tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89794956998740591962024-02-20T04:38:36.657+13:00Jandals & TogsAn expat family's adventures and observations.RGHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273474053490558808noreply@blogger.comBlogger78125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8979495699874059196.post-70200560561767751832019-01-29T19:38:00.003+13:002019-01-30T09:34:32.957+13:00South Island Tour<div align="center">
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Tell me about a complicated man.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Muse, tell me how he wandered and was lost</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">when he had wrecked the holy town of Troy,</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">and where he went, and who he met,</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">the pain he suffered in the storms at sea.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #e69138; font-size: xx-small;">- Homer <em>The </em>Odyssey (modern translation)</span></span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="684" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4SBtUM-v2y6l3dQaLxX7qq0Yk6HlCWy6Tp3iISJqM626fIvNVFCth-X1qzRY1q6PeVFS5l-SVRXJ0U2ie-zZ4G4JHdqbY50LkENfmoWs7UL9N_2NdcjsGbd_k0udi6XA2yVtuBPJqP0Y/s640/South+Island+Tour-45.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">The road to Mt Cook.</span></div>
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We have just returned from another epic Highstead adventure. Sixteen days of driving, tramping, and camping on the South Island. The trip was undertaken during the height of summer holidays and tourist season around here, so we designed our route to avoid the crowds as much as possible. In total, we covered a little over 3,400 km (2,100 mi), almost entirely on minor highways and roadways. A surprising amount of it was on unsealed/gravel roads. Along the way, we stayed in a mixture of small baches/cribs intermingled with a lot of tent camping. Despite the huge crowds out at this time of year, we felt like we had the roads mostly to ourselves.<br />
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Most people touring the South Island are a little limited in their choice of route. There are only a few places to pick up a hire car or campervan, and the most popular seems to be Christchurch. From there, the most common route is to head north and do a big anti-clockwise loop. We were fortunate to be arriving into Picton by ferry and knew we could start in either direction. Additionally, we had already spent time in Christchurch/Akaroa (Link: <a href="https://jandalsandtogs.blogspot.com/2017/05/moving-pictures.html">Moving Pictures</a> & <a href="https://jandalsandtogs.blogspot.com/2017/05/signals.html">Signals</a>) as well as in Dunedin (Link: <a href="https://jandalsandtogs.blogspot.com/2016/12/summertime-and-livin-is-easy.html">Summertime</a> & <a href="https://jandalsandtogs.blogspot.com/2016/12/one-tonne-of-chocolate.html">One Tonne</a>) and Oamaru (Link: <a href="https://jandalsandtogs.blogspot.com/2016/12/oamaru.html">Steampunk'd</a>), so we could skip the southeast coast. In the end, our route took us clockwise from Picton to Kaikoura, then inland to the Rakaia Gorge and onto Mt Cook. From there, we jumped down to the Catlins, bypassed Invercargill, and headed for the Fjordlands. We finished our trip on the West Coast. Camping and sleeping in a tent meant that we had no schedule and nowhere to be. We could drive as far as we wanted, pitch our tent, and explore the local area. Every few nights, we stayed in a bach/crib so we could dry out, shower, and do some laundry.<br />
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<strong>Day 1-2 - Palmy to Wellington, Picton to Kaikoura</strong><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Loading the ferry - Wellington to Picton.</span></div>
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<i>Te Moana-o-Raukawa</i> is the tempestuous strip of water that separates New Zealand's South and North Islands. The English name is Cook Strait, and it is considered one of the most dangerous and unpredictable bodies of water in the world. The narrowest part of the strait is only 22 km wide, but the ferry crossing between Wellington and Picton takes about 3.5 hours. On the South Island, the section through Marlborough Sounds is one of the most scenic and dramatic that I have ever experienced. This would be my 5th crossing, and the ferry was packed, so we claimed some space, stayed below, and camped out for the journey. Despite the strait’s terrible reputation, I have never experienced a difficult crossing, but JRH did on her way to school camp a couple of years ago. Their crossing was so rough that cars slid around on deck and smashed into each other.</div>
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Picton to Kaikoura is another 2 hour drive, making for a lot of sitting/driving on our first day of travel. The original plan for our trip was to limit driving to only 3-4 hours each day. We wanted to explore the South Island, not zoom through it. Unfortunately, there was no way to avoid a couple of long days. Fortunately, we couldn't check into our bach until after 5p, so we weren't in much of a hurry. This time of year, the sun rises at about 5:30 and doesn't set until after 9:30p, giving us plenty of light well into the evening. Unfortunately, the weather didn't cooperate (skies were grey and overcast) and much worse, we lost our Lonely Planet guide, so we didn't take any side trips or detours. Our goal was lunch at Nin's Bin ... a roadside trailer serving what is reportedly some of the best local seafood. Seating is outside only and it was raining. We weren't prepared to brave "liquid sunshine" on our first day, so we passed it by. We had 15 days of outdoors adventures planned, and particularly on the west coast where it rains 200+ days each year, doing things in the rain would become a theme ... just not on Day 1.<br />
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<i>Te Ahi Kaikoura a Tama ki te Rangi </i>(Kaikoura) was established in 1853 as a whaling station, and it's name means "Meal of Crayfish" (crayfish here being what the rest of us call spiny lobster). Crayfish is on the menu all over town, but some of the best food here is at roadside trucks/trailers. Since we missed out on Nin's Bin on Day 1, the next day saw us picking up the slack at Kaikoura Seafood BBQ. Like anywhere else in the world, crayfish/lobster here is crazy expensive and JRH was shocked when she saw the sticker price on the tail we ate for lunch. She doesn't eat seafood, so couldn't experience for herself how each bite was worth every penny.</div>
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On 14 November 2016, there was a magnitude 7.8 earthquake centred approximately 60 km south-west of Kaikoura. The quake occurred at a depth of only 15 km, involved 6 different fault lines, and was comprised of two separate but concurrent events. I went into a lot of detail regarding the science and our experience <a href="http://jandalsandtogs.blogspot.com/2016/11/2016-kaikoura-earthquake.html">here</a>. Suffice it to say that it was a life-changing event for both Kari and me. While we felt quite a rumble 150 km away, the local results were devastating. New Zealand sits on the Ring of Fire, one of the most geologically active areas in the world, and the seabed surrounding Kaikoura has been rising at a rate of a few mm per year, but the Kaikoura earthquake instantly raised the seabed 0.5-2 metres. It completely changed the landscape, altering reefs, fisheries, and fur seal colonies. In addition, nearly 200 km of road was damaged along with an equal amount of rail line. Opening the only major roadway into Kaikoura took a little more than a year, required over 2 million work hours, and came at a cost of over $1.1 billion.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Kaikoura's alien landscape.</span></div>
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One of the things we have discovered on our travels is that you just can’t do it all. Everywhere we go, there is so much to see and do but just not enough time to fit it all in. Our strategy is to identify a bunch of things we would like to do, then each of us gets to pick one thing that we absolutely will do. For this trip, my choice was sea kayaking. Up and down the coastline there are dozens of places to put a kayak in and go for a paddle ... and plenty of companies willing to take your money to see it all happen. Unfortunately, for most of them, JRH was not old enough. In Kaikoura, though, we found one that was more “family friendly”. We chose the morning paddle hoping for better weather and we weren’t disappointed.<br />
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Once they got us all to the put-in and gave us a safety briefing (in the event of an earthquake or tsunami, paddle further out to sea to deeper water!), we were on our way. With the size of our group, they split us into two, so the three of us were lucky to have our own private guide. She got us right up close to some seals and let us paddle out into the ocean swells. Maria was awesome and I can’t say enough great things about Kaikoura Kayaks.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">On the water with Kaikoura Kayaks.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Shoreline exploring.</span></div>
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Summer in these latitudes means long days with loads of sunlight. After our paddle, we had time for lunch followed by a long tramp along the shoreline then back along the cliffs. That still left us plenty of time to get back to our bach, shower, and head out for some sunset views and a late dinner. All in all, it was a great start to our long holiday.<br />
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<strong><em><span style="font-size: large;">Stay tuned, there's more to come ...</span></em></strong>RGHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273474053490558808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8979495699874059196.post-4156949351856316412018-10-10T20:22:00.001+13:002018-10-21T09:26:20.801+13:00Kapiti Island<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Ka tito au</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Ka tito au</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Ka tito au ki a Kupe </span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Te tangata</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Nana i topetope tu wenua</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138;"><span style="font-size: large;">Tu ke Kapiti</span> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: x-small;"><i>- </i>Te Rauparaha (1847), composed during his imprisonment aboard<i> HMS Calliope</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Private boat ramps on Waiorua Bay, Kapiti Island. Photo: RGH</span></div>
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Driving to and from Wellington along the Kapiti Coast, when looking seaward the horizon is dominated by a large island. Kapiti Island sits just far enough offshore to appear perpetually verdant, mysterious, and unoccupied. Always looking for new places to explore, Kari discovered that it is an ecological reserve and is accessible for day trips and overnight stays. The island boasts an abundance of native plants and endemic birds, including the elusive Little Spotted Kiwi. It is one of the few places in New Zealand where one has a good chance of spotting a Kiwi (bird) in its native habitat. During our previous year here, Kari wanted to venture across Rau O Te Rangi channel and visit the island, but it was only after returning here permanently a few months ago that we were finally able to do so.<br />
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The island covers almost 20 sq km (8 sq mi), only a tiny portion of which is accessible for tramping. Almost the entirety is closed to the casual visitor and is set aside as a wildlife sanctuary. There is a limit to the number of visitors each day (100 to Rangatira, 60 to the North end). Interestingly, 13 hectares (32 acres) is privately owned by members of the Ngati Toa, Te Āti Awa, and Ngāti Raukawa Confederation. Many of them are whanau descended from an extraordinary woman, Utauta Webber, who refused to give up her land despite relentless government pressure to do so. One hundred twenty-one years after the Kapiti Island Reserve Act was established, whanau continue to live and work on Kapiti.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Paraparaumu to Kapiti Island. Photos: RGH</span></div>
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John Barrett and Amo Barrett, Utauta Webber's grandchildren, established Kapiti Island Nature Tours by renovating the family bach and offering a unique homestay to visitors. Manaaki Barrett, John’s son and our host/guide for the weekend, grew up visiting the island and is now slowly assuming more responsibility for the daily operations of the business. It is truly a whanau affair, structured so that as many whanau as possible can be sustainably employed and maintain ties to their ancestral lands. Maori was not initially a written language and their history was kept alive through oral story-telling. We were captivated by Manaaki’s ability to narrate the history of his whanau and iwi, and deftly weave it into their story today.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Kapiti Island Nature Tours. Photos: RGH & KAH</span></div>
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Utauta’s great grandfather, Te Rangihiroa, accompanied Te Rauparaha when Ngati Toa first seized the island in the 1820s. They successfully defended their occupation in the Battle of Waiorua (1824) when multiple iwi allied against them and tried to push them off. For Ngati Toa, Kapiti Island became a fortress and base from which to trade and launch marauding attacks. Ngati Toa developed trading relationships with whalers and fishermen from Europe and the Americas, encouraging them to live amongst them and accept Maori custom. Some married Maori women and were adopted into the tribe. As their cultures clashed, strife occasionally devolved into violence. In his book <i>Kapiti</i>, Chris Maclean describes Kapiti in the 1830s as “a wild frontier, a meeting point of two cultures without the restraints of law or government.” By the 1830s, the British had begun to establish a more consistent presence in the region, first sending <i>HMS Zebra</i> in 1833, then <i>HMS Rattlesnack</i> in 1838. The Treaty of Waitangi (1840) established British sovereignty in New Zealand and coincided with the decline of whaling in and around Kapiti. Whaling gave way to farming as a way of life, which only hastened the loss of native species.<br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYVIhyphenhyphenYOp5U4X8DVzQHEiBdYmWtjcTCi2IWjoHy_InW_FahBHIa9VupCEbZ9_aoQ4pqnXOsCzqsk3LuiKCoXuS8cPJPSRSq4jlLOJvLnN1-FGAwTYgI2mQiHoeyWztCArVX8YeZrWKbKs/s640/_DSC8694.JPG" width="640" /><br />
<img aria-label="Photo - Landscape - Oct 5, 2018, 9:34:28 AM" class="SzDcob" height="427" jsname="uLHQEd" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3phyCz5KiS5dZCTc33maea7u1IUrrjm8VvkH78AsdepoehI0vv78uNLw8F3YULpG_oYKVAiIFbUO0rLQLNbb32f5ddcLlbeBOUdh_O5V7mkt-clOB-hyOWcYtWw2MtBdkSTi4rYT5Uqo/w1024-h684-no/" style="text-align: start;" width="640" /><br />
<img aria-label="Photo - Portrait - Oct 5, 2018, 11:46:22 AM" class="SzDcob" height="640" jsname="uLHQEd" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/N5TRw6bnirIVUwnyIF_TExiwelsBd2dTQT2Kqb1eXBj3WdFqOh9JoKpNZyJvGhqgLc31ijoPuQcIN7USM4lGaINu2s8G3RWKow48iNzvcgo8cLLK7zX0xk2ksYvtsHrLW0ddhAh7fD9gTIm30hVmjiezZxG9au3kEW7ZXcTqaHtl-2IsR5GYPM75XXZudanjbXfsJjtQ-4azBeIlbDgOouZHlIhBPRlcVUavN0aVaxQOe1NTigWmOR6Gqi4R6jcfvI5siko3omGVf2aUuVJJzFDc-KK32OxJxqsuxnjGs95rtFu1mG0EWIf1uAuF1CvjXkXvby2RP7ZCUMFbGQsDNGnBKdlxfIq1O5R-d-hqhC_2NwkRN-V3wHPdLaYtCZeKPJodyFTqnRBSMvOcIJ6OfGjMH71Z-W4rpkICjFQrbM2Xe8Uwq-tu7L2ptanB562YI2vFf7WP-dbtl51ppiiLE_4H9KWpyc8ONymvlCzwrPYB8QLdUNgw_8a7ftjgs2DPhLYEFYHvQwT0TQN6oOLa89lumD3ZOr7E6kd7_LbgxHS_oHJ2rinjEYsy5VA2cY46Yyja4hUlhbe8abgkjf1hfVoMkif2dzA20WVjhVfYMGjaCJlgvhnHDkg4m_eBMExhFbU_HSsv019bcRgN9VbyY3qSWAfW2eJ9JDicLA4LfMTAZeFL33iSZiJioA=w1482-h1974-no" style="text-align: start; transform: translate3d(0px, 0px, 0px) rotate(0deg);" width="480" /> <img aria-label="Photo - Portrait - Oct 5, 2018, 1:16:36 PM" class="SzDcob" height="640" jsname="uLHQEd" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/XHXldKaCqTxi0HlLvGJxko1qybjzmSc5KWdPBiWOUlxxd6KWtsy3fWT1_BO_IzpU4so2yEFBMXOVEoqkj2oCYSjpkRo8mg1XleU5To8RVu-skMWt9dgpP3rn9ch_urzuvzlwsOn4Ksn3VnMIlF-tqUK6rET5FPXl6DHEnxgD5EYFz3CXTsEQKW7S8bLoa2UPoovbXTktRrWaWgEr7z04kfwBoeGsc5clh90nUvi525-os3_c3P1VAuaSmXM2CB4WssEfVzwbci0-mZCnKBV39D6N49a7toFOhgUWeJlPa_DMgDI5wLZxrPsQtY0lRpTQSbElu0IYSkbitB9CtvuL5uMh17A7ISpOnFuUGUit2gV8dMY7s7FC2JlhJxac4FIa4l1vEivYlCtEF7pjEqyAgAJm67mIvaDEC1JWczEfvcEihPTiYcH6gnX-nOhF4VSf11sV0kbpUYlEO3B_LQUg_MyBRHNP-EN1a8_REYde70MdCfBuBoWi-FgtQbsHIcvoN5AFaQ12z5t0yG40I7Uf26W0aFNiP64GiorwOa54t8c18P-0elGDGJDQHn8bzxxQKzenNf6D2Cy7q1Gmkjjo1JhepN_O5SkfeAjHYKjYOHhigmwOB-YE6_Rbe14w5nijQf1vYacextJzRSWwUejdsRaWH7OkuCRVTtv5woO0JSW49yBrA0tTTmYYfg=w1482-h1974-no" style="text-align: start; transform: translate3d(0px, 0px, 0px) rotate(0deg);" width="480" /><br />
<img aria-label="Photo - Portrait - Oct 5, 2018, 12:25:20 PM" class="SzDcob" height="640" jsname="uLHQEd" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/qc9aFKeWFS7ksDRgKpfpXrJOGvpLGsaqMFm7XOPwO_4nY3uTqSDEgctQsOvt3xghQFFb0Obr7-OC1p5z0ScOHqo1gxmgRHL62GoJRWSZ8065zWzAedRudvsau8N17EpKJ80G71zFvVeQ2-dLnYGbUb_CCAvnbcab5dvQoq2QDz1_AmXZfcvx20-R79gmK0NuH4DSmLthUFTOnlyWAA_jM6kkc3mGk-RmZcCEIlYAKUFn_dzMQ__6Mt8d2aAtSLilxlLnES1aAli1RRu5Dc_nhRzf9HqvosxMHRkkAwPjfSyTpaLIe4P6-yyAf5tTIava_qyI8tZErHbUkx8CNf7gmyXVsTFDnUV5hAe9uIvEFk7aXRr06P_r4s8cpBDtCq9D2RxKmoyXE3jurxhKSwL_0OmJnTY7u24B1VoqCJVjS5GJqPwAMb-WQRrkDra8liZjAlx1oJvdL4RHITejZb770vmywmt49lFJ5oABSYpe-qv1PsKbm-nccObBSCbJ3YGXsiVKVhxZmKfg7aZM-1O_JbCoIMTQhxG9JsvQynEsCI0Z8IMHY5RfwUeQUt0x1yXnphGQRdVM6MXJsHhAnsBmYZfGuzXqmhwfAQDSw7OjO8LgcXxel4xJ5kqa-qGqt_SAaN7xak90OtQIEolVbdg_WwV-s3VFWmiFuKcqlCBsZLXWsHZOCL6zPjP_UQ=w1482-h1974-no" style="text-align: start; transform: translate3d(0px, 0px, 0px) rotate(0deg);" width="480" /> <img aria-label="Photo - Portrait - Oct 5, 2018, 12:20:43 PM" class="SzDcob" height="640" jsname="uLHQEd" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/P7w0YoWp2uJ2y4K6CXAKSr-MNwdsKT0LbUMjuoosNa-ARRxDpIo6X5u51JD-77sTXhOSJga6WiwRLhG6Ykhk3zy8I_k1pZpwK8NpCmVx8mnQEQND7g-qV55pooYCADxr2qytKw4q6G_8VtzmcYDpiMyCgQKhiyUFiofoowTRYfrHa7sxvgK38UXM80YrGJMzmYTu-t4qmQArsNnOpo1uyjtntplme1vnlcxTHns4bcRXrrgDXxxgOglcc5VgB2X-vQ3MtDg7xjKy3cp_Hf2OgwuLLFiRW0uU9jaPz5QVLUa8ZZqk3KJmHXsEfXTrfzWtqB03ulKSgwbfb_Jiwlq_G-YiIqsjxgz5L3-HExW89vmjxPBP4QWnfBUZI-AbsdHlV9JU2wjghHVsm7w6OAak2j02Ez2e1els4ibZjJMCGaN7KE_H8RwjCH6cT79cYIIjid3_cuc8MNAjB8BuIvL0MzY1exG_AgURR_KWuFouTdBfbBS4YNncQNUPtTWUDDWyaG49F_zud6UK1QNiy9TCNms0CTi6ibO56qyY9FOb1BP9Ud2JywKZeyUsz55mw_exCm379VUxOkk97LfmxGrmGTti-j42XZqi63nyml58ePNGxSzHIdKr68LajAN9H6IYd5-Kt-L34b77rJFQUTi1x4y6UUx9_Y-MgdoM4sOb9sPUmZZ1l6D3LJCHzQ=w1482-h1974-no" style="text-align: start;" width="480" /><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Tramping through the nature reserve. Photos: RGH & KAH</span><br />
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<img aria-label="Photo - Landscape - Oct 5, 2018, 12:05:00 PM" class="SzDcob" height="480" jsname="uLHQEd" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/oSmp4PlqCC5epKigCOl1A90ii0Wo1wjTbr92A2SR9n-fgr3Ptf7ZTU-LxRYSvcB3OTQ-OBkEraQQsq9JycPZvAzI0gr2ZoXShTgd4ezbByCI08_O69MV04Y6ymeTbQP9Ia2AACb2LmHH0xpxLaVC7VnrNDyX6sFRV-OGG2hj0FM99Ti-GJKjCwrt2D9pOESJMzuWOopEddizV1lnBXtfBQFDyCVotgsD6lKFl_Ho_sBGVDlS_TAhtgzqor8nTlomeZr0z2Ww1Z6MY3VS2mPXa61m0l2GpK3gbN4Wpuhwn85g03C_Jf9TUlmYEBqn5raXGFYpdzaE9-WuVuLln1Cx_zkCMB4-ApV7KH8S43xE9dQwSnEX3Zdf1Msc0JHM6vMyw_myPV7_H85foGc6fCqsiOX9HckjgQPSN0do2rJnO3lEw2lHpyGlWPeS4_sTLJzBcENsNloSbGA2bvSGHHVsgEz_xbpVB1-F5xNr2yi2F1UulI4uQgOxfpejrv8uerp91x-5aSxiXYqSg5vwcRSwpUabmJWuISILHeYkptrQ5DlSId8ioWDRqszMLuaHqdmPyoYlp7Uoz05ZV3ohISmgv7gcaa3iO7CLZg8KDPepilLX9-SEVVkWKAJdAWKfr9_CieSzrBtSuSbgfvet_4tIcLL4EmDZ-6unZXI_fd3oXnpsFn9uoz5Qn_CqAA=w2632-h1974-no" style="text-align: start; transform: translate3d(0px, 0px, 0px) rotate(0deg);" width="640" /><br />
<img aria-label="Photo - Landscape - Oct 6, 2018, 10:15:24 AM" class="SzDcob" height="480" jsname="uLHQEd" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/rsjGHK6uCIG2CL-emw0ioarwr_g4e73-yUFRN-8JpRknjaTxizZYwc49eKHZCSEltSHkWVabj0tb4xxQTlImTh24lMKPJAOiHJUGZuv0F5mwbU5HZFrjRfb_xFO0nW7t8EoMYeH6mjhG64zggYM98JgFjF9LEwHOcaa3awa5tWcL15uu0RRbmAlAKH56LUc4SHRSrJv0LbJCbxIxT0KbQhQUWpcCo67hz-4GrUWsct9L19kdgOOsmbSMO2T9ZpCfmc0OfCVrWKQna-cwQxtPp5k2sIQGpjabFTbaV_W_uzKxc3r1-5eSYW2ltS5f8ArF6jpUvQyDLy23SN_xzoK1dTKRourUAUESqFFwYFEtsOKYx_h87iWxQrzU503Mpc8GVWJ3yxWAQZ0UWX5dBzTeRn_92kgayihNVXiP1_dAbAzE9Ej17r-KvwBCBBSdPr8X9OfWsAe4wVuz-KwjV4thGMfvlJcxrTKgL9U0RurzmsOiItq_HVwKiSLmUxfZxMDcOF4Od8VbeimeewzcbG-_s5rcQT-w9C9YSovjK8jZwHhJ4n0EN4iV7Fru7MqjRoX2anf_x1zx4NGUhja6E0kh8c88Ix9oDNl30vxRs7F7fiknlaEYnp7ZtaW_wRQ6fXLikz2VTzWJsN-SLEkrqlvrd7-bJcfJoOQkpih_0XO8-fg9G6UFUtEjaarOnw=w2632-h1974-no" style="text-align: start; transform: translate3d(0px, 0px, 0px) rotate(0deg);" width="640" /><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Tuteremoana summit and Western cliffs overlook. Photos: KAH</span><br />
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Like much of the world, New Zealand has suffered the scourge of introduced species. Prior to the capture of Kapiti Island by Ngati Toa, the human impact would have been limited to subsistence living, supported by the abundant marine life and bird species, bouyed by limited cultivation of kumara. After their occupation, the population swelled to over 1000 people and new areas were cleared for food crops. The easiest way to clear land was by burning. Occasionally, controlled burns became wildfires that swept the island. New Zealand plants and birds evolved in relative isolation, free from predators and grazing mammals. Cattle, goats, sheep, and possum were introduced by European visitors to the island, and pests such as stoats and rats established substantial colonies. The introduction of these species proved devastating. When the island became a reserve in 1897, native plants and bird populations were finally able to begin a slow regeneration.<br />
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<img aria-label="Photo - Portrait - Oct 5, 2018, 11:19:42 AM" class="SzDcob" height="640" jsname="uLHQEd" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/nZbscNISmE-ApwImzWOu06RJ8Q6fj3mYnY6Iq6py5pBlTWWKvw9nCLkqFlNBCHULiwYLuKaendQtov0o1Q5AU2_HCsC79DTkkFcj_wbKHGDiGSXJo47nPoV3FXOWXnGiTnH1FlV76LR_ikt_5fuQ6K-ATsLZNykAS-8ZG7w2N8k2G65PPhyqcfAy7mzplwsLihxgcgEyxVsdu4CtlBt8lJ31o1m9gWzIrgoeUt5asL0odsrqfDrCS6NYsnpoy2TxBb-QnSdHOliQ_XpeMu4smG_b0NwkqcYdEUDbbY2DsrL4TgZ0R07O6exlGHvuWs3CnjB6lZxQUQowQde2tSEguyMO4D6isMDMk_IpCccBM55sYtJ4upVKeullQEVGBls_0Vg3eEi9ZDdq77UB_dO2-AHrKzDreTTOffgCsAWmJGJQWOJ8cW99qmzzhlcjfiYBQhPWMaltn4KvQ2OlZ1pXNwmYG-o7SxBrHGYDGcrLlb4caJCaHRZHcKUU92jyU_KzgmhnU4PTejRMgSG1iM1qrfq3MoYeQg8KSCzZ1EeVMuGVBcCnxUivvSZycgO5Zk5ka9AUQ2iOiFyzISxGZaQ-zYcOK2deMGNqDosuBL-Tw8Osr2xmhskShYsJIqWEVw7G_5718QOojz3vO8bKIRUwiviKX5LedGp95-YdTJ2NOpouWCjLgHkcrLSxYg=w1318-h1974-no" style="text-align: start; transform: translate3d(0px, 0px, 0px) rotate(0deg);" width="427" /> <img aria-label="Photo - Portrait - Oct 5, 2018, 5:51:04 PM" class="SzDcob" height="640" jsname="uLHQEd" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/ytShE1x7D-FakB79scvU-W8-caFdRiML3a-B6BNbL1lSLlAoqfCHXQvBr9ZxFNpn1N9H1Az7T_y-7s2xdeINa5eFCggYcMnmosu0FWfSk5J63nxMua0xJfMNw8ax9_TgMdBLXDBRIfugX83i1YOvr6GetE1Mp0qg2UwrFobBTKVUT932L6el9HFV5ULI4uL_Zjcfnhma02kpBkWX6YMwuwYpEQbGmxU7Sct0u4ybPGtP7zWK7ixQcOG-tBpSgO9roCzGAjceQQRI7p2Zy8fQUEhWc_mJPcS2coNF7Nv65eJMsAi67R6qQP7dflIQw_KKuZPW26nObM7Bxh6AGKPNui5qZl0U63voqSztOkUQ3k0OBm0Nnz6eXSIQeYV4jDmceXgMIWXzq7mSPCbZcxiLRO-9ZY4-h7JHookOHQx750We9NofMoA4U3YZGkbLT6YMfoNRttngiVHcHaX9pXbY4yZBxTmpARMnKFIpy-uiyfxFzEwNyXK5x_hvgRtyx-awjrs_C4W9koeJbrMstoipg61d6RNF7eLzOy8bGACxSDW7DAbnzn0sYlcqJWCYukbYXmdn6ouzBWqJeBSo-nM5hUrfcjQfN1ojwWm7nXn3N7BSfADKYzv1okmM2NR_sHLCRh8bTXJzRIMn1U1uViBDAxPwzuiuw2Bv1znDPXH1Sd-FU05UvIkhDzdHtg=w1318-h1974-no" style="transform: translate3d(0px, 0px, 0px) rotate(0deg);" width="427" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Hihi & Kakariki. Photos: KAH</span></div>
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<img aria-label="Photo - Landscape - Oct 5, 2018, 5:18:30 PM" class="SzDcob" height="427" jsname="uLHQEd" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/1EMAeslHlgiq9MAV-Bz855nk6khhgNB3e-eH2yyO1VccCZUlTTl44DB66jOsZD8VOHg-j9PAgFazlp2yo1jj8_AuGD_TvsuvviNic2ERKj4rShoHF6W4WTJLM_UdrPTac8GlH7myhjRq73x-0w-hk7pi8y_lnwF-LGdIhvVKst49sbQv2a84qXJfAOwEq6mssy9AbETpCwZF0Q0EeFYLDuhyRMx213lraRoBOe53whsf3hpD7OzK6N7RODPqX8zmtcikCdBlznPngZFjimXp3seu61W4aqimABjWYkQvL1D7czu4MgqfLMU9LfF4oi4CMpTXCeK9qx6BeAGNe9UnGRyualS27l2YVxuI66wKXBnjsKdKFqlLYZ5c2Y_1-FGqkUWkC3nHntWZaDRkwh0Fx80zp-PweWC3GXA9vu8Clz2KH6Zl_Y2eMukZPT7kNtkXlyiarZULdnBVj5bj6f6yFQuJ1s3cpyMB8zPYKPIbBw3cXDBc2JRq2BhIv55PY0IXexvW1wYv6BeXllMWNGMGK_GkJKy-wv-sR6f1jUQWnEvW1aGILn0EjUUwtBfID7ir8vuAMI4kE2tZW8RPxct8IgggeDgLUeCK5xx0IlyPUD6VLwfTb5MPj1-KT87uVIo7cwk4wxXuH4lWa4lbA-myrANSY36B3rI15DAHVv9_8fxGVHd9MBZGungiig=w2958-h1974-no" style="text-align: start; transform: translate3d(0px, 0px, 0px) rotate(0deg);" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Takahe. Photo: KAH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Kereru. Photo: KAH</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1068" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigvAFHhg-h6-eWEz_HuQCML5jteH_Zp0D8eYWpgsuCTkb-cf3Jt7XBT7i0uFt4VBvTfb0lmVW_wyhdrFwElIgE74VaL6H6B0ggiVT5XWshKgtN2px9Enn8nc6C8_TnCWCssqQkxp2j83w/s640/_DSC8686.JPG" width="426" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="684" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMVQ5BYJuRZApJ_KhIoLbJR69N3ltPXwbA57y8AC5ijwDNirE12-C8CJiUrZPH56bJtVylJ7J-9zrxQwgutS70d55oJvPKsORlZX3Xp6WC9pANT8yMTyyWlzTRiyPq6DbDwkriDAl-1vE/s640/Kapiti-15.jpg" width="426" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Kaka. Photos: RGH</span></div>
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By 1917, a campaign to clear the island of grazing mammals and predatory pests had begun, but limited farming continued on the island into the 1950s. It would take almost 80 years before the last rat, and last mammalian pest, would be cleared from the island and endemic species could flourish. Visiting the island today, it is the abundance and variety of native birds that are most impressive. Supported by the regeneration of native plant species, some have rebounded from in-place populations, while others have had to be re-introduced. This concerted effort to restore native bird species, with Kapiti Island acting as a “life raft”, has been so successful that some are transplanted from the island to bolster or re-establish populations elsewhere in New Zealand.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Sunrise over Waiorua Bay. Photo: RGH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Manuka & view of Northern shore from Western cliffs. Photos: KAH</span></div>
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Kapiti Island is one of the few areas where you might chance to see a Kiwi bird in the wild. "Might chance" is a bit of a misnomer ... we set out late at night with Wayne, one of the year-round residents, in search of these hard-to-find birds. Kapiti Island is far enough from the mainland that there is little light pollution, and it was a cloudy, nearly moonless night. More than once, I bumped into the person in front of me when they stopped abruptly. Using a light shrouded with red cellophane, Wayne crawled around on his belly looking into the dense underbrush. There were 13 of us split into two groups, and ours was the only one to actually spy a Little Spotted Kiwi in the bush. Admittedly, it was a bit anti-climactic, but it was pretty awesome none-the-less.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">One of New Zealand's many great small breweries.</span></div>
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The next morning, the skies were clear and the sun was shining. We opted to take the afternoon boat back across Rau O Te Rangi channel, giving us a chance for a morning tramp to the top of the Western cliffs. After lunch, we set out on a guided tour of the Northern shoreline and bird nesting area. We thought we would be a little late getting to the boat landing, but were there in plenty of time to sit for a spell. Once across to the mainland, we stopped to slake our thirst and eat our fill of pizza at the Tuatara Brewery, then it was on to home.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>Rats ...</i></b></span></div>
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RGHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273474053490558808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8979495699874059196.post-28391510587473910072018-10-02T14:00:00.000+13:002019-01-30T09:37:03.405+13:00Five Guys<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><strong>Long ago I was brought into this life</strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><strong>A little lamb, a little lamb</strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><strong>Fearless was my middle name</strong></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><strong>But somewhere there I lost my way</strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><strong>Everyone walks the same</strong></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><strong>Expecting me to step</strong></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><strong>The narrow path they’ve laid</strong></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: x-small;"><strong>- Buck/Mills/Stipe (R.E.M.) <i>Walk Unafraid</i></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">No matter where in the world you are, the South is just different ... and needs a little extra time.</span></div>
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I finally completed a Great Walk. Unfortunately, it was without Kari or JRH. Kari has a walk of four days on the Tora Coastal Track coming up, but it isn't one of the Great Walks, and after our four day tramp on the Queen Charlotte Track (Link: <a href="https://jandalsandtogs.blogspot.com/2017/04/the-long-walk.html">The Long Walk</a>), JRH has no desire to ever walk so far again. Technically, we did complete one of the Great Walks as a family (Link: <a href="https://jandalsandtogs.blogspot.com/2017/01/in-shadow-of-mt-doom.html">The Land That Time Forgot</a>), but it is a river trip and traveled by canoe or kayak, so we didn't actually <i>walk</i> it.<br />
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New Zealand has a number of amazing tracks for hiking, and many of them take several days to complete, but only 10 of them have been designated as "Great Walks". They are easily accessible, well-maintained, and well marked trail systems that range from 32 km to 82 km in length and can take up to 6 days to traverse (the Whanganui Journey is 145 km of river paddling). Along the way, much of New Zealand's most spectacular views and culturally important areas are revealed. Accommodations are generally combination of campgrounds and Dept of Conservation maintained huts. Some of the tracks cross private land where there are lodges or private homes in which to stay. DoC huts can be as simple as four walls, a roof, a wood-burning stove for heat, and a wall of bunks on which to sleep, or they can be quite elaborate set-ups with small semi-private rooms and gas ranges on which to cook. They all feature some kind of water source, but that often consists of a cistern or other water source that needs to be filtered or boiled. We were fortunate to have filtered water at each of our huts (still, we filtered it again ourselves).<br />
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Mine was not a hiking/camping family, so my first forays into the wild started in my late teens once I had a car. We were young, naïve, and strong. We didn't have the money for light-weight camping gear, water filters, <em>etc</em>; so, we carried everything we needed (including drinking water) on our backs. I only weighed about 150lbs back then and I suspect my pack weighed just as much. While I learned how to survive in the back country, some of the biggest lessons I learned had more to do with what one needs and what one can do without. As we got older and wiser, and could afford updated equipment, our packs got lighter and the walks more enjoyable. It has been many years since I walked long distances, and many more since I did it with any significant weight on my back. Camping with my family has focused more on convenience than survival. That convenience came with a price. This time, the price I paid for convenience, and for forgetting lessons learned long ago, was a pack that can only be described with Kiwi slang ... "heavy as".<br />
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<span style="color: #e69138;">Day 1 - Wainui Bay to Whariwharangi Bay</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e69138;">Distance 5.24 km</span><br />
<span style="color: #e69138;">Time 1:20</span><br />
<span style="color: #e69138;">Max Elevation 190 m</span><br />
<span style="color: #e69138;">Elevation Gain/Loss 342 m</span><br />
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Our first day on the trail was a short one. The night before, we took a ferry from Wellington across the Cook Strait to Picton. We spent the night in Picton at a bach called the "Cow Shed", awoke for a lazy breakfast, then drove 3 hours to Marahau where we picked up a 1.5 hour shuttle ride to our trailhead.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Empty late night ferry.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Lounging in the Cow Shed.</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="684" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJIcrsiM0OXkfTxfyCHpQ0exOIgyZrgoFzcyxCmKxeagz9-WySrtvlh1Yp6wlJtmGr4FNxO_yz3GC5rgsU80bYRkG3HiinaSIwjtXD9Ytbn13GrPuvswYjw0fLlwSff-nJ7NQQYqEyTT8/s640/AbelTasman-14.jpg" width="426" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="684" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqW0yTUI3W-GOktY8WSufWgLfN5eBXZm94TRSZR-5g8ejssd-_xQQ-T-GIOFVF9oh_PNx915kL5CR6FIt6DB_HxoMgr7ma5XHK8duA51qHxnB2gpiYF1oSN0g7kH4EJDXUFXUEAuB2owk/s640/AbelTasman-17.jpg" width="426" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">All smiles at the trailhead.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Whariwharangi Bay Hut was originally built as a homestead in 1896 and was restored in 1980.</span></div>
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The short hike was a great way to get our legs under us and start the trail. Erik had done all the planning for the trip and had assured us that we had reached our max elevation ... the next four days should be a true coastal walk. I ate a little pack weight, and after a rousing round of BS (the card game) we were in bed for an early morning start.<br />
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<span style="color: #e69138;">Day 2 - Whariwharangi Bay to Awaroa Inlet</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e69138;">Distance 16.87 km</span><br />
<span style="color: #e69138;">Time 4:57</span><br />
<span style="color: #e69138;">Max Elevation 142 m</span><br />
<span style="color: #e69138;">Elevation Gain/Loss 1153 m</span><br />
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As would be the theme for the rest of our walk, "an early morning start" is a relative term, especially when traveling with two teen-aged boys. We drank coffee, had a hearty breakfast, and were the last group on the trail to start the day. That wouldn't usually be a problem, but we had to get to Awaroa Inlet by about noon. The inlet requires an estuary crossing that is only accessible for about an hour on either side of low tide. If we missed low tide, we would be crossing the inlet on foot while the estuary filled with water.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Erik was true to his word. Max elevation was only 142m ... he didn't tell us about the 1153m we would actually cover.</span></div>
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We left the hut and immediately started climbing. While it is true that we didn't get as high as the prior day (142m vs 190m), this day would prove quite difficult. We still weren't used to the trail, we hadn't yet eaten down much pack weight, and the trail had a lot more elevation change than anticipated. We would immediately climb a headland and descend to a sandy beach, then walk to the end of the beach to do it all again. Walking with full pack weight along a sandy beach can be ... tedious. The scenery, though, was amazing.<br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1201" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbuwSLJ0QYRI9x0x8Z6Ho7cia_19MLDnz2Rn3meaEFCyoNkFSmF_aS8yqA-51Y5CwcWmNYLe3XVtmoxM1qPFeu0A64YytSiEzJxzF08b8NT2F0SMJqwSQO6Pu6rUIpTTgOgRG8pbbGuaU/s640/P1120352.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="684" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-lSJXOBygwidtIWChNicLOgJK-yzfSd5C1WkoJiIECfBofQGMWn9I5ASCNnY6N21j7i9n75H5Gj945k6sRUID9FhhwhD3y7rBVB4u0U4TGRGc6febHeRtuZZkG6GHT3L_P57ar5qGf3s/s640/AbelTasman-30.jpg" width="426" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="684" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYkd4JB39YdOrl2mo5y9RWSUNGIxqtzVoWnKGdekBztDBB6GY4mfDo1BzPCvn7cHluxgaGt-VZNiYxJXzrOg7Pcp96K_yis4yNoFs-tdQPCWQcEIRqv_ibBwbtOqQkS_PMqgKFHOwOrSg/s640/AbelTasman-33.jpg" width="426" /></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="684" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxP7xI3bVvL6-LUrWcpFeCiYj_y6ciV8oAU7ASGj2HcYDIeZtekQjsD72NLwXHCwH8it82e2qdr9-FyKEf3PvUJLqNDRjryS2BUXw3lkjXcDCRlrjuGo0lMT304RDX7POka4za2xSpQvk/s640/AbelTasman-32.jpg" width="426" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="684" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3BbCWyLgUm6tNCFLMnVZQJaUkPpCVrUzDLcC1x0yzGDTUp7fqFFowSZ2-Iw1aU4vlhJ6XM2405ht_qSqaagxPL4Tw-KVt3Cyrc_yMdaYIhnYDE40pj5sWFVJXvTHaTabm9KcW-Ic0uQY/s640/AbelTasman-31.jpg" width="426" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Still smiling. Boy-1 has a bit of a wild look in his eye ... or maybe he is just hungry.</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="684" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdyiolF4VsqSPaleljk8W3aIPDsu3J1nXijjvBkbAWzfLpTTBQRZiKAqxHiKdWiOjmg6y7b2oD47c8TKSq_8LeGMRhMDiRNUg8ZSiQNwVLgDWRqAp8sjtpeR4-FGWyYU4iOdLbOeKTkPU/s640/AbelTasman-35.jpg" width="426" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="684" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOQzy8fcsQc8S2mTmPzY9XbE9CQMv-LF-8ADOZPVGLpESgRyY0CC_ID7O8iTXXYv4PYje4U408OmcTsbH3UJTOWrT7L_36gnCt2Xny3W0YsfzYYj7xlshdheDrY0B8jZB3FVlfFOC9rNY/s640/AbelTasman-43.jpg" width="426" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">The terrain for Day 2 was very different from Day 1, and variable along the way. We arrive at the shoreline about 30 minutes before low tide, stopped for a rest and a snack, then crossed Awaroa Inlet by wading through a knee-deep, ice cold river.</span></div>
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We still had fresh legs and clearly hadn't had enough walking, so we explored the bay a little and trudged off into the way-back to find an old tanning industry steam engine. It was pretty amazing to watch the tide roll in and cover our back trail.<br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXTn98RjtDu4dulrlymCop7Z5NJk-dO-q_Om6v_uL89Ek5DH-WTXcrqrF4erBpnwX6EkCJybfV2vXNaLckK2W4FxaszrqRSLlgLj8busju1LcUOhIxdgtexOr02hOFJe9ntWmZPLJYuCM/s640/P1120429.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Exploring Awaroa Inlet.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138;">Day 3 - Awaroa Inlet to Bark Bay</span><br />
<span style="color: #e69138;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #e69138;">Distance 15.86 km</span><br />
<span style="color: #e69138;">Time 4:32</span><br />
<span style="color: #e69138;">Max Elevation 141 m</span><br />
<span style="color: #e69138;">Elevation Gain/Loss 1085 m</span><br />
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Day 3 would see us last out of the hut again, and it would prove to be the longest day of the trip so far, though not the longest distance. We took a bit of a break part way through the day, and it gave the wizened veterans an opportunity to impart a little trail wisdom to our young charges. After a couple of hours on the trail, we came upon a side trek to the Awaroa Lodge where coffee, fried food, and beer awaited us. The boys insisted that this was "cheating". Our take was that we were merely taking advantage of resources available on the trail (the very essence of back-country tramping). Our view won out, and when all was said and done, I don't recall hearing them complain too much about it.<br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1133" data-original-width="750" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrZnVqCtg67ql0RvkRnu0RN20jtiE_w8n2J662PoqtX96uVeQInI8JEVP-YREHWv_5LL9ORiHpbOLCdugNotx43nl7Ra5oeisIlr48rw7W81Fb71L6ue4_kNAPyW_DlMkNZlkh8bV5iiw/s640/IMG_0607.PNG" width="422" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="1138" data-original-width="750" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicwuQSSgUey8sKtwvrk-yQa3jIvWKbldUQviOdpv530wwPRabKHkWYeziE9qyBJZdgi-ldwPIENG_CX5VmQwjpDgMf_MuTDg9bdm4r2CL9ZQiuZTg-uPztS_1M5m81nWGXcEkmEvCW41g/s640/IMG_0609.PNG" width="420" /></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1334" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2EMcg5xacau5ERh-rRraVtsS2k5gxbcxDmy11hIlbFLMib9n7sniU5YZMCZB5sExZizjhyphenhyphen0Eiunb3aG_YJSGadZ6C-78zz2FQ6vi-GiZDKmCeegJqlVwClkZY5G8VwBo64Xt1zOc3jUE/s640/IMG_0610.PNG" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Profiles split into two parts ... one before and one after <strike>beer</strike> a lovely break.</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="684" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkdWnk0u-GBXCLVwOIw2_1UXfwZlei7eqJPpV1kjwtuYBmzlar_LS0YQf_glS2nWrz3MxAYmD4BcqmJOR4SHXZbPuG9YWvcTsc1zitBp_URRQyOaQhgeMaq_bA6nLsWFzSQHL2b7woL40/s640/AbelTasman-80.jpg" width="426" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="684" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEbpTR3NpCgGEteUdhBnPGs8HI3L5IDTSaMYHsfHnjntcTOT7gIceV0GeUg8-rDajXwBIy7RN4KZUcEIfcS0Ksy_tT9KGDWD0lg2hkGt1PZOX_lBUlzrAM7GTXUvCxsyZGpwRu1buu_Ds/s640/AbelTasman-82.jpg" width="426" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Boy-2 still smiling ... Boy-1 starting to look a little crazy-eyed.</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="684" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg501BMkyW7OxKasxVqbRVH6UhXXTAarBwqxFLpTKZ5UIp8oWm36kXNqQ1CFF21gPFRadGeNZngszSVGKDFDqehl7oiJ7mGPgUEo5cOTvXQ5BCTgQ9oKl-Q2wzGFOQ3Mk0tG1-dRnrY_wE/s640/AbelTasman-93.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="684" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6qg3NLbe5cHqUxgIQTJ7cjQc5Sgs4anAJdABIl-j-12Xc27wMDtxd9kl7fman94exWuNjbl5e7Zlg40a6PaNM6fkPYNBwAqYO5Uah9rpaK6yx93GM2fNM1ZAc8yxn3RxLaBW5wBP_TEM/s640/AbelTasman-98.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">A well deserved break ... good coffee, beer, fish & chips, and a whole lot more BS.</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="684" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjDxy2Lzg-e3CnFZyaz2_Q27DOcNJbcyfKj3yhr2dS8UhDCG5sSsCVzhyphenhyphenjFUMMeC8xntXvyyhBFLJXurXU4TXwaYdNH3BxWNjpxaDG-PaWWpxb68lZQ48Uoz_LuRgbpBPr15p06_KOwKE/s640/AbelTasman-101.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="684" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-oJLP-xvxGinGdTtzD1GQ3qxV8Pii5-j0nwCrzAUha97Cgo6YvoWvCjgg911nhIHfGmbf7LTh-KTtPPWW8HtoXo2rRdNXht405r-qIhDO2LQX5kcT2z-JMq1z_gjR4hvBcX4U3bNSSew/s640/AbelTasman-104.jpg" width="426" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="684" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM_JGCqe5FrE-QbbIbZeV8a9qPu_ehwxwhfhLEp2bIzUxSqNVQ6WDp_yPh0GzkTbSGHKEkVfNITo-4ogoRagudfGYfrQRzdl0Of4rT_QaSjzZ4Jhi1ue1MjD0Wa6F-aCCqdwlXwGKZLxw/s640/AbelTasman-105.jpg" width="426" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">We continued to have good trail Karma, even after "cheating" just a little.</span></div>
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The end of Day 3 also involved an estuary crossing ... this one neither as cold, nor as deep. Never content to call it a day, we went for a swim and explored the trails a little before eating and turning in for the night. One of the luxuries I had allowed myself on the trail was apples and peanut butter. It was getting heavy, so I made sure to eat extra helpings this night. Ryan also made a discovery helping Boy-1 organize his gear. Prior to setting out, he allowed Boy-1 to do his own shopping and packing ... a valuable lesson in planning and organization. He discovered that Boy-1 had little food, no rain gear, and no warm clothes. No wonder he had been lapping up our extra helpings and practically sprinting ahead along the trail. Not that I would ever want anyone to suffer, but the weather was so good to us that he never felt the consequences of his poor decisions.<br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="684" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk5czOAjJqNF6vZUDtuiBQ2ew8Bvv0SuuYxVfe4ORaI7Tlr-rMRO6WjN1zLQp6hcIHcpWcyFF4-spft-pdVOUJ0D3VcupmSLdYascLgkDTYP432V6yTHNPSFLWmuu7ufJD3nnW1-QoxN8/s640/AbelTasman-109.jpg" width="426" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="684" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHXkTBrz5wKJtVqTkM0F8opvEEvdKX92izqODORp9k9UN4y9vQASOd966YYlQ7vZVcn1lYPJar6lExt7oHRtTfHceb9yLzAXcsQux01VEnRrBCB7xpRFM2fM5O9LNZtqzTLK4E3eB6b6c/s640/AbelTasman-124.jpg" width="426" /></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="684" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDCmqYKOOHWrWUfKC5ZbPHBkivBesk-x9ftbTsZeHfXGhccnToIcTFtsfkSmSK_EgFoVcDrikUx7VtnUCqOvViutkLh-Q5BNSaiMsUi1b_lcixS5KYXlN44VcNW9dMQdOSW1oM7s4Xumk/s640/AbelTasman-122.jpg" width="426" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="684" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8JJ6KSaPJ0sbunmltDXOt1Pl5pPv4KZD3MLE5XJ23iEs-m3ceie8i9uvokCRnhL9kKXLRjwdppUGKt05e2RwJfcze66Rr28wwVO8K1aRKqUr-CcJ_Z-93l23QSKFq3iv_7SFUeHxmIFY/s640/AbelTasman-111.jpg" width="426" /> </div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="684" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifbN9VgxeSye15fAj1mT2vc6-vYTJ0IIMfurTcO9Q3GmejeYyHEn0M8CmH12vjfKoKgF1pydl_X5N7bz1rv83HAgYEdNak-IpAE7btQJ3JBFW5cti3F26FT0cCDr2tGS_ZbRBID26nm7M/s640/AbelTasman-114.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="684" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB5c_t2BvSa4_C7gmbfE3oUy87f5ta99qoqaT-WZmv4M4Me246c2FDcjQ1uBpo0_zrBWbENYxD6I10YAVf76sRTo_DBX8nfQYCNeDBhwbwEXh3HPyqP24Ccdlp1g5-_8gcGYxa9Vl1fSk/s640/AbelTasman-119.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Teen-age boy "pack vomit" ... a nightly occurrence.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138;">Day 4 - Bark Bay to Anchorage Bay</span><br />
<span style="color: #e69138;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #e69138;">Distance 18.93 km</span><br />
<span style="color: #e69138;">Time 6:37</span><br />
<span style="color: #e69138;">Max Elevation 136 m</span><br />
<span style="color: #e69138;">Elevation Gain/Loss 1121 m</span><br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1135" data-original-width="750" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEfgzR-IS4zoWMbuUFiuJm3aJwUbT_7NwYxmnSNrwlyFf5aw6gn47bhPpvF6GI_ASRDI6H5z9aVceKemLGVDlOETG37kgjglCaK78-LhGBKZkLqBLULBP79dCg2inqWCxCWU7nRIt0vZc/s640/IMG_0611.PNG" width="422" /></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1334" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijHdIE_jenxQNnhCWdZ268reVsAxR0IY8OYhZJwOUiSJU8S7rrcP2WGoS6KNSJwsPTP93A5Zzlub45R0e5O293l_KQ9ASK-honV_jOSVlx154cEKvgN_saHxUFNWJVDhLMvHnJgnyfiQw/s640/IMG_0612.PNG" width="640" /></div>
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Day 4 would prove to be a long and difficult one, but it was marked by two amazing side treks. Cascade Falls was a steep 30 min tramp along an overgrown and narrow track. We stashed our packs in the underbrush and hiked it light. Unfortunately, this did not stop Ryan from turning his ankle. Nor did it stop me from losing my sunglasses. Recorded distances and times are artificially inflated ... I made a round-trip run up the trail and back to retrieve them. The second side trail was to Cleopatra's Falls where I rode a natural water slide into a deep pool. It was also time for a little grizzled trail wisdom ... in life, as in on the trail, it is the side trips that have the most risk and the most reward. On this our penultimate day, and on the final day 5, we started to see other people on the trail ... it was damned near a Kiwi traffic jam!</div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="684" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilLl82GdhyphenhyphengcBJf2JmNIuXnLDaCtsdMx-D0f4Z300hDi3UL6GZVZ1pLqkt8qc4kThh5A7KyH5HE5SioyWO28NGh8DrJdnBtTya0dL4Bcgiy6dtXwACkiqJNaUqEA0g0ARa_ZuqB8ZPIaM/s640/AbelTasman-127.jpg" width="426" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcCgPgWEfa0ThitA7nsr5tqDFOrJcJP5FtYrDp26F05ZgsOUA3ENdFbGbihRPg71GDNqjW2oAcJnkBM6Lh4IaSeQhRXe_3g32zCmzRhTW_BDYrTrtcHm5i_uHCi8B02RIQUNWV3DrWI_M/s640/P1120531.JPG" width="480" /></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjweh7hH8Y8EniAEblx-HKQLe4dEtbrWr09PsmttVddulyd3xIfiAYYj5lUY-3mbe1V3heU5HelGykxjdl8yTSdUaNKxkUXUzyrdJLVRNO13dztV75V0drO44jAn_imbCwDI3eS7IR-q-s/s640/P1120519.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="684" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcFONCS7Py5tlbY2obUVnYhqzrXsNMLQxxMlEmcudPkavb5stqQzoZQDZ4LGrqIcCE8g3Rp8BNuT7jfBLmsK1PSE_-qxiG1etDLYna9MiIpKeikJRy71bOH7DMApmf1ldUtdXqJjMvfJg/s640/AbelTasman-132.jpg" width="426" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWpOc0R51XlFQsoAzUF4-WPcDeNKQFWWLONqQGZtDjymmvKHPf86ekNw1fTC3vDAu_0t4XiEk1mqfEk-IHMdvubMnxAcUHa-OkdOVhoJ_bP3Yqcj9iPyP_8PyMs3OzySu6Efm7aiwWFls/s640/P1120533.JPG" width="480" /></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv0UvU1vunQCgxloCM5O0og1emsnh057rgsMPeks4HIh4xSPf0eEl95oRI2I_fyEtl1QeBUxDRm0JcEiWYPalp3F35yITYbSCx5WfIy-XXpRlEmaWMk-PNOtV7lOSuHi_xdyCJzilPSIo/s640/P1120555.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138;">Day 5 - Anchorage Bay to Marahau</span><br />
<span style="color: #e69138;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #e69138;">Distance 12.71 km</span><br />
<span style="color: #e69138;">Time 3:16</span><br />
<span style="color: #e69138;">Max Elevation 137 m</span><br />
<span style="color: #e69138;">Elevation Gain/Loss 718 m</span><br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1135" data-original-width="750" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPI6vK5-VPZZkTk46dEJ_cPZdfkAvEPUulnB9GQtOQmuVmDtYctf54Sgk54Q_MVT6dDphjvhRWsOAT_fnQlXOq0a2tCQmSFj_UWskdSY9rYYx9prE4KbFDNagfcBHVAEZb111MoHxj4fE/s640/IMG_0613.PNG" width="422" /></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1334" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZSi4bC5H_O9K0AcMCrLL7K8sUXzty-EpivshY6L9wA_MdWHQUqL70p_Q1XqEyyP96hQ_34e3YHk0ZS36onvjlBapw7er1vayAnqUZHYEkSKACWLOAtB8ei8BK_SLhV2Kh24LFonCq6eQ/s640/IMG_0614.PNG" width="640" /></div>
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Day 5 was a "short" 12.7 km hike out. It would be our last stinky day on the trail ... and boy, did we stink! We kept passing lovely people on the track. They were carrying light packs, wearing light footwear, their hair was properly coiffed, and they smelled nice in passing. I don't want to imagine what they have written to describe us as we passed on the very narrow trails.<br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy3u-JA5JKqGtOay1AqHuOYvKaPGd3IK82xkHGHDNp-eCt7oOsiupA073ytnmCpi0_9imkNdsguGxHBT9xZtzqtV4UL18idN-djN960zqae2L1JkLpt61zTHOg302RIGAnKbx9oYQWYCg/s640/P1120574.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="684" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMW_-iVJF1dz7OEVTCmP4AiSQ6f9MIoca4lN0plCzmWTCWfRaVhDnlLoq5LiEyxws9Gxqixk5FAx9rxtk2xYctX4BD7u2bs1KVHwmTij-ulExiOnWuW40xBn-sQVLHPvWpge_2VdENUk4/s640/AbelTasman-141.jpg" width="426" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="684" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkuxzYnYH1CwoN0fMGuxwsVhCJiBt22smDlzWtZ_gjffNTUVrAa8agsosqyEmgzhVWxhy9K5mKdTPsY22P2egEDfva28gRpWUagQBKFcmCjs5KH_hnSAHj7BQF0WM8-5jgrCppRg1jg8g/s640/AbelTasman-142.jpg" width="426" /></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="684" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh5x6l68m2xTOR1sRhiyGVLkkQiaLdowQdRhR8N1wP79KMbWxRhSErKPxM1OYmA9JIr-opOHzHtbF42zsM9kSMPOrWqS4fvcIrObEEH-lAmjW0EH9qBJkR_ji6yiEsQ-vWNhqewosFMys/s640/AbelTasman-143.jpg" width="426" /></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="684" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYot6H_mwUOdJS0EiMKxKr6fkdWLH0S0kbDH_xYSJT1zk0lv7bdjv7HCjrI4lCX41-Xo8D8bOaenT7JNLB7PQLTJmh1WReJ-DlzVNMcem9J8uLAQ7D8GLg7Q2RUgskWZZNBgn_EOYQ3dE/s640/AbelTasman-144.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtwWc9OuZ77R6BLOpOe-1fO1iykBc2_cYPLc08G6faBzPr-oanx6r-bbPSsIU9rhaF2LlDcztFbvUjDC8e5M72wFyBPRyuH_kZXrtt1RjpvKTzX-duTLCdcyelY2QgFcVc6nsoGFMN24g/s640/P1120580.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ZTMliZVm9oQe1yBfk7EbL2BTXspoE-TCwWRfUfxVhrEE0v3uFq3KxZdq-zHtp0h61zm__iim_pEYI6hBVWEtw1aF0w-et3xDFMXOaVy2PWyWqJW8sJ-_m7GCh-bVT86WpB_Pr5y7R90/s640/P1120581.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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We were off the trail before noon and immediately checked into our bach for the night. After a round of showers and a change of clothes, it was off to town for a proper burger and to stock up on beer, whisky, and provisions for the evening.<br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="684" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf8u-cqlPKZxpxFVtm9ocvTebSYF_X14m-t6G8QP1S9goEboZSiUyLaw3c4vsPP-9dO7XIYWd4RGTjVFs_ntCnbEoZg4FfyQrYdwDV6uIz_9kNS07_YZn7RxJ7eDoxsDHSFpP4ch8lASU/s640/AbelTasman-147.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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It was an awesome trek along one of New Zealand's beautiful coastlines. We are on a shoulder season here ... tracks are open but many of the services are not. We had plenty of room to spread out in the huts and on the trails. Fortunately for Boy-1, and for all of us, the weather was perfect. A little chilly to start the mornings, but t-shirt and shorts weather through the day. I won't say the water was "refreshing", in fact it was downright freezing, but that didn't stop us from taking a daily dip. I can't thank Ryan enough for inviting me, and Erik for making it all happen.<br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="684" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS0Wwxf5Qy1Y3i-5bc4EzK3fRyuyxlf8HfR4VsrLU3L4Lc-pkmSaKV2z1e68n8syCch3BNN-AmcBObe4IamCeP6s3_CCIrSYPphLNTINeg-MHIAsAzIia6VysGvZd4BE1WkjvSEqgqbj8/s200/AbelTasman-108.jpg" width="133" /></div>
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;"><em>"Wow! That's a lot of lies"</em></span></strong><br />
<strong><em>- The Master of Cards</em></strong><br />
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RGHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273474053490558808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8979495699874059196.post-50876000701619023002018-09-14T12:21:00.002+12:002018-09-14T19:22:22.111+12:00Hey, Lucie ...<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">I gotta' feeling</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">That tonight's gonna' be a good night</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">That tonight's gonna' be a good night</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">That tonight's gonna' be a</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Good, good night</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: x-small;">- The Black Eyed Peas <i>I Gotta' Feeling</i></span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="672" data-original-width="1024" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtGoc4OIzwmNMvUrMEPRkX1I4GuBWGFz8MwGjUw0B4S4w5JK_qp8kbOegC7CcmttxJaiL5LhEVcvBfsM0SarzWlKs6JGl6D7emNxWIEashn4V6V6ZPf2y9GSqilbiBVWHaZ4K8B0VVTqk/s640/RuahineFav-1.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 16-35mm f/4G ED VR @ 35mm, f/8, 1/20, ISO 2000 Photo: RGH</span> </div>
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I have always had an interest in photography (<a href="https://jandalsandtogs.blogspot.com/2018/06/portraits-of-life.html">Link: Portraits of a Life</a>), but that waned a little as I got older. My interest was re-kindled when I started traveling with Kari. She is an avid and talented photographer, but suffered a little from a lack of good equipment. One of the first "family" gifts I purchased was a better camera, and one of the first gifts I gave Kari was a higher-end point-and-shoot. Still, our interest and skills quickly outstripped these devices. After traveling to New Zealand on holiday in 2014, and in anticipation of moving here permanently, in the winter of 2015 we finally bought high-end camera gear. Sadly, as we struggled to learn how to use the camera, we still shot in Auto mode ... in essence, we had a <i>really</i> high-end point-and-shoot with fancy interchangeable lenses. Still, we played with the camera and learned, and eventually our photography started to improve.<br />
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One of our first trips with the new camera was to the mountains of North Carolina in Dec '15 ...<br />
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In Sept 2016, we made our home in New Zealand, albeit only briefly. We were here for a 1-year work contract, and while work was our reason for being here, our <i>raison d'être</i> was to get out and explore as much as possible. Those of you who have followed this blog from the beginning have been with us on just about every adventure. Through that year the writing on this blog got a lot better, but so too did the accompanying photography. I eventually posted two blogs with our favourite photos (<a href="https://jandalsandtogs.blogspot.com/2017/06/playing-favourites.html">Playing Favourites</a> & <a href="https://jandalsandtogs.blogspot.com/2017/06/caution-wide-load.html">Caution! Wide Load</a>). They are heavily skewed to our later pics. Since then, our "favourites" file has changed significantly with only a few remaining and the rest overshadowed by much better photos.<br />
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Kari and I both got away from the camera's auto modes and starting taking control of our images. Along with our increasing technical abilities, our vision and composition improved as well. Having a great camera helped, but I would argue that what we learned translated to our cell phone photos also. Talented musicians can make great music with toy instruments. Athletes can translate their skills to many sports. Great photographers often "see" the photo before they shoot it. The tools they use are less important than their vision and execution. I ain't gonna' lie though ... good equipment has helped my execution more than a little bit. Along with learning how to use the camera, and how to see the composition before pushing the shutter button, I have also expanded my repertoire. I explored street photography in Wellington (<a href="https://jandalsandtogs.blogspot.com/2017/05/keep-welly-weird.html">Link: Keep Welly Weird</a>) and here in Palmy (<a href="https://jandalsandtogs.blogspot.com/2017/08/street-beat.html">Link: Street Beat</a>). We even dragged Little Highstead into the family hobby, sometimes as a reluctant model, but a few times as a photographer (<a href="https://jandalsandtogs.blogspot.com/2017/04/strike-pose.html">Link: Strike a Pose</a>). Back in the U.S. this past year, we didn't spend as much time behind the camera as we would have liked. Still, we kept trying our hands at new things ... wildlife photography, indoor sports, and portraiture (<a href="https://jandalsandtogs.blogspot.com/2018/03/caught-in-camera-eye.html">Link: Caught In the Camera Eye</a>).<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 16-35mm f/4G ED VR @ 16mm, f/8, 1/640, ISO 100 Photo: RGH</span></div>
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We recently had the chance to try our hand at another new-to-us discipline ... shooting a large, indoor event. Little H plays football (soccer) at several levels, including club football with Ruahine AFC. I have previously shared game-day photos with the other parents for her team, and with the club. Two years ago, some of my photos were used during the end-of-year Prize Giving (awards ceremony). A week before this year's event, I was involved in the following e-mail exchange:<br />
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<i>R-AFC: Hi, Grant. The club was hoping to get some candid photos at prize giving this year and wondered if you might be up for the challenge?</i> </blockquote>
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<i>RGH: What kind of photos are you looking for? I am happy to give it a try, but please understand that I am not a professional photographer in any manner and I can't guarantee results.</i></blockquote>
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<i>R-AFC: We don't need professional, just would like to capture some of the awards, teams, and maybe some natural shots of the moments. If you are happy to give it a go, that would be awesome!</i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>RGH: I am happy to give it a go. Again, please understand that I am not a professional and can not guarantee results that everyone (anyone?) will be happy with. The best I can say is that I will try my hardest, but you can expect what you paid for.</i> (since I would be volunteering, what they were paying for was nothing)</blockquote>
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This is a pretty big event in a big venue. They recognise 19 teams who all walk onstage to receive medals and certificates. They also award prizes to the best Junior Team, best Junior Coach, best Senior Team, best Senior Coach, "Leaving" players (aging out of club level football), best Leaving Player, as well as a number of individual awards to players, coaches, and club organisers. They wanted photos of all of the prize givings and candid photos throughout the night. I went online to see how to organise myself, get an idea of what kind of equipment I would need, and look at photos from similar events to see how to compose them. I quickly realised that the task would be difficult for a single photographer experienced with these kinds of events, and impossible for me alone. Kari and I talked about it, and I recruited her to lend a hand. I would focus on shooting the happenings on stage, and she would shoot the "crowd" shots and candids. We decided to use only equipment we already owned, despite the temptation to go shopping. The only concession we made was to buy a flash. We showed up an hour early during set-up to practice our shots and make sure we got the lighting right. I'm really happy that we did; some of my favourite shots of the night were taken at this early stage. Putting together an event like this takes a lot of time, hard-work, and vision. What happens behind the scenes is just as important as the final product we all get to enjoy.</div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="684" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_NMMO3LxnoQMvUtT2HxOBcCVOiIqk0n7B4bdsl49-E3aYJqLHS6_RhtQr5Gw64r62tTmb6_V2ZdSZZGYyTg-QlFmxncQw_5ORPqP6sUDM99kTmRZc6NsD3K-F1R-1x9pjPYsvzKyVFfo/s640/RuahineFav-3.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 16-35mm f/4G ED VR @ 35mm, f/8, 1/15, ISO 8000 Photo: RGH</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="684" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEEA1BVemN7FL-kBOznL7-5phoZJLKgGB3QftIazflaYk11_KS63ZQBsO7KFt8gXsL4ze4qGvrjLJrelzmAEDoIm4pIlkVhrQCaHGE-_7x3hVA-iNVMaWi09PPAtUOrRNk6LEcWZa3W9k/s640/RuahineFav-4.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 70-200mm f/4G ED VR @ 70mm, f/8, 1/40, ISO 5600 Photo: RGH</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="684" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpwlYNybnusjqpWJoWH62hqRAPb3WDn_5MbdD3YhkCVGI6cZMAdI1pHWYJcey1uBsjcZU9QrFi7HHV9dzyhKNEpLGW_nyRcFvvL2rj5U5p8sochD_vMQxJ8BQPfg8kR1BHIJp3g82cRlY/s640/RuahineFav-5.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 16-35mm f/4G ED VR @ 29mm, f/8, 1/15, ISO 1000 Photo: RGH</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="683" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy6NT4v8bTi1ECrNZ04unTYrdLW3lh4Pw9cnZpvrAKn_JQ9Lig2httoIl4wdMt7bDolUU6i_IsaKpYjSIFTvJZj0NBtYT6sgjQWuQVZ1yyDWKesFibzetSFF4S-tSsKU-2AxsTj4ZkUlw/s640/RuahineFav-7.jpg" width="426" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="683" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8oYYuyejUbTgC0ygLde1JE4RJGduMCK1frjVJ6rRXJVDsWoPhmtdQDLZisMxMrLsz_-hjHqOZRcuJk9chK6BuKUY8oAyZshHw_5q0OYhhYBaE8Jj1RPHqCmOuzLRJhd9Jpex1WBme-LU/s640/RuahineFav-8.jpg" width="426" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D810 + AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">70mm, f/7.1, 1/60, ISO 560 50mm, f/7.1, 1/60, ISO 6400</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Photos: KAH</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicCl-3AxA9oCWRHDFeWrw4LMjCErLbUAPgdzL2zQrmcl_PiSUfJUFMX_0ZWzO5BHl2X6IrA2PygaOTh0GPZadlSyIptY4MajC1fkIQsJipILvGuq_NpCjDi8e0No6G19BpyEJIJ3u5s8Q/s640/RuahineFav-6.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D810 + AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR @ 58mm, f/7.1, 1/60, ISO 6400 Photo: KAH</span></div>
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Of course, the entire reason for the event, and the reason we were asked to photograph it, was to celebrate the players, teams, coaches, parents, and supporting caste. Trying to get each and every player, team, and award recipient on and off the stage in a timely manner is a monumental task that was made to look easy. Trying to get them to stand still long enough for a photo was like trying to herd cats, made even more difficult by the request that I set up my camera at the far back of the auditorium ... about 50m away! I did sneak up to the stage for the individual photos, though.</div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="684" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcjbFbJGeLh89ieY07gmVUipY6aMboRV46m6fzj3oX_ZdvtEC0ofCmHqp7qeAkAYOMUVSbSx5ezfeyJj573NHEuKhp__6zOiS68CJKOLSoE14J4_K6AvAH5pBm8Ue0fT53ZDYuatyfqyM/s640/RuahineFav-11.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 16-35mm f/4G ED VR @ 35mm, f/6.3, 1/50, ISO 5000 Photo: RGH</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="684" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9vlM2gLu0vphRrKpouQ9MxIy9yoU_gVLLkrUJjFIh5TNqeIlRdK8PmgV8Hdu-ZTqDHQE3Kgw1qg03qPkiO5g2hxh3CR6tukTgIglRx9SSejOP4bH4idJoVsgB9JgO1uS-baaMZjTbJbk/s640/RuahineFav.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 16-35mm f/4G ED VR @ 35mm, f/6.3, 1/60, ISO 4500 Photo: RGH</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="684" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj62kmkHxGgh5Eq9-z3Ef5mxaV91tBM6x0H9E00DoonsHJynA7moaTMq4TDoOZ1XPO-4GIETkkyV7Am7AtkC6qkO2JwNLOqTYOwQJxsoMc0k3XqB91JSxza9bHYPviQjULKb92gN2EjKmY/s640/RuahineFav-12.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 16-35mm f/4G ED VR @ 24mm, f/6.3, 1/50, ISO 5000 Photo: RGH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 16-35mm f/4G ED VR @ 16mm, f/8, 1/50, ISO 8000 Photo: RGH</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="684" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhskyfpjomCb87rYpS1Rn_ZZthClaXJ7cZgj5JHG2FwzYKpYkRNvFL31KnPOHkbK3PmOOqgfSn58XOJd6fkZ9VtU7nKk8H-BBEtuznInR_poqeDsUSFETR-Ro57GBCoJZZVrEVn_8d5d2Q/s640/RuahineFav-13.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 16-35mm f/4G ED VR @ 27mm, f/6.3, 1/50, ISO 8000 Photo: RGH</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="683" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKtQ_O1CX3QlIsiroBgB7-1tOs0dkP8Z__jnrAkKu3t70uYWoPFk36z4q77FctuKv0SQj6sF89Oiyal-8FijdRS4ZFPADJJjRWTY0Eyf_5uC8jVEqTzhyWHODekprkrObmmixmTIzf8A4/s640/RuahineFav-16.jpg" width="426" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="684" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgowmcC6FG09wfAVVyXiAX2D5xKK9n5rFZ_ctAyrJSAaHjkiwHc8P_FAgjOzJlRu7m5A_a4HNEJ60M_1-_1730y1wVdZF-yYOgPbjRpZeymy8R3YjOEv_nKduHdv7ggblRi79GJHZ22bEA/s640/RuahineFav-15.jpg" width="426" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D810 + AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR @ 24mm, f/7.1, 1/60, ISO 5600 Photo: KAH // </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 16-35mm f/4G ED VR @ 35mm, f/6.3, 1/50, ISO 8000 Photo: RGH</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="683" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkXS0LTyi-gU22HJN38xDlHoWc11aS3fdehRJe3NffZpaLnk8JwWHqlRXCR_uLQYE0tGo7u3dzKHGCjYbXxGtIz-QMqnsorrV6ggzUieeSeWXUfxhBbmBrYgmFONNI6ezUsT7I07VB9gA/s640/RuahineFav-19.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D810 + AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR @ 38mm, f/7.1, 1/20, ISO 1400 Photo: KAH</span></div>
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This was a huge undertaking for us, but so rewarding and so much fun. I spent countless hours online trying to figure out how we were going to pull it off. If not for the encouragement, support, and photography skills of Kari, it never would have gone as well as it did. I am immensely proud of her and of us. It really did turn out better than I could have hoped or expected. Thanks, too, to Fiona and Hayden Burmeister for giving us the opportunity. I already have ideas about how to make it better next year ... and what new gear we're going to need.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>... we're home.</i></b></span></div>
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<br />RGHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273474053490558808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8979495699874059196.post-10967225028962605692018-09-09T18:50:00.003+12:002018-09-09T19:58:15.350+12:00My Word!<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">There is just one moon</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">And one golden sun</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">And a smile means</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Friendship to every one</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Though the mountains divide</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">And the oceans are wide</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">It's a small world after all</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: x-small;">- Sherman & Sherman <i>It's a Small World (After All)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Tararua Range</span></div>
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We bought another new-to-us vehicle. This time it was something more practical ... a Toyota Landcruiser Prado VX. We also got good (and bad) news on the BMW. It's fixable, but the parts have to come from Germany. They will take at least 2 weeks to get here, so we won't have the car back until the end of September.</div>
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When I wrote about buying our first car in New Zealand (<a href="http://jandalsandtogs.blogspot.com/2017/03/new-wheels-and-new-opportunities.html">New Wheels and New Opportunities</a>), I didn't go into much detail about the purchasing process. I did mention that we bought it from a public lot where people leave their vehicles for sale, but the post was more about the person from whom I bought it than the way in which the transaction actually happened. As it turns out, there are many options for buying a used vehicle in Palmy; online auction sites, online private sales, local dealers, <i>etc</i>. There are also cars for sale at one of the local parks. For a $10/wk permit fee, people can leave their car at Memorial Park and post a “for sale” poster in the window (max 4 sales permits per person per year). The selection of vehicles in the lot includes clunkers, luxury vehicles, and even camper-vans. When we bought our SUV, we had a very limited budget and were focused on the clunkers.<br />
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We found what we were looking for, surrounded by much nicer vehicles and looking a little sad, but it was exactly what we needed; 4WD, diesel, roomy ... and under $3000. I called the number written on the flier and arranged to take it for a test drive. Our first surprise was that the owner didn't want to ride with us for the drive. He handed me the keys and off we went. It was beat up and smelly, and a lot of the little plastic bits on the inside were broken or missing, but it drove well. The next step was to ask the owner if I could take it to my mechanic for an inspection. This time the owner came with me, and while the car was being inspected, he and I had a coffee. The inspection went well and despite the dings, scratches, and welds on the body, the drive-train and under-carriage were in great condition for what we wanted.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Chumba at the Tongariro Crossing</span></div>
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The last step was to negotiate a price, and that’s where we had another surprise. I handed the man an envelope of cash and he gave me the keys. No paperwork, no title or registration, nothing to sign! That's not to say I didn't know anything about the pedigree of the car. In New Zealand, if you know the plate number and/or VIN, you can go online and learn a lot about any car. I did a police check to make sure it wasn't stolen, an ownership check to see when it was imported and how many owners there had been, and I could even see when it had failed any Warrant of Fitness (WoF) inspections and what was done to bring it up to code. I could also see that the odometer wasn't accurate ... at each ownership change and WoF inspection, the odometer reading is recorded. Somewhere along the way, someone had either replaced the odometer or disconnected it (a dodgy practice some in NZ employ to avoid paying road usage taxes). I registered the car at the post office and waited for the title papers to be mailed to me. After having my mechanic fix a couple of minor items, and putting on a new set of tyres, we were the proud owners of a beat up 1996 Nissan Terrano 4x4. Chumba-wamba (gets knocked down, but gets up again), was named by one of my oldest friends during a visit to the South Island (<a href="http://jandalsandtogs.blogspot.com/2017/04/the-long-walk.html">The Long Walk</a>) and made the trip, including two ferry rides, without a complaint.<br />
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The mechanic I liked worked at a branch of Manawatu Toyota on the hospital property. In the 8 months we had Chumba, he got to know us fairly well. One shift, I left my lights on and walked out to a dead battery. The mechanic towed Chumba to the shop where it was put on a charger overnight. When I went to pick it up the next day, he wouldn't charge me. He told me to "bring us some pies or something", and so I did. They liked the pies so much, the next time I was in they asked where I got them (Sony Bakery on the corner of Ferguson & Albert). In one of those "small world" moments, I discovered that my mechanic's daughter is a NZ trained doctor now living and working in Canada. He had always wanted to visit Canada, and his plan was to retire soon and go for a visit. When we returned to NZ last month, I discovered he had retired and was gone from the shop. I hope he made it across the pond.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">My new girlfriend</span></div>
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A typical blog post takes me about 6-10 hours to generate, from conceptualizing and researching, to writing and formatting, and then finally posting. Quite obviously, I don’t do this all in one 10-hour marathon session. Rather, I work on it a little bit each day. During our last stint here, I averaged about 1 post per week and Kari used to joke that my blog was “the other woman” in my life. Our new rental has a wood-burning fireplace insert, and I have a new girlfriend. Using the firebox is a lot different than a traditional open fireplace, and I have spent an awful lot of time trying to figure it out.<br />
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When we were in New Zealand two years ago, we were in a wonderful little house with amazing landlords who also happened to be great neighbours. It was a cozy home with an open and connected kitchen, dining area, and lounge. There was a fireplace in the lounge, but we couldn't use it. I can't remember if it hadn't been inspected or hadn't passed inspection, but the end result was the same ... no fires. In the winter, the house was heated by a combination of a single heat-pump in the kitchen/dining area and portable electric heaters. Electricity here is expensive (~$0.22-0.34/KWh), and older Kiwi homes are built in such a way that you can close of sections of the house, only heating the areas you are using. In the evening, we would heat the common areas. At night, we would turn on electric bed warmers and bring the portable heaters into the bedrooms, shutting off the heat to the rest of the house.<br />
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Normal fireplaces are aesthetically pleasing, provide a nice warm glow, and give off a distinctive and attractive aroma and sound. Unfortunately, their efficiency is only about 10% ... the vast majority of the heat they generate goes up the chimney. Fireplace inserts can have efficiencies >80%. They burn HOT! Not only does less heat escape, but they burn cleaner, meaning less soot and gases are released into the air. In NZ, heating with wood using a modern efficient woodburner is also relatively less expensive (~$0.14-0.20/KWh if you have to purchase your own wood ... much cheaper if you have your own wood lot like friends of ours). On our arrival to our new home, one of my tasks was getting in a supply of firewood.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Gum Tree wood ... neatly stacked.</span></div>
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Much of getting things done in New Zealand is more about who you know than what you know. It is a country of relationships. As my retirement/insurance agent said to me, "There are only about 5 million people here. Everyone knows everyone else, and everyone knows who pays their bills and who doesn't." We had experienced this during our last visit here. So often Kari would be looking online to find somewhere to stay for our various adventures. A few times, she found that nothing was available. She would call the local iSite and be told ... "Oh, so-and-so down the road has a room for hire but doesn't advertise it. I will have her contact you."<br />
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The same is true for finding firewood. One of our friends gave us the number for the person they use. I contacted him, but he didn't have much. He had plenty of wood for next season, but we are toward the end of this season and he didn't have anything that he thought was good enough to sell to me. Another friend hooked us up with his wood guy. That guy only had two trailer loads left and was happy to sell one to me. On a random Tuesday morning, he showed up in my drive and we chucked a trailer load of wood into the garage. We have a 1-car garage that was now full of wood. When I got a chance, I would spend 20 or 30 minutes stacking it, but it was going to be a week or more before we could use the garage again. Imagine my surprise when I came home from work on the Friday before Father's Day to find all the wood stacked up against the garage wall. I was chuffed! Kari and Little H had given me the best Father's Day gift I could have asked for.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">2005 Toyota Landcruiser Prado VX</span></div>
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Buying our newest vehicle was another adventure in Kiwi culture. When speaking with my insurance guy, he asked “only one car?” Not going into too much detail, I told him that I was waiting for Kari to arrive from the US and then we would be looking for an SUV. He mentioned that one of his other clients had an older Landcruiser for sale that looked to be in pretty good condition. A couple of days later, I got an email from the owner with a description of the vehicle and pics. It has a petrol (gasoline) engine, and we really wanted a diesel, but it was pretty much everything else we were looking for. I made arrangements to meet him and take it for a drive. Again, he offered me the keys and was ready to let me take it for a ride. I was in an unfamiliar place and told him he better come with me because I might get lost. The truck drove great ... steering was tight, no rattles or shakes. I warned him I was going to drive it a little aggressive, and he was game. I had no real problems with the truck, but it was going to need new tyres (a huge expense here), and I really wanted a diesel, so I passed.<br />
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Fast forward a couple of weeks, and the day before I wrecked the BMW (<a href="http://jandalsandtogs.blogspot.com/2018/08/under-weather.html">Under the Weather</a>), he called me and told me he was going to lower the price from $15K, to $12K (or $13.5K with new tyres). At that price, I was a little more interested, but I didn’t want to commit to buying Kari a truck without her driving it. I told him I would talk with Kari when she arrived in a week. We discussed it, and decided that we couldn’t beat the price. It’s an older truck, but we could drive it a short while and get something newer and exactly what we want in a year or so. We called the owner and agreed to meet again for Kari to give it a squiz.<br />
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This is where things went full Kiwi. Fraser is a giant of a man ... big bear paws for hands. But he is the nicest, kindest, most soft-spoken kind of gent. Kari looked the truck over and we were good to go. I pulled out my phone to transfer money to him, and he said “nah”, didn’t have much time. He was on his way to Hawaii for a couple of weeks and had to get going. He handed us the keys, a sheet of paper with his bank info, and said to just transfer the money when we got home. “Just don’t leave the country or anything” he joked as he walked away. Let me make this perfectly clear ... on our promise and a handshake, he handed us the keys to the truck for which we had just agreed to pay him $12K, gave us his bank account information, and said “Pay me later. I’m going to Hawaii for two weeks.”<br />
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It gets even more Kiwi ... Fraser told us he was going to learn to surf in Hawaii and I mentioned that I wanted to go to the surf camp in Raglan NZ. That’s when he mentioned that he had a mate with a house in Raglan. He said we should call him when we are making plans to head up to Raglan and his buddy would hook us up with a place to stay. “I mean it”, he said ... and I am sure he really did.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>Cowabunga ...</i></b></span><br />
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RGHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273474053490558808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8979495699874059196.post-86841183926973686022018-08-28T21:11:00.000+12:002018-08-28T21:38:52.426+12:00Under the Weather<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>It was a dark and stormy night;</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>The rain fell in torrents</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(230, 145, 56);"><b>Except at occasional intervals,</b></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(230, 145, 56);"><b>When it was checked</b></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(230, 145, 56);"><b>By a violent gust of wind</b></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(230, 145, 56);"><b>Which swept up the streets</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: x-small;"><b>- Edward Bulwer-Lytton <i>Paul Clifford</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Oops!</span></div>
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So in my last post, I had written about how much fun my new car is to drive. I had also written about how I see a lot of road fines in my future. What happened after owning my new car for only one week was far more mundane ...<br />
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It <i>was</i> a dark and stormy night. I have previously mentioned the weather here in Palmy ... cold, dark, windy, rainy. This night was no exception. The day started out ok ... I worked the 7a-5p shift and rushed out a little early so I could get home right away for Little H’s parent-teacher meeting. I had tried to book a late meeting, but the latest I could get was 5:30p. I collected Little H right after getting home from work and off we went. It happened to be a Thursday night, and so we had a special treat in store after our meeting. One of the local food trucks sets up in a park on Thursday nights. They serve the best burgers, and Little H and I had been planning this stop all week.<br />
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There had been a good amount of rain off and on for the past several days. It wasn’t too bad on our way into the school, and had let up walking out to the car after our meeting. During the drive over to the food truck, however, the skies opened. I was stuck on a side street trying to make a right turn across two lanes of busy traffic. There were few gaps in traffic, but when I finally spotted one, I pulled out. Visibility was bad ... really bad ... and I was looking straight in the direction of oncoming traffic, but through the rain and headlights somehow never saw the car coming from my right until it was too late. Fortunately, because of the rain, I had pulled out slowly. I suspect the other car was likely traveling at something less than full speed. Their front left smashed into my right front. No one was hurt, and after exchanging info, they were able to drive away. My steering rods were broken and the car was pouring out oil. I was barely able to pull the car to the side of the road; after which it was undriveable. How ironic that I joked about how many speeding fines I was in for and my accident was at less than 10 kph.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Not such a scary corner ... under clear skies, in broad daylight, and with no traffic.</span></div>
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I just sat there. I couldn’t believe it. I have been driving for 31 years, and I have never been in a significant car accident. I didn't know what to do. I saw a woman get out of the passenger side of the other car, and seeing that she was all right, told her that I would pull my car out of traffic. She was quite shaken up but was walking and talking just fine. After pulling my car over, I walked to the other vehicle. The driver had gotten out and also appeared well. He climbed back into his car and also moved off to the side. We then set about exchanging information. As I mentioned, I have never been in an auto accident before, so I wasn’t sure how to proceed. We exchanged personal information and I asked if we needed to call the police. The woman and bystanders assured me that we had 24 hours to file a police report. I have since gone through the rules and laws and found this to be correct. In instances where people are injured, police must be called immediately, otherwise the report can be filed later.<br />
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The next thing I did was to call a tow truck. Again, not sure what to do, I just looked one up online and called. They stated they were on the way. What I probably should have done before calling the tow truck was to call my insurance company, which is what I did next. My admittedly limited previous experience with these kinds of incidences is what led to my next series of mistakes. First off, I did gather the other person’s personal information, but neglected to get their car registration number (license plate number) or insurance info. When my insurance claim agent asked for this info, I did not have it (I did get it from the other person later). Second ... only afterward did I realize that I was getting all of the information from the woman passenger and none of the info from the driver. I quite honestly don’t even know his name. Thirdly, I had said “I’m sorry” and “It was totally my fault” on several occasions. Apparently, this is the exact wrong thing to do.<br />
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In determining who’s insurance company will foot the bill (and who’s insurance premium will subsequently take a big hike), who is at fault becomes quite important. Everything that I read online about dealing with an auto accident in NZ said to never accept blame. Simply gather all the information and submit it to the police and insurance companies. Leave it to them to assign blame. Partial fault can be assigned across two or more parties, but by saying “it was totally my fault” I may have inadvertently shouldered all of the blame ... and all of the cost. The night was dark, and raining heavily. Was the other car traveling too fast for conditions? Possibly, but I had just said “it was my fault”. Being even more naive, when the woman asked me to write down my description of the event, in essence I said that I caused it. Not a lot of wiggle room there. Was I mostly at fault? I would say so. Was I completely at fault? Again, I think so, but possibly not and I have not left much room for arguing that point.<br />
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When I talk to people about driving in NZ, they always ask about learning to drive on the “opposite” side of the road. I never really had much of a problem with it. That being said, I always thought that if I were in an accident, it would be because I was looking left when I should have been looking right. This time, I was actually looking right, directly at any oncoming traffic. Through the heavy rain and refracted lights, I just didn’t see that other car until it was too late. In the end, a car is just a thing that is fixable or replaceable. Most importantly, we are all fine. Still, I have been having trouble sleeping at night.<br />
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<b><i>We never did get those burgers ...</i></b><br />
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<br />RGHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273474053490558808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8979495699874059196.post-88405834829673061682018-08-20T14:24:00.000+12:002018-08-20T20:27:02.606+12:00Howdy, Partner!<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>What do I do when my love is away?</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>Does it worry you to be alone?</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>How do I feel by the end of the day?</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>Are you sad because you’re on your own?</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>No, I get by with a little help from my friends.</b></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #e69138; font-size: x-small;">- Lennon/McCartney <i>With a Little Help from My Friends</i></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Hey, baby ... what’s your name?</span></div>
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Kari arrives to New Zealand in just a few days, and while I have really enjoyed the past three weeks of me and Little H against the world, I am eager for her to get here. Be it a spouse, a lover, a boyfriend or girlfriend, opposite gender or same gender, in New Zealand that person is referred to as your “partner”. During our last tour of duty here, I initially thought “partner” was a very odd word for this person in your life, but I came to embrace it. In the US and Canada, we give so much weight to the title “husband” or “wife” and anything else is somehow seen as ... well, less. The deep commitment and importance of other arrangements are inherently excluded when we hold the terms husband, wife, and spouse to a different standard. A partner can be any of these, but they are also so much more. Kari is not just a person to whom I am married; in every sense of the word, she is my partner ... and sometimes my partner in crime.<br />
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I must admit, though, that it can make for some interesting cross-cultural miscommunication when a Kiwi is referring to their domestic partner and a North American thinks they are talking about a business partner (and <i>vice versa</i>)!<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Chumba-wamba</span></div>
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I <i>have</i> gone out and done something without my partner in crime, though. Sadly, the Highsteads have parted ways with our dear companion Chumba-wamba. I bought Chumba for a little over $2000, put another $1300 into new tyres, and got exactly what I paid for. Like an old and faithful dog, Chumba was a little beat up on the outside, smelled really bad on the inside, but was always there ready for the next adventure. In the year that we were away, Chumba lived a solitary life in a good friend’s barn, occasionally let out to drive around the paddock, then put away again. On my return, Chumba surprisingly started right back up and even passed a Warrant Of Fitness evaluation (miracles never cease). But with our now permanent residency in New Zealand, we needed a more reliable ride. Kari and I have always driven big pickups and SUVs. When we moved to Myrtle Beach, though, Kari’s Forerunner had passed it’s useful life. We got her a (slightly) used BMW 528i and proceeded to drive it into the ground. She was never really happy with that car, but I rejoiced in driving it. In the mean time, I got a Ram 1500 that I absolutely loved. When we were deciding what we wanted to drive in NZ, Kari announced that she wanted another SUV ... and that opened the door for me to get a completely impractical sports car.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">The Ultimate Driving Experience</span></div>
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Enter the Highstead’s new whip (I am accepting suggestions for a name). It’s a stripped down 2011 BMW 335i ... whoever ordered it chucked all the options except the performance M package. No heated or electric seats, no iDrive, no tilting mirrors, no Bluetooth, no valet lock-out features, and no frills. There are only two pretty much useless cup holders, no USB ports, and none of the comforts we were used to in the 528i. What it does have is a sport-tuned engine and suspension, snug seats with side bolsters, a thicker/tighter steering wheel, and an automatic transmission. <i>What? </i>Who the hell strips a car down, goes for the straight hard-core driving experience, and gets an automatic transmission?<br />
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Driving it home from Welly the other day put the fear of God in me ... this car is fast, powerful, and way fun to drive. The Ultimate Driving Experience? Yep, I think so. It has a 3.0L turbocharged inline 6 cylinder engine that generates 300 hp and 300 lb-ft of torque. It’s been lowered and sits on 20in tyres. I am most impressed by how it leaps from 100 to 135 with just a twitch on the gas pedal. It is way more car than I have ever owned and I see a lot of driving fines in my future ... all with a shit-eating grin on my face.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Lasagna</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Teriyaki Chicken ... & ... Scotch Filet</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Slow-cooked Texas-style Brisket</span></div>
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Growing up, I came to appreciate finer foods. My grandmother used to say that I had champagne tastes and a beer pocketbook. Once I moved out on my own, a beer pocket book was barely an aspiration. I quickly learned that if I wanted to eat well on my budget, I would need to learn to cook. By the time Kari and I met, I was an accomplished and creative presence in the kitchen and I would argue that my skills rivaled Kari’s (she might not agree, but this is my blog, so ...); however, Kari definitely had a broader repertoire than I did. At first, we combined to make quite a team, but Kari enjoys cooking more than I do, and she gradually took over kitchen duties. I was slowly demoted from my role as <i>Executive Chef</i>, to <i>Sous Chef</i>, and eventually demoted further to <i>Chef de Partie</i>. Now, I am barely even a Kitchen Porter. At this point, Little H and I have been on our own for nearly a month, and wanting to make sure she is well-fed and properly nourished, I have had to revise my role. I think we have done pretty well, and when asked, Little H agrees.<br />
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Since arriving in New Zealand, I have had to arrange utilities for our home, set up television and internet service, and get our cell phones sorted out. I got Little H registered and started at school, went to the college (high school) open house, and registered her for next year. I have organized a wood delivery to keep us warm at night and tried to fill in what was missing from our “fully furnished” rental. Little H joined a local football (soccer) club and was invited to play for the regional team. My partner has been stuck in the U.S. organizing our move, while I have been navigating our new country and new culture as a single dad ... a role made especially difficult by a schedule in which I sometimes work late into the night. We have been fortunate that many of our friends in New Zealand have taken pity on us, fed us, and taken care of Little H on short notice. I have had to rely on friends to take in Little H ... feed her, challenge her, entertain her, and shuttle her off to football practice and games. It truly takes a village to raise a child, and I am incredibly grateful to the village around me. The past three weeks would not have been possible without a little help from our friends.<br />
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Thanks to all of you collectively and to each of you individually.<br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Zoom, zoom ...</span></i></b><br />
<br />RGHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273474053490558808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8979495699874059196.post-31767833251528190772018-08-12T14:50:00.000+12:002018-08-20T20:30:36.739+12:00Forever Home<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Hold on to me as we go</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">As we roll down</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">This unfamiliar road</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">And although this wave</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Is stringing us along</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Just know you’re not alone</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">‘Cause I’m gonna’ make this place</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Your home</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: x-small;">- Phillip Phillips <i>Home</i></span></div>
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We are back in The Land Of the Long White Cloud, and it took longer than we had hoped. We left NZ in Sept 2017 with the intent to return as soon as possible. Our goal was to have our house on the market by February 2018 and be back in NZ by mid-April. To be honest, we thought that goal was a little too ambitious, but we fully expected to be here by June. Now, two months over-schedule and over budget, and nearly a year after we first left, we’re back. So many things conspired to delay us; most significantly was our immigration application. If you have never tried to immigrate to another country, and you believe what you hear on American television, you might think it’s pretty easy. Far from it. Our application for immigration, with supporting documents, ran to 217 individual pages and cost us almost $10K. Leaving one country for another is never easy (Link: <a href="http://jandalsandtogs.blogspot.com/2018/07/run-for-border.html">Run For the Border</a>).<br />
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And while I say “We are back ...”, we are only partially back. I let my previous ED group know that I would work my last shift for them in mid-July and told the group in NZ that I would be ready to start work on 6 August. Packing up and moving a 3400 sqft (315 sq m) house is a 3 day event. The plan was to have the movers pack and load only a few days after my last shift, and for the three of us to fly out on 21 or 22 July. The movers couldn’t quite meet our timeline, so Little H and I drove to Houston, sold my car, and boarded a flight on 28 July, landing in New Zealand on 30 July (you lose a day crossing the International Date Line). Kari was left behind to jettison the last bits of detritus we had accumulated, deal with any problems that cropped up, and organize the move. She will arrive in NZ nearly a month after we did.<br />
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Over the 13 years we have been together, Kari and I have moved around quite a bit. We met, got married, and had a baby in Galveston TX. From there, we spent two years in the suburbs of Washington DC before heading off for three years of training in Iowa City. I learned to be an Emergency Medicine Physician and Kari learned to be a Nurse Practitioner. We left Iowa City to start our first professional jobs (well, not really ... Kari was a nurse for many years before becoming a NP). We left Iowa for Myrtle Beach, SC and to say that we were disappointed with where we landed is an understatement. If not for a fantastic group of friends and neighbors, and an amazing group of doctors (Palmetto Emergency Physicians) who took me in, we would have left SC five years ago.<br />
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On my last foray up to Canada to play golf with my brothers before permanently relocating to the other side of the globe, I had to clear U.S. customs and immigration in the Toronto airport. When the U.S. ICE officer asked me what I do, I replied “I’m an Emergency Medicine Physician.” He looked at me and said, “That’s quite a title.” I don’t really think so, but I’m glad I didn’t use my New Zealand title ... <i>Emergency Medicine Consultant Specialist</i>.<br />
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Taking a chance, moving away from friends, family, and everything we have always known is hard, but not as hard as I expected. Maybe that’s because we are running to something, not away. We are running toward a better future, a better life, and a better environment in which Little H can grow and explore. We probably could have found what we were looking for somewhere in the U.S., but we think we found it here. We return not as visitors, but as permanent residents, and hopefully, someday, citizens. This is the place in which we hope to grow old together. Don’t hold your breath, though; moss doesn’t seem to settle well on our feet ...<br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Y’all come back now, ya’ hear ...</span></i></b><br />
<br />RGHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273474053490558808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8979495699874059196.post-84171011744631237932018-07-05T08:57:00.000+12:002018-07-06T09:19:45.417+12:00Run For the Border<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>Consideration for your fellow man</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>Wouldn’t hurt anybody, sure fits in with my plan</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>Over the border, there lies the promised land</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>So don’t tell anybody what I wanna’ do</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>If they find out you know that they’ll never let me through</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>It’s no fun being an illegal alien</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>It’s no fun being an illegal alien*</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: x-small;"><b>- Banks/Collins/Rutherford <i>Illegal Alien</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">* This is the song lyric I originally chose for this post. In light of recent events, I considered not using it and replacing it with Marin Niemoller's <i>First They Came</i>. I chose to use the original song title and use a paraphrased version of the poem later in the text.</span><br />
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After almost a year of paperwork, application fees, medical exams, and a see-saw of emotions, we have finally been approved for residency status in New Zealand. So, this post was going to be a happy one. Unfortunately, recent events at our southern border caused by our government's heartless and brutal policies have caused my thoughts to take an ugly turn. Few, if any, of my posts have been political; however, I just can't write about my immigration journey without thinking of the journeys taken by others and how they are being portrayed in the news today. I previously wrote about our interactions with a group of Afghan refugees in New Zealand (Link: <a href="http://jandalsandtogs.blogspot.com/2017/03/new-wheels-and-new-opportunities.html">New Wheels and New Opportunities</a>), but this time it's personal.</div>
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I first became an immigrant in 1990, moving from Canada to the United States. I arrived on a student visa, so the transition was relatively easy. I transferred schools, went to grad school, then changed visas when I went to work. Each and every time, there was a finite time window in which I would be considered a "legal" immigrant. I was on a student visa once again for medical school and then I got married and became a Permanent Resident ... yep, I have a Green Card! While I am definitely an immigrant, I am also a Canadian. When I moved from there, culturally it was not that dissimilar to the US. Kinda' like Kiwis and Aussies ... unless you are one of them, they are pretty much indistinguishable. Sweet as, I just pissed off three different nationalities in only two sentences!</div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>Give me your tired, your poor,</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>Your huddled masses</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>Yearning to breathe free,</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>Send these, the homeless,</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>Tempest-tossed to me,</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>I lift my lamp beside the golden door.</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: x-small;"><b>- Emma Lazarus <i>New Colossus</i></b></span></div>
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I always intended to become a US citizen, but now that we are moving to New Zealand, that point is moot. Few of us have done anything to "earn" or "deserve" our citizenship or residency. We simply won the lottery through no effort of our own. Mostly, we are just lucky (or unlucky) to have been born on one side of a border or another. Becoming a US Permanent Resident took several months, about $4K, and the ability to take time off work to attend appointments and interviews. Becoming a New Zealand resident took almost a year, and our total output so far is close to $9K and still climbing. I suppose I could make an argument that I have "earned" my status by passing extensive background checks and spending thousands of dollars in the process, but I can not argue that my pathway has been made much easier by the fact that I am white, male, educated, articulate, and affluent. I know how to navigate the system. While I did not come the the US (or New Zealand) as a refugee, if I had been any combination of female, dark-skinned, poor, and did not speak English, I would be unlikely to be where I am today.</div>
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We should treat those who come seeking refuge/asylum with kindness, dignity, and respect. Not because it's right or moral. Not because God, or Jesus, or Allah, or The Great Spaghetti Monster In The Sky commands us to, but because it is who we ought to be. While we have lost our way and it is not who we are today, it is who we used to be, and it is who we should strive to be in the future. I am not advocating for an open border policy. I am saying that we should treat migrants like the desperate human beings they are, and if they don't qualify for amnesty, asylum, or immigration, turn them away. But be nice. <i>"If somebody gets in your face and calls you a cocksucker, I want you to be nice. Ask him to walk. Be nice. If he won't walk, walk him. But be nice. If you can't walk him, one of the others will help you, and you'll both be nice. I want you to be nice until it's time not to be nice."</i></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>First they came for the Jews</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>and I did not speak out</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>because I was not a Jew</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>Then they came for the Communists</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>and I did not speak out</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>because I was not a Communist</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>Then they came for the trade unionists</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>and I did not speak out</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>because I was not a trade unionist</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>Then they came for me</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>and there was no one left to speak out for me.</b></span></div>
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<b style="color: #e69138; font-size: small;">-Martin Niemoller <i>First They Came</i></b></div>
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I know from the process of becoming a New Zealand resident how difficult it is to meet criteria. It took months and thousands of dollars, and an incredible effort. I wonder how many of those who advocate for a “merit-based” immigration policy in the US would ever have been allowed in under those conditions. How many have visited a favela outside of Rio, not as a tourist but as the guest of a local, sitting and breaking bread with them as I have. Or how many have seen 14 year-old boys carrying automatic weapons and "guarding" a family business in Honduras as I have. How many have seen crude concrete walls and windowsills topped with broken bottles to help keep out intruders, behind which families barricade themselves after dark? And how many have seen people living in landfill sites, sifting through the day's detritus trying to find something of value that they can then trade for money to buy food.</div>
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These are desperate people fleeing desperate situations. The people I met made less than the equivalent of about $10 US per week. Can you imagine what it takes to save enough money for the journey, always afraid that your meager savings will be stolen or extorted from you? They often can't afford to take their entire family. Can you imagine the heartbreak when one parent has to grab their youngest child and flee while leaving the rest of the family behind? Hardship in the journey is not a possibility, but a guarantee. Can you imagine how terrible your life must be to risk rape, robbery, and murder along the way knowing that you might not be granted the asylum you seek? And can you imagine the horror when you finally arrive only to have your child taken from you and sent thousands of miles away from you with no hope of contacting them? These are the people who we see on the news. This is their plight.</div>
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I started this post a few months ago as we were going through our own immigration process, was motivated to finish it when we finalized our visa applications for New Zealand, then stalled out as immigration issues came to the foreground in the news. Today is now July 4th ... a day of celebration for the USA's earliest beginnings, and a day when we ponder what it means to be "American". While I moved to the USA 28 years ago, I never became a citizen. At first I was held back by the expense and logistics. Once we knew we would be moving to New Zealand, there was no longer an impetus to complete the process. So, while I have never been an "American", I have lived here and have been steeped in its culture for almost 3 decades. As such, I have a few closing thoughts, both for this blog post and as we prepare to leave to another country.</div>
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People who come to our borders seeking asylum, and those who cross the border illegally and then try to obtain legal status are not "jumping the line". Much like the grocery store check-out, there are many lanes that lead to legal immigration. I have known this to be true immigrating to America, as well as New Zealand. We choose the lane that best suits our circumstances and the speed at which our lane moves has no influence on, and is not influenced by, what is happening in the other lanes. On a side note, a curious quirk of the rules means that you must be on American soil to claim asylum. As we turn people aside at the border, never allowing them to meet criteria for entrance, some turn to crossing illegally so that their case can be heard.</div>
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Immigrating to another country isn't cheap, nor is it simple or easy. I am not saying that it should be. By necessity, it is an incredibly complex system. Those who profess otherwise either don't understand the system, or they are being purposefully disingenuous. It is a simple thing to be kind, respectful, and understanding. How we treat those less fortunate than we are who turn to us for help says more about us than it does them. The thing that has made the USA attractive to the tired, the poor, and the huddled masses, as well as the world's best and brightest, has been a promise. It is the promise of safety, security, and opportunity. Of late, we haven't lived up to that promise. We are losing out on an entire generation of immigrants ... people who helped to make America great in the first place.</div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Thank you, and goodnight ...</span></i></b></div>
RGHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273474053490558808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8979495699874059196.post-32579693350014183562018-06-11T12:25:00.003+12:002018-06-27T01:33:26.016+12:00Portraits of a Life<div style="text-align: center;">
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<b><span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">I’ve been looking so long at these pictures of you</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">That I almost believe that they’re real</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">I’ve been living so long with my pictures of you</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">That I almost believe that the pictures</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Are all I can feel</span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #e69138; font-size: x-small;">- The Cure, <i>Pictures of You</i></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">The smoldering intensity of Dan Sheehan - March 2018</span></div>
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A long time ago, in a life far, far away I carried a camera fairly frequently. Through high-school and college, I shot a lot of film. In graduate school, my research project relied heavily on underwater photographs. Immediately after leaving grad school, I stopped carrying a camera. Perhaps I was bored with it? Perhaps I couldn’t afford the film and development costs? I’m really not sure, but I didn’t pick up a camera again until I started playing with my wife’s camera at least 20 years later. By that time, technology had passed me by and what little knowledge I retained was pretty much obsolete. I fell into a pattern with my photography that was familiar and comfortable while I learned the mechanics of modern photographic equipment. Most of my photos were outdoors shots where people are secondary to the picture if they were in them at all. As I started getting more comfortable with the camera, I started branching out into “new” areas including street photography and portraiture.<br />
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What makes a picture a portrait? We all have dozens of pictures of people on our phones, but we wouldn't call them "portraits", right? I struggle with this. To me, a portrait conveys something about that person's personality. People who don't know the subject can see it, and people who do know them say "Ah, yes. That is SO him/her." I don't like people getting into my personal space, and I definitely don't like getting into theirs. Shooting good portraits requires getting right in and close with people, something I am not comfortable with. I find it easiest to do this with people I know well, and I am amazed at photographers who can shoot great portraits of someone they have just met, or don't know at all. How do they capture an image of a personality when they don't know that personality? I imagine they have to get to know them quickly, or they are just that intuitive about people.<br />
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<span style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>There are no bad pictures;</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>that’s just how your face looks sometimes.</b></span></span></div>
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<strong><span style="color: #e69138; font-size: x-small;">- Abraham Lincoln</span></strong></div>
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If I were ever asked what kind of photographer I am, my immediate and flippant answer would likely be “a bad one.” If I had to answer seriously, I would probably say that I am a nature photographer, perhaps even a landscape photographer. Hiking, camping, climbing, and wandering the woods and mountains is where I feel most comfortable and where I am most likely to have my camera. Certainly most of my pictures from our year in New Zealand were of those types. I recently had reason to rethink this description of my photography.<br />
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A friend from high-school was interested in my old photo negatives. They were just going into the rubbish bin anyway, so I was happy to send them his way. Digitizing and processing the photos I sent to him, Joel breathed new life into old images. As impressed as I was with what he was able to do with 30 year-old negatives, I was equally surprised to see how many of my old photos were portraits. Some of them were posed, but most were candid. Clearly I was much more comfortable invading personal space back then.<br />
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Prior to 1989, high-school in Ontario was 5 years ... Grades 9-13. They were transitioning to 4 years (9-12) and eliminating Grade 13, but for my class you could finish in 4 or 5 years. Those of us who stayed for 5 years got two end of year formals (think "Prom") ... one in 1989 and then again in 1990. A curious result of this is that the 1989 formal combined both the Grade 12 and Grade 13 classes that year.<br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1073" data-original-width="1600" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3m8xVunxuflrZlD0g8fcJuv2WDhGfLelyJdEfUIxwpa9WoVsZnF7REjehPygytvtPgZ7FZ8062weWbZ99vlvCSn9QmrBdVGRLncdWlWZEX9Ch-zaZJ4ypc-Fsb1lit9G1uMPgmX3aIag/s640/Chris+Sandieson+-+1989+Formal.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1060" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidPyyZh3rAmiWFH8yt98WoVzPuMJAr7Y0ApGwMuOGjkrWr5lFt3xEerjyjg6ZGdfpd8Fceo-l0Qc2Um-sq1btpxHd87pvqEkL2BlCK7FolPGclRkpjTbcKk_GqUopMdQjCXfJjoS6wbCw/s640/The+Look+-+1989+Formal.jpg" width="424" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">I have no idea who this is, but she is not too pleased ...</span></div>
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Whether it was on the school ski team, or just for fun, we spent a lot of time with boards strapped to our feet ...<br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1034" data-original-width="1600" height="412" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY89u4H3_zhLrlIvWq39zRUn48EbEBHE5cIT85glM6K0B0LSBpjriD0iNeK1EUPPFWVt0mqN8UCsV9QqLCriXvAL71PnwrxFmo-5WIfpe06wUZ1-7mMVND7fy0ttIRv6mmgmXxZrLEKyE/s640/Talisman.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Talisman Ski Resort, Dec 1989.</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1053" data-original-width="1600" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAdMDK65qU6kw7n2rzlYDJT_Pp2YvkAz72RbGGjVZ-Tiwn35gbnn2-nLgLJGpChOGbyNMYcZk0k0uA_iiaKEtxC-OG_00SIWF_5Y1Pqdef3eWaMJpd66p-KivkBmqMPkXBgjVuCWmSP1o/s640/Joel+Rushworth+ski+team.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Ski team, apres ski, probably Horseshoe Valley, Jan/Feb 1990.</span></div>
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At the end of the fall rugby season in 1989, we had qualified for the OFSAA (Ontario Federation of Secondary Athletic Associations) provincial championships the next spring, and as a reward/pre-season training opportunity, we spent just under two weeks playing rugby in England and Wales. Each individual player was hosted by a local family, and we trained with / played against local clubs. We also had a chance to explore London, Cardiff, and a couple of castles.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Boys will be boys.</span></div>
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1990 was a busy year ... skiing in the winter, the tour to England and Wales, and the rugby championships in the spring. It was our final (Grade 13) year of highschool, and everyone seemed to have big plans when the summer was over. We had one last opportunity to all be together in June for our Graduation Formal. Held in a hotel in downtown Toronto, we all "pre-loaded" at a friend’s place before heading downtown.<br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1033" data-original-width="1600" height="412" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqhWJOp-wEsA1OU3vHdsDZ6CL5PbGV8ctehT5NMwEhGTJMYYGJo1QVWQyqjkZGHWW-84JVabSYHrswzVe8UMC-PGV5clCO5LvL7-NWpJnk4DHJXY_StgmbYO3j6s65ZwbP1inCstE3Y80/s640/Kumail+Karimje+-+1990+Formal.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1052" data-original-width="1600" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGkJZuzY15kHkD1J277GnfRsHDQIyqZ9MsgovvuAqujESqv7lS8VNE4d9roWvYAoBFV88fp90hnINnFv8IjCkIX45V_7_sGtGgVdWlQL3DJd4T2dngkV0tXPP0o4-3A4T2aFBY7i-b8tg/s640/David+Koch+-+1990+Formal.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1052" data-original-width="1600" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUZaSQ8HxTYkTdZ3GTr1fIOPETrhmRE4IMyuO5mlRxi4AQPp4UMe27vovA8-4dpbUAdLFNMFZvmjQ2NmFqg2dUB-0I_0teF2LHw5S6QlJ7cCjJ4-gAq1kzo-fFqSHDseKfqnrVCf1JkHM/s640/Grant%2527s+Pics+-+1990-05+-+172+%25282%2529.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">I recently saw some current photos of these guys. The men they have become look much the same as the boys they were.</span></div>
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All of the photos above were shot on film with a manual camera. The camera itself could support an autofocus lens, but I didn't have one until I traded my manual fixed lens for an autofocus zoom much later. It surprises me sometimes how well many of the photos turned out. You would shoot and hope. Often the results weren't developed and printed until several weeks later. It was always a great surprise to find one or two "keepers" from roll of 24 or 36. As I mentioned earlier, not long after these photos were taken, I put down my camera for 20+ years. Once I started shooting in digital, the instant feedback and unlimited memory was a game changer. It does mean that I am a much more lazy, and much less cautious, photographer; but it also allows me to make instant corrections and not lose the moment.<br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1414" data-original-width="1061" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5XNaGfMJ61Jw9uzSNh03qF80jHd7bo3fm9AdtQmxIVGXXLih070VnIZcKZXT8QN44R8tU7WhfvOv2G8yJx6r5Hnhmq_c6TUEafxiWpGdPUhp6WXveTicaOhJO6TdA4byNnkloR7CznhA/s640/IMG_0624.JPG" width="480" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="1343" data-original-width="1008" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSr4jA5JYNaAyRZ-cK9FkOmfJcyXVh1Db11lD-O5Nq2lyg64zKS7Qa8AklG35IbUYGbwTU8247yFqnauP0tIzwjsNSSTPrgDhFBiGM_iHvU-e0rXNyUjcalXPZSzygfwNTrieQ9KjuNO4/s640/IMG_0827.JPG" width="476" /></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="528" data-original-width="351" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqLU1cXCuLQ-2hfnMaA7eN1QAIIly8PgxMR9CjVf5TG7J30jJJ-Q_IW6fZoo8U2dVudLO96vqCMqQTi9LkGL6AtuwNQsfr5PuyJvEHqGApSwTyKs_4YKx84iS_w4OMC9xaIsLfUVi5sBA/s640/IMG_1257.JPG" width="424" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="855" data-original-width="832" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3KOmbL1lCoQvmdbACfR4ENGywzCRykD9eL9I0Rf9Z20tC5sOvQSajrheMdGleEZpnl2QA_FDje6G4Wj8iu4L-TduyQv2p3d1Wg9qvlpOY-GGWFDUjcvpB85RbtlnD8e77fdh8fC0PuHY/s640/IMG_1357.JPG" width="620" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Kari hates when Little H makes faces for the camera. I did, too ... until I decided that if portraiture is about capturing a person's personality, then these are perfect portraits of my goofy daughter.</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8jERy4yluT6X4SQQrig8tiYJPNfgZBjsyzxGFMesFZ63TrJo0FPvmKJUfvoaWWBm7V1zTSSAyZpNgt8pDmguLmaZYwD-4nyYHwZZtXxfrUXTFcxeCjgepn401U2x-CMfvsv3CEY6Z584/s640/_DSC8968.JPG" width="640" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1068" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY4TagtHBPcJauxBYWpEH94yjBlRfGM7Xj3AX1ID81pzmpiL223Udtvfw7uE1sHmXkv7sbHSOXdNfmG1j2ufrV27sjuRo-x7Z-O2H8cTg0fySyHxBA5OEMfl_Vr4pJpwffwbM2E-I1RIc/s400/_DSC8641.JPG" width="266" /></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1068" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ8vBmjJFcZ0GLPlnjfv9ieJvbhqaiy_vqrbd7I1BGUtOUfaDufjWKhAlHj9Gr85I5mo1_Z1c05ezXY-OmbVmt2mzI4k62-b6urFuhFkdOk6KloSj2aRO1DrpOohO725CHz7fvUYhbo2Y/s400/_DSC8770.JPG" width="266" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkf0Th0Nh2vgzpUxocImCnkV1MR5XJBQHhkw-21S_EtUX56xaukzUG75TfN7FNdTRKwhi0nSPjJPtDK-sENT51xiLG5LGamXeXidt0qVT6QO-TkO37e9FIloJEaV-otd_zC1VmPQZgmyE/s640/_DSC9118.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Shooting portraits of those you know and love is much easier than shooting strangers.</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1069" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj75Ht_W6oePW5_hnmoQXtPKYXeLZd9zDMPoDOUct8_64RICusYN4LxERuehx6s-h2Iz36emUOS7-C0TLJNn0jQFn_GmpJr1P919zkzUIAo6v23mvOZ5IzwcFcl-M8_4ly8x732pImRoaQ/s640/_DSC1690.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1069" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2VKoORAmoz8ZND8ZN36JR1Bvvy_lMp7tIfSYTpCbm2DgBnDT-_rKS2sN2Si8lkVlGCPTQCv8ewq7fbGbakLILg-rVMmKcd7m4zea9SumIClEyK8NNpxjUIJbItlmvnlkc__05-Qa3LTU/s640/_DSC1539.JPG" width="425" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1068" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVxfqvWw0-XGuLnzv4kivXE-iSBFJIgjhigXKjAEuDCB6oHq0kHEEIFeAeAWliJlQ0Xpa198vBZNcEhAS-2pj3OiSB5z4d9hX7OQFd2bQaADZ1hI1en6PCSun5x12vXhBgBTtcUJ3Aohw/s640/_DSC7123.jpg" width="425" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Kids will be kids.</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1066" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE2lFMdl4qMuNIE_oLD7SG3HPDiZYYShU-5isawiHanp7e1eOCEfESjtEljw_ODimSc85DIGyi-vncRYLvEGnz_328tlGeiwxyMdBfVdPrw2vid-2zd9ZxC5jTz7lnLL-huyFpwfZGNqI/s640/_DSC2732.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1069" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxE4RzwAupnI7bNY1l_LKaUHX7bSBMfzYOh60tTmQlOm-hAyUWBt2mKpQRmoDpyug4DiRJ_6TPNRzu-GiE9OHYGsPosXBWyUdiAQO1gtUPCJIEZTdc3vTYxnpL6uhXH2DZ_wg5gOEdsLU/s640/_DSC2789.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Family ...</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1069" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZz8AO9VvStNLmIe_FD_lB8lqXhIqmlJznc-gLybhR5geaTNSkNyLcga-RBcYzvMLmMb_3nTiMdUiZEBp1r093MQ4l1JoVBPki4ElXPDFi1eJWzcgMfJfqjsKJmcv4D83Ti5yQgqhGI5g/s640/_DSC1054.NEF" width="640" /></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1068" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3wL1zQVX0x7YgMSAA_yERUp7gx-QFnP9X-IcdakBB-2KNqkneWTObh1vkzB8KwvSNlNTlHEKcV-KAioQp2MbmQdrH_m9wUhpT09iJ-FVgqc0c6nI8KvVl5DsRX0ssy81ZKlS_ovroGME/s640/_DSC3063.jpg" width="425" /><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim6OGK0xYhwFuSxK8Y2rXnVBI9B4n1CPSPPWFYvyrcq29EGEw7VqEM4XenY15Ebgi7hF35Tok7imG9XR7iAF0Hr9ajgXwGHd3FVjNoxm7UXI2KBc8hfPQTmLS4QLmRyF2L8jcSMDu5-rg/s640/_DSC3045.jpg" width="425" /> </div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">... and Friends</span></div>
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So things come full circle. I have been working to improve my ability to shoot portraits and I am drawing inspiration from my past work. As I become more comfortable shooting in tight with family and friends, my next step will be to find that same comfort level with strangers. I just need to tap into that lost confidence and abandon of youth ...<br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5AsAQbxJQSebXlA-F9eFN8cyWrdPEPbF7gahK4Av5tlCw8w6qR1jeTXnT5N61UlHhGsZL2jGGqI4iIKvSJpBM0Ip14rpE0777RfB7-iMQAx4PsxAHJYe9-g2hjir5_g9UD2Wtn7fuWJE/s200/_DSC9036.JPG" width="200" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>Can a selfie be a portrait ???</i></b></span><br />
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<br />RGHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273474053490558808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8979495699874059196.post-14203344229090393162018-03-24T10:34:00.001+13:002018-07-08T06:08:46.212+12:00Friends in Low Places<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Just the good ol’ boys</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Never meanin’ no harm</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Beats all you ever saw</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Been in trouble with the law</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Since the day they was born</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: x-small;">- Waylon Jennings <i>Theme from ‘The Dukes of Hazzard’</i></span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="736" data-original-width="1600" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBKNPQlB9GauTNRD-VlL7oR_hVYN51u0BisJvpyyaApDTBLPG67hSDfNrpuJwRl4dA4RpQhv1B1a_dprjVyc1ccP1Udzwd_JFaKUOxZAYIpO5-bXqNKk0FdplC0bJjkjlvhOpwGrrFKkY/s640/_DSC1223.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Welcome to Smashville, home of the Predators. Go Leafs Go!</span></div>
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Just before leaving for New Zealand in 2016, I went up to Toronto to catch a hockey game with one of my oldest and closest friends, Dan Sheehan (Link: <a href="http://jandalsandtogs.blogspot.com/2016/10/parting-is-such-sweet-sorrow.html">Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow</a>). It was after the NHL season was over, so we were watching a World Cup game ... and we really couldn’t afford Maple Leafs tickets anyway. Tickets for major market teams in their home rinks are crazy expensive. When Kari and I have previously seen Montreal play in Raleigh, we ran into the same couple from Montreal more than once. It’s cheaper for them to drive to Raleigh, stay in a hotel, and catch a game there than it is for them to go to a game in Montreal. The sad truth is that I have seen more Maple Leafs games in other rinks than I have at their home rink. The most recent game I attended was also an away game, though for different reasons.</div>
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Brooks Hooper and I were in the same General Surgery residency program at Washington Hospital Center, but under completely different circumstances. I scrambled in and I was miserable (Link: <a href="http://jandalsandtogs.blogspot.com/2017/01/physician-heal-thyself.html">Physician, Heal Thyself</a>), while Brooks was a prelim with an escape plan. He was moving on to (mostly) bigger things in Urology (I promise to keep the jokes small, tucked away, relatively clean). We didn’t keep up much after I left for my Emergency Medicine training, but years later he interviewed for a job in Myrtle Beach and we rekindled our friendship. He ended up taking a job in Asheville and moving his young family there. Asheville happens to be one of our favorite destinations away from Myrtle Beach, so Kari and I have caught up with Brooks & Cathy more and more over the last several years. Brooks is also a huge hockey fan. He and I often text/PM each other during the games with our own personal commentary. He’s from Nashville and a Predators fan, and it just so happens that Toronto was playing the Preds in Nashville on a weekend we both had off, so we made plans to meet there for the game. Unfortunately, he got the dates screwed up. I would arrive in Nashville a day before the game and a day before him. Once I knew I would be on my own that first night, I decided to bring my camera and spend that extra day taking photos. With that in mind, I spent a little time scouting photo sites online. I also made a list of burger joints, speakeasies, and other food/drink opportunities to explore. When I was scouting photo locations and food options prior to my trip, burgers kept popping up, so I made it my own mini mission to find the perfect burger in Nashville. As luck would have it, I wouldn’t have to look far to start my journey.</div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="556" data-original-width="1600" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH5vS3unRDleqrHF-10jGYivvxkcfEwRxOiAsTU-ub7vC4jCpoqOcJvVETQrfkBcm9uywuPFdiQQn2uG9T0xkpi_R2rvYafFuZBeIwLGtQ1hD4u2aqXFEQwtPoqswUziJOHSiQIF-rgZA/s640/_DSC1164.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR @ f/5.6, 1/8, 58mm, ISO 400 Photo: RGH</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigDybqc_1LiR8_8yRUYKhEE8h8SxnccSqjmLGBZ3T3pArDydcunqpw2iN1bAU7lVjLWrZw8u6JRVdZIg861V0aG2lCJGdJBDQDZRPvEZBLpq1g_GiBDU1N-R8MNFrK81Z1EqVn5WacYUs/s640/_DSC1153.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR @ f/5.6, 1/125, 27mm, ISO 1600 Photo: RGH</span></div>
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Nashville has become a popular destination not just for music fans, but for bachelorette parties, foodies, and others. As such, it was quite difficult to book a hotel room even two months out. I managed to find us a room at the <i>21c Museum Hotel</i> ... a boutique hotel in the middle of downtown. Yep, it’s spendy, but the location is perfect. The lower level of the hotel is dedicated for art installations, and artwork is spread throughout the rest of the floors. When I was checking in, completely unprompted, the guy at the front desk said, “Be sure to try <i>Gray & Dudley</i>, our restaurant. The burger has won awards.”<br />
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Many restaurants claim to have “The Best” or some other award for their burgers, but they can’t all be amazing. Or can they? Let’s face it ... a slab of meat, covered in fresh veggies, stuffed between two pieces of bread is pretty much amazing right out of the gate.<br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX_yOPgjS2FA6EqizF7D5chDdhWJLs7a7Zu7ylgEzi6_ZPBJZ31EAgUOCAqcQByn41ZfAxfEURKifURaiYKzUvalyiS518xlFeHIdAJys_okbHhC2Wx1Y9lJyLOpmXMfy6Aj72z5RCj4A/s640/IMG_0156.HEIC" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">iPhone 7 @ f/1.8, 1/15 , 4mm, ISO 64 Photo: RGH</span></div>
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I ordered my burger, a straight rye, and settled in to wait. The burger came out from the kitchen in reasonable time. The fries were the “skin-on” variety; a particular favorite of mine. On the first bite, they were luke-warm, not very crispy, and way too salty. When dipped in the supplied aioli, however, they were heavenly! The strong garlic flavor of the aioli really cut the sting of the salt. The burger itself was a disappointment. It had so much promise ... just the right amount of the greens, sesame seed bun, a good heft in the hand, and a nice char. Like the fries, it wasn’t very warm, and it was too heavy on the sauces for my palate. I want to taste the burger, not the goo, though I suspect that my Kiwi friends would have been really happy with it (Kiwis love their sauces).<br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU1SfVJ5n7nGh93rn0_i3TH4BxqkehKVPQuLat76sHa5fpBHW07VjfyR5kHtihkbrjTWTV2zWVU_sWnVwu3yfVXQI7czdVxvH3fa5tdwMI25CcOjekzNCQzRyV22CdQszMl8b_jYakClk/s640/IMG_0157.HEIC" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">iPhone 7 @ f/1.8, 1/3690, 3.99mm, ISO 20 Photo: RGH</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOz4sunIshkH4mLCCS2-cq9iUz-3z5V7JGN6VoFoBI41q29POyCFjbuV4Gnn0Y5TFQGp39SMuZVV5VZfmNJVADlKA2Q8msxKe7olot9Dy5jq03h-_OESV4hBdFUito7gzowV-YBDHPrcA/s640/_DSC1124.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR @ f/5.6, 1/10, 105mm, ISO 800 Photo: RGH</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1069" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO9xZ6djR-nqdQ6H92oEzwBWchbwSX6Bp94gQo1rkiihBX4sWJms3i2S4ydNgV3bIiDMSwLr-Clgo-IBJJi1Dg7qPG_oMGkhbKxXXQcJdsstT0GK1mIi93-eJE7IlckXgiwNzOjscOcCE/s640/_DSC1145.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR @ f/5.6, 1/25, 98mm, ISO 1250 Photo: RGH</span></div>
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Scouting potential photo locations online before coming to Nashville, I found some great views of the skyline shot from east of the city. It turns out they were taken from the top floor of a hospital parking garage. I figured if the light was right, I would be able to get some great shots as the sun set and cast a glow against the buildings. With that in mind, I Uber’d it out to the site shortly after eating my burger. I got up to the top deck and set in to wait ... all the while expecting hospital security to swing by and ask why I was creeping in the parking garage. The wind was blowing and it was getting cold, but it wasn’t getting dark. I pulled out my phone to double check that I had the time for sunset right and that’s when I realized my mistake. I hadn’t set my watch for the new time zone I was in. I was an hour early! I killed some time by walking around the neighborhood. Have you ever noticed that hospitals often aren’t in the best part of town?<br />
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Back in the parking garage and trying to stay out of the cold, I finally gave up and ducked into the hospital. I found a bench looking out over the city and waited for the sun to start going down. The window looked straight out and down a major thoroughfare into the city. I shot the second picture of the three above through that window ... and it turned out to be my favorite of the bunch. Sometimes, it’s good to be lucky. I headed back out to the parking garage to capture a few night shots then caught an Uber back into town.<br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1201" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXePXIpxkjv1HvT948VF8Qz4sG1AVQ8dIvzT1QuZu2L9A_MR8gBN9wMKFvT3C2rs9kAvbiRKytFmALLymlF5p84-YyBVzhFYRhI2R4Q0txheA-RaTk9Rrtc24PZ1kO2ADaFgfTJxI08UQ/s640/IMG_0160.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">iPhone 7 @ f/1.8, 1/15, 3.99mm, ISO 200 Photo: RGH</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinf9e9GfiXIfU9FFocPmHTxPX9dA_gO2dVgp7aRK_IuKnge3sGoEsv0rbqrB4MfpmodWGcqhoyfwmUqG_pxyoXpWUmazCrlXxUPqx60zINqSfVmgbg4HDsrNz91YoeZ_vgzCS8eaSBQk8/s640/IMG_0161.HEIC" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">iPhone 7 @ f/1.8, 1/4, 3.99mm, ISO 125 Photo: RGH</span></div>
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My next destination was <i>The Pharmacy Burger Parlor & Beer Garden</i> for another one of Nashville’s “Best” burgers. The restaurant is located in East Nashville and was about 2 miles from my hotel, so I decided to walk. It was an easy enough hike over a bridge spanning the Cumberland River and down past Nissan Stadium. Once I got past the stadium, the neighborhood got decidedly more sketchy. Brooks describes it as “bombed out”. Walking in an unfamiliar city, alone, at night, is a good way to get yourself killed. Fortunately, I made no missteps and had no mishaps or malfeasance come my way. After I covered about 2/3 of the distance, I turned into a residential neighborhood lined with well kept homes and had a pleasant walk through the crisp night air to my destination. The reviews forwarn that the place is packed and there is always a line, and this night was no exception. I stepped through the doors into a crowd of waiting people. I was only one, though, and when I asked for a seat at the bar they squeezed me in up against a pillar.<br />
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The service was fast and friendly. I had but a few sips of a local IPA before my food was set down in front of me. It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t fancy, but it was damned good. The burger patty was a misshapen slab of ground beef (“mince” to you Kiwis), and the first bite was heavenly. Do you remember the 1980’s McDonalds BLT? It came in a special styrofoam container to “keep the hot side hot and the cold side cold”. This one was just like that, but better. The burger itself was properly warm and the veggies, a perfect proportion of lettuce, tomato, pickles, and onion were cold and crispy. This is a plane-jane burger with simple ingredients and no sauces, but it worked.<br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1069" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe6iIQPdjAwwzuw9qRggIaWw4s2w3zCzYCfxiwtoqjTExT8xTvbfl5yryF2j40jH7Hoj4Sh0Cmb2pZQnyVCng4LtsW1EL9PH8StpcIcqaRrx2ddewjCnrViTPa2m9gSTW-JW3Fk0qynZk/s640/_DSC1157.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR @ f/5.6, 1/125, 44mm, ISO 1600 Photo: RGH</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1069" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKakn33CbuQJZMfFvcuqwNtLc-Llr0-NGzMDoHUXUiWreRQWKzR9zGB0nnl3V8DkbXgq4PHY-_WTB_riP-Xw-K_iV2nFnxveEQWofQhD-btGzc7T4U1GKt5Of_x4dal7THnycRZ4omwgo/s640/_DSC1156.JPG" width="426" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1069" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtQKP5EpzXtwO2cwVrr_ByMHoEYTHtRWkC5bJK8GqUHuUhk9ypKXZD3phPC69PIblxl-1tLP4F84C3EX5sRsJwylbzyP8zASWwsGxGxQcAx-8ePIw7CTw7RyHsxJ3yhqQ54AdbhuaPCoM/s640/_DSC1159.JPG" width="426" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR @ f/5.6, 1/125, 70mm, ISO 1600 Photo: RGH</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1069" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHgpW8uFC276dnJquxJDElDe1LgSF4VzRoWbG3aXuWVag2fa1ReCwa-wfLgV1wGD6g7aKlun97Sipg9xkxwu_ZPoPqlB7Ncrik3p9AvOQOS2tUs26E-VMd_zR-yX0dVMoDYfEA3WJP7iI/s640/_DSC1161.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR @ f/5.6, 1/125, 50mm, ISO 1600 Photo: RGH</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1069" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoLesO2Vl2LvqEf7jlXXobm6VwYuKqOTsSyuIJBSZEIVRgTOjdSVo2u1vl9lClJRnHhG1jRIC7kAf8Y37d435ljaoffHAyBdVM_lHF2vZeSygJXMlWCvRiIU-jSoikKeSi-YB0Q66UDEA/s640/_DSC1163.JPG" width="640" /></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR @ f/5.6, 1/25, 40mm, ISO 1600 Photo: RGH</span></div>
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Given the late hour, and sketchy streets I had to traverse back into the city, I chose to Uber it back. My destination was a hidden speak-easy. Alas, it appears to have shut down, or possibly moved. In any event, the building was boarded up, dark, and foreboding so I decided not to get out of the car and just had the driver take me back to the hotel. With that plan shot, I had little choice but to head out and brave Broadway. Nashville and Austin can fight over the title of “Live Music Capital” but being on Broadway seemed no different to me than being on 6th St. Both are places I need never visit again. Noisy, dirty, smelly and full of drunk young women shouting “Woooo!” and drunk young men trying hard not to look too drunk. I wandered the street, shot some photos, then went off-off-off Broadway to find a place more my style since I had plans for the early morning hours.<br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE6jppX7UTcFl11tAjP_9jci4-GKB5jFVFjLCOiXBuOL6FstqwN9Gl0xMgtRi7ODyGJzREi86nW78UV2ZFk74xZAOXRyte0gAMERk5O1WFUgY7Pfd3XsDXkwv_I-DaMmzT4i4EHOP9Fgk/s640/_DSC1188.JPG" style="text-align: center;" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Nashville</i> Nikon D750 + AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR @ f/5.6, 1/10, 32mm, ISO 1000 Photo: RGH</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1069" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKuPf4VRkcjxkMM96JcvWf84VZaJCqWYeqF3hz7I6hpNTfX_CUnbnAFLxMEaFugiAe5dAXpxheOlzOf2Y_MpN03TgQhLzTZoDpS8sYIhrAQJTYltyjp2GorVsTVbvhM0K96sS5S-SDoKA/s640/_DSC1190.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Concrete buttress, pedestrian bridge</i> Nikon D750 + AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR @ f/5.6, 1/15, 55mm, ISO 400 Photo: RGH</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1069" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKzyap8Sio2weZ_vRsd_f9J7V1dAzyfQiek6nYu6qCEUs6uLI04P2kifW0QejBzDxSEaeKA0DYezLofqwtl0Ewd6hDs63vpuj3v9SZdESk5dVEoPrddZe5TizFr6cFONNWbv2dnVgQErw/s640/_DSC1196.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Korean War Veterans Blvd bridge</i> Nikon D750 + AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR @ f/5.6, 1/15, 120mm, ISO 250 Photo: RGH</span></div>
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Being up before the sun in a city like Nashville is an interesting way to start the day. My hotel was just a few blocks away from Broadway and it’s an empty place at 5 am. The previous night’s detritus litters the street, and the only people awake are the trash collectors and construction crews. My plan was to walk through town to a pedestrian bridge that spans the river and capture some early morning skyline photos from across the water. The bridge offers fantastic views of the river and its banks, but I wanted to get down to the waterfront across from the city. Technically, the park was closed until daylight, but there were no gates, and at that hour, no-one around to stop me. Once again, the morning was cold ... 33F/1C. When I got to Riverfront Park, there was frost on the grass and I could see my breath. This latter fact proved to be a problem, fogging up my viewfinder when I was trying to focus the camera. I ended up shooting “blind” more than once.<br />
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The John Seigenthaler Pedestrian Bridge was built in 1909 as a vehicular bridge to connect Sparkman St and Shelby Ave. Originally known as the Sparkman St Bridge, it fell into disrepair and was closed to vehicular traffic in 1998. It was set to be demolished, but was refurbished and re-purposed into one of the longest pedestrian bridges in the world. From the bridge looking SE along the river, the Korean Veterans Blvd bridge was built to handle vehicular traffic after the Sparkman St bridge was closed. In the photo above, the “rainbow” reflected in the building windows is the Korean Veterans Blvd bridge. It’s a reminder to me to be aware of my surroundings ... I did not see this reflection until I was done shooting and was walking back over the bridge to the city. I think it would have been a great shot to get when the skies were a little darker.<br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1069" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnzyfoUWi6HQXvU9V4pTWasAGhne_s2VtJ1dsH8MvLxhTl_V3P3w0k31VrVb7ixtl3YqEodbBtAW0MaAX2N0RX30l2Vaw209z9SgzBExRS0hFfAQZbT6YCcsGDmWzyJLDO8xvZPkhNyCA/s640/_DSC1201.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR @ f/5.6, 1/6, 24mm, ISO 100 Photo: RGH</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1069" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpRVDsCoCn_kOPai2yZGvvGIN4oWMvSHU0iPgvxMhVyjLiN4Wb5-WHrLcN33-1TBekB1sS3SIHYZF1Gc1dUfrjW73M6M5-aouf8F_c-e1LBIdaXvb5sjLGy-zhA-Of7GhlySmM3LWnQsQ/s640/_DSC1203.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR @ f/5.6, 1/3, 38mm, ISO 400 Photo: RGH</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyFmAlSTUNyMeYrYIVxxQ8Ylsy8BggicX6Vo06ZqXbIj6qlDRaV4cf86Hocgrnj3puAf_jHt4uNH-j4MCNNWYA5gPstz0GBTeezroKV2bGbBedCQOS3KY8ir_0sr-CoLpsbnY355X27rI/s640/_DSC1205.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR @ f/5.6, 1/2, 38mm, ISO 400 Photo: RGH</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1069" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitH_rq6rFySXuV11z4lQ6S5m0VFAY5uAJUWtmNczTlt_QcZt2FKOHkxVYvMZwA2JIGcru3mfaMoMa-YfOGfmFNcME8R1jYzlwwxKV1s9Jz3ezlzckeMyQRb6KKyA6DHqnupIE7C1Yuquk/s640/_DSC1206.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR @ f/5.6, 1/2, 30mm, ISO 400 Photo: RGH</span></div>
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Early in the morning, if you’re looking for somewhere to eat, follow the construction crews. They know where to get a hearty breakfast on the cheap. I was cutting through a back street to Broadway and my hotel to find breakfast when my way was blocked by a crowd of hard hats and safety vests. Glancing to my left, I saw a packed diner, so changed my plans and stepped inside. I found a seat a little off by myself, placed my order, and buried my head in my notebook to do some writing. Though the food and coffee were nothing special, it was hot and in generous portions, and the service was fast and friendly without being intrusive.<br />
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In short order, the diner emptied out and the staff started cleaning up and eating their own breakfast. The banter and shade were being thrown back and forth, and eventually I got dragged into it. One of the workers asked me to take photos of the others “as evidence”. I told them I never heard nothing, never saw nothing, and in fact was never there. This just got the banter up to a fever pitch. They allowed me to take a few pics inside the diner, though not of them. Afterward, one of the staff told me to follow her. We wound our way through a maze of hallways popping through secret doors into an Italian restaurant, a honky-tonk, and a country karaoke bar. The old building was absolutely amazing inside. From the street, you would never know all these businesses occupy the same space. Thanks to everyone at <i>Sun Diner</i> ... you helped to start my day off right.<br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1069" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaSt6jQgQG8-pdmRljpNGOewkF6MtaOPcBQmIh2ZdXmKlbF0gHQaoOPVPc_9TQ1KS9eSiGctwIl7FS-fSEOLYHJbcRUmvNRK8r-gy3PJ1NkYsy4LCxdri5IMoPqEGDPYRbjUjVw8PWO9g/s640/_DSC1210.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR @ f/5.6, 1/1250, 24mm, ISO 100 Photo: RGH</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1069" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKi2qN_77TblLMzu0d-3l6nUNLA5OW6tzpP74Cgn2MloI3cuOCChSW3cIFkwcXm_9dKztbwWwcYBMW0dYhl55E_1sfTd-jwOpWX57ZL3-mPACctlE-y-a1UvwTDoBmp_MUsLzVwv7TcQ8/s640/_DSC1217.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR @ f/5.6, 1/100, 50mm, ISO 100 Photo: RGH</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1069" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN-WCT6ttRNQd5T9cyIB7U_t6ax8czdfwC6Kfo0QJtgMX9u7RDHQWIsxTMfIKyjvzp3oR19npeIfktcp9X6pk59TG9G5PTeF0HmPiHi5jen8Zb1sdEYArZLF-ljonTl5DmaXCBZ5FnZio/s640/_DSC1219.JPG" width="426" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1068" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJHoaIpsLkjHJuWuE9gGURLT2XciiTjccjnspPOZQxHpsEzJqcBZsSIQFqJ3M8nsy1Wg1GPZPhLukgDATAaXQRU1X-qjO90uOXVV25DPpr3mvqww7UkLC3mva0KZU1ykbea7EgkLSP4tw/s640/_DSC1220.JPG" width="426" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Look closely</i> AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR @ f/10, 1/100, 34mm, ISO 100 // @ f/10, 1/100, 105mm, ISO 100 Photos: RGH</span></div>
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Back out into the sunlight, and a steadily warming day, I headed for an area called <i>The Gulch</i>. Gentrified, with spendy condos and fancy restaurants, its seedy side can still be found if you know where to look. One of the other benefits of being up and about early in the morning is that there’s no one around to tell you “No” or to catch you hopping fences ... not that I would ever do that. Besides, if the fences are already down, I didn’t really “hop” any, right? By this time, the day was getting long and I was getting tired. I had a long trek back to the hotel where I hoped to catch a nap before Brooks would arrive at noon(ish). Unfortunately, he was stuck in traffic and bored, so kept calling/texting me. So much for my old-man nap.<br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxZP9I7Cjt4FiWn67a9RI1oVuQU7haKVoozuVQFYPJfOBo8J6XxmR_WY97FsqO6YrMY-ER0csPo82KFvYleehRoffmVRt09RLcwmQu1bHeCy3m7CfpAyhIwZjf6u_DT5qYNdK4N60j2hI/s640/IMG_0165.HEIC" width="480" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbQp2IWW8IbSx0YHo8x4KihzW1m4j9M1N22CYRBYaIuQXdJGtZioCJZgcw2hErhVZsyBjj2tY7YDzHRNBygwo9z1BlotF1psUJgKSLwcvE2NFLvZDHGtSsm7VMyKapltjnZRPu71nt1NA/s640/IMG_0166.HEIC" width="480" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">iPhone 7 @ f/1.8, 1/12, 3.99mm, ISO 100 // @ f/1.8, 1/15, 3.99mm, ISO 80 Photos: RGH</span></div>
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Brooks finally made it into town just after lunch time. He hadn’t eaten on the road, so I recruited him for the hamburger odyssey tour. He had wheels, and that allowed us to get a little farther away from the city. We ended up at <i>Rotier’s Restaurant</i>. They are famous for their French Bread Burger, but I was unaware of this. Instead, I ordered a regular burger with all the salads (veggies for you non-Kiwis) and no sauces. Serving burgers with a side of attitude since 1945, this place is a Nashville landmark. The burger was as perfect as would be expected. Nothing fancy, just a damned good burger ... and beer in a can. This latter part would be a theme for the rest of the afternoon drink-up, first at <i>Bourbon St Blues & Boogie Bar</i> in the famous Printer’s Alley, then at <i>Robert’s Western World</i>, an old-school honky-tonk on Broadway where the bartender thanked Brooks for not turning tricks in the restroom to pay for our beer.</div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>I ain’t got nothin’ left</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>But my boots and my guitar</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>And I’ll sell my boots</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><b>Before I sell this guitar</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: x-small;">- <i>the only lines we’ve written to our never-to-be-released hit country and western song</i></span></div>
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The whole purpose of our trip to Nash-Vegas was to watch the Predators take on the Toronto Maple Leafs. The town was full of blue and white and I fell into a familiar accent and rhythm. As the drinking got deeper, my accent got thicker, helped along by some friendly Canadians (redundant, I know) on barstools beside us. Brooks had managed to score us two tickets on the glass, adjacent to the Predators’ bench. The seating arrangement went like this ... Me, Brooks, P.K. Subban ... and it was as glorious as it sounds. First, though, we needed to get to our hotel and change. The tickets came with access to the Lexus Lounge where we would enjoy free food and liquor for two hours before the game and an hour afterward.<br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1069" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ9aXRYhEj4YqqJfhikigFU-Fy2lzG4nV-RabDMS6ubgDGA2TJx0KT9N9Hx6o1nMChpCzawbK_atVUg_Zqd5Hlp-4jmnKcJ3H-ZQhAsK64l6wijBwvM-TtY8TU-9PFyOGnR8eCvoCGgC4/s640/_DSC1265.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR @ f/5.6, 1/50, 120mm, ISO 100 Photo: RGH</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1069" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkQFdioVRcXGda4nzZ-NaYcqVQ8loouJMH_GGcsTFH9JZL0PujHa1bKc4jqXTcOBMVPFc408-18K7tErzkNWgDN8j38RgGh4VUh7_iBvdt66bx8YZDkB0VGFwiHrxMpb_0djjO1OvYLF8/s640/_DSC1315.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR @ f/5.6, 1/80, 120mm, ISO 100 Photo: RGH</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1069" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHciN_B4WD6R9libODDYc1wPQS3ctpWG10IBlZzV0ATgTdaSD2dGJWmeuegqHGJaDtsECj3hZ5XXuc-_tBJgF68FPbDhsApNzwAuOLyLWcMh4uTtwEtruZFBPqdIcYPlzohdFg53tpcqA/s640/_DSC1334.JPG" width="426" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1069" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBgHIngIy3fXdTZIZkZe8BZtGhcW2CcXD-5BQGBj16pcZloBF8a-082mMeZH6araJUbwlT5BOdpU8zmNiwyHYoh4TLtSamB_4HFAVodrOLrcaS5dPeVGng6rd00YuXOBExYCzEmMvjGJ4/s640/_DSC1332.JPG" width="426" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR @ f/8, 1/13, 66mm, ISO 100 // @ f/8, 1/13, 92mm, ISO 100 Photos: RGH</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1069" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwXxjRxeqmz54HwKVugydV866WYJb4vbtMvjVcGBCzY-sqE3JZjmIUGU0qHDUhmcQ4vq3FxiJihPyemU3ptaYc_xus742PCidNdNlX2KFQn0VNKHyiseM8aZ68Nnl2Rx7b722DVIi04aI/s640/_DSC1248.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR @ f/10, 1/20, 120mm, ISO 100 Photo: RGH</span></div>
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I’m not going to recap the game. I will just say that it was as fast and hard-fought as both Brooks and I hoped it would be. Those guys are big, fast, and just damned good at what they do. Fortunately, the Leafs emerged on the right side of a 5-2 drubbing.<br />
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When your team loses, there are consequences ...<br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1201" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFwsMYKcxWNTSbtuoXosrL-rHFNFC2tLzRbu1knxhbynHczGByQu3X88YXe_MFyzfPOhMETJxE1LtvCsOjdEbZjIqsHAJSlE8vFmq-RbtsY5SVeSjLTmWl6SpUuw80UHYILnGxYSlpt1M/s640/IMG_0168.HEIC" width="480" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">iPhone 7 @ f/1.8, 1/4, 3.99mm, ISO 100 Photo: RGH</span></div>
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An amusing end to this tale ...<br />
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We’re a little too old to be drinking all day and still be able to hang all night, so we were back in the hotel and asleep some time around 1 am. Brooks forgot to text his wife, Cathy, when we got in and promptly fell asleep. Cathy tried texting him, but he was snoring hard. Worried about him, she checked his find-my-phone function. Well, our hotel was right near the local jail, and Cathy spent the night thinking we were in the lock-up. Brooks dropped me at the airport after breakfast and got on the road to plead his case.<br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLv9dwODznoDttbJC61PnBiDxBSApjWktQ4zYgH687JIRzC6o-mMWhqm2GflJEIGlopL75dd7VrX0QbdcGnxHhlKLPT5XYnhFPtAR8gP_Ruckl4kGYop8AZfwuoLuAU47jLpfqIWHElXQ/s200/_DSC1340.JPG" width="200" /></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR @ f/8, 1/15, 38mm, ISO 100 Photo: RGH</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>He’s in the jailhouse now ...</i></b></span><br />
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RGHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273474053490558808noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8979495699874059196.post-77817566726537146082018-03-18T10:21:00.000+13:002018-03-18T10:36:11.808+13:00Caught In the Camera Eye<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;"><i>Few would now be found to deny the claims of photography to rank among the fine arts when skillfully used and properly controlled, and the contention that it was only convenient for use in the reproduction of already existing pictures, in scientific and historic records, reproductive printing and kindred subjects, would only find favor with a small minority. The photograph of today is something more than a mechanical reproduction. The individuality of the photographer is being expressed in his work almost as much as in that of the painter, and while critics are discussing if there be art in photography, photographers are settling the question for themselves.</i></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">A Lecture on the Application of Artisitic Composition in Photography. The Photographic Times, Vol 37, p361 (1905)</span></blockquote>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTP1De1t5G7aSs5hFh1knoSnBsTriuh565s0-hhyphenhyphenJ2THwHbPRNlxIbRbAu9PfZRBLemQmFvWU2NtvmstcoOGqixIFMMhj00HLPjzlbhXaV7Xk1AgC-T0tyHNIjXGAhL3TNNLGN5a2BJ6I/s640/DSC_0125.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D810 + AF-S 28-300mm f/3.5-5.6G ED VR @ 82mm, f/6.3, 1/160, ISO 100. Photo RGH</span></div>
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I have previously written about how I'm not much of an artist. My writing is more technical and "scholarly" than entertaining. I have taught myself a few songs on the guitar, but would never be confused with an actual guitar player. And when it comes to my photography, I am a technician (unlike Kari who is much more intuitive behind a camera). I hesitate to call myself a photographer, and I certainly do not consider myself an artist. I'm just a guy with a camera.<br />
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Photography, just as in any other art medium, is about the way someone sees and presents his subject. A Photographer is a composition artist. Without good composition, it doesn't matter the subject or how well it's exposed. The "art" in photography lies in how the photographer manipulates light, composition, and emotion. It's this last aspect where I struggle. I have an idea of what I want to photograph and what I want to exclude, and I have a pretty good idea how to bring out the highlights that I want, but trying to get my photos to tell a story or project a feeling is tough. I find it hard to define what is "great" about a photo that someone else took, so I find it doubly difficult to create that feeling in my own.<br />
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When Kari and I first picked up our "grown-up" camera, we had no idea how to manipulate its various functions. We basically left it in "Auto" mode and used it like a point-and-shoot. <i>Quell horreur!</i> As a result, most of our pics from that time period are pretty much crap. Still, we managed to put together a few frames that have stood the test of time. We gradually started taking more control of the camera functions, to the point where we both now shoot in full manual mode (except for some very specific circumstances where we let the camera control one or two aspects). While that control has helped to improve our photography, our ability to frame and compose an image has had at least as much influence on the increasing quality of our photos. I have seen a clear improvement in the photos I have taken over the past year, and Kari feels the same way about her own photography. There is no substitute for getting out and taking pictures, and while having a great camera helps, we have noticed that even our cell phone pics are much better as well. It really isn't about the camera equipment that we use, but the vision of the person shooting.<br />
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Since leaving New Zealand, our lives have become exponentially more complicated. As a result, our ability to get out and shoot has been limited. Still, we have managed to put together a small number of photos that stand out above the others.<br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1069" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkPcWw6gWv6PkYip3OeE_8CWjbJnYRutOwtF1BiJW5cY3EXtA84QNgIOM9lYOCjlT4IXd5SRrLLRhkHB_Tfb2Y0B0li3kFVGWGtIKMsME6pBuza9WZzNVcf-o70IjMbmTKyNawFt-BjJg/s640/_DSC1027%255B1%255D.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 105mm f/2.8G IF-ED VR @ f/3, 1/250, ISO 400. Photo: RGH</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1069" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMCbL-go-c1MbcCYBaV5dYkVdLpzG_IQSyyvkiWJYlfrwNGTED9-UNW3EdPVtOTkpPSl51dwHXkGBwTi5YvJhqxaB_xp-hyZiBPsb5fdG9ptFR2K9yKoTUVjsBkzVzqHWnGo0c9riPUqw/s640/_DSC1054.NEF" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 105mm f/2.8G IF-ED VR @ f/14, 1/160, ISO 100. Photo: RGH</span></div>
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Adding to our ever-growing collection of lenses, we recently picked up a used Nikon AF-S 105mm f/2.8G IF-ED VR Micro lens. Kari does a lot of macro work, and getting her a dedicated lens was one of my goals. Incidentally, it’s a really good portrait lens. The biggest issue I have been having is that I have to get right up into people’s grills with this one. It’s a proximity I’m not super comfortable with ... and I’m sure it’s not so comfortable for those of whom I am taking pictures. We have spent quite a bit of time with some good friends lately, and Nate has been a really good sport about letting me shove my camera in his face.<br />
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It <i>is </i>a macro lens, so we have been trying to learn how to put it to that use, too.<br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1069" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC9SfeU4bxadhgoSoRncARD20luevObhMrGKWuUGFEw0ZezWiBLg5CsXmjxuquzggPrFrhpsxt1X5Df9i1-inghDwSv_SiDdoIoMGM60baEZsmP5Xkf6f2v654E6by-zEzEo6rF-wXDfY/s640/_DSC1011%255B1%255D.JPG" width="426" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 105mm f/2.8G IF-ED VR @ f/3, 1/200, ISO 100. Photo: RGH</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6c_8oxv4dDiJSU1bDgCNiDa_nn8LVD7kZBRQ3T_YGt4tdIbKQMwsLgTUa0q65wU3821coc9Hdlsq6f8I0ONTg4cXo4otkgwKwJNHZPiXscYKQpGV-XVfNFHZVW4aIxygRC7cvT9opSx4/s640/_DSC6158.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D810 + AF-S 105mm f/2.8G IF-ED VR @ f/3.5, 1/2000, ISO 64. Photo: KAH</span></div>
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Kari and I have reached a point where we are both often carrying a camera. That’s a set-up that doesn’t work out so well when we only have one camera to share, so our plan was to buy a second camera body before moving back to New Zealand. Back in November, the camera I had been thinking about purchasing went on sale at a ridiculously low price and I couldn’t pass it up. I made my first ever Black Friday purchase and we are now the proud parents of a Nikon D750. We bundled it with a Nikon AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR lens. Now, Kari uses the D810 and I use the D750. We have 4 lenses to choose from, and once we pick up a 300mm prime lens, we’ll be done with new equipment for a while.<br />
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I chose the D750 over another D810 or the just-introduced D850 for a couple of reasons. Certainly price was a factor ... the D750, even without the deep discount, retails for $1000 less than the D810, and $1500 less than the D850. But to be honest, I would have picked the D750 even if the prices had been the same. As I’ve started doing more street photography, I thought the articulating rear display would be helpful. I also shoot a lot of Little H’s sports and the D750 seemed to be a better set-up for this. Finally, the D750's reported outstanding low light performance has certainly proven to be true. It was just a bonus that it was also a slightly smaller and lighter camera than either of the other two, and when I am carrying it hand-held for a long period of time, it's noticeably more comfortable than the D810.<br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1069" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn7GQ3Xv03W-70aP8v_V_wiD8g9vfciiz1kyYRe6rLHjHWLEh3nyonxVQXAaHfhozfE6ffQKbkocd6cqYB8f5ig7CdU-9g4PrVAvroEzXbSmTCO_QkMKHAq9kmzYutKl_8zK88E5tIXOQ/s640/_DSC0732.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 28-300mm f/3.5-5.6G ED VR @ 300mm, f/5.6, 1/1600, ISO 8000. Photo: RGH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 28-300mm f/3.5-5.6G ED VR @ 300mm, f/5.6, 1/1000, ISO 4000. Photo: RGH</span></div>
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Little H starting playing volleyball in New Zealand and really enjoyed it. On our return to the U.S., we looked for a team for her to join. At first, she wasn’t nearly as happy as she was playing with her friends in New Zealand, but once her team’s skills improved and they started playing well together, she started having a lot more fun. Club volleyball involves quite a bit of travel, and that has fallen primarily to Kari to sort out. I was fortunate to be able to get to one of the away tournaments. I didn’t think much about shooting the games before I got there and found it quite challenging once I started. The game moves quickly, it’s hard to follow the ball through the camera lens, and the lighting inside of high school gymnasia leaves a lot to be desired. I shot over 200 pictures in the course of the day and only had about 7-8 that were even usable. I have since spent quite a bit of time online, reading about how to shoot indoor volleyball, and I was excited to put my new knowledge to the test. Unfortunately, the season is over and I never got that second chance.<br />
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Immediately after we returned to the U.S., and before our lives got turned upside-down trying to renovate our house, Kari and I spent a little bit of time photographing in and around Murrells Inlet. Driving home from the hospital in the mornings, the light was always amazing. On my way home, I stopped a couple of times to watch the inlet awaken. Another morning, Kari and I went to one of our local state parks to shoot birds.<br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTc6iZy-UYPYP_Lwc9VozNCKFNxrWXCUCoyk6r_Lx5f2L04FKxxyhQMJVbbyv7M3Zzo6s6mHsaBnHqghAhgAxHidKyh75MzQ4Z9vkaMhyphenhyphenGvSH0_oMhuRJwVvOvTWpoLnwJjQLfy_CASaQ/s640/Pelican+Piling+5.JPG" width="426" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D810 + AF-S 28-300mm f/3.5-5.6G ED VR @ 180mm, f/5.6, 1/8, ISO 64. Photo: RGH</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1069" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVBvzkwndKkclp91b6HrDtafOJAWRHyPWrEyIF-UKNvUVxAP1Mm3lsRlVNTXyXMZMmXWLsp_4YwijzZc8B-BCV6c3v7k1DzVULWkdGjbwhRCq1vSDazAWqF1zALnG7pDfKfODAsn080p8/s640/HSP+-+Gull.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 28-300mm f/3.5-5.6G ED VR @ 300mm, f/6.3, 1/1250, ISO 400. Photo: RGH</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="650" data-original-width="973" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj10zKYFwYLj20IwKMfEBDxy4XX_HHBmHJg02TigQoeZri8lUQAZ0mLv1L5GBhTwjq2wyvUmhd_3neDeXgPFbtBlRrVAmaomlJVQnMOAOcAVI3CrFIILOCDShJHMxIx7Sd3wxVW1Hpk0NA/s640/HSP+-+Pelican+1.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 28-300mm f/3.5-5.6G ED VR @ 300mm, f/6.3, 1/1250, ISO 400. Photo: RGH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D810 + AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR @ 52mm, f/4.5, 1/250, ISO 64. Photo: KAH</span></div>
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Even Little H has decided to get in on our new hobby.<br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1068" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS80wq0xLuiwWjaLiJghVWKFLnm991aN0B2OlfCCSdF3KrtZc-AmQhNBL3MkDijmCPkVy-TUKYwS7mMZQEFRIKGDtHILqUSnA-CwxDJ0btiPWAcOJN7gnCCNDwInHaZYLJNH4ZU9YfEtY/s640/_DSC5924.JPG" width="426" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D810 + AF-S 28-300mm f/3.5-5.6G ED VR @ 42mm, f/4, 1/30, ISO 1000. Photo: Little H</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixKF76NyntIG2ao-KcWxSoftJkELwdk1U7RJ6aPgyobqMSFFM0nMy4pP_S7kg8IqI7ZdASwq0KnKOv-imNJSFTMrkGeuGt5WYe9HxXo9wiX9uORRQn4h2sHYK0s5eoAfQUUHnslXppsWU/s640/_DSC5930.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D810 + AF-S 28-300mm f/3.5-5.6G ED VR @ 78mm, f/7.1, 1/200, ISO 1000. Photo: Little H</span></div>
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Each year, our hospital Christmas party is held at Brookgreen Gardens, one of our local cultural centers. Initially the private residence and gardens of Collis Potter Huntington and his wife Anna Hyatt Huntington, it is now a sculpture garden and wildlife preserve that covers over 15 sqmi. The area features over 1400 sculptures by Anna Huntington, her sister Harriet Randolph Hyatt Mayor, and other American sculptors. The Nights of a Thousand Candles event is held every December and features more than 5500 hand-lit candles. It is truly a magical place on those nights. Unfortunately for the night of the Christmas party, the weather did not cooperate. Little H dubbed it the Night of 1000 Unlit Candles. It was cold and drizzly, and the candles weren't lit, but it still made for a pretty cool walk.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR @ 32mm, f/4, 1/60, ISO 8000. Photo: RGH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR @ 24mm, f/4, 1/30, ISO 2800. Photo: RGH</span></div>
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My brother and SIL live on a lake northeast of Toronto. Summer and winter visits are generally pretty low-key, although we do try to get out and enjoy the land and the woods. We make the occasional trek into town for supplies, but mostly we while the days away doing as little as possible. This year we were fortunate to have 10 days off after Christmas to head up for an extended visit. We had the misfortune of going there during a stretch of record low temperatures. As a result, sojourns outside were necessarily brief.<br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQx5fzO_jg2U3X-E6EgbR3B0vQrkeujwi_-Wiw4RKrAf2a8baMpZzV4MRmXrIcme4He8ZpIfqTwoqK_d0zAWQFLsQHOn44Vi3A2iypyqrLMdrTQZDiNdPf4e0SBGRM6dy8733GefbYpfM/s640/_DSC0284.JPG" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR @ 50mm, f/5.6, 1/3, ISO 100. Photo: RGH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 16-35mm f/4G ED VR @ 26mm, f/5.6, 1/200, ISO 100. Photo: RGH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D750 + AF-S 16-35mm f/4G ED VR @ 29mm, f/4, 1/500, ISO 100. Photo: RGH</span></div>
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With all of the options available to her, Kari seems to have a preference for the 24-120mm f/4G ... it’s her “go-to” lens of late (it’s probably my favorite, too). She spent a few days in Delaware with her friend, Kelley. Then, when my SIL was visiting, they spent a day at Hopsewee Plantation. While these weren’t dedicated photography outings, she has started to make a habit of taking a camera with her, even on short trips.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D810 + AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR @ 58mm, f/4, 1/3200, ISO 64. Photo: KAH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D810 + AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR @ 120mm, f/4, 1/60, ISO 64. Photo: KAH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D810 + AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR @ 31mm, f/14, 1/50, ISO 64. Photo: KAH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D810 + AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR @ 120mm, f/13, 1/40, ISO 64. Photo: KAH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Nikon D810 + AF-S 24-120mm f/4G ED VR @ 100mm, f/4.5, 1/40, ISO 64. Photo: KAH</span></div>
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Living in New Zealand, I tried to sling the camera over my shoulder whenever we walked out the door, a habit I have fallen out of since returning to the U.S. I think we sometime see the places we live as being somewhat mundane, boring, and not really worth photographing. In New Zealand, everywhere we went, we took along a sense of wonder and adventure. I think we had that same impression when we first returned to the U.S., but we quickly fell back into familiar patterns. My goal over our few remaining months here is to try to see this place with bright and wondrous eyes.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>Sittin' in the mornin' sun.</b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>I'll be sittin' when the evening comes ...</b></i></span><br />
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<br />RGHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273474053490558808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8979495699874059196.post-2052550966945850742018-03-05T12:10:00.001+13:002018-07-08T05:51:00.346+12:00Projects<div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">There’s closets in my head where dirty things are kept</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">That never see the light of day.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">I want to drag them out, go for a walk</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Just to see the look that’s on your face.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: x-small;">- Neil Finn / Crowded House <i>Love You ‘Til the Day I Die</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Bald Eagle (<i>Haliaeetus leucocephalus</i>) - Huntington State Park, Murrells Inlet, SC</span></div>
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Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been five months since my last <strike>confession</strike> blog post.</div>
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We left New Zealand in September 2017 with a plan to return home to Myrtle Beach, put our house up for sale, and move back to NZ permanently by April or May of 2018. There were a lot of steps that needed to be accomplished to bring that plan to fruition. Getting our immigration sorted was going to be the most time consuming and cumbersome. We needed to get my permanent NZ medical license approved to then put in an immigration screening application. Once the screening application was approved, we would have 4 months to complete the full application. When our immigration is approved (still waiting), we can put the house up for sale. To get the house ready to be sold, we would have contractors in and out of our house for about 4 months; but before we could do that, we needed to replenish the savings we plowed through during our year away. Simple, right? Yeah, right. Neither simple nor easy. Every one of those pieces was a project in and of itself.<br />
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We actually started the process before leaving New Zealand by getting my Medical Council application started. I thought we had all the pieces in place before we left, but for the next 2 months there seemed to be an endless stream of requests for clarification and reams of paperwork. During our year in NZ, I complained constantly about the enormous percentage of my paycheck the staffing company took as their fee. I would almost be willing to pay it again just to have someone else deal with this bureaucratic nightmare. We were told it could take up to 6 months for my Medical Council approval to come through, but on Dec 3rd I received a letter informing me of my acceptance to a provisional vocational scope of practice with the Medical Council of New Zealand. Things were finally starting to happen.<br />
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I immediately started to work on our immigration application, and in the mean time we had put enough money away to start having our contractor come by. When we bought our house, we did so as a one day auction on a short sale. No inspection, just a walk through and a decision. We had been looking at several houses, and there was a smaller one that I actually preferred, but we loved the entranceway and light streaming into the great room, and this one was Kari’s favorite. In the end, we placed a bid for $1000 over asking price and that night we were informed that we had won. Unfortunately, the house came with a lot of things that needed work ... some minor and some anything but. We were lucky to find a contractor who has been with us every step of the way over the past several years.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="526" data-original-width="702" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJQaFQcc3lAOe5blW0tXlqZrv5avR9g-c_zwugH1A-p6s8WZNSx_jYNKJRGzbk6tm482cncdJQxRPTluDpoO97saafXHARCZdIm9lo3J3QMJsfg0ovf8ALQeZQaAAO5IjZ215Yo7lHP3E/s640/IMG_0519.JPG" width="640" /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Our home just before we bought it in 2011</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">And you may find yourself living in a shotgun shack</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">And you may find yourself in another part of the world</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">And you may find yourself behind the wheel of a large automobile</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">And you may find yourself in a beautiful house</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">With a beautiful wife</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">And you may ask yourself, “Well, how did I get here?”</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: x-small;">- Talking Heads <i>Once in a Lifetime</i></span></div>
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As you might already suspect, nothing we do is simple, easy, or straightforward. While we bid on the house in March 2011, took possession in May, and moved in June, we didn’t actually own it until January of the following year. That’s right, we were squatters in our own home for about 8 months. The short version is that the former owner had been foreclosed on so couldn’t stay in the home. When we showed up, it had been empty for the better part of a year. We needed a place to stay, and we had a key, so we moved in even though we didn’t own it. We had a contract but couldn’t close the sale because of some legal problems with the previous owner. While we had to keep up with paying the utilities while we were living there, we didn’t have a mortgage (yet) and we weren’t paying rent. We did little things to fix stuff, but I wasn’t going to invest any money in the house until I had the title. The worst part was that our air conditioning / heating died in August. I’ll be damned if I was going to spend $8K to replace it when I didn’t own the house, so we sweltered through an Indian summer and used extra blankets through the winter. When we finally closed on the house in January 2012, nearly a year after we “bought” it, we started fixing things in earnest.<br />
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Those of you who know us well are probably aware of our clothes problem; we own more clothes than any two people should really have. It’s so bad that Kari will occasionally find clothes in the closet that she forgot she bought years ago, still with the tags on and never worn! When you have all that stuff, you need somewhere to put it. Even with a large walk in closet and two chests of drawers, Kari still had a “walk-on” closet (the floor on her side of the bed on which she stacked clothes). When we moved into the house, the closets had those white wire closet storage racks/hangers. From the sheer weight of her clothes, the anchors would occasionally fail and the whole unit would rip out of the wall, dumping her clothes on the floor. I finally got tired of constantly repairing the racks, so decided to do something about it. My plan was to build permanent shelves and cabinets.<br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="321" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPhQSvdHrM3GQemK2dHMrYZsNM4uOUixK-IiG95n57rLZctfDFBn0ZT6y4UJ1vtGsX_3EOpRXWnz71IEn_qVKs7j3tx9cEBAG8zVn12yds7-29KEOtsIbo_wRkxIlIJHeUpw-C01dRpyY/s640/IMG_1513.PNG" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Walk-in closet, partially completed.</span></div>
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The first step was to get shelves and a clothes bar installed (Left-hand side in the photo above). That bought me time and space to get the much bigger projects going. Kari has quite the collection of cowboy boots and calf/knee-high boots and I wanted to get them up off the floor, so the back wall was built with boot racks up high. Room for 16 pairs of shoes was then added. A chest of drawers completed Kari’s portion of the closet. The old wire rack system was initially left in place on my side. The shelves and racks on the left went up in a week or two. I have a full-time job, and it’s not as a professional carpenter or cabinet maker, so the boot/shoe racks and drawers took another several months.<br />
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Life then got in the way and very little progress was made on the closet. At one point, our garage was so full of things we had brought up from Texas that I couldn’t get to my shop tools for almost 18 months. Once I could get to my tools, other household projects always seemed to take precedence. Then we left for a year. All told, the closet project stalled out for almost 4 years. I would make half-assed efforts to get some work done, but if I told Kari I was going to spend the week-end in the garage working on the closet, what I really meant was “I’m going to spend the week-end playing with my power tools and spending money on oak panels, but don’t expect me to actually accomplish very much.” With our return to the U.S., and our plan to put our house up for sale, the closet needed to either be torn out or completed. I set my sights on a surge of completion.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Three rooms piled into one.</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1069" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXbYrhds6VsbB1iy_bRW6TLw6dhsy31vBl_M0QzcHi4w6SJOMCPZU_Dki0xEXpYhcQwo-u1d6tNDNcIpBPg8Bk8pYlQTJV-25Dc6CB44a55uBbOrUvdL3WkN88VQ-hL5BhA5RqKafCiks/s400/_DSC1018%255B1%255D.JPG" width="400" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="1069" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmZCJVAbPgSAgsARfzd_5JeFrGzn4x-KdPTcb_xv_ASe6jeqeTRRLIQ6UfhuErzWhyphenhyphenhe6OX-n3iPTQZ5l0LB1rL9qvvZFmGMrdYuluXitsYWjJ39eWKTTNOBiWycNjjFlkT94eZWZfoz8/s400/_DSC1017%255B1%255D.JPG" width="400" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Scaffolding and spackle.</span></div>
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Renovating a house while you are still living in it is a bit of a logistical nightmare. Our plan was to do one or two rooms at a time, moving everything out of those rooms and piling it into a couple of others. By constantly shuffling things between rooms, and starting on the second floor, we had hoped to minimize the disruption in our lives. Oh, the best laid plans. Regardless of whether the contractors were working in the spaces in which we were living or not, having them tromping through our lives every day was every bit as disruptive as we were hoping to avoid. Add in that I work nights and sleep during the day, and my “down time” was anything but restful.<br />
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Prior to us moving in, the house had been empty for almost a year. South Carolina’s Low Country in the summer is humid place and the sheetrock, dry-wall, etc absorbed all that moisture. After running the air conditioner constantly for several months, things started drying out and the cracks appeared. Many of the dry-wall seams and almost all of the ceiling seams started to show buckling and cracks. Our house was put up during the housing boom and the ceiling sheet-rock was put up with nails (faster) rather than screws (better but more time consuming). As the underlying wood dried out and contracted, the nails started to back out. The entire ceiling was sagging in places. Cosmetic stuff. Everything was structurally sound and there were no leaks, so we did nothing about it. We just don’t care much about aesthetics. Well, you can’t sell a half-million dollar house in a gated golf-club community as a “fixer-upper” so suddenly we had to care. I initially tried doing the work myself, but the outcome was less than professional, it took me days to do just a small section, and I made a terrible mess in the process. We sucked it up and brought in the professionals.<br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_dtpL7SgrDyAPWdGXa-CK8PQSfqA4NU_sZTM3zqApsWOrSWvYvY4y8fwg6lOkEPrHt89ropIjZDQjr423WeuwgTPoXkf-pmmDWVwRHjM47VD2_tum-rw1naRChw54O_RkVA5ZAVRM81Q/s400/IMG_0129.JPG" width="400" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="1069" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgcd4n0qHqEyv3Jp36Kp0-46Bm6ubjAii4VMaWSFiKGgArXvbpoL0q2LFBvqoGQ-8cEEUc7mjOR4zb4jvBkNry4v46BCg6reLcKEjjWPiRkkgS4VMKsWCvWxO3eVckPkoMJZWdRF4NIBw/s400/_DSC0214.jpg" width="400" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Master bedrooms ... upstairs and down.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Garage Shop is open for business</span>.</div>
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Leaving it to the professionals turned out to be the best idea in terms of time, efficiency, cleanliness, and outcome. And it allowed me to take on a couple of projects of my own. The first step was getting the garage cleaned out, re-organized, and setting up my wood shop again. I was going to be spending a whole lot of time in there over the next several months, so I made sure the garage refrigerator was stocked, tuned the radio to my favorite station, and dusted off the heater ... that garage is damned cold on winter mornings and late at night.<br />
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I wanted to get started on the closet, but first we needed to empty it out and have somewhere to put everything, and that meant the upstairs master bedroom had to be finished. So, I set my sights on a more immediate and manageable task. When Kari and I moved to Washington DC after med school (2006), we had a bunch of mis-matched furniture from our previous living arrangements. We had no outdoor furniture, so we bought a teak outdoor table and chair set. We had nearly nothing to our names, but we had a sweet outdoor dining area! That table and chair set hosted countless crawfish boils and survived 2 years in DC and 3 years in Iowa City, including 3 Iowa winters. We dragged it with us to South Carolina where it baked in the sun. It hadn’t seen the rough side of a piece of sandpaper or a drop of oil for 12 hard-worn years and it looked every bit as damaged as you imagine it would. I was all for scrapping it and buying new. Kari pointed out that we didn’t have the money to buy new and that we needed it to not look completely trashed when it came time to show the house.<br />
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My plan was to disassemble the table and chairs down to individual slats. I (mostly) succeeded and ended up with a pile of wood fit only for the fire pit. I set to work with sander and teak oil bringing those tired scraps back to life. The pieces would never look new again, but the battle scars, crawfish stains, and sun-cracks gave history to the pieces, and they are better for it. As much as I hate to admit it, Kari was right. The table and chairs look great and I am happy to pack them for the trip across the pond when we finally leave. Ten years from now, though, I’m buying new.<br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpC_cOU1EQaLcfpPKSf-xVA7VACNKl6jLDCpFkryJ0spacHpSFDL7_KYQFC6Tg-tO34X_zL7ZUbKUSuXsNDLFGP7HQCbcVau40sYTzG7RJuOY3sHMHIAZW61iJz4mMrhNjyKaEDfpujZU/s400/_DSC5865.JPG" width="400" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1068" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_ZUJab_y1eB-X9al5y_kBmOQtRFOmQGgjgchJ6ksAbWq3cIdy8JEtRg87UbhZu14tvQn8AR47e6Ft9QRdVS4bF3cc4sexnxrPVMC5zOkE0tz96uc5ghLRe8ZhmezmzWZXoeCbFs7Ea70/s320/_DSC5863.JPG" width="213" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXME6PWR_W1C4Lv9BA8bA6aVf0qKs9n03MnDZPilWVBMsbcA3M1f0fVggOInX1L6B3tEsHmUDVJrilQPxJj5oLH2ZPGWv-5AgWmxp2e5padcr5VI8wWmJ8ocu_DGcvrq-DhB5N1chgjHI/s400/_DSC5864.JPG" width="400" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">My wood looks great after rubbing some oil on it.</span></div>
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Finally, the upstairs master bedroom re-do was complete. New floor laid, seams taped and mudded, and fresh paint slapped everywhere. We moved ourselves upstairs so the contractors could start working downstairs. While they were doing that, I got into the downstairs master suite walk-in closet and demo’d the wire rack system. I was glad to finally be shut of it all. The damage to the underlying dry-wall was extensive, so everything had to be repaired, sanded, and painted before I could start building the shelving, cabinets, and drawers for my side.<br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivJWGiV7THswkU6ZEwnfU3W6sChoP58LC4AGUP3rBbgIjLoHhW7ZLNIs1og4QjJ-U4EdX6fHrAVDS1iN1xn7dS0pNlqvswCabzByAg_CWxvNjGGVULKBybsMLikGzcjQcfFdl8C2X3AX0/s640/_DSC0213.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Closet demo’d. You can see the original work I did for Kari’s side. The ceiling is 10’ high, so the high shelves are at 8’. The tall sections at the back are for boots. There’s room for 16 pairs of shoes, and the drawers are deep.</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZf7nJyaebdwNVNrNbCssAk13ZwnVe_kxMxjl20e6vzw2eJa7nO-Lzry_xjFGMVvkDbm2hJHm8rd5fZ_JYO5VpZ9DzsmNZK-uXi8lWAmO8CJbRgiMcxdexX15-f3V7miPtuGVmc-QYEtA/s640/IMG_0123.HEIC" width="480" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">3/4” Oak boards are expensive ... about $9/ft for the 12” x 3/4” boards that make up most of the closet ... so, the backs for some of the drawers are made from glued-up scraps. A channel is routered into each board for the drawer bottom.</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp3Zw9P6yDdhM6VRPvcyncQ8rQLnUrktVsMoAUYHxkgtOAdA6DVjrjB5YHDTK_uZw57jB7RlKNNiG8iW4n8qRrSYIyyOtUXuU5iF-n5g5YGj2W0pXCRqYneYj2NAwurmt3gkejPzl3hRw/s640/IMG_0124.HEIC" width="480" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">The backs of the drawers are planed down to 1/2” and installed using a rabbett joint.</span> </div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDXvM99a19y5ZShNjPQV4Wwq6qKLBPzWW33M2kDLCh7ufc19BkDiK7aYBXeA6P3wGOWcVIH-iL30okWNhFGuDMNYSssMyi0cBEgxUlzF-L1ebEt6HgoYloYhyaBwSsovYKwmn6eU4ywi4/s640/IMG_0125.HEIC" width="480" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Dove-tail joints connect the front and sides for each drawer.</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5QkrEJyCWmpRFu6hNQ_EklRpA2TRcLar96XEhKpaHrAicXhm4WPMLkIwWqP_9XsUdJIt11e1D0pI8SXS57tHHetx7rBM8U2RjsGV16BLelOpZ9cYN_RWVs4wPjsq-aZWqUo8IbNPvhjo/s640/IMG_0128.HEIC" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Eschewing modern hardware, each drawer rides on a hard-wood rail, lovingly lubricated by rubbing in bee’s wax wood conditioner.</span></div>
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Et, voila!</div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1069" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUX1CvE1JFjZUfTy2Kc4jPCg3btb6uai5krvURCW3b6_Y0ETkNyvVxcfLcOGveNJh_sj155YLsj73GWHUso6bhcCb24IaqQ-4BA-UI9apnmgxOZnvxx39qSw1UdTvudP8Pz4fV0RkY2Qg/s640/_DSC1049.NEF" width="426" /></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="679" data-original-width="1600" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUwqROQ7W3q6MtCrFqNrZDjsLjT9NOJER_AzbjUvdZxgjmq5QfeUDrEmLBadLevwG6cawYYR8pKalSWUVZJpvq7fYT8UHw3VXDfLbQqrty7qQN39bFXwhDQ5V8la4Q6McmMsaQOq8mzBM/s640/IMG_0088.HEIC" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Finished product. Kari has a high rack on the left for dresses and such, room for 14 pairs of boots and 16 pairs of shoes, and a chest of 8 drawers, the bottom two of which are extra deep. I have two shorter racks (one up, one down), a cabinet of shelves, a chest of drawers, and a small tall rack for sport coats and such. I also have a shoe rack (6 slots) and a boot rack (7 slots).</span></div>
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Working on the project only sporadically, it took almost 5 years to complete. I spent untold hours in the garage and the materials cost is something I don’t even want to think about. Each piece was measured 5 or 6 times before cutting (measure twice, cut once doesn’t work out so well in my shop). Even with that care and meticulousness, I made endless mistakes. After measuring, cutting, and sanding, the pieces were clear-coated. Sanding was in 4 parts ... 80 grit, 120 grit, 180 grit, and 220 grit. Each piece has four layers of clear coat, sanded between coats with 400 grit and 600 grit. The last coat is wet-sanded with 1000 grit paper for a smooth, glassy finish. Every time I needed to learn a new technique, particularly with joinery, I would take on a mini project for something else so I could work out the steps and the kinks before committing it to oak.</div>
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I learned a lot of specific wood-working techniques along the way, but I learned a lot of lessons, too. The first was patience. Rushing any step inevitably led to destruction, frustration, and an expensive do-over. I also learned how to fix minor mistakes, hide them, or incorporate them as a “feature”. I am my own worst critic. I look at this project and I am proud, but I also see all the tiny little things that went wrong (and there are many).</div>
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I am both sad and excited to see it finally completed. I will definitely take on something like this again, but I think I will do it with cheaper wood ...</div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRtiaZHwG3R3sgHqzFJfxse6CMnkyO8zaFzYABbZpYq3bMo8dNj03Ix33NrPGD8op5WqRIzclgFDY652MQ1lKIYoIlolSCozgE7UW4nSrwUvD3JQcolRia2sWrN7bR3xOb_6afSjUijTw/s320/IMG_0033.HEIC" width="320" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMWTlVNmJqmgJhmerjVWdJkuwvF6KuG8P_D_kIR2d2K6lp0vaIs5zOtjeKNHwBW2QjTlWRIgfnc7uwlFHkeQ8Fr_f6jhN7iA_Y_h1wdidY3S1bC_Fo0wLdoV9Fr3XGHkE5jKh0N9d6uTA/s320/IMG_0034.HEIC" width="240" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE37BT33EmJYOIlc2OIqNjs_KNrxXBidv9q6twa3bBqQjXfuNOR9n1I87X3iQoLiP22aI7mMTQwMCrbxc_Rt6CUVFtlAnB2dVS1pdh1O923nDYqRSm0r5Rt86DhONpBHxRiJvnWX7c-OM/s320/IMG_0035.HEIC" width="320" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Shop pics that I really liked but couldn’t figure out how to incorporate into the story.</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgng85G2kKGh1wVyhSAtfrH2Qlp-YWluYobFkmhvSzomB0CK2vv6AAjZeIaY7I6JURfgWIHRnRgKPrhnpU8ZrpJJ3A577sofXdErN-RT5y5p8LAr6Xtlv5y7SmoWWhgs1zO8Ky81vx6yrA/s200/IMG_0089.HEIC" width="200" /></div>
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<i><b><span style="font-size: large;">Our house is a very, very, very fine house ...</span></b></i><br />
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RGHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273474053490558808noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8979495699874059196.post-2210984529607767252017-10-06T11:17:00.004+13:002017-10-07T01:07:12.449+13:00Planes, Trains, and Autombiles<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">I am Arthur, king of the Britons. Whose castle is that?</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">King of The Who?</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">The Britons</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Who're the "Britons"?</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Well, we all are. We're all Britons, and I am your king.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Didn't know we had a king. I thought we were an autonomous collective.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">You're fooling yourself. We're living in a dictatorship! A self-perpetuating autocracy ...</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: x-small;">- Monty Python and The Holy Grail</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Happy kids after getting stuffed at Geno's. Photo RGH</span></div>
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Leaving NYC turned out to be easier than we had imagined. We were staying in Midtown, 1.5 blocks from Times Square, and I was a little concerned about the next part of our journey. So far, our trip had involved several long-haul flights, and a bunch of train rides. We used Uber to get to and from the train station, but had not spent any significant time in a car. After New York City, the rest of our trip to South Carolina would be all by car. Kari had gone online and found a car rental only two blocks from our NYC apartment. My first thought on hearing this was fear and trepidation. Here we were in midtown Manhattan, picking up a car after not driving at all in a month and not driving on the Right side of the road in a year. Getting out of the middle of the city was likely to be a bit of an adventure. Surprisingly, it actually went fairly well.<br />
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We had a 10 o'clock appointment to pick up the car, and true to from, we were a few minutes late. At the car rental agency, there was a line. Several people had been waiting 30-40 minutes when we arrived. As the line got longer, so too did the wait. Imagine being in a small rental agency office with poor air conditioning on a hot New York morning. Now pack that office with a bunch of New Yorkers who have been waiting over an hour to pick up a car. The tension in the air and the comments flying around continued to ramp up. When I finally got to the counter, the poor clerks were more than a little harried. They were running low on cars and offered me a Mustang, Camaro, or Challenger. Not exactly large family cars suitable for long distance travel, but I wasn't going to turn down the chance to drive a muscle car through the streets of Manhattan. Alas, when they brought the car out, it was a Ford Fusion. Probably a better option for our trip, but I can't say I wasn't disappointed.<br />
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Getting out of Manhattan proved all too easy. We drove down half a block, made one turn, then had a short drive to the Lincoln Tunnel and New Jersey. Once we were under the river and into New Jersey, we set the cruise control and made our way to Collegeville, PA. Our destination was the home of two of our oldest and dearest friends. Jim and Amanda have been a part of my life for over 20 years, and good friends to Kari from the moment she met them. We have travelled together and made multiple pilgrimages to each other's homes. We couldn't wait to spend a few days enveloped in comfortable friendship, and Little H couldn't wait to spend a few days playing with their kids instead of hanging out with us. Of course, as long as we were near Philly, we needed to play tourist. Kari had never eaten an original Philly Cheesesteak, so we included that in our plans.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Only one kid was keen for a photo shoot. Photo RGH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Carpenter's Hall. Meeting site of the First Continental Congress 5 Sept - 26 Oct 1774. Photo RGH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Independence Hall. Site of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, July 4 1776. Photo RGH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Pat's claims to be the originator of the Philly Cheesesteak sandwich, while Geno's claims to be the best. Photos RGH</span></div>
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Legend has it that Pat and Harry Olivieri created the Philly cheesesteak sandwich at their hotdog stand in the 1930s. Today, the restaurant is located at the site of their original hotdog stand. Geno's was established in 1966, directly across the street from Pat's. They didn't invent the Philly cheesesteak sandwich, but they claim to have perfected it. I had tried the Pat's sandwich many years ago, so this time we ate at Geno's.<br />
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From Philly, we were off to Washington, DC to meet up with other friends. Scott and Anita split their time between DC and Denver. We were fortunate that they were in town. They both work in theatre and are putting in some long days, so we were only able to catch up with them in the evenings. During the day, we played tourist. We lived just outside of the beltway when Little H was first born but haven't been back since. After having been to Philly, we had a chance to connect the origins of the US government to its current iteration. We also spent time in the National Gallery of Art and the Natural History Museum. The great weather continued to follow us from New York and PA.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Little H was excited to hear that we were going to the mall, until ...</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">And she was less than thrilled to be spending more time looking at "boring" paintings ...</span></div>
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We finished our friendship tour by heading to the beach and the home of another good friend. Once again, the thought of leaving DC and tackling the beltway caused me great anxiety. Fortunately, we left late enough in the day and were only on the beltway for a short piece, so the drive was much easier than I anticipated. As we headed further south, the skies continued to warm, and by the time we made it to Bethany, it was shorts and t-shirt weather. We spent just a little time at Kelley's, then headed for the beach. Thanks for the wine, lobster, and hospitality, Kelley!<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Girls' day at the beach. Photos RGH</span></div>
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Kari and Little H stayed behind to spend another couple of days with Kelley while I made a beeline south. I have to work in a few days and needed to get back to get our US life back in order. There was one more surprise waiting for me, though. On my arrival back home, I walked into a house with a stocked refrigerator. Our friends think of everything. It is the friends who we have visited along the way, and those awaiting our arrival, that truly made this a homecoming. Thanks to each and every one of you.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>Welcome home ...</i></b></span><br />
<br />RGHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273474053490558808noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8979495699874059196.post-61428219246155150742017-10-02T10:48:00.002+13:002018-04-20T08:09:59.121+12:00Green Acres<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #e69138;">Start spreading the news</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">You're leaving today (tell him, friend)</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">I want to be a part of it, New York, New York</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Your vagabond shoes</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">They are longing to stray</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">And steps around the heart of it, New York, New York</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: x-small;">- Green/Camden/Bernstein, <i>New York, New York</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Times Square is hopping, day and night. Photos RGH</span></div>
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New York City, USA and we are staying in the heart of the Big Apple. We had a relatively uneventful flight across the Atlantic Ocean, landing at JFK airport and sailing through customs and immigration. After being gone for a year and travelling for a month, I anticipated a long and drawn out process, but we made it through long before our bags made it to the carousel. We arrived in the evening and all we wanted to do was get into the city in time to eat at John's Pizza in Times Square. Signs all over the airport tell people not to accept rides from solicitors, but the taxi stand was a hike and the line was long, so we made a rookie mistake and took the offered ride. We got to the car, only to discover that it was an Uber Black. We could have changed our minds and trekked back to the airport terminal; instead we swallowed our pride and took the hit to our pocket book, so our ride into the city cost us more than double what a taxi would have. We did this once before and vowed never to do it again. Fool me once ...</div>
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Whenever we come to NYC, we rent the same apartment if it's available. It's on Broadway between 48th and 49th ... a block and a half from Times Square. We stay in the centre of it all, with easy access to the subway, and walking distance to everything we want in midtown and Central Park. Of course, it means that the lights and noise of the city are a constant backdrop ... even from the 16th floor. The lights from Times Square shining through the windows keep the room lit well into the night despite having the curtains drawn. Still, it's right where we want to be.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Broadway from our rooftop. Photo RGH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Subway tales. Photo KAH</span></div>
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New York City is a big place, and can seem like a massive concrete jungle. If you look closely, though, there are pockets where you can find quiet solitude. There are several small green spaces, some less than half an acre, tucked away. They offer a chance to escape from the lights, noise, and crowds. Of course, there are much larger green spaces as well. Looking for some quiet reflection and leisurely walks, we spent time in Central Park, the Bronx Zoo, and the New York Botanical Gardens. This trip, Central Park was just a convenient route to get where we wanted to go rather than a destination in and of itself.</div>
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The storms ravaging much of the rest of the eastern seaboard have caused a late Indian summer here in New York. Temperatures are in the 70s and the skies are clear. We took advantage of the unusually warm days to dine <i>al fresco</i> when we could. In Central Park, we had lunch at Tavern On the Green. The food was good, though not amazing, the portions were large, and we had our first Bloody Mary in over a year. Yum!</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Tavern lunch. Photos KAH</span></div>
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I have mixed emotions when it comes to zoos and aquaria. While I hate to see animals "living" in captivity, I recognize that many zoos have historically played an important role in recovery and re-introduction of threatened and endangered species. When I was living in Hawaii, I volunteered at Sea Life Park, a small marine mammal park and aquarium. My job was to feed the sharks and rays in the aquarium, and to feed the green sea turtles in their habitat. When I was living in Boston, I did research on African cichlids at the New England Aquarium. I certainly see the research and conservation benefits that zoos provide, and the Bronx Zoo is no exception.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Bronx Zoo. Photos RGH</span></div>
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We have been to New York City several times and have done most of the touristy things. Now we enjoy searching out unique experiences. For this trip, we had a few things on our "To Do" list. At the top of the list was eating at the secret/not-so-secret Burger Joint. As it was billed online, it was difficult to find but the burgers were absolutely amazing. We also wanted to check out Gulliver's Gate, one of the newer attractions in Times Square. This is a work in progress miniature world and we were able to "recreate" some of the photos from our recent train tour of Europe. Lastly, Kari wanted to see the Chihuly exhibit at the New York Botancial Gardens.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Burger Joint. Photos RGH</span></div>
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Gulliver's Gate models and the real deal ...<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Big Ben. Photos RGH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>l'Arc de Triomphe</i>. Photos RGH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Brandenburg Gate. Photos RGH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Edinburgh Castle. Photos RGH</span></div>
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New York Botanical Gardens ...<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Chihuly glass. Photos RGH/Little H</span></div>
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We came to New York thinking that our trip was essentially over. We spent a full three days exploring the city in new ways than we had before. We were especially lucky that the weather cooperated. Once again, we had the luxury of three nights in the same place, and since we had stayed there before, it almost felt like home. So far, our trip has involved long-haul plane flights, multiple train rides, and few car rides. We have used Uber to get to and from the train station, but haven't spent much time on the road itself. From New York, we are renting a car for the last legs of our journey; a true Planes, Trains, and Automobiles adventure.<br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">I wanna' be a Toys R Us kid ...</span></i></b><br />
<br />RGHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273474053490558808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8979495699874059196.post-53806915180530559602017-09-28T09:38:00.002+13:002018-08-21T21:15:00.633+12:00Castles in the Sky<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Great chieftain o the puddin'-race!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Aboon them a' ye tak your place,</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Painch, tripe, or thairm:</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Weel are ye worthy o' a grace</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">As lang's my arm.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: x-small;">- Robert Burns, <i>Address to a Haggis</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Doune Castle. Monty Python fans, if you don't recognize this place, I shall taunt you a second time. Photo KAH</span></div>
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It's almost a cliche, but our tour of Scotland has been defined by castles.<br />
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We left London on an early train to Edinburgh. It was a clear, sunny day in England, so of course we were leaving. I was excited to have a stop in Rugby, birthplace of the only game that matters (Link: <a href="http://jandalsandtogs.blogspot.com/2017/06/give-blood-play-rugby.html">Give Blood, Play Rugby</a>), though we weren't there long enough to disembark. We had a brief lay-over in Preston, then it was on to Scotland. Watching the countryside roll by through the windows, the scenery was so much like New Zealand that we felt instantly at home. In Preston, we were joined by a boisterous group of Scots returning from holiday. As we got deeper into Scotland, the sky got more grey and dreary, and the Scots’ accents got thicker. We knew we were close to Edinburgh when we heard English language words but couldn't understand a thing they were saying.<br />
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Edinburgh is the end of the European portion of our travels. It is also very near to Stirling, home of a good friend. Tip and I played rugby together in Galveston TX, drank together almost everywhere, and even lived together for about a year when I first got into med school and had no money and nowhere to live. When I was racing triathlons, it was Tip who became my training partner, my coach, and who showed me how to win races. He left the US 14 years ago, chasing opportunities first in Birmingham (England), and now in Stirling. He had to be in Cologne on the day we would arrive to Edinburgh, so we made plans to spend our last few days with him on his return. But first, we needed a place to stay for one night in Edinburgh.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Rugby and Preston stations. Photos RGH</span></div>
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Throughout our trip, Kari did her usual amazing job finding us cool, unique, and fun places to stay. Our accommodations have included a traditional Japanese ryokan, a classic Dutch canal-side 3rd floor apartment, a street level apartment in a gritty area of Berlin, a Monastery in Prague, a funky modern hotel in Munich, and perfect apartments in the heart of it all in both Lyon and Paris. Each place has been in an interesting neighbourhood convenient for exploring the cities we visited. Having an apartment has given us room to spread out, kitchen facilities for preparing breakfast and snacks, and a way to experience our trip as locals might. It has invariably been cheaper than staying in hotels. Knowing we would be in Scotland, though, I wanted to stay in a castle. Kari set about looking for a castle-stay, but even 2-3 months out, everything was booked. She put us on some waiting lists and we hoped. She finally found a room at Dalhousie Castle, a place way more posh than we were hoping for. She also booked dinner in their dungeon restaurant.<br />
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Simon of Ramsay constructed the first castle at Dalwolsey, overlooking the River Esk, some time after 1140. The current construction dates to the 17th century. The castle has quite a distinguished history. King Edward I (<i>Longshanks</i>) stayed there en route to fight Sir William Wallace (more on him later) at the Battle of Falkirk in 1298. In 1400, Sir Alexander Ramsay withstood a 6 month siege at Dalhousie by King Henry IV. At the time of its sale in 1977, Dalhousie Castle had been retained by the same family for over 800 years, longer than any other castle in Scotland. On 27 Sept 2017, in our minds, it became a little more famous ...<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Dalhousie Castle, Bonnyrigg. Photos RGH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Dinner in the dungeon was amazing. Photos RGH/KAH</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">In the evening, we retired to the library for drinks. Photos RGH/KAH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Unfortunately, we did not have time for the sport of kings. Photos RGH</span></div>
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Edinburgh Castle sits high atop Castle Rock, overlooking the city. The exact dates during which a fortified site was first established there is unclear, however there is evidence of continuous human habitation at the site since at least the 2nd century. There has been a royal castle on the rock since the 12th century and it was one of the most important Scottish strongholds through the Wars of Scottish Independence (1296-1357) and the Jacobite uprising (1745). It lays claim to the title of "The most besieged place in Great Britain" having withstood 26 sieges in its 1100 year-old history. Many of the sites we have been to have had self-guided audio tours, either free or for a nominal fee. Edinburgh Castle was no exception. We have really been impressed with the quality of the tours and information therein. We wanted to do a whisky tasting before leaving Edinburgh, but the day was drawing late and we still had a train ride to Stirling ahead of us.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Edinburgh Castle. Photos RGH/KAH</span></div>
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On 11 September 1297, the forces of Andrew Moray and William Wallace defeated a much larger English force on the banks of the River Forth, near Stirling. It was a battle that showed infantry can defeat cavalry (in certain circumstances) and was a turning point in the Wars for Scottish Independence. As Tip explained it, "Moray died of his wounds, and William Wallace lived. That's why Wallace is famous and Moray is not." Wallace went on to lead a destructive raid into England, and in 1298 was declared the <i>Guardian of Scotland</i> until he was defeated that same year at the Battle of Falkirk. He was betrayed, captured, hanged, drawn, and quartered in 1305 (despite what Hollywood would have you believe ... <i>Freedom!</i>) and his tarred head was placed on a pike on London Bridge. The Wallace Monument sits on the promontory from which he led his offensive, and Stirling Castle sits on the ridge opposite. Today, the fields between these sites feature an extensive rugby facility where battles of a different sort are waged.<br />
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Tip welcomed us to Stirling, then took us to his local pub for Scottish beer and a pub dinner. The next day, he showed us the campus of Stirling University, took us to Doune Castle, and drove us through several towns and villages. We ended the day with a wee hike to the Atlantic Wall and the Wallace Stones. Along the way, he regaled us with tales of the Picts, the Gaels, and the Scots. He spoke of historic battles and the Jacobite conspiracies. His intimate knowledge of the places, names, and dates was impressive. Tip and I had one last ramble in the muirs early the next morning. The wind was blowing hard, the sky dark and lowering, and the tall grasses moved like waves. It was about as perfect a Scottish experience as I could have imagined ... except maybe if I had been wearing a great kilt (though it would have been a wee bit drafty).<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Stirling Bridge. Photos RGH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Making Monty Python proud at Doune Castle. Photos RGH/KAH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Village views. Photos RGH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Tip and his dog Riever in their native habitat. Photos RGH</span></div>
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This is the end for our tour of the unfamiliar. Everywhere we have been up to this point has been new to us, with new adventures, and new experiences. As I sit and write this post, we are winging our way across the Atlantic Ocean on our way to to the US. We will have two days in NYC, then continue to visit with old friends as we make our way down the east coast, and eventually return to Myrtle Beach. We have certainly enjoyed the ride.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>Watch out</b><b> for hairy coos ...</b></i></span><br />
<br />RGHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273474053490558808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8979495699874059196.post-90716885549311335912017-09-26T19:15:00.002+13:002017-10-07T01:17:02.816+13:00Rule, Brittania!<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">London calling, yes, I was there, too</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">An' you know they said?</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Well, some of it was true!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">London calling at the top of the dial</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">And after all this, won't you give me a smile</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: x-small;">- The Clash, <i>London Calling</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">The River Thames in Chelsea. Photo RGH</span></div>
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London was not initially in our plans. It's a big city with lots to do and see, we have friends here we would want to visit, and we knew that we would want to spend several days there. It was, however, a necessary transfer point when getting from Paris to Edinburgh. When I mentioned our travel plans to a friend from my days growing up in Canada, he told me he was living in London while working in Paris and Amsterdam. We hoped to catch up with him in one of those cities during our tour, and it so happened that he would be at home the day we were passing through London. We ended up staying with him and his family; unfortunately, our stay would be brief ... a half day and overnight. We dropped our bags, stopped for a short visit, and headed out to explore.<br />
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We had a Sandemans tour scheduled, but missed it by 10 minutes. We re-grouped, ate lunch, and decided to improvise. Kari had friends visiting London, so we made plans to meet up with them. They gave us an abbreviated tour of the area surrounding Parliament and Westminster Abbey, then treated us to a Thames River cruise. We disembarked from the boat at the Tower of London. I've tried before to get on a tour of the tower, but never seem to have enough time. This visit marked the 3rd time I have stood outside the gates without going inside. I guess I will have to try for a 4th time.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Scenes from London. Photos RGH</span></div>
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We spent a great night telling stories, laughing, and making fun of siblings who were not there (Here's looking at you, David). On this trip, Kari has met a number of friends I have known for 20+ years and says that she has had a lot of fun and a lot of laughs meeting and hanging out with everybody. Little H even conceded that I have some cool friends (though she still won't admit that I am pretty cool, too).<br />
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It is through the kindness and generosity of friends that our lives are enriched. This has been true for us at home in the US, during our year in NZ, and especially true on our journey home. We started out visiting friends in Japan (Link: <a href="http://jandalsandtogs.blogspot.com/2017/09/konnichiwa.html">Konnichiwa!</a>), then spent two weeks on our own. The last week of our trip will be a string of visits with friends in London, Edinburgh/Stirling, Pennsylvania, Washington DC, and Delaware. We will be back in the US in 3 days and sleeping in our own beds in less than 2 weeks. It's been a heck of a ride.<br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">It's lit, mate ...</span></i></b><br />
<br />RGHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273474053490558808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8979495699874059196.post-28690168018889954312017-09-24T06:17:00.004+13:002018-07-08T04:19:37.017+12:00We'll Always Have Paris<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Sous le ciel de Paris</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Coule un fleuve joyeux</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Il endort dans la nuit </span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Les clochards et les geux</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: x-small;">- Hubert Giraud, <i>Sous le Ciel de Paris</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Bonsoir a Paris</i>. Photo RGH</span></div>
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Ever since she was a very little girl, maybe 5 or 6 years old, Little H has dreamed of Paris. When asked what she wanted for her birthday, she would reply that she wanted to go to New York or Paris. Wouldn't we all? For her 7th or 8th birthday, she had a Paris-themed party with faux mustaches, Eiffel Tower party favours, and a painting party at which everyone got to paint their own version of <i>la tour Eiffel</i>. When she finally saw the Eiffel Tower in person, she wept. For real ... actual tears streaming down her cheeks.<br />
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Little H's birthday always seems to fall on the first week-end of Spring Break, so travelling is not completely out of the question. For her 9th birthday, we did go to New York, a city I hated but have grown to love. We went for Spring Break, but we met friends there and had a birthday celebration at Ellen's Stardust Diner, and thus started a tradition. The following year, we went to San Francisco. Now, finally, we are in Paris. It isn't April in Paris, but it <b>is</b> magical. Unfortunately, the theme of our tour continues ... a brief stop, then moving on.<br />
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We only had 2 1/2 days and three nights in <i>la Ville-Lumiere</i>, so we each had to decide what was most important to us. For me, I hoped to see Notre-Dame de Paris and the Louvre. Little H wanted to eat French crepes and macarons, accomplished in Lyon but to be repeated in Paris, and <i>la tour Eiffel</i>. Kari chose <i>L'Arc de Triomphe</i> and Jim Morrison's grave. Our apartment was in the <i>septieme arrondissement de Paris (Palais-Bourbon)</i>, just steps from the river Seine and about 1 km from the Eiffel Tower. We arrived into Paris the first night with plenty of time to explore our neighbourhood and walk along the river at a leisurely pace. Kari and Little H rode the carousel at the tower entrance, and we took photos from every conceivable angle, waiting for the light to be just right. We closed out our first night in Paris with an amazing Italian meal in a tiny little restaurant, then had one more look at the tower before turning for home.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Le 7e arrondissement de Paris</i>. Photos RGH</span></div>
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The Louvre Palace was originally built in the 1100s and remnants of that first structure still exist today. Additional construction eventually led to it becoming the residence of French kings in 1546. After multiple expansions and renovations, its current form was completed sometime around 1682, at which time Louis XIV chose Versailles as his residence and construction slowed. It was converted for the display of art and artifacts in 1750 and officially opened as a museum in 1793. Almost 1000 years of history and construction has resulted in a building, grounds, and art collection on an enormity of scale that I can't describe and that pictures do not adequately capture.<br />
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Friends and guidebooks said that you can spend weeks going through all of the galleries and exploring the collection. We had a few hours. My preference was to explore the statuary and carvings. My mother wanted to see the paintings, and Kari wanted to see the Mona Lisa. I was out-voted, so we concentrated our time in the galleries for French and European paintings.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">The Louvre and <i>Jardin des Tuileries</i>. Photos RGH/Little H</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Some of these might be familiar. Photos RGH</span></div>
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The cornerstone for <i>Notre Dame de Paris</i> was laid in 1163 under the reign of Louis VII and continued for another 182 years with construction being completed in 1345. During the 854 years of its existence, the cathedral has undergone multiple changes and reconstructions. It was desecrated by the Huguenots in 1548, "modernized" by Louis the XIV and Louis XV, plundered and destroyed in 1793 during the French Revolution, and underwent its most recent restoration beginning in 1991. Visiting the cathedral was on our "must do" list while in Paris. We had wanted to climb the towers. Unfortunately, they were closed the day we were there. The cathedral itself was impressive, though we found the atmosphere inside very dark, cold, and foreboding. Visiting <i>Notre Dame de Paris</i> was a "must do", but we all agreed that the cathedrals we visited in Prague (Link: <a href="http://jandalsandtogs.blogspot.com/2017/09/from-prague-with-love.html">From Prague With Love</a>) and Lyon (Link: <a href="http://jandalsandtogs.blogspot.com/2017/09/vive-la-france.html">Vive La France!</a>) were more awe-inspiring.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Notre Dame de Paris</i>. Photos RGH/KAH</span></div>
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We bought a Turbo Pass for Paris that allowed us free admission, and sometimes an express line (no waiting!) to dozens of museums and attractions. The plan was to hit several sites each day, but getting up early and moving right away was becoming less and less attractive. Each day of our tour, we have been getting a later start than the one before. By the time we made it to Paris, we were definitely sleeping in. That, and no Sandemans walking tours scheduled (this made Little H very happy). As such, we couldn't pack as much into each day as we had hoped. We did manage to get into the Pere Lachaise Cemetery at closing to search for Jim Morrison's tomb. Kari had heard or read that it was difficult to find, and it certainly lived up to its reputation. Even surrounded by a fence and covered in flowers, it took some searching. We finally found it tucked in behind much larger tombs. After lighting Kari's fire, we enjoyed a quiet stroll on our way to the exit gate.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Pere Lachaise Cemetery. Photos RGH</span></div>
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At 2.5 days and three nights, Paris was our longest stopover for the entire tour. We were enjoying the 'luxury" of not having to pack up and move on. We splurged on dinner at an upscale restaurant, then spent some time wandering the neighbourhood at night. The next morning, we started late again and strolled through the streets and stalls of <i>Rue Cler</i>. We took a cruise along the River Seine, then climbed to the top of <i>L'Arc de Triomphe</i>. We finished the day at an international food and music festival, then it was home and getting ready for an early morning train ride to London.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Night wanderings. Photos RGH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Rue Claire</i>. Photos RGH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">The River Seine. Photos RGH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Scenes from <i>L'Arc de Triomphe</i>. Photos RGH/KAH</span></div>
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Paris is the "City of Lights" and it certainly lived up to its name when we were out and wandering at night. It was amazing to step out the door of our apartment, onto the street, and see the Eiffel Tower lit up against a backdrop of historic buildings and monuments. I was surprised at how much I liked this city, despite its sprawling enormity and immense crowds. It's a city that we will return to again and again.<br />
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<i style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here's looking at you, kid.</span></i></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span>RGHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273474053490558808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8979495699874059196.post-16577367361591154922017-09-20T09:23:00.001+12:002017-10-07T01:29:06.088+13:00Vive la France!<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #bf9000; font-size: large;">In the village, the peaceful village</span></div>
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<span style="color: #bf9000; font-size: large;">The lion sleeps tonight</span></div>
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<span style="color: #bf9000; font-size: large;">In the village, the quiet village</span></div>
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<span style="color: #bf9000; font-size: large;">The lion sleeps tonight</span></div>
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<span style="color: #bf9000; font-size: x-small;">- Solomon Linda, <i>The Lion Sleeps Tonight</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Saone River, Lyon. Photo RGH</span></div>
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We made it to France! This is a symbolic waypoint. It means that we have finished our swing through Eastern Europe and have turned to the West. It also marks the half-way point in our extended holiday. From here on out, we have fewer days ahead of us than we have behind us.<br />
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So far in our travels, we have had a very smooth ride and few difficulties. As we headed west and made for Lyon, we encountered our first hiccup. Prior to embarking on this part of the trip, our biggest concern was a tight train connection in Stuttgart ... 9 minutes to disembark from one train, change platforms, and board another. We had talked about being ready to step off as soon as the train stopped. That meant being packed up and standing at the doors as it pulled into the station. We looked online so we would know which track we were pulling into, and which track we needed to get to. One thing we generally do not do well is speed, but in this instance we were on the ground and moving right away.<br />
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We were at our connecting train with several minutes to spare. Our ticket said Strasbourg, but the list of stops for our train did not include Strasbourg. The train number was correct, and the other stops were correct, but no Strasbourg. We noticed this discrepancy early on our train from Munich to Stuttgart. When we asked the attendant on that train, he checked but said that he didn't think our train would be stopping as scheduled. "Usually, it does" he told us. Unfortunately, we were to discover that our suspicions were correct. Due to track maintenance/construction, our train would not be stopping in Strasbourg as scheduled. Our choices for making connections to Lyon were Mannheim or Paris. The former offered a more direct route to Lyon, but would involve multiple train transfers, while the latter was a little more out of the way, but would involve a taxi or subway ride to change train stations before a straight shot to Lyon. At first, we decided to disembark in Mannheim, but we got cold feet ... if we missed a single connection, we were screwed. In the end, we went to Paris, hopped a Metro train from <i>Gare de l'Est</i> to <i>Gare de Lyon</i> and took the TGV to Lyon.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Roman amphitheater, Lyon. Photos RGH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Basilique Notre-Dame de Fourviere</i>, Lyon. Photos RGH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Cathédrale Saint-Jean-Baptiste de Lyon</i>. Photos RGH</span></div>
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Lyon is another city that surprised us. It is old Europe ... in fact, it is ancient Europe. Founded in 43 BCE by the Roman Empire, it was originally known as <i>Lugdunum</i> and was a major cultural and economic centre. There are Roman ruins dotted throughout the city, and one of the original Roman amphitheaters is still in use for live plays to this day. As Rome turned to Christianity, so too did Lugdunum. The Lyon of today is another city of churches. Lyon is also a city divided. On the east side of the Saone, it is massive and sprawling, much bigger than we expected. And on the west side, it is the old city. Cobblestone streets, ancient walls and ruins, steep hills, and narrow alleyways. Kari's observation was that it looks like a movie set.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">The streets of old Lyon. Photos KAH/RGH</span></div>
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The transition from Eastern Europe to the West was initially planned as gap days. We intended to go to the south of France and spend a couple of days laying on the beach. Because of Munich, that plan was scrapped (Link: <a href="https://jandalsandtogs.blogspot.com/2017/09/heroes.html">Heroes</a> and <a href="http://jandalsandtogs.blogspot.com/2017/09/ein-prosit.html">Ein Prosit</a>). My mother decided to join us for Paris and London, and meeting us in Lyon was convenient for all of us. She got there before we did and had welcome bottle(s) of wine waiting for us. We skipped the walking tour and explored the city on our own.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Fun with Grand-mere/Gruyere/Grey Hair. Photos RGH</span></div>
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We have been pretty lucky with the weather so far. Days have been mostly overcast and grey. On the plus side, the cool temperatures make it ideal for walking. When the sun is out, dining <i>al fresco</i> has been the order of the day. We have had a little bit of rain, but that has just been an excuse to linger over coffee. We are adding another person to our travelling troup for the next few days; it is sure to change the dynamic somewhat. It has also forced me to slow down a little. That's not a bad thing.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>Tomorrow, Paris ...</i></b></span><br />
<br />RGHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273474053490558808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8979495699874059196.post-27776688777194764362017-09-19T18:22:00.002+12:002018-07-08T04:01:14.322+12:00Ein Prosit<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">All my memories gathered 'round her</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Miner's lady, stranger to blue water</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Dark and dusty, painted on the sky</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Misty taste of moonshine</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Teardrops in my eye</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: x-small;">- Henry John Deutshendorf (<i>aka</i> John Denver), <i>Country Roads</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Memorial to the victims of the 1980 Oktoberfest bombing. Photo RGH</span></div>
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This trip has been all about surprises, and Oktoberfest had many in store for us. First off, we thought it was pretty much a beer festival. We knew that there was a "carnival" as well, but figured it was just a side-show. As it turns out, this was one of the biggest fair grounds we have seen. For those of you in the U.S., think of a state fair; and for those of you in Toronto, think of the CNE. The size of the grounds is enormous. There are roller coasters, Ferris wheels, games of chance and skill, and carnies. Amazing how carnies the world over are pretty much the same, eh?<br />
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One of the other surprises ... John Denver songs were playing everywhere. Apparently, Henry John Deutshendorf (John Denver) is German. Who knew?<br />
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Of course there are beer tents, too. The beer "tents" are enormous buildings that seat up to 8000 people ... all drinking beer. As you might expect, in addition to providing food, they also have facilities to service 8000 drinkers (the line for the <i>Pissoir</i> was much shorter than the one for the ladies). We thought the buildings would be permanent structures, but they are not. There are 14 "tents" and building starts 90 days before Oktoberfest. The festival lasts 16 days, and all the structures are dismantled within 30 days after it is all over.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">On the ground at Oktoberfest. Photos RGH/KAH</span></div>
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On opening day of Oktoberfest, the kegs are tapped at noon and beer is served until 10:30p. Monday to Friday, beer is sold from 10a-10:30p, and on weekends and holidays, the tents serve beer from 9a-10:30p. In total, over 16 million litres of beer are served over the 16 days of the festival.<br />
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Yet again, we signed up for a Sandemans tour. Kind of an odd choice, right? Who needs a guide for Oktoberfest? We debated, hemmed and hawed, and ultimately chose to purchase tickets because the price included a reserved table in the Lowenbrau tent, a "welcome to the tour" 0.5L of beer to drink while walking around town, 2L of beer each in the tent, and 1/2 a chicken each. You scoff! Having a reserved table in the tent was worth the ticket price in and of itself. We had the table from 12:00-4:30, at which point the festivities apparently become less "family friendly." Before things got truly raucous, we left the beer tent and enjoyed the carnival rides.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">In the Lowenbrau tent. Photos KAH/RGH</span><br />
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Any time you sit down for a 4 hour drinking session with 20 other strangers, you are at risk of having things go terribly sideways. We were really lucky. The group of people we were with was absolutely amazing. They were funny and interesting, from all over the world and all walks of life. They were engaging with Jordan, and gave me a little friendly ribbing when they had to wait for me after I got separated from the group. They were people I would gladly travel with and call "friend."</div>
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Or maybe that's just the beer talking.</div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Eins, zwei, drei ...</span></i></b><br />
<br />RGHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273474053490558808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8979495699874059196.post-58036625904214380842017-09-18T07:40:00.003+12:002017-09-30T01:26:25.741+13:00From Prague With Love<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">I am a passenger</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">I stay under glass</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">I look through my window so bright</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">I see the stars come out tonight</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: x-small;">- Iggy Pop, <i>Passenger</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Prague Castle. Photo RGH</span></div>
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Prague - old Europe, walkable, relaxing, quaint. Not. We were really surprised by Prague. We knew it was old and walkable, so we assumed it was small. We knew it was a popular destination for young people travelling on the cheap, so we assumed it would have a lot of bars and clubs, be hopping at night, but otherwise relatively un-crowded. Our assumptions were all wrong. Certain things were almost stereotypical ... taxi drivers looked like Russian thugs from bad Hollywood movies and drove banged-up Mercedes. The women were out in full make-up and dressed to impress. And everyone, man, woman, young, and old smoked cigarettes. It's also the first place on our trip where we got ripped off. Our taxi ride from the train station should have cost 450 Koruna (about 18 Euros) and our cabbie charged us 25 Euros, but if that's the worse that happens to us this trip, we'll be doing just fine.<br />
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Prague is a city of contradictions. It's an ancient city at the centre of a young democracy. The people are justifiably proud of their history, but the memories of communist rule are still fresh and painful. It boasts a young, bustling population presided over by the largest ancient castle in the world. It's a city of churches in a country of atheists. Churches all over the city have been converted to other uses because the population can't sustain them. Restaurants and nightclubs, hotels and hostels, and one of them was even used as a "gentlemen's club".</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">The streets of Prague. Photos RGH</span></div>
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The Strahov Monastery was founded in 1143 by the Premonstratensians under the direction of Jindrich Zdik, Bishop John of Prague, and Vladislaus II, Duke of Bohemia. It sits atop the hill overlooking Prague near to the castle. Over the past 874 years, it has seen a variety of functions. Today it continues to serve the Premonstratensian Order and includes a Theological Hall, a commercial brewery, and a hotel. Our room was on the upper level of what was originally built as an economic headquarters building in the 17th century. It was a long climb up narrow, winding stairs to get there, but the inside of the room was stunning, and the views out the windows were breathtaking.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Strahov Monastery overlooking the city. Photos KAH/RGH</span></div>
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As usual for this trip, we had a Sandemans tour scheduled on our first full day in the city. For the first time, we were disappointed. There were 60 people for the English language tour, so they split us into 3 groups of 20. Our guide, Andrea, was Czechoslovakian (yes, I know that designation doesn't exist any more, but bear with me). On 1 January 1993, Czechoslovakia split into two countries, Slovakia and the Czech Republic. However, Andrea's grandfather was Slovak and her grandmother Czech. Her father is Czech, and her mother Slovak. So, she states that she is a proud "Czechoslovakian". She grew up under communist rule and was a teenager during the fall of communism in the late 1980s. She could have provided so much insight into the people and culture. Unfortunately, her tour stuck to the standard textbook site descriptions interspersed with a few stories of the buildings and famous people from the area. She was difficult to hear above the background noise and crowds around us. The contrast to our previous tours was made more obvious when we crossed paths with the other two groups where we overheard their guides telling dynamic historical stories and legends. Hopefully, our Sandemans experience in Prague will not be repeated elsewhere. The good thing about the tours is that they are "free" ... you tip the guide based on what you think the tour was worth. We didn't stiff her, and we paid what I think was a fair price, but I would have gladly paid more if the experience had been better.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Prague Castle and St Vitus Cathedral. Photos RGH</span></div>
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We had the rest of the afternoon to explore on our own, but decided to return to the monastery for a much needed break. We also wanted to try the famous Czech dumplings and beer at the monastery brewery. We did venture out to wander the castle grounds. Unfortunately, it was while everything was shutting down for the evening. The upside of that was the relatively smaller crowds. When we went back to the castle the next morning, it was amongst several thousand others. As Kari pointed out, the only thing that made the crowds tolerable was the absolutely enormous space in which we were all contained. Prague castle occupies an area of almost 70,000 sqm, and is the largest ancient castle in the world. Construction started in 870 with its first walled building. It has undergone numerous reconstruction and renovations, most recently in the late 18th century. The construction of St Vitus Cathedral, the centerpiece of the castle grounds and visible from throughout Prague, began in 1344.<br />
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Our rail trip through Europe was designed as a "post-card" tour ... 1-2 days in each city to see the highlights and to get a taste of the local flavours. As has been typical, our short time in Prague left us thirsting for more.</div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Na zdravi ...</span></i></b><br />
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RGHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273474053490558808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8979495699874059196.post-63480961399994894192017-09-16T00:47:00.002+12:002017-09-30T01:40:48.518+13:00Heroes<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Where are we now?</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Where are we now?</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">The moment you know</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">You know ...</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: x-small;">- David Bowie, <i>Where Are We Now?</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Holocaust-Mahnmal</i> (Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe), Berlin. Photo RGH</span></div>
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Berlin was never in our travel plans, at least not for this trip. We knew that it was a city we would want to visit, but we also knew it was a city that would need several days, so our plan was to head from Amsterdam to Prague and save Berlin for another trip. I had designed a circle around Europe ... Amsterdam, Prague, Budapest, Venice, Nice, and Paris. From there, Edinburgh, and New York City. One of the advantages of travelling long distances by train was going to be booking sleeper cars and waking up in a new city (and not having to pay for a room for the night). By going to fewer cities, and travelling at night, we could spend an extra day or two in a couple of places.<br />
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I spent days figuring out the route, train schedules, and which trains were direct so we wouldn't have to awaken for connections. I proudly presented my masterpiece to Kari. After initially giving her nod of approval, she threw a monkey wrench into the works by coming to me a few days later and announcing that she wanted to be in Munich for Oktoberfest. I went back to the drawing board with routes, dates, and schedules. No matter how I twisted and re-routed things, I just couldn't make it work and told her so.<br />
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She insisted.<br />
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I said "No."<br />
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We are going to Oktoberfest.<br />
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Ah, the best laid plans of mice and men, eh?<br />
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This required a complete redesign of the cities we would visit and the route we would take to get to them. The problem was Munich. Getting us to Munich from the east was easy, getting us out to the west at the right time just wouldn't work. The other problem was getting from Amsterdam to Prague during daylight hours. Everything I tried was going to require at least one connection and entail a lengthy layover. In the end, we decided to take the extended layover in Berlin. The new route took us to Amsterdam, Berlin, Prague, Munich, Lyon, and Paris, then on to the UK and US. There would be no long, overnight train rides.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Brandenburger Tor</i><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> (Brandenburg Gate). Photo RGH</span></span></div>
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We arrived in Berlin during that golden hour of light surrounding sunset. The Brandenburg Gate was stunning, lit by both soft orange hues from the setting sun and the warm glow of spotlights. It was poised against a deep blue, cloudless autumn sky. We saw it through the windows of a taxi doing Mach 1 along city streets. We would get to the gate the next morning, but had only the one night in Berlin, and would not get a second chance to see it lit. The photographer in me wept.<br />
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The neighbourhood of our apartment looked pretty dodgy when the taxi dropped us off. There was trash strewn along the sidewalk and graffiti covered every available space. Of course, I was nominated to brave the night and find us food. Just down the street was Piri's, a dive chicken and burger joint. I sat outside enjoying a beer and watching the local talent walk by while I waited for our order. Let me tell you, no hyperbole, that might have been the best damned burger I have ever tasted. Forever-ever. I ate Little H's leftover chicken sandwich for lunch the next day, and it was good, but it didn't hold a candle to the burger.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Street views, Kreuzberg. Photos RGH</span></div>
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Still feeling the effects of the 7-hour time difference, I was up early the next morning and out the door to shoot while the light was soft. I had thought about buying a walking stick/monopod combo when we were in Wellington and now regret not doing so. Because of camera shake, I'm discarding far too many potentially good photos.<br />
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We had another Sandemans tour scheduled for the day, but first we had to walk the 5 km into town. Kreutzberg, where we were staying, has a large Turkish population, so along the way we had some Turkish coffee to kickstart the pace. As we approached the Embassy District, the buildings became more imposing, but much newer; a reminder of the devastation wrought by the Battle of Berlin and the subsequent reconsctruction under communist rule. Just before arriving to our destination at the Brandenburg Gate, we crossed Checkpoint Charlie. Nothing there is original anymore. It's all a reconstruction and a tourist trap, but if you can blur out the neon glow provided by McD's and KFC, you can almost imagine what it might have looked like.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Checkpoint Charlie. Photo RGH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Berlin street views. Photos RGH</span></div>
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Our Sandemans tour started at the Brandenburg Gate (1791). Atop the gate sits a statue of a Quadriga bearing Eileen, the goddess of peace. She was supposed to protect the city of Berlin and keep it from harm for all of eternity. In the same square where the tour began, sits the Hotel Adlon and it's famous Royal Suite. The guest list reads like a Who's Who of 19th and 20th century great thinkers, luminaries, politicians, royalty, and Nobel prize winners. More recently, it has seen a string of names from the Hollywood elite. Unfortunately, most of us know it from the infamous Michael Jackson baby-dangling incident.<br />
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The Battle of Berlin (16 Apr - 2 May 1945) was the last major offensive battle in Europe during WWII. The German garrison surrendered on 2 May, but skirmishes continued to the west for another 6 days as German forces fought their way westward to surrender to the Allies rather than the Russians. Berlin today continues to bear the emotional and physical scars. Many of the buildings, monuments, and statuary are marked with bullet holes. Large buildings show entire sections of dark and light blocks where repairs have been made, and the Berlin Cathedral retains sections blackened by incendiary bombs. We stood in a plain gravel car park, underneath of which was Hitler's bunker. Non-descript, un-marked, all but forgotten.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Hotel Adlon. Photo RGH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Goethe in the Tiergarten. Notice the bullet pock marks. Photo RGH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Konzerthaus Berlin</i> (1821). Photo RGH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Berlin Cathedral (1905). Photo RGH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Berlin Wall looking west from the Luftwaffe building in the east. Photo RGH</span></div>
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Sunday morning, August 13 1961, the people of Berlin awoke to a new reality. Up until they went to bed on Saturday night, Berliners crossed the divide between East and West fairly regularly. Some lived on one side and worked, owned businesses, or went to school on the other. Families were often separated by what was essentially a soft border. The next morning, the border was demarcated by razor wire and armed military patrols with orders to shoot anyone who attempted to cross. Overnight, people had lost their jobs, their livelihoods, had no access to their schools, and were permanently separated from their families and loved-ones. The effects would last well beyond the toppling of the wall on 9 November 1989. Rob, our Sandemans tour guide, told a story of love, deceit, and redemption that he swore was true.<br />
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<i>On Saturday 12 August 1961, our man and his love went to their separate homes, hers in the east and his in the west, secure in their undying love and their future together. The next day, they were separated by only a few hundred meters, but were worlds apart. Nevertheless, our man vowed to wait as long as it took to be united with his love once again. They kept in contact by secret notes and by watching for each other across the </i><i>divide.</i> </blockquote>
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<i>As time went by, our man heard rumors of others obtaining travel visas to the East. Eventually, he hatched a plan to bribe a border guard to provide him with a "diplomatic" visa so he could cross the border and hold his love, if only briefly. He worked and saved, trying to ferret away the necessary funds.</i></blockquote>
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<i>Walking along the street one day, he saw a woman who exactly resembled his love. He ran to her, only to discover that the woman in question was not his love, but her doppleganger. And that's when he hatched his devious plan. He wooed her and won her over. He won over her family. He won over her friends. And when the time was right, he took her on holiday ... to East Berlin.</i></blockquote>
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<i>On that fateful day, they crossed from West to East with all the appropriate papers. At the appointed time, our man pulled the car over and pushed his new girlfriend out the door, retaining her papers. He drove around the corner where he picked up his love and made a beeline for the border, gaining safe entry to the West.</i> </blockquote>
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<i>Needless to say, the girlfriend was quite distraut. She was in what had become a foreign country, with no money, no ID, and no way to return home. As you can imagine, she raised quite a fuss. Her parents, people of some standing, also raised a fuss when her disappearance was noted. It was discovered where her predicament had landed her and she was ultimately returned to the West.</i></blockquote>
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<i>On her return home, she contacted the police and our man was arrested. He plead no-contest, was sentenced to seven months in jail, and served his time. He was released to live happily ever after with the love of his life.</i> </blockquote>
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<i>Hero or scoundrel? Fact or fairy tale? It is for you to decide.</i></blockquote>
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The wall holds such a large stature in popular culture and mythology, I was surprised at how small it is ... only 3.6 metres high. Broken and chipped away, crumbling, it was such a small thing to behold and yet an enormity to ponder.<br />
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Shortly after our visit to the wall, we were headed back to our apartment to retrieve our bags and set off for the train station. Next stop, Prague.<br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Czech, please ...</span></i></b><br />
<br />RGHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273474053490558808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8979495699874059196.post-8211693382913572602017-09-13T21:21:00.001+12:002017-09-30T01:47:07.111+13:00Walk This Way<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Exit: light</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Enter: night</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Take my hand</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">We're off to never never land</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: x-small;">- Metallica, <i>Enter Sandman</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Westerkerk reflected in the Prinsengracht canal. Photo RGH</span></div>
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We arrived from Tokyo exhausted. Our travels started in the early morning when we had to awaken in time for a traditional Japanese breakfast (Link: <a href="http://jandalsandtogs.blogspot.nl/2017/09/shitsurei-shimasu.html">Shitsurei shimasu</a>), and we didn't land in Amsterdam until 24 hours later. It did not take very long to collect our bags and get to our apartment in the Jordaan District, but Tokyo is 7 hours ahead of Amsterdam and we had a difficult time falling asleep. We were wide awake at 4 am and trying to tread lightly so as not to disturb the people in the apartment below us. Turning lemons into lemonade, we left the house for an early morning walk and photo tour of our neighbourhood. We were hoping for coffee and a pancake breakfast; unfortunately, few places here open before 9 am. We managed to find an open cafe where we got our fix and had a full breakfast to start our day.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Early morning in Jordaan, Amsterdam. Photos RGH</span></div>
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Arriving into Amsterdam, there was terrible turbulence and we stepped out of the airport into a raging rain storm. Our driver's weather forecast was disheartening; he said that the entire week called for more of the same. The owner of the apartment where we were staying met us at the door and showed us around. His prediction was much more encouraging ... clear and sunny. Fortunately, his turned out to be the correct one.<br />
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Our plan for the day involved a pancake breakfast (done) and a walking tour of the city. When we first started telling people about our Tour of Europe, 2-3 days each in 8 cities, one of the docs I worked with suggested we look at joining a Sandemans tour. It turns out that there were tours in every city we would visit save one.<br />
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From their website (Link: <a href="http://www.neweuropetours.eu/main/en/home#about-us">Sandemans New Europe Tours</a>)<br />
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<i>Every day, guides partnered with us show over 4000 people across 13 countries what the cities they call home have to offer. We believe in supporting local communities and are committed to giving a voice to these self-employed guides, who employ us to market their tours. By ensuring that every guide we work with represents our unique style of infotainment (mixing history and charismatic storytelling through the guide's own personality and flair), we've become on of the most popular tour companies in the world.</i></blockquote>
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The tour was everything we had hoped for. It started off across from the <i>Koninklijk Paleis</i> (Royal Palace), wound through the Red Light District (inset age-appropriate discussion with Little H here), and toured areas of the city we would not have otherwise seen. Along the way, we learned about Dutch architecture, culture, food, and why the Dutch are so laid back when it comes to prostitution, recreational drugs, homosexuality, and getting along with others. Our guide was funny, informative, and entertaining. We have Sandemans tours booked in Berlin, Prague, Paris, London, and Edinburgh. We even splurged for the Oktoberfest experience in Munich (a paid tour ... the others are "free").<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i style="text-align: left;">Koninklijk Paleis</i><span style="text-align: left;"> (1655). Photo RGH</span></span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1068" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZW3BHSLkofhkLPIoKqDMVFAjJlPHE472Cbep1ENVPOVz-KNcToQttqtdhK_bxEJeahrwdrI0Mr4YYrBMc2Ryql-3vBmoFuIbCI7tmBMMl2rzHcIj79xf6e-C4OKg07HlU0g0aTujy7h4/s640/_DSC4290.JPG" width="426" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1068" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxuKHHhs2V84SHmA5uMaUMZNOlJI7usQK9TdIeL4_sjqkz5BKeWeK8GB_LVc2s0IxhrNtZYq6yBvb3bTBK5-kLLxBrS9xkqHwVplwT1rk9pJEVCmLnDH4pZPbKlwbDcKTSAIqKbFPX-6g/s640/_DSC4285.JPG" width="426" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>St Nikolaaskerk</i> (1887) and <i>Oude Kerk</i> (1460). Photos RGH</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1068" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQXsy2VNrYU9tM6UasYVQnrAeAaxmQ4esFXdeerIt1J1KlLNGjcZ9tLvC9JiWcq0lwUcisxAoTWeT4-Rz0kpG0fMnCQ1lPKiOEAggt-QHXrQTjsWohvhVnbCa-tEqCi2L-QPIae3TFPH0/s640/_DSC4296.JPG" width="426" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1068" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIWW9kYnWRCr9vsAn0HOLLk2KQuGgeesITPDWs0PdNGWWwzMOrKiiijd7lWjbKjBuF85DY5ejIxeC72Bef8ljbBQv51hfPr33rJsmY_iEeteTe_L0IWp8D69Ezdyh06Z4ALqAFxxawwxM/s640/_DSC4301.JPG" width="426" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Waag</i> (1585) and <i>Oost-Inisch Huis</i> (1606). Photos RGH</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1068" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk5l00RS9gsTmSfhlmlF3ru_bCGBE7bO6yag6w2OmQZFNCgwxDRahlF10C9FtYj1KJ0L_mZbUYTfaNnEzBXmZlrEvwog1TUXFojiYZiQsAoYLbCEnc4milrRDueWiHTjKfZxbUMyXSvTg/s640/_DSC4315.JPG" width="426" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1068" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWmsV307ToQQ1uqzIuwe6LWDpwPEnYrjvGLPM42li-dvbuhfRFZZrYD7Z-fLubnb5NoN7kPBUAF47kUdZg2cFO542_QxHcA79DCi-0warzFR52g1j75DGxZD9BS_-AIt2OKymnU-Hmqxk/s640/_DSC4316.JPG" width="426" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Begjinhof Chapel (1419) and the oldest wooden house in Amsterdam, <i>Houten Huys</i> (1528). Photos RGH</span></div>
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After our guided walking tour, we decided to head to the Hilton SkyLounge for lunch and views of the city. Unfortunately, I took us to the wrong Hilton several km in the opposite direction. All was not lost though. We got to walk through some really interesting neighbourhoods, saw the grounds at the Rijksmuseum, and Little H had her picture taken on the I-amsterdam sign. Once we realised <strike>our</strike> my mistake, we took a cab to the correct Hilton where we enjoyed "traditional" Dutch snacks (fried food) and looked out over the old city.<br />
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The easiest route back to our apartment was through the Red Light District, requiring more age-appropriate discussions with Little H. We finished the day with an early dinner at our apartment and fell asleep to the sounds of another pounding rain storm.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Neighbourhood views. Photos RGH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Rijksmuseum</i> (1885). Photos RGH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">City views. Photos RGH</span></div>
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Still suffering from the ravages of jet-lag, this morning we are all up by 4:30 am again, reading, writing, and preparing for our day. Our only plan was a visit to the Anne Frank Huis. We were all struck by how many rooms there were. I knew that there was more than just her family in hiding, eight people in all, but I was unaware that they lived in that attic for 2 years. I didn't realize that they were essentially shut in for that entire time and unable to use the toilet or run water in the sinks during the daytime. I was also unaware that more than just her diary, Anne wrote short stories, fairy tales, and was even working on a novel.<br />
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We each talked a little bit about what was most memorable from our brief visit, as well as what we enjoyed the most. The one thing I regret was that I was unable to explore the various churches and cathedrals. While I don't believe in the god that inspires people to built these monuments, I can certainly appreciate their beauty. We all agreed that Amsterdam is a city that deserves repeat visits. We'll be back.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>You'll float, too ...</i></b></span></div>
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RGHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273474053490558808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8979495699874059196.post-30674488980375750142017-09-12T10:56:00.001+12:002017-09-30T02:03:58.166+13:00Shitsurei shimasu<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Buying bread from a man in Brussels</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">He was six-foot-four and full of muscles</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">I said, "Do you speak-a my language?"</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">He just smiled and gave me a [marmite] sandwich</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">And he said</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">"I [came] from a land down under"</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: x-small;">- Colin Hay / Men at Work</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Downtown Tokyo at night. Photo RGH</span></div>
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<i>Shitsurei shimasu</i> (excuse me for my rudeness). There were so many things that I wanted to expand on with my last post, but decided to cut it short to retain at least a modicum of brevity. I will touch on a few of those things here. By the very nature of our travels for the next month, posts from this trip will continue to be rather short.<br />
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This week, we started our trip home after living for most of a year in a land down under (New Zealand, not Australia). In terms of culture, food, language/slang, and daily life, NZ was completely different from our life in the US. Still, enough of it was similar to add a sense of familiarity, and over the past year we found it easy to adapt and navigate our way. Landing in Japan and getting out to Sano was somewhat more difficult. Returning to Tokyo was a Whole. 'Nother. Level.<br />
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When we first arrived in Tokyo, we were guided by signs that were written in several languages, English being one of them. In addition, Paul had sent me several links with directions for getting out to his country home. Getting train tickets in Tokyo was relatively easy; however, as we headed for the countryside and transferred train lines along the way, there were fewer and fewer recognizable English words. At our final train transfer station, there wasn't a single English character to be seen anywhere. We were in rural Japan and completely on our own. We had gotten that far, though, and we were not to be deterred. In Sano, we had a very chatty cab driver take us from Sano Station to Paul and Kim's house ... but I have no idea what he was going on about. The day truly involved planes, trains, and automobiles.<br />
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We had an amazing weekend in Sano (Link: <a href="https://jandalsandtogs.blogspot.com/2017/09/konnichiwa.html">Konnichiwa</a>), but getting back to Tokyo was a disaster. I bought tickets for the train going in the opposite direction and didn't discover my mistake until we were in Tokyo station and couldn't get out. Along the way, we missed transfers and connections. As we got closer to the city, the heat and humidity went up, and so did all of our tempers. We made it ... hot, sweaty, sore, and miserable, but we made it. Our destination was Homeikan Daimachi Bekkan, a traditional Japanese ryokan in a residential area of Tokyo. It was quiet, restful, peaceful, and just what the doctor ordered.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Homeikan Daimachi Bekkan. Photos KAH</span></div>
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Ryokan come in many shapes and sizes, but we went for one that was as traditional as possible. They were first started in the eighth century to provide accommodations for people travelling between Tokyo and Kyoto. Modern ryokan maintain many of the old traditions, including tatami matted rooms, sliding paper doors, and communal baths. You are required to leave your street footwear in the lobby and wear slippers throughout the ryokan. There are separate slippers to wear in the toilet area, and other slippers for walking through the garden. Furniture consists of low tables with cushions on which to sit, and bedding is a traditional futon. We settled into our room, bathed, and got ready to head out for dinner.<br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivaxIhYCHGt3GEVK5nZloViaQv8ieLZubNHBc8DivJEf2KLP8M1GruQSk9RBFYPSkEUHsXTc6iAC8Fu8RcUwqSLIRQP0A6Bp9YHYGRMNcLVcVpytHlbZYD7MFRpx52MWoH1HUs5t47uXM/s640/IMG_2571.JPG" width="480" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD17Qoju8L1stR2oQv31tIyEKOec2U0pzkzN7c-4EU7_R2OeX_3SzS_243gtx0o9z4LlQSUZPQPdvis53zKMRCRw43GX_CJCX0nzY1lC8jEWEh2oWf_A5mCEuLmK6zSVLK1SeaIvIrpGU/s640/IMG_2572.JPG" width="480" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Robot Restaurant, Tokyo. Photos RGH</span></div>
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Downtown Tokyo at night is crowded, busy, brightly lit by neon, and noisy ... even late on a Sunday night. It was completely opposite in every way from the quiet solitude and peaceful surroundings in which we had spent our weekend. Our destination for dinner was the Robot Restaurant. It was an experience that I don't have the words to describe. The best I can come up with is that it's like a 1980's Japanese television game show on crack.<br />
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The magical mystery tour began with our cab squeezing through a sea of people down a narrow street lit bright as day with neon signs. The blinking lights and noise were already overwhelming, but it just kept getting worse. After confirming our tickets and buying bento boxes for dinner, we descended several floors below street level down a narrow, garishly lit and colourful stairwell. We entered into what I can only describe as a miniature arena. There was a central, bare concrete floor with a ring of tiered seats around it. When the lights went off, the music started, and the people/robots started doing their thing. It was bizarre, weird, loud, and absolutely amazing. We were warned to wear earplugs but couldn't get any in time. Two days later, my hearing is still muffled. (<i>Update ... 2 wks later and my hearing is improving but not yet back to normal. I fear I may have suffered permanent damage. If you go to the Robot Restaurant, and you should, be sure to wear earplugs</i>)<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Morning next to the zen garden. Photo KAH</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Traditional Japanese breakfast. Photo KAH</span></div>
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We had hoped to do a little exploring in the neighborhood of our ryokan before departing for the day, but did not have enough time. At 7 am there was a polite knock and an invitation to sit down for a traditional Japanese breakfast. As we entered the room, we realised that this would be no 30 minute affair. We were told we could have the room for 1.5 hours, and we used nearly every minute of it. Little H impressed us with her chopstick skills ... snagging a small, slippery piece of fruit off my tray and deftly transferring it to her mouth before I could stop her. As was typical for our stay in Japan, the food was amazing.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Tokyo Metro zen masters. Photo KAH</span></div>
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After our leisurely breakfast, we had a little time to clean up and pack, then it was on the road again. We did walk through our neighbourhood, but it was while lugging our bags to the metro station. After so many mishaps and misadventures with our previous train rides, Little H approached it with quite a bit of trepidation. I have to admit that so did Kari and I. We had screwed up so many other times, that we were surprised at how smoothly it all went. It took awhile, but we learned to navigate one of the largest subway systems in the world. The subway system alone is comprised of 278 stations on 13 lines and carries 8.7 million passengers daily. The greater Tokyo train/rail system carries more than 40 million passengers daily, and we got to experience it first-hand. Ironic that we would finally become comfortable with the trains on our ride to the airport.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Big plane, big plans, living large. Photos KAH</span></div>
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When we booked our flights, Kari submitted bids to upgrade our Economy class seats to Premium Economy. The extra leg loom and more comfortable seats were going to be a godsend for the 11 hour flight to Frankfurt. That last morning, Kari received an email that we had not been awarded the upgrade. At check-in we tried again, and they did have 3 Premium Economy seats available, but they weren't together. Kari and I huddled to the side, hashed it out, and decided to pay for an upgrade to Business Class. Having made an 11 hour flight to Tokyo from Auckland, we knew that being able to lay flat and get some real sleep was going to be worth it. It was the right choice. Our entire trip from Tokyo to Amsterdam, with a layover in Frankfurt, took 17 hours. Four hours of truly restful sleep made all the difference. Double bonus, our seats were on the upper level!</div>
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In Frankfurt, I had my first ever German bier in Germany.</div>
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It's now 4:30 am in Amsterdam (11:30 am in Tokyo), and none of the three of us can sleep. I'm waiting for the sky to lighten so I can head out for photos of the canal near our apartment.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>Prost!</b></i></span></div>
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RGHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273474053490558808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8979495699874059196.post-35407510153364882072017-09-11T12:07:00.003+12:002017-09-13T08:17:53.009+12:00Konnichiwa!<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">Turning Japanese</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">I think I'm turning Japanese</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: large;">I really think so</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e69138; font-size: x-small;">- David Fenton / The Vapors</span></div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs9fLe8DuHgwuX8l0pj471qlFlCKnEnlZPivW2qzD2dTCO7p6Nz9bizqu2ql1frdixPfz3T81Q7-aSK7-KfPNKzkIFZNiem_2yd-LGhTVD_HqDC69Au0W8JG4IbLTEiT0ymAkVBmPH31g/s640/IMG_1426.JPG" width="640" /></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Paul and Kim's Sano farmhouse ca 1940s. Photo permission P. Fradale</span></div>
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We started our journey home with a "short" 11-hour hop to the Northern Hemisphere, landing in Tokyo. We have never been to Asia before, nor do we speak Japanese, so navigating customs, immigration and the railway system proved a bit of a challenge, but one we were up to. Our destination was an 1890's farmhouse in Sano, Tochigi Prefecture. Good friends from my years living in Hawaii purchased this country home 2 years ago and have spent virtually every week-end since then bringing a new luster to an old property.<br />
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Paul and Kim spent two years looking for just the right place, researching over 300 properties online and personally visiting more than 30. The 125 year-old farmhouse they eventually purchased had a great location in a town they liked. It had been continuously occupied over 90 years by three generations of the same family. It sits on 3000 sqm (3/4 acre) and the yard was unkempt, overgrown, choked with bamboo, and surrounded by crumbling walls. Inside, every room was stuffed to over-flowing with a century's worth of accumulated junk and detritus.<br />
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The owner had offered to have the house emptied and the contents hauled off to the junkyard but they decided to buy the property "as is", including everything inside. As they cleared the space, room by room over a period of months, they discovered hidden treasures and pieces of Japanese history. There were photos, personal letters, textiles, and art work. Furniture pieces over 100 years old came to life under Paul and Kim's careful restoration. Paul has a long-standing interest in wood-working and shows a fine touch with hand tools, producing beautiful pieces of art and furniture, but his skills will be challenged by this house for at least another decade. Kim has shown an incredible patience and subtle hand restoring other aspects of their home.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Sano farmhouse Oct 2015 before renovations were started. Photo P. Fradale</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">90 years and three generations of accumulated stuff. Photos P. Fradale</span><br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="716" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh4lWz5-wgmqCVbQOlAlT5COyXuZA77EdkE6FwFR1GpCKZ44E_HnT_8yujmqSS-yQwxubNsDGzvLBfe6EZFeIp6lEp5foQbg1ZX_Sjxbf1k_e43o0WVeQWHhpJ__m9SKYfEZAt_-r-BMM/s640/IMG_1436.JPG" width="476" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3fv0720wMCe5A5H4mccJSt630ItKU8DGDqqIJ5uG5LNjZRv6ru0LNhCPaUSCoSLerUHrlHdos4wCytzAFHAHXXNi-xmfU9OgxYmLLn-ktxHoFy2ReAh_uiAEDebfmr1sgJz03oS_z4_c/s640/IMG_1424.JPG" width="426" /></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Keyaki</i> (Japanese elm) <i>tansu</i> and <i>kaidandansu. </i>Photos P. Fradale</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Two years later. Photos RGH</span></div>
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Kim's uncle <i>Oji-san</i> visited them in October of last year. He is a master carpenter and showed Paul some of the older joinery techniques built into their house. They pulled up the floor boards and inspected the foundation of the house. It is of two styles; the "newer" one using entire logs for beams. The neighbors have been quite appreciative of Kim and Paul's efforts. They stop by often to bring gifts from their gardens, or just for a visit and a chat.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Neighbour <i>Warita-san</i> stopped by for a visit with <i>Oji-san</i>. Oct 2016. Photo P. Fradale</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Oji-san</i> shows how it's done. 100 yo hand-cut joinery. Photos P. Fradale</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Inspecting the floor-boards and foundation. Oct 2016. Photos P. Fradale/K. Fradale</span></div>
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While much of what was left in the house was eventually hauled off to the landfill, Kim and Paul have spent much of their time restoring and preserving the history of the house and of its former owners. They have painstakingly cared for furniture, artwork and textiles, and the letters and photos documenting the family's life and experiences. They found a packet of post-cards from the pre-war years, dozens of photos chronicling the life of the family from the early 1900s through to the 1970s, and even WWII artifacts and newspapers. They aren't just restoring an old home, they are preserving history.<br />
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There is so much work to be done on the house, and they have big plans for more than just the basics. Kim thanked us for "camping" with them, but it was so much more than just camping. It has already become a home. You can see it in the little touches of restoration and the care they both have taken with exacting detail. Kim must have spent hours replacing the paper on all the sliding doors and cabinet doors and they have turned out beautifully ... fresh and clean but not in any way out of place.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Aunt Yuki and Takako sort through the kimono in the kiritansu. Photo P. Fradale</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Two of the dozens of personal letters and post-cards Kim and Paul have found. Photos P. Fradale</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">The first photo is from 1913, the second from 1918. Photos permission P. Fradale</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Hayakawa Heijuurou just after the war and 1950's in the garden in front of the house. Photos permission P. Fradale</span> </div>
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<img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="519" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Qvi6KMyCvxqmt7NPxQE8I6jK9mYBfODz-pvBoXnGmfSg74nJuFcotmxJOrJJ2F6QBEmQJrpRZX4nm9PHgefx6ivq2Bph3vKX4Q9CI9MND_xekhEonZzeUbaK0Vo9MsqLy9M8H1lOu_g/s640/IMG_1445.JPG" width="276" /> <img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuf-r-mHtz9WhncTfWaXo0HueRK4KcCWFo8e_bsab6Ky-GaCjAi6cJKdtQ_9ETdxnSe4ruyWpe8tFKCjRlWANL-yNB9VFMsYItURLSTGx_JToGgyQS_ZZ6k6NGAxYVUCN3595FUW1YClI/s640/IMG_1443.JPG" width="426" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Hayakawa-san</i> as a young man and in the 1970s with his grandson. Photos permission P. Fradale</span></div>
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Paul and Kim described with obvious passion their successes and future plans for their amazing home. They treated us to fantastic food, wine, and company. They also showed us their surrounds, including a trip up to Nikko and Chuzenjiko/Oze Nat'l Park. At Chuzenjiko we chased waterfalls and went for a walk near the lake. We saw an elusive venomous snake, deer, and wild monkeys. Paul promised us a short 5k walk back to the car park. Our tired legs and sore feet hinted at something much different. Once we got back, it was confirmed that our "short" walk was actually 9.7k.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Chasing waterfalls. Photos RGH</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Chuzenjiko National Park. Photos RGH</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Yamakagashi</i> (venomous colubrid). Photos RGH</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Just monkeying around. Photo RGH</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Forest ghosts. Photo RGH</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">The Japanese Sasquatch is apparently much less hairy than the North American version.</span></div>
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Sano is located in Tochigi Prefecture, approximately 70 km north of Tokyo. It isn't very big (pop 118K) and it is best known for its outlet mall, but like many smaller cities it has a number of hidden gems, including Isoyama Benzaiten Temple. It is also historically well known for its local variety of ramen. We didn't get a chance to try the ramen, but we did take a bicycle ride to the temple. The temple is thought to have been built during the Kamakura Period (1185-1333), or possibly during the Heian Period (794-1185). It is somewhat unusual in that it is protected by a snake deity rather than dragons.<br />
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<span style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Isoyama Benzaiten Temple. Photos RGH</span></span></div>
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After a too short week-end in Sano, we were off to Tokyo for the night. We went to the (in)famous(?) robot restaurant for dinner and a show. It was bizarre, and weird, and loud, and an absolutely amazing spectacle. I would highly recommend it ... bring ear-plugs. We ate a traditional Japanese breakfast at our ryokan, then headed for the airport.<br />
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If you ever find yourself in Japan, having friends with a 100+ year-old farm house in the countryside and a taste for fine whiskeys and wine might be to your advantage.<br />
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<i><b><span style="font-size: large;">Arigatou ...</span></b></i><br />
<i><b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></i>RGHhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12273474053490558808noreply@blogger.com0