrived at Lambert’s, set up camp and got to the Melkbosskerm by 6 on the nose. For those of you who haven’t been lucky enough to go to the Melkbosskerm, it is an outdoor all-you-can-eat seafood buffet. The boma is just off the beach and we had an amazing sunset as we ate course after course – pickled fish, bokkoms (fish biltong – not for me), smoked angel fish and snoek, fried fish, calamari, mussels, fresh farm bread and homemade jams, koeksusters and coffee. A very good meal (esp. the smoked fish) but even though we both ate till we could eat no more we went away with the feeling that we hadn’t done justice to all the food that was available.

The next day was a scorcher. We decided to stay on one more night at Lambert’s and took a roadtrip out to Clanwilliam. The most hospitable place was in the water of the Olifants River dam. Incredible water and a beautiful scene but by the time we had got back to the car we were hot already. That night we decided to go on a pub crawl to check out what the local establishments had to offer. The unimpressive Lambert’s Bay Grill offered good brandy but not much else. The local barfly at the Lambert’s Bay Hotel Bar tried to convince me that Australia were 16 for 8 and that Botha had taken a hattrick but not much else was happening there. Our next stop was the Bay Breeze Sports Action bar along the beachfront road. We were greeted with signs saying ‘Vuil taal word nie geaanvaar nie’ and drank beer by the quart. Before long the karaoke got into full swing – the bartender leading the way and singing almost every second song. We were clearly the only tourists in the place and were encouraged by the friendly locals to enthral them with song. The night really got going with my rendition of ‘Robbie Williams – Real Love’ and Steve was soon to follow with a rendition of ‘Beauty and the Beast’. Ended up staying there longer than expected bringing our pub crawl to a holt. A fun night all-in-all and we finished it off sitting around a fire back at our campsite.

The next day we headed up to the Orange River. The drive up is really striking. Great expansive landscapes and constantly changing terrain – great, solid mountains changing to hills that look like piles of boulders, to great big piles of gravel. Very dry and desolate but intriguing and calming. Hot az hell of course. We were aiming for a campsite called Peace of Paradise were the folks and the Smits had stayed a couple years back. After driving 20km or so down a pretty rough gravel road past many potential camping areas we eventually found Peace of Paradise – burnt to the ground. All that remained was the scars of where demarcated campsites once were, ruined buildings and a severely singed car. Paradise Lost. So we turned back and stopped at the next campsite – Oewendal, a spot where a lot of the canoe trip guides hang out. Got a spot right of the banks of the river and went for a quick swim to Namibia. Again the water was great and not very deep (only above our heads at one point across the river). We watched the sunset from the top of the hills at the end of the valley – another awe-inspiring sight. Dodged a scorpion on the way down – started wishing that I wasn’t just wearing my flimsy slops. Then got the life scared out of me as something shot right past my foot that I assumed to be the mother of all scorpions but was in fact a lizard. Had another good braai that night, again focussing on meat though I did have a can of sweetcorn, so vegetables were represented.

After a morning swim in the Orange we headed of to Namibia. First stop Luderitz. Another awesome drive there, especially the last 120km between Aus and Luderitz – massive expanse of stereotypical white sand desert. Don’t think I really fully appreciated to incredible country side the first time I drove this road to Luderitz. It had been more than 15 years since we were last there but the wind hasn’t stopped blowing. Since then the railway has shut down and has become covered by dunes in part (they are in the process of getting it up and running again). The town didn’t have the same small, quaint, clean German town feel about it that I remembered. Seems more like a working, harbour town now with lots of hang-abouts on the streets. Couldn’t even find a good sausage. Had a stuffed calarmari tube at a seafood restaurant at the Luderitz waterfront though. Found a decent campsite on Shark Island, below the lighthouse. That evening we set out to find a nice place to swim and headed off in the direction of the Diaz Cross. Got to a place called Griffin Bay about 25km out of town an hour and a half before sunset. A cold wind was blowing and a thick seas mist was starting to roll in. But we swam all the same. Got back to the car, dried off and were looking forward to heading back to a warm fire and good food when I realised that the car keys were in my pocket all the time. Now immobiliser remotes don’t react well with cold seawater, so we were left stranded at Griffin Bay. Fortunately we had cellphone signal and were able to call emergency services who wouldn’t help us because we weren’t members of the Namibian AA. They gave us a few numbers to call though. Eventually we got through to a friendly German/Afrikaner named Heinz who got out to us fairly quickly. He couldn’t sort out the remote but wasted no time in taking apart the dashboard and sniping wires with gay abandon until he had bypassed the immobiliser (“Stole a lot of cars in my youth” he said). Went back to his workshop the next day and got the immobiliser and remote sorted again – all for R225, would have been worse in SA I think.

To brake up the trip to Windhoek we decided to spend a night somewhere in the vicinity of Keetmanshoop (not IN Keetmanshoop, being the dump that it is). So we chose an extinct volcano about 60km north. We had to drive about 40km off the main drag along a gravel road. We crossed the Fish River, trickling along below an over-sized bridge, and many other dips in the road over dry river beds. The volcano was very impressive, not particularly massive, but dominating the flat, expansive countryside in which it stood. Storms were brewing on the horizon and we could count about four belting down rain around us. We set up camp at a small campsite on the side of the volcano. There were more sites further up but these required a 4 by 4 to get to. Still we had a great view and were the only ones there (later another family arrived). We went for a walk up the side of the volcano and the wind started picking up. Steve hadn’t pegged in his tent because of the hard rocky ground and it promptly blew down the side of the hill with the first big gust – our fellow campers could be seen charging after it, saving us a lot of hassle. We saw another incredible sunset from the top of the hill but a few drops of rain were falling by the time we got back. We finished off another great braai (marinated pork chops, onions, potatoes, chocolate bananas) just as it was getting dark. The storms on the horizon weren’t so distant any more and as the lighting flashed we could see a huge sheet of rain moving steadily towards us. As it got closer you could hear it falling sounding a bit like wind in the trees. Then it hit. The zip for the outside waterproof section of my tent hadn’t worked all holiday but as I ran for shelter in my tent it worked for the first time! Good thing too, because it was raining in buckets. There were huge bolts of unfeasibly bright lightning (even through the tent and my closed eyelids it hurt my eyes like a camera flash), roaring thunder (lasting 30 seconds and more) and great bowels of winds. My “Summer Sun” bubble tent didn’t know what had hit it. A light mist was falling through the “waterproof” outer section and my feet and head were getting wet. This carried on almost the whole night. We must have been hit by at least five storms with a few lulls inbetween. The beers I had had with supper were speaking to me but I couldn’t risk going out of the tent in case the zip chose not to work again. At one stage I woke up with the roof of the tent hovering just above my face. The wind was beating it completely out of shape and I had to spend a good 10 minutes lying on my back holding up the tent with my legs to stop it from breaking. At this point I seriously considered jumping ship and sleeping in the car but then I thought I would never see the tent again. It was a very exciting night. Didn’t sleep much though.

The next morning peace was restored. Things were a bit damp but the sun was out and the clouds had passed. Our troubles were just starting though. Remember those dry riverbeds we crossed? Mammoth dessert rains have a way of turning those into flowing rivers. The first one we came across was about 30m wide and around knee-deep (MY knees) and flowing fairly steadily. Not a problem for your average offroad vehicle, but we were in a Citi Golf. We got out and walked across to find the best route then Steve took the car through. Almost immediately our number plate came off and was washed away in a wave from the wake of the car. Spent half an hour trying to find it to no avail. The second river was a bit wider and the car almost cut out right in the middle but spluttered its way through in the end. Fortunately the rains must have been confined to fairly close to where we had camped because as we got further the rivers got smaller and they were all dry for the last 20km. The Fish River was flowing proudly though, justifying its big bridge. We got a new number plate at Mariental and then carried on to Windhoek (this section of road is far less inspiring than the Luderitz road). That night was the farewell for one of the VSO volunteers Steve worked with so we went for sundowners and then to an Argentinean Steakhouse for dinner with a group of volunteers (nice bunch of people) who were in town. The next day after a sad farewell to Steve, I flew out to Joburg. And so 2006 began…

Two Seasons In One Month

From this...
...to this!
Well I have returned from my holiday in the sun to the harsh reality of winter in St John's. I had an incredible month-long holiday back in SA shooting all over the country for weddings, graduations, christmas dinners and general merriment. But all good things must come to an end and I have returned to St John's to resume work (Peter said he lost $20 in the office pool saying I wouldn't be able to leave SA again). The temperature has not for one moment gone above freezing since I got back 5 days ago but I will relive the warmth of my holiday past as I go through all the pics and create a few new blog entries. keep an eye on "Milldaz Of The North" over the next few weeks because I should be (hopefully) adding a number of entries and a few albums of pics on my flickr site too. And oh yes, HAPPY NEW YEAR to all.