25 JAN 09 (sun) 

BACK TO THE GRIND 

It's just after 9 am on Sunday morning. Today's sunlight is beaming itself into our spare bedroom onto the right side of my body and it is making my skin feel clammy. I'm 4 cups of coffee into it already and trying to get creative about this post, but the law of diminishing return is having its way with my body and now my stomach is feeling kind of yuck. All I can hear outside is the rustle of these palm/flax like leaves brushing against our window. They are nice to look at the city through but are surprisingly noisy. 

The other day I had to do some pruning because the branches were so thick and were in need of thinning. I couldn't actually see out of the window. But all I had to cut them with was a domestic, hand-held meat saw I found in one of the kitchen drawers. It did not make for an easy operation. I ended up fully extended, half way out of the window grabbing the neck of the branch with one hand and sawing ferociously with  the other. I made enough noise that the guy living below us poked his head out of his window to see just what was going on. That's when I realized that maybe I shouldn't be hacking up this tree and that maybe it was some kind of violation to our lease... But I was already into it and almost finished so I introduced myself and gave a Cosmo Kramer-like smile to him and kept on with it. 

Heather's sleeping this morning in; it's one of her favorite things to do on Sundays. She deserves it after her first full week back to the Adventures of Nursing. It's been fun getting up with her early in the mornings and getting going again; except I don't really go anywhere yet. So I either walk her to work or to the end of the drive way. I've been spending the majority of time living like how I imagine writers or comedians do; lounging around, drinking lots of coffee and taking their sweet ass time doing anything but mostly nothing. 

OUR FIRST TRAMP

Today we are planning on going out for a day hike along a coastal trail walk above a nearby small town. It should be a nice, mellow exercise unlike what we did last week. Last week we tagged along with a local 'tramping' club. Tramping is what we thought the Kiwi's equivalent  was to our 'hiking.' We learned that is not. Apparently there are several degrees of hiking. Each with a slightly different name but each with a considerable difference in danger and difficulty. 

Going into great description would take too long for what this is worth but what we basically thought was going to be an easy/moderate day hike turned into a 12 mile, cross terrain exercise in bushwhacking/orienteering. The excursion would have made Jeff Spaulding proud; It was right up his alley.  

The group leader was eye-balling us as we arrived at the trail head and stepped out of the car. (Well, actually it was not a trail head at all. It was literally a wide shoulder along a gravel road in the middle of nowhere.) He advised us that next time we should re-consider many of our gear choices i.e. actual hiking boots, gators and walking sticks. All of which are products both of us had previously thought were ridiculous things specifically produced for yuppies and middle-aged woman who really want to look they're hiking up a storm when they go out for their yearly 3 mile hike. Neither of us had ever found much use for these things before. But after about 2 minutes, our feet were soaking wet from crossing two streams and found that there is really no such things as 'trails' here but open terrain 'routes.' (this excludes the Great Walks that are heavily traveled i.e. the Milford Sound Track and Routeburn Track.) 

 

It was this all day. 

with several water crossings. 

And if wading through chest-high brush isn't enough to deal with, NZ is the home to 12 of 14 varieties of this plant; "the Spaniard." Adrian, the group leader, told us to be weary of these tough, poking and stubborn SOB's. And he was right because they were everywhere. They were not shy about letting you know that they were there. I quickly figured out how they earned their names... 

Adrian, the group leader, comes up to me when we stopped for this view and says, "You see that?" 

I say, "The view? Yeah, it's incredible."

He says, "No! That right there. Do you know what it is?" 

Feeling kind of confused I say, "What what is?"

He says, "Ah come on, that right there! It's just out there like a bulldog's balls!" 

And then I was really confused and said nothing but looked out onto the scene like I was impressed by it but was still not sure what I was supposed to see. 

After a second he shouts proudly, "It's a fault line!" 

He was full of all sorts of encyclopedic facts. And me being me, got to hear about them all day. He told me all sorts of random old man shit like:

Sydney Cotton - the original james bond

How the Japanese attacked New Zealand

How the British invented navigation

How to read a map

How glaciers are formed and how they create different moraines 

How he doesn't like to talk to his wife because she's Australian

How to walk down a steep hill covered by loose rock

How not climb a steep hill covered by loose rock

How hiking in NZ is very different from hiking in America

How hikers die all the time because they wear cotton clothing

The top 4 reasons people live in survival situations

How he can wear his rubber boots for 4 years before he needs new ones

How he upgrades his equipment by adding a material that is better than GORE-TEX

How I need to tie my gloves down to my jacket or they'll blow off like a fart in the wind

How the British soldiers invented balaclavas when they fought the Russians

How Prime Minister Chamberlian was actually a hero by fostering the Munich Agreement

How 40 of the 44 US Presidents were Masons

How he is a Mason

How his favorite book was written by a Kiwi woman in 1887 called The River Runs My Life 

This guy chewed my ear all day long. I absolutely could not get away from him. And Heather was no help. She could of rescued me but didn't. I think she liked it. As soon as he'd start coming my way, she'd high-tail it up or down the trail as quick as she could. I'd try to dodge each interaction but I couldn't think of any socially acceptable ways out. At one point, he told a joke to me. I am embarrassed to admit this but it was actually a joke from my repertoire. It was the one about the two cannibals who were eating a clown and how the one cannibal looks up at the other asks 'does this taste funny to you.' 

All Heather could do at that point was look at me with a smirk that said, you two are perfect for each other. I think this was her favorite part of the day. 

Almost to the top!

But make no mistake about it, it was very fun. The view from the top was well worth it! That's the reservoir that provide power to Christchurch; Adrian told me that.

On our way back down. 

Taking a snack break back down at the bottom. Behind me, just above my head, is a median moraine! (Not the hill but the little ridge below it.)

BUSKERS FESTIVAL 

The World Buskers Festival is going on right now in Christchurch (ChCh). A Busker is a street comedian or performer. It's been great. All over town right by our place there are performers doing all sorts of crazy stuff. Some are good and others are not so good. We've seen a guy do a whole juggling act on a tight rope. We've seen a guy put his body through a de-stringed tennis racket. We've seen a contortionist stuff her body into a small box. We've seen a girl spin 50 hula hoops around her body at once. We've seen a viking swallow a big sword. And we've also seen a guy change a diaper of a baby doll while spinning a dodge ball on stick in his mouth but I'm not sure that was that cool... 

Buskers Park at Victoria Park near our place. 

This is the Avon River. It meanders through the city and you can take a Punt ride. 

Cathedral Square

The best performer we saw yesterday was this woman who climbed up this huge piece of cloth fabric and spun all around in it like a ballerina while being suspended 20 feet in the air. It was crazy. The cloth was all tangled up all over her body and she just used it was everyday gymnast equipment. It reminded me of Cirque du Soulie stuff. 

Another cool one was this contortionist lady. 

You can see her all balled up in the box. Wild, wild stuff!

CULTURAL DIFFERENCES 

For as similar as things seem here compared to the US, I'm really appreciating the distinct differences we are coming across. For example, at work, Heather has not yet been pooped on, screamed at or been harassed by a patient's family member. She has not had to deal with drug seeking hood rats or morbidly obese fatsos who blame their situations on the 'sugar diabetes' and not on their self indulgent, present minded lifestyles. What's mainly different thus far is the attitude people have towards healing and comfort after a physical trauma. I guess she is used to patients expecting a luxury hotel experience and feeling entitled to the comforts of home. Of course keep in mind that she worked in a ghetto fabulous hospital and saw the insurance-less side of society. 

The first blaring difference in this patient attitude happened the other day. One of her patients was an 83 old farmer who had surgery on his left foot after a deep wound (an ulcer) had caused some serious skin damage. I guess this kind of thing is common for old people with really poor blood flow. (Officially it's caused by peripheral vascular disease.) After the surgery, the doctor was in inspecting how it was healing. Everything looked good  but, just for laughs, he thought it would be good to check out the other foot and noticed a small but irritated wound on the heel. Upon looking at more, the doc realized that this wound was much deeper than it initially appeared.  He told the old man that he'd have to come back for another surgery. 

The old man wasn't too happy to hear this and asked if there was anything else that could be done. He said that he'd rather cut the foot off than have to come all the way back for another surgery. The doc thought about it for a while. He thought out loud of possible alternatives like special dressings or just letting it be but ultimately decided that the ulcer needed to be taken care of. The old man's daughter who was in the room was encouraging her dad to just have the surgery. But the old man was defiant and insisted that it was now or never. The doc obliged but warned that he wouldn't be able to put any anesthetic  pain cream on it because he didn't want the good skin to be negatively affected. The old man didn't mind. 

And so with teeth clenched and face grimaced, the doctor cut a one by one by one inch hole circling the ulcer into this old man's foot using a scalpel.  Blood came pouring out of the hole like the way it looks on TV; like when the bad guy gets shot in the chest. But the old man just toughed it out with no pain meds. The whole time, the daughter was like "you can do it dad!" and "good on ya old man!" And within minutes the whole deal was done. The old man didn't seem any less bothered. I guess he even told the doc, "good on ya mate; it has to hurt if it's gonna heel! You did what had to be done!" 

Now that's crazy. 

Another example of attitudes toward health care that seems to be different is the concern  and promotion of preventative healthcare. They seem to be encouraged instead of sheltered and kept under lock and key; a lock shaped like an expensive insurance policy and a key shaped like the cash-money symbol. Take for example this free sunscreen kiosk put up by the New Zealand Cancer Society. Now I could be wrong and I could be ignorantly jaded but it seems like some loaded or important person who lost a tragic battle with a rare disease has to pass away before any kind of public awareness campaign gets launched by a privately fund-raised group. 

But again, I don't know, we just thought it was cool there was free sunscreen available. I had to learn the hard way that it's definitely important here! Check out my back...

I laid down at a water park for literally 10 minutes and got scorched! You can see where I self applied some earlier in the day around my nape and upper shoulders. This is bad! 

BREW MASTER

I like the booze but it's not cheap here. So I've taken matters into my own hands and have started brewing my own libations. These hand crafted master-pieces will likely taste like pond water but I have ensured that they will do the trick. There's nothing a little extra sugar won't fix...

Until next time! 

M&H

The Pisser Awards

10 JAN 09 (sat) - The first time I became aware that public restrooms were more than just places to relieve one’s self was at 1:17 am June 23^rd, 2001. I was 19 and had just arrived at Fort Benning, Georgia to report for ARMY basic training. I was delirious, grimy and had been holding a stinging full bladder since I got off the 6:30 plane at the Atlanta airport. The opportunity to ‘utilize the latrine’ never presented itself because as soon as I stepped off the plane, the herding began; it was a constant line from the airport to the in-processing station at the base. 

I don’t remember much about that night outside of the yelling, standing statue-still and making absolutely no eye contact, but I do remember the moment that I will forever think of as the defining moment I became an adult. Some people believe their defining moments are leaving home for the first time or being able to buy a pack of cigarettes or taking out their very first high interest line of credit or getting their drivers license to run over stop signs (and flee the scene) or getting married or living in their first rented house with a group of equally disgusting roommates (with one guy living in the closet) or losing their virginity, but mine was walking from the ‘bay’ (the open room with rows of bunk beds and lockers) into that latrine (ARMY for restroom) and seeing a row of totally stall-less toilets against the back  wall with a guy sitting on one, shorts around his ankles, just taking care of business like it was no big deal; just right out in the open! 

I couldn’t believe it. My morale was instantly devastated and I knew there was no going back. It was the first time I felt that the world was so big and that I was so small. In that instant, my whole universe was turned upside down. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I knew that joining the military meant that I was gonna have to sacrifice most of my individuality but this was the bottom line.

I don’t know much, but I believe there is just something uniquely private about the discarding-body-waste-process and all that it entails that doesn’t need to be the knowledge of other people. It is absolutely in the same category as each of our own quiet private moments we keep secret like being-naked-activities, keeping a diary, and the whole secret ‘closet snacking’ habits that women have but will never admit to. Going to the bathroom is an ordeal that requires baseline essentials. The simplest of these basics are privacy, comfort and, for the love God, CLEANLINESS! If one or more of these is missing from the equation, the entire experience is nothing less than demeaning.

Since that defining moment, I have been incredibly aware of public restrooms. In fact, my whole assessment of an establishment is solely based on the conditions of its restroom. A restaurant can have good drinks, great food and an interesting environment but if it’s lavatories are nastified than the whole bet’s off. If a place isn’t taking care of its customer’s most primary needs, what is it really taking care of? So what, a place has fancy schmancy mood lighting and unreasonably priced rolled truffled pasta pesto sushi fondu served with an endangered animal and that’s supposed to impress me? No!  

And what about restrooms in transit centers? (i.e. airports, bus stations, rest stops) Las Vegas slot machines offer better odds than getting a respectable seat in these places. (I think Dane Cook has a fitting rant on this one: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HCWexPNo4SQ&feature=related )

It’s not that I’m some sort of paranoid obsessive-compulsive cleanliness freak (well at least not the clean freak part); we all have to deal with public restrooms. We all have our comfort boundaries. And I bet every single one of us has a horrifying and/or embarrassing public bathroom story in some form or another.

At this point you are probably wondering, what gives? Why am reading about Mike’s neurotic thoughts on restrooms? You’re thinking, “I opened up their blog to see how Heather is doing and I am being forced to see this?”

And you are not wrong to be thinking this; it is strange and gross. But these encounters have been constant on our trip. We have seen everything from places justly described as ‘clean’ to ‘not even being worthy of doing that, in there.’

Before we left on this excursion, I kind of had the feeling that we would be seeing some interesting places. Actually, my thought was “What kind of disgusting nasty toilets would we see on our trip?” So I have been dutifully documenting the good, the bad and the ugly all the way form Portland, Oregon, across the USA, our stops in South East Asia, to Christchurch, New Zealand.  All of which are displayed below!

Circus Circus Casino, Las Vegas, NV - The thing about this urinal is that it's waterless. This comes as no surprise seeing as Vegas is the desert and water usage is a big deal. Waterless urinals save a tremendous quantity of water; water that is drinking water no less. Not that you'd drink water out a toilet but that's just it: Why does toilet water have to be drinking water quality? How much good, savored water is just thrown down the drain each each day, let alone each year, just to carry away turds? (I have to be careful, I could start preaching sustainable building system real quick... I'll save you the boredom.)

Circus Circus Room, LV, NV - This was last clean toilet we saw all the way across the US. (This is, of course, does not include the baths of friends. Friend and family bathrooms were off limits. I assure you they did not compare.)  

Rest Stop - No Where, New Mexico along Route 66 - Another waterless urinal. 

State Line, Texas Panhandle along route 66 - As I awoke from a nap, we were crossing the state line from NM into TX and I simply could not help myself; I had Heather pull over and I properly introduced myself to Texas by taking a piss next to the welcome sign. I waved to the passing semi trucks but their hand signals weren't as welcoming as I was imagining the Big Ole Texas Welcome would be!

Madeline Island County Camp Ground, Apostle Islands, Wisconsin - This pic reminds me that the major descriptor thats missing from these photos is the kind of stench that came with these encounters. I almost dropped dead when I walked into this one. 

Random College Bar, Gainesville, FLA - Why is there always one urinal closed up in college bars? My suspicion is urgent, explosive vomit...  

Honeymoon Bay, Koa Tao, Thailand - It did come as a bit of a shock to learn that the bathrooms in most rooms we stayed in had shower/toilet combos. The shower head in this one is opposite the sink. Yeah, this was a pit of nastiness.  

Random Restaurant Bathroom, Koa Tao, Thailand - A urinal troff... neat. 

Mr. J's Bungalows, room E1, Koa Tao - This entire room was covered, floor to ceiling, with ceramic tile. Again, nasty. 

Funny translation. 

random room we stayed in Koa Samui, Thailand - This was the first actual flushing toilet we saw in a while. 

Just funny that its exposed piping; a common thing in Thailand.

You never see this kind of stuff anywhere else! 

Koa Phangan, Thailand - I wonder at what point during building that somebody decided, "yeah, lets keep the rock. Go ahead and put the toilet on it." 

There were funny pleadings to not flush toilet paper. 

This bathroom was horrendous. That's black mold growing in the corner!

What the heck happened to the door?

Was the door kicked in here a bunch too? What is it about drunkeness and kicked in toilet stall doors?

The thing is, this picture fully describes the way you feel in this bathroom. 

I don't know why now, but we didn't mind taking showers in this bathroom...

A  pleading in thai.

I was a little intoxicated when I used this toilet. I didn't notice that the festive seat cover wasn't actually attached to the bowl before I sat down. I must of been coming in with a lot of momentum because the cover acted like a sled and I ended up pinned between the wall and the toilet. I'm glad nobody was there to see it. That would have been embarrassing...

You know, there should really be instructions for some of these! 

(Actually, attached to the back of the stall doors, in many bathrooms that had western style seated toilets, there were instructions in the native language on how to use them. This was interesting to me because the concept seems fairly intuitive.)

Heather actually had the most rewarding experience involving the cultural differences between the western-style seated toilet and the eastern-style squat use... She had a first hand view of the intersection where these two worlds collide; a universal biological function lost in cultural interpretations. She was walking into the women's bathroom at the Kuala Lumpur International airport looking for an available stall. As she passed the first few, the doors were wide open. Occupying the first three, there was a woman and two small children. Each of them were squatting with their feet on the toilet seats, facing the opposite direction. 

I mean, can you imagine walking in on that? What about imagining Heather's reaction! I can just see her marching in there, like she's on a mission (how she usually goes about), and seeing it but then trying to play it cool in a way that only Heather cannot! The best part is that Heather, as shocked and confused as she could be, actually made eye contact with the woman who was peering over her right shoulder from the squat position...

awkward...

Computer Lab, Chinatown, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia 

Secret Garden Room 4, Bali - It was nice to be able to flush our tp again. 

Open air piss trough on a ferry in Thailand. Apparently it's cool for men to urinate freely in public... but looking at this pic now and thinking about the situation maybe this wasn't a urinal at all... It was out in the open and I didn't see anybody else use it the two times I walked by...  

Hmm. 

Did I pee in a wash basin? 

Ah well, at least the view was good! 

It's difficult to tell by looking at this pic but this toilet was literally underneath a staircase. I am not a tall guy (I go about 5' - 8" on a good day), but I absolutely could not stand straight up in this room. I had to take a knee to make it happen here; I didn't feel like I had the range to engage the target.

I have to wash my hands with bleach every time I look at this pic.

Funny. 

Ew. 

Festive aloe vera plant. 

Where does the waste go on airplanes? And how the heck is possible to do the 'mile-high club' thing in one of these? I can barely wash my hands without banging the heck out of my elbows.

I double checked to make sure this seat was secured. I now fear all festive toilet seats. What's the point of trying to glorify their function?

I saved the absolute worse for last! This literal shit hole was the only available men's toilet on the ferry boat between Bali and Lombok. When I walked into this bacteria paradise, there was an Indonesian man pissing right onto the floor. He didn't even try for the toilet, but I guess it's hard to distinguish what's what in this case. After he was finished, he scooped a bucket full of water from the blue basin and dumped it onto his yellow pool. At that point the ferry was rocking side to side from the waves so I had to wait for the pool to run all the way over to the left to tip toe across and up onto the platform where the two holes were. All I was wearing for foot cover was flip flops. I knew the loss of surface toe-skin was possible but it had been a long ride and I'd been pounding water all day so I had no choice. My feet have not been the same.