Wonder Downunder (Things a North American should know before heading to Australia)

Axioms and Oz-isms

The roadways

  • They drive on the left side of the road and think that is normal.
    • This is a danger even as a pedestrian. Definitely look both ways before crossing a street.
    • Be very mindful when cycling in street traffic. A car could come at you from any direction.
  • “Bitumen” – asphalt on a road
  • Road cameras are prevalent.
  • “Roo bar” – a frame of heavy metal piping on the front of some cars and trucks to minimize the damage to vehicles in a collision with kangaroos.
  • Despite “watch out for koalas” warning signs on the highways, and special wire mesh aids to assist them to cross highway dividers, koalas are very hard to spot. We saw lots of warning signs but never actual saw a koala in three weeks on the continent.
    • They are apparently perpetually stoned on their diet of eucalyptus leaves.
  • Cyclists have extreme right of way considerations.
    • Motorists must allow at least a meter of space before they’re allowed to overtake.
  • Pedestrians have no special rights.
  • It’s a moving violation to stick you hand out the window of a moving vehicle except for purposes of signaling.
  • Mustang GTs are somewhat exotic.
  • Sunroofs and convertibles are surprisingly rare.
  • Full-size pickup trucks and vans are exceptionally rare.
    • Work and tradesman vehicles are smaller pickups or El Camino-style cars.
  • No turns on red light permitted, unless there’s an arrow.

Structures

  • Architecture – most houses are built of stone or brick.
    • Very few wood frame.
  • Lots of solar panels on individual homes. Government subsidies.
  • Standard household electrical service is 240 volts, twice that of North American standard.
    • It will fry your travel hairdryer if you have the voltage selector set wrong.
    • Oddly, low voltage consumers like tablets, cell phones and laptops have no troubles. They all use transformers which can handle the a/c and provide the safe voltage.
  • Interior electrical wall boxes (light switches and outlets) are typically
    horizontal.
  • Light switches are more compact and switch counter intuitively.
    • Press down to switch on. Up to switch off.
  • Power outlets generally include a power switch.

Commerce

  • Dosh  (cash)
  • Lots of bakeries
  • Price is the price – taxes are included in sticker price.
  • No tipping expected.  (Some tip jars are seen.)
  • Hospitality and services cost more (probably because wages are higher to compensate for no tipping).
  • Some services (like haircuts) cost a little more on Sundays and holidays.

Terms probably unique to Australia

  • “Mozzie”  – mosquito
  • “Bin” – trash or garbage can
  • “Lolly” – any candy
  • “Frothy” (Froffy) – beer
  • “Sunnies” – sunglasses
  • “Surfie” – surf boarder

Terms maybe not unique to Australia

  • “Long black” – black coffee
  • “Flat white” – like a small latte but smaller and made with espresso
  • “I reckon” – I remember/think

The Axle Bearing

My father-in-law is a big man, machine worker hands, measurements of Fred Flintstone, serious bouncer material if he wanted to be, even now. Throughout his fifties and early sixties, he weighed in at about 290. He carried it well but he was feeling a continuous malaise that wasn’t there earlier and the sense something was missing or possibly displaced from his life.

He went on a controlled diet program (Ideal Protein) for a long six months.  I think that’s an eternity of discipline, but he did it.  At the end, he had not made his goal but had lost 75 lbs.  Excellent.  It restored his energy and he looked better, still big but less portly and more majestic. (Don’t tell him I described him this way.)

Some months later, he was working in the machine yard and had to carry a new axle bearing, still in the box, to the shop. He grabbed it up easy enough, but as he walked, he started to strain and labor with the thing cradled in his arms. When he finally wrested it up onto the workshop counter, he remarked that it had been more effort than he had expected and by reading the packaging, learned that this item was exactly 75 lbs.

POW!  What a revelation.  The same amount of dead weight that had tested his stamina over the course of the past 60 seconds he had been carrying around every minute of every day for decades! This perspective had a very profound effect on me.

Whenever I see a heavy person, whether their mobility is good or compromised, I’m now sensitive to the energy required to support and maintain motion of that kind of mass.  (Mass being the scientific definition.)

Recently, I noted the bare calves of a young man in shorts. Even though he was likely 300 lbs, he carried himself quite well. As he walked, the muscle definition in his legs, particularly in his calves, was profound.

While his leg muscles were remarkable, the rest of his body shape indicated he was not a bodybuilder. (Bulbous. Flabby. Fairly spherical, actually.)

I can’t help but wonder what kind of high performance athletics those powerful legs could be put towards if this young fellow was able to shed the same 75 lbs as my father-in-law had shed. Without doing any mathematical calculations to support the notion, I’m thinking the power those legs exert just getting out of a chair would be enough to launch a lighter person out of the starting blocks at Olympic-qualifying speed.

When you ponder such things regarding your own situation, they become things you can fixate on to get you through the trials of resisting unnecessary eating and snacking. If you were able to set aside an axle bearing you have been carrying around, how much quicker would your step be? How lithely could you then scooch through a closing elevator door? Or how dramatically would your moves on the dance floor dial up?

Think about stuff like this. It’s your only defense against the urges to snack.

Remember this: the pleasure of eating something lasts only for a few moments, but the delights of maintaining an ideal weight keep coming back every minute you look in the mirror, have to dash for the bus, have to endure comments like “you’re looking good”.  Those are the moments that really linger.

“The Dinner”

A novel by by Herman Koch

The Dinner is is a challenging book mixing up elements of family relationships, mental illness, politics, parenting, adoption, the teaching profession and murder, told through the eyes of a complex and troubled man. It’s not an easy sell, not a comfortable story to experience yet I was pulled through to its conclusion and felt a strange fulfillment despite a cast dominated by unlikeable people doing terrible things.

How did that happen, I ask. Not sure, but I can speak to some tangible aspects of this thin but gripping story.

Dense storytelling

Any good yarn reveals the asphalt in the road for you to follow. It may happen a foot at at time or a mile at a time at the author’s discretion. The storyteller navigates you down this road providing sufficient detail to keep you interested but still moving along.  The road may take you in the wrong direction at times, as with a murder mystery thriller story – “oops, you were thinking this guy was the killer but it looks like he turned up dead.” and you turn around and find the true road. (and the true killer.)

When you look back on that road, that is the narrative thread of the story, the overall thing you remember and either like or dislike.

Some fiction, like this one, reveals the asphalt in patches, segments, but also patches and segments of the ditches and fields surrounding.  Sometimes those patches in the ditch come first, sometimes after, sometimes well afterward, reaching backwards down the road you’ve already traveled to reveal an element of ditch that we had gone by.

The result is a very solid road to travel upon, shored up firmly on all sides. The Dinner does this through Paul, our narrator, and his tendency to wander away from what’s going on over to things that he’s reminded of: to flashbacks or opinions on any given circumstance. This makes a firm surface to travel upon and look back on.

Menu driven

The story is segmented by logical breaks you might find in a fine meal: aperitif, appetizer, main course, etc. A nice little story telling device that gives you a reference point in time.

Pieces of story are thrown down that bring us to conclusions, sometimes multiple conclusions.  Agonizingly and wonderfully, the story takes its time in confirming which conclusions are correct or even relevant.

As expected the main course is the longest, most detailed, but I was not pleased that this course hardly dwells on the story line – it is primarily a combination of conjecture and backstory.

Judging a book by its summary

I’m not sure if it’s a valid rating point but I have to note that in The Dinner, you have to read to halfway through the book just to catch up with where the sleeve’s summary took us before we even cracked the cover.  Hence, it seems a long journey to learn the details of what we already knew.

Early on, our narrator states that he wishes only to relay what he saw and heard this night and not dwell on unimportant things.  By the time he says this, we have endured about 40 pages of stuff wherein nothing really happens.  It’s no wonder it takes this kind of ink when everything encountered reminds the narrator of some worldly observations, from ornate restaurant washrooms, to personal space-challenged waiters and names our kids call us.

These side commentaries give us a rich image of the narrator, and the author as well, I’m sure.

The book takes a detour through the Paul’s experience leaving his teaching job.  I was anxious to get back to the story line through this part, but I’m pleased to say it all ties together.

Soapbox

It’s every author’s prerogative to express opinions in their work. Our narrator, Paul, expresses a lot of opinions, many of them distasteful to most people. Paul has an opinion about the practice of tipping in restaurants that’s reasonable and others on persons of lower intelligence and flawed justice systems that make you blink in incredulity.

Such opinions underpin and seem to undermine the main story thread. Paul is a tough person to relate to; a tough person to like but oddly, at the end, I felt some satisfaction for him and the outcome he sought. A tricky feat for an author to pull off.

Aftertaste

Given that the story is set in Holland, the author’s home, I found it an interesting revelation that the Dutch people carry a level self-identity issues as a people situated amongst larger cultures, notably France. This reminded me of Canadian’s struggle to find or maintain their own identity next to America.

The book has been made into three different movies in three different languages. This might be because The Dinner as an interior drama could be faithfully recreated as a movie for a low price. I think the appeal is its tangle of themes, ideas and disreputable characters ultimately zero in on a single concept that even troubled and messed up people can experience real love.

 

Station Eleven

by Emily St. John Mandel

e-Reader edition

I have some thoughts about how post-apocalyptic society is envisioned by this book and others. Read it here. 


In Station Eleven, the world ends because of an amazingly effective pandemic. The only survivors on the whole planet are those who avoid contact with the virus (very few) and those who prove to be immune (even fewer). This leaves something like 1% of the world’s population left to carry on. Our civilizations require cooperation, yes, but also manpower, so civilization quickly crumbles under the weight of no maintenance.

We ping-pong around in time to reveal a fuller context and story – many years prior to the event and as much as 20 years after.

In the preceding years, in our “jet age”, the author takes us all over the world to show us how our characters dealt with their ultimately petty problems. In the aftermath, however, we’re pretty much stuck in a region around Lake Michigan – totally understandable in an environment where horse travel is the pinnacle of luxury. The stark contrast between the open spaces of today and the tomorrow’s post-apocalyptic world draws attention to my observation that even though the air and water are cleaner in the future, the lack of ability to travel freely brings an unexpected flavor of claustrophobia that clutches your heart one survival day after another.


I know there are some readers who do not enjoy non-linear stories. So I’ll warn you, this is one of those.  The story jumps around within a 40-year span pretty much at random.  At first, it follows the rule of staying in a certain era while in a given “book” (collection of chapters). Eventually, this rule goes out the window and we’re jumping around blithely, between chapters and sometimes inside chapters.  Once you adjust, it’s a fun ride and I quite enjoyed that unpredictability.

About a quarter of the way through, the story seems to bog down in backstory of a character I never really cared about. But things pick up shortly after we get that out of the way.


One grumble point for me: 20 years afterward things have settled down. Life is still dicey and everybody is still living hand to mouth off the grid (there is no grid).  Most of humanity can fully recall the days of electricity, indoor plumbing and internet. What’s troubling to me is that more effort hasn’t been made to restore the infrastructure from before.

They wouldn’t have to rebuild much, to be clear. Unlike other yarns like this, the end of the world comes and goes and leaves the modern hardware intact.  There was no atomic destruction, fallout or nuclear winter, no aerial EMP blast frying every capacitor and microchip, no world-wide earthquakes, flooding or fires, no zombies or invading aliens and no planet-ending asteroids. After the pandemic, civilization collapses when the people who tend to it, died. The hydroelectric dams, sub-stations and power lines are still physically there. Solar farms still sit in the sun. Modern medical equipment sits idle and intact.

I grant you that the knowledge-base from the old world was severely decimated but it’s not gone. More significantly, anybody over 25 can remember how life was so much better and doesn’t lack the desire to return there. (They made a museum for it.) So why has nobody done so? There are still books out there.

(One character alludes to a rumored someone who temporarily gets a computer booted by generating electricity with a stationary bike. So, why didn’t they keep on that track?)

I noticed an element of sloppiness in story development.  Randomness in character development and events, almost by dice throw. (Part of my squandered youth was spent at dungeons and dragons.)

An example: Except in a few jurisdictions, there are paramedics (who work with living persons) and medical examiners (who work with the deceased – aka coroners).  Paramedics are not permitted to pronounce a death, nor are they allowed to move a dead body, both roles of the medical examiner. Early in Station Eleven, we see paramedics doing both. This speaks to a simple lack of attention to detail, possibly haste in writing.

Another example that I hope isn’t an indication of man’s tendency to be stupid when things get tough. Seriously, guys? You need a horse cart and the best you can do is a dead Chevy pickup and tie it behind Bessie? Really? A vehicle engineered for highway speeds and hauling heavy loads with a 300 horsepower engine is a poor choice to put behind a one-horsepower horse. A truck is going to bottom out at 5,000 pounds dry  after you liberate the engine and transmission. Are you suggesting you can’t find a light weight horse wagon somewhere?


Something that refreshingly separates Station Eleven from the rest of the PA pack for me is the lack of dire situations – there are no dyed-in-the-wool bad guys. There are dangerous people but they are more misguided than evil.

The author herself refers to the novel as a “love letter to the modern world“, something I believe she achieved in spades.

Why we’re mean to each other (when the world ends)

Editorial observation: Why do post-apocalyptic stories generally depict a world remaining that is a horrible place to be? Why do people treat each other so awful in a world where being civilized could never be more important?

A few thoughts: in early days following the “end of the world”, survival is critical and protection of one’s family becomes paramount. People may have to do some unpalatable things. That’s understandable.  However, after a number of years of adjustment, you’d think civilized behavior would creep back into our milieu. Instead, though according to most post-apocalyptic yarns, civilization invariably devolves into a feudal state with warlords and impoverished masses.

This is probably quite realistic to expect. It speaks to our prehistoric tendency to seek “dominance” which is the same thing as survival back in the day. Dominance over your environment,  and the critters that wanted to eat you and perhaps other people who might want your stuff – the more dominance you had, the better your chances. In more modern times, dominance has softened to become “security”, such as a house of your own, a steady job, a reliable grocery store, decent sushi.  With these things in place, security supplants the need for dominance and a fairly harmonious society results.

When everything goes to hell, security is gone and we return to the need for that prehistoric dominance.

Most of us are not going to turn mean overnight just because the world ends but for a few, the situation works well for their outlook on things. There aren’t a lot of them but there are enough to remind us of a dark streak that runs through our species. These are persons for whom dominance is normal and correct, who believe “might is right” and is the natural state of the universe. Perhaps  concepts like “cooperation”, “playing nice with others” and “working for a living” just aren’t working for them. Thankfully, there aren’t too many of them but we know of them today as “career criminals” or the junior versions: “assholes”.  In the future, we might refer to them as “master”.

Baseline post-apocalyptic scenario: everyone would acknowledge and revere the abilities of someone who could truly contribute to a new world order, like a doctor, an engineer, a carpenter, a farmer. But along comes a guy who says, “Yeah, very impressive, but I’ve got a gun and I’m totally willing to use it on you. What I bring to the new world trumps all of your abilities. So from now on, you work for me.”

You can see where this is going: a feudal society with warlords battling over how many people and lands they can have under their thumb. All because of that little streak of darkness in our genealogy.

It took 500 years of relentless pressure to improve our situation from the dark ages, but even so, it’s a miracle we got here at all. It wouldn’t be difficult to slide back into the darkness if somebody turned out the light.

An interesting anecdote

A Canadian pattern Belgian-made FN-C1 assault rifle. The Canadian military has upgraded to smaller, lighter weapons.
A Belgian-made FN-C1 assault rifle favoured by the Canadian military once upon a time.

A soldier (not me) ready for the long march.
A soldier (not me) ready for the long march.

During infantry training as a spry young adult, I was introduced to Mr. FN-C1. A very potent assault rifle favored by the Canadian and some European militaries.

Mr. FN was pretty heavy: 22 lbs. (10kg) with a full magazine. I had to carry him on a map march, through the nighttime countryside for many miles. Feet were mighty sore afterward. Actually, everything was mighty sore.

The rifle wasn’t my biggest or only burden. We packed along a bunch of gear on our backs wherever we went on maneuvers. The rifle was the innately heavy thing, though, seeing as it was made almost entirely of steel and all.

On the return journey, someone in charge decided the rifles would ride back on a truck.  We would repeat the march in reverse minus our rifles.

Holy Dinah! What a difference. It was like walking on air all the way back to camp.

22 pounds. 22 pounds difference and my stamina and strength was totally renewed. I could have marched another 10 miles.

"This is so much easier without those silly weapons. Let's run!"
“This is so much easier without those silly weapons. Let’s run!”

One thing that occurred to my 17-year old brain after the march was that a number of my soldiering buddies were at least 22 pounds heavier than I, even though they were no taller, some shorter, no stronger, no reason to be heavier than I, except a fair bit bigger around the waist. Processing this a little further indicated that they were comparatively packing around the weight of a high-powered assault weapon all the time, every day, every hour.

Wouldn’t it be amazing if they could erase that extra weight as easily as unslinging a rifle? They would instantly turn into superstar soldiers. No one would be able to keep up with them.

And then my 17-year old brain said, “Interesting, but whatever” and filed the whole thing in the circular dust bin.

Look sharp, men. I see you're listing to the left to compensate for that extra 22 pounds on the right. That explains why we've been going in circles.
Look sharp, men. I see you’re listing to the left to compensate for that extra 22 pounds on the right. That explains why we’ve been going in circles.

The Big Secret

Spoiler alert – you can eat any food you want. It’s the quantity you have to keep under control. There is a trick to this that doesn’t come naturally, takes willpower but it’s free and suffering is not required.

My name is David. I am male (big surprise), 54 years old, white of very mixed European heritage. I work at a desk 40 hours a week (a recipe for chronic flab).

In this journey, I want to explore the methods I use to do that without dieting, purging, pills, vitamins, money or medical intervention.

In fact, all you have to do is start eating only the food you need and your body will do the rest. Your body knows your ideal weight and will go there given only the amount of fuel it needs.

You can accelerate weight loss by providing less, but I don’t recommend it. It took years, maybe decades to accumulate that extra padding.  It may take the same amount of time to get rid of it.

First Thoughts

There’s a throwaway joke in Wallace & Gromit’s movie “The Curse of the Were-Rabbit” wherein the camera pans across jars of pantry items like jam and peanut butter. We see a jar labelled “Middle-Aged Spread”. Hah.  Sets up a theme of the movie.  Also this column.

2183WGCrackersAboutPackI’ve never been considered overweight, never thought of myself as fat. That is until I looked in the mirror at age 40 or so.  What the heck happened?! I had a bump.  A baby bump.

I lived with my bump wondering about it for another decade when I stepped on the scale using the prescribed proper method: first thing in the morning after going to the bathroom. And I had a heart attack!  (Not the really bad kind.)

I was 185 pounds! Zoinks!  When I was a kid, I yearned to be 185 pounds like the football players, and gym jockeys.  I achieved this but certainly didn’t look the way I wanted to.

To shorten this introduction, I shed 25 pounds to a much improved 160 pounds. Lots of people have done that, so no need to write about it.

However, I did it without starving, suffering, dieting or spending any money. That’s a little unique but still not that special.

For the next year, I have maintained the weight, again without suffering. Only grumping around once in a while.  Is that worth talking about?  I don’t know but I can tell you that whenever people asked me about it, I found I had a lot to say. And never the same thing twice.  Lots of swirling ideas that are starting to gel into… mmm.

Something.

What, though? A perfect storm of thoughts that worked together, that still work together to sustain something good.

A series of concepts.

Is it a philosophy? A religion? Dogma?

No. Let’s call them a collection of understandings.  A bunch of “a-ha” moments that make weight control a lot easier.  No fooling.

That’s worth expressing and sharing. So stay with me as I unravel and organize all these notions in a meaningful way. Hopefully, at the end, basking in the glow of a journey well arrived, like at the end of the Lord of the Rings trilogy, we’ll be able to appreciate the whole experience and take away what we need and apply it every day without really thinking about it.

Another one?!!

OMG. Yet another column on weight control.

I see. So, what are you selling?

Nothing being sold here. No snake oils. No programs. No miracles, quick-fixes, foods. I have nothing against those things, I just don’t need any of them.  I don’t think you do either.

Whatever I’m offering is free. No charge.  Not now.  Not later.  Heck, I don’t even get a charitable donation receipt.  I’m just sharing something.

So,… What then?

Everybody has and will have problems. What I hope to share is a process of reprogramming one’s self to deal with one of those problems, the one that causes you to feel poorly about yourself, your self-image, lose energy, suffer bad sleeps, develop a bad disease, or even die way too early.

I’m talking about weight problems, the premiere first world problem.

I think I may have found a way by evolving an understanding of how everything works and can work against you. Then you can use the understanding to take control.

It’s a bit of a shift in thinking and it takes time to come over to it. But it can be done.  Give it some time.  I’ll try to make it enjoyable, maybe even fun.

And you’re invited to participate, offer ideas and give me a hard time.

Let’s see where this takes us.