Marlys and I were going to put out a typically cheeky blog post about the stinking hot weather we’ve been having here in Melbourne, but events in the interim have taken a decidedly more somber turn. If you’ve seen the news in the last 48 hours, you undoubtedly know there have been devastating bushfires across Victoria, with most around Melbourne. The multiple fires have left well over 800 square miles of damage to property and forests. Even worse, over a hundred, and probably hundreds, of people have burned to death trying to escape after little or no warning. It is absolutely, positively horrifying.
We haven’t had appreciable rain for months, and in the past few weeks the temperatures have been brutally hot, with the highs over 110 F several times. Matt went hiking a week ago and we the “grass” was so dry and burnt out it actually crackled when you walked on it. By last Wednesday the forecast said Saturday would be a scorcher with high sustained winds. That, coupled with the tinderbox drought conditions, means high bushfire probability. The TV was full of advisories that people should have their fire plan ready and be prepared to evacuate their homes at an instant. They said it would be the worst bushfire conditions ever – even worse than those for the famous Ash Wednesday fires of 30+ years ago.
Saturday came and the heat was even worse than predicted – 117F, a new all-time record for Melbourne. And it was hotter in the bush. We planned our day to avoid the heat – a trip to the art museum (air conditioned to protect the paintings) followed by a movie (Slumdog Millionaire) in an air conditioned theater. But the time spent outside was like beign in a convection oven, with blasts of heat swirling around. There was no cool breeze.
When we left the art museum about 4pm the sky was an eerie gray. You could see a few white clouds against the dull ashen backdrop but not a speck of blue. We immediately figured there were fires in the area and dense smoke was to blame.
The news Saturday night talked about bushfires everywhere. Numbers jumped from 11 to 26 to over 35 but it’s only been in the last 24 hours that the real horror of what happened, and what is happening, became apparent. All those who have died, many missing, and whole towns destroyed. And the stories: of roads filled with choking smoke. Of people desperate to get back to the house to find a family pet. Farmers going to their fields and euthanizing their cattle and sheep to put them out of their misery. Pictures of poor half burnt kangaroos frantically bouncing to escape surrounding fires.
If you look at our “Places We’ve Been” list along the right hand side of this blog, you’ll see “Marysville” listed. It was one of the first day trips we ever made, and we’ve brought a few visitors up there as well – to see the waterfalls and mountain ashes and eat at the bakery. It had the best Scottish shortbread.
We say “had” because Marysville is gone. Burned off the face of the map. As of today 12 people from Marysville are dead and they figure they’ll find more bodies as they go through the houses and cars left smoldering on the sides of the road. To have this lovely town full of the nicest people expunged from the face of the earth is something we’re still trying to get our heads around. It breaks our heart. And it’s just one of the places devastated. Nearly all the "VIC" places listed to the right have had fires.
We do not know anyone who’s lost life or property personally. Our friends and their families are all currently safe, even the ones who live deeper in the bush. We are very worried about Fay and the farm near Yarram (where Matt suffered his Australia Day injury), but as of today she’s OK. She’s in a spot where the forests behind her house haven’t burned in a long time – and that means lots of deadfall kindling. The fires have come within a half kilometer of her place, she lost power, the roads closed, and she had the car packed and ready to go. But as of now the fires haven’t come closer. We’re keeping up the prayers.
Watching the news and talking to our friends is hard. The stories are so horrific - finding charred bodies of families in cars, families split by the fire and don’t know if the others made it out, stories of last phone calls saying good bye to children or parents from homes about to be burned. It’s gut wrenching. Both the premier (governor) and the Prime Minister have visibly broken down on TV. The reporters have also struggled to keep their composure.
And it gets worse. This is not a natural disaster. Many, if not all, of the fires were set by humans. That makes this mass murder and to consider the selfishness and evil that would lead someone to set one of these fires is something we don’t want to dwell on.
If you want to help, the Australian Red Cross is taking donations for money that will go directly to the bushfire victims. You can donate online at: https://www.redcross.org.au/Donations/onlineDonations.asp. (I’m sure the bankers will take their cut in foreign exchange fees and the like, but every little bit helps.) We’re not ones who typically push donations to a cause – but now this is a good time to start. Today there is a toiletries collection in the office, because so many of the fire refugees (and there are thousands) don't even have toothpaste.
The running joke around our office is that we've seen more of Victoria than the locals, and it may be true. But this means the places on the fire maps are not just names - we can see them, we have memories of them, we know them a little. These are real places with real people that are now gone.
Victoria and Minnesota are almost identical in size and population. While Minnesota is our home state, Victoria is our chosen state. Today we are so sad for our beautiful state, our adopted country, and our grieving countrymen.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Friday, January 30, 2009
Humor Before Pride
Below is an actual e-mail Matt sent to our Melbourne co-workers. Because Marlys has already been surreptitiously leaking it to various people, the Aliantravels editorial board decided to publish it in its entirety and let everyone on earth know about how Matt spent Wednesday morning. It needs no further introduction. Enjoy.
____________________
From: O'Toole, Matt
Sent: Wednesday, January 28, 2009 8:55 AM
To: All Melbourne
Subject: Important Safety Notice
Dear Fellow Melbourne Office Teammembers,
As I was rushing to get a cuppa before my 7 AM conference call in which I was presenting, I left my key card in my office and so thought I'd just pop into the unisex toilet next to the kitchen. I stepped in, accomplished my business, and when I turned to leave I noticed a funny thing: the handle for the door was missing. "How strange" was my first thought. "How the heck am I going to get out of here?" was my second. I looked around for the handle or other method of releasing the door, but as a soggy towel is really only useful for preventing smoke from entering a room during a fire, there was no means of release at hand. I settled down to wait for one of my co-workers to arrive for their first cup of tea.
As the hours passed many thoughts went though my mind, but in the spirit of Jeremy Bentham I tried to use my time of incarceration for self improvement. I counted the tiles on the ceiling (16. And by the way, where did the cover for the light fixture go?). I went through the alphabet naming Victorian country towns - Ararat, Bunyip, Colac, Dandenong ("Wait", I thought. "Does Dandenong count as “country”? It's so close to Melbourne."). I tried to come up with less embarrassing explanation for my absence from the conference call - "I was locked in a toilet" does not inspire confidence or respect for your judgment and common sense. And I plotted slow, sweet revenge on whoever took the handle and didn't let people know the door to the toilet is buggered.
Eventually Barb arrived and she, Maria and I worked to get the door opened. In the spirit of the prison leitmotif, they passed me food and drink though the slot at the bottom of the door during this period. Eventually we got it open and I was paroled to breathe the sweet air of freedom again. Or at least air untainted by Oust and other cleaning supplies.
Why am I sharing my embarrassing and unhappy morning with you? It's to impart a few valuable lessons:
1. The door to the toilet by the kitchen is broken. Do not use that toilet unless you are prepared to prop the door open.
2. If in the future you learn of a dangerous or confinement-causing condition at the office, please inform your fellow workers. An e-mail may be a good idea. And might I also suggest a note on the door?
3. Henceforth, all my children will be named Barb and Maria. Even the boys.
4. When going to the toilet, always bring food and a phone. You just never know.
Kind regards,
Matt
____________________
From: O'Toole, Matt
Sent: Wednesday, January 28, 2009 8:55 AM
To: All Melbourne
Subject: Important Safety Notice
Dear Fellow Melbourne Office Teammembers,
As I was rushing to get a cuppa before my 7 AM conference call in which I was presenting, I left my key card in my office and so thought I'd just pop into the unisex toilet next to the kitchen. I stepped in, accomplished my business, and when I turned to leave I noticed a funny thing: the handle for the door was missing. "How strange" was my first thought. "How the heck am I going to get out of here?" was my second. I looked around for the handle or other method of releasing the door, but as a soggy towel is really only useful for preventing smoke from entering a room during a fire, there was no means of release at hand. I settled down to wait for one of my co-workers to arrive for their first cup of tea.
As the hours passed many thoughts went though my mind, but in the spirit of Jeremy Bentham I tried to use my time of incarceration for self improvement. I counted the tiles on the ceiling (16. And by the way, where did the cover for the light fixture go?). I went through the alphabet naming Victorian country towns - Ararat, Bunyip, Colac, Dandenong ("Wait", I thought. "Does Dandenong count as “country”? It's so close to Melbourne."). I tried to come up with less embarrassing explanation for my absence from the conference call - "I was locked in a toilet" does not inspire confidence or respect for your judgment and common sense. And I plotted slow, sweet revenge on whoever took the handle and didn't let people know the door to the toilet is buggered.
Eventually Barb arrived and she, Maria and I worked to get the door opened. In the spirit of the prison leitmotif, they passed me food and drink though the slot at the bottom of the door during this period. Eventually we got it open and I was paroled to breathe the sweet air of freedom again. Or at least air untainted by Oust and other cleaning supplies.
Why am I sharing my embarrassing and unhappy morning with you? It's to impart a few valuable lessons:
1. The door to the toilet by the kitchen is broken. Do not use that toilet unless you are prepared to prop the door open.
2. If in the future you learn of a dangerous or confinement-causing condition at the office, please inform your fellow workers. An e-mail may be a good idea. And might I also suggest a note on the door?
3. Henceforth, all my children will be named Barb and Maria. Even the boys.
4. When going to the toilet, always bring food and a phone. You just never know.
Kind regards,
Matt
Friday, January 23, 2009
What I Did On My Summer Vacation
Happy New Year! We are back from a fantastic two weeks exploring New Zealand’s South Island. Since there was way too much to put into one blog posting, here are the highlights:
Best Hike Deux: Matt climbed Ben Lomond, a mountain above Queenstown. It is a mile high and involved crossing multiple narrow ridges to reach the apex (where it drops precipitously on both sides). Despite the rigorous climb, he was rewarded with spectacular views of the Southern Alps with Lake Wakatipu shimmering below. At the same time Marlys was enjoying a spectacular view of the inside of her eyelids as she enjoyed a 1.5 hour massage followed by a pedicure.
Best NZ beer: Steinlager for Marlys and Speight’s for Matt. We went on the Speight’s brewery tour in Dunedin (east coast). In the tasting room, Marlys taught everyone the Finnish toast, “Kiipis” which (essentially) means, “cheers!”. The Aussie tourists in the group LOVED this toast because they thought it sounded like “get pissed!” 
Queen Charlotte Sound
Best Breakfast: We stayed at B&Bs most days, so had our share of delicious breakfasts (organic eggs, homemade bread dripping with New Zealand’s Manuka honey, fresh squeezed juice, great coffee, etc.). Matt, who is never one for chit-chat with strangers first thing in the AM, lists his favorite breakfast as the one provided by the hotel in Christchurch. None. He stopped at Starbucks for a nice big cup of coffee after his run and enjoyed it in the quietude of our room.
Best Hike Deux: Matt climbed Ben Lomond, a mountain above Queenstown. It is a mile high and involved crossing multiple narrow ridges to reach the apex (where it drops precipitously on both sides). Despite the rigorous climb, he was rewarded with spectacular views of the Southern Alps with Lake Wakatipu shimmering below. At the same time Marlys was enjoying a spectacular view of the inside of her eyelids as she enjoyed a 1.5 hour massage followed by a pedicure.
Best NZ beer: Steinlager for Marlys and Speight’s for Matt. We went on the Speight’s brewery tour in Dunedin (east coast). In the tasting room, Marlys taught everyone the Finnish toast, “Kiipis” which (essentially) means, “cheers!”. The Aussie tourists in the group LOVED this toast because they thought it sounded like “get pissed!” Speight's Brewery
Best Idiom: “Nerd-tastic”. Matt spent NZ$25 on a guidebook specializing in Lord of the Rings film locations. He thought he was so cool until we happened to see this particular book described in Lonely Planet as the “nerdtastic” book for the type of groupies who live in their parents’ basement and spend a lot of time pretending to be a wizard in an online game. Of course, that’s not to say we still didn’t visit every location we could. We would stop at the site, look at the vista, sigh, turn to each other and say “It certainly is nerdtastic, isn’t it?”
Idiom Runner Up: In New Zealand hiking is called “tramping”. You can imagine the witticisms that engendered over the course of the trip.
Best Seafood (aka Biggest Surprise of the trip): we could also call this category oddest restaurant – Stumper’s. Stumper’s was bar/restaurant in the seaside town called Hokitika where we spend one night (by the way the hotel wins the “worst room” award because the room smelled like “damp mop ala’ creepy basement”). Hokitika, despite the promising location of right on the Tasman Sea, isn’t much of a town and we explored the two main streets within 5 minutes (on foot). Stumper’s was conveniently located across the street from our odiferous hotel; it was one of the few open places (it was New Year’s Day), and by all looks it was hopping with business. We wove our way through a bunch of drunk, scruffy locals lounging outside and ordered the blue cod. As we waited for dinner, we were entertained by one of the locals arguing with his girlfriend, then duking it out with friends about not wanting to get in the car and leave (picture this – girlfriend in back seat, boyfriend standing in open car door - girlfriend tugging boyfriend’s jeans at the waist, friends standing next to guy trying to corral and push him into the back seat). Due to his condition, bobbing and weaving was not a problem. This was eventually resolved when the police showed up and put him in their car for a ride. The surprise? The blue cod was absolutely fantastic – fresh, perfectly prepared, and in two weeks of eating seafood for dinner (every night but one), Matt pronounced it the best of the lot.
Idiom Runner Up: In New Zealand hiking is called “tramping”. You can imagine the witticisms that engendered over the course of the trip.
Best Seafood (aka Biggest Surprise of the trip): we could also call this category oddest restaurant – Stumper’s. Stumper’s was bar/restaurant in the seaside town called Hokitika where we spend one night (by the way the hotel wins the “worst room” award because the room smelled like “damp mop ala’ creepy basement”). Hokitika, despite the promising location of right on the Tasman Sea, isn’t much of a town and we explored the two main streets within 5 minutes (on foot). Stumper’s was conveniently located across the street from our odiferous hotel; it was one of the few open places (it was New Year’s Day), and by all looks it was hopping with business. We wove our way through a bunch of drunk, scruffy locals lounging outside and ordered the blue cod. As we waited for dinner, we were entertained by one of the locals arguing with his girlfriend, then duking it out with friends about not wanting to get in the car and leave (picture this – girlfriend in back seat, boyfriend standing in open car door - girlfriend tugging boyfriend’s jeans at the waist, friends standing next to guy trying to corral and push him into the back seat). Due to his condition, bobbing and weaving was not a problem. This was eventually resolved when the police showed up and put him in their car for a ride. The surprise? The blue cod was absolutely fantastic – fresh, perfectly prepared, and in two weeks of eating seafood for dinner (every night but one), Matt pronounced it the best of the lot.
Marlborough Wine Country
Friday, December 26, 2008
A Very Aussie Christmas
We had a couple sweltering days last week but on for the 24th and 25th the weather was perfect. We worked Christmas Eve morning and then had a potluck brunch - complete with Kris Kringle and champagne - with colleagues. Then we went to Christmas mass at the oldest Catholic church in Melbourne, St. Francis, which has an unusual and beautiful cedar ceiling. Our first antipodal Christmas was spent with our friends the Alessios at their beach house on the Mornington Peninsula. Christmas eve was a traditional Aussie barbeque with snags (sausages), lamb roast, and some summer salads. Christmas morning we took a walk along the beach where the winds were calm and the sea a clear blue/ green. We walked to the end of Rye Pier (John, Frani, Nita, you’ve all been to this pier) where we spotted a massive stingray and the local seal that regularly suns itself on the pier.
Christmas day was with the extended Alessio clan – 26 in all – feasting on the northern traditional Christmas feast if turkey, pork, and ham, roast potatoes, green beans, etc. The meal was capped with traditional plum pudding – a secret Alessio family recipe. It’s a dark dense boozy collection of stewed fruit, nuts, brandy and cake. Old coins are buried within the pudding, and one coin, a sterling silver florin is good luck. The finder gets to keep the coin and according to tradition will receive a year of good fortune. While neither of us received the buried treasure, we savored the dessert. We returned to Melbourne that evening so we can go to the cricket on the 26th. But given the sun hadn’t set at 9 PM, we went for a ride along the beach where all the families were winding up their family events. As for the cricket today, the Boxing Day Test is one of the most famous matches known for hot sun and an “enthusiastic” crowd. We’ve slapped on the sunscreen and are looking forward to a slow, relaxing day. Tomorrow we head to New Zealand for two weeks so you won’t see an update to the blog until mid-January.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! Friday, December 19, 2008
Weekend Weather Comparison
As I sat here working with one eye on the cricket on TV (Australia is batting and leads South Africa in the second innings of the first test by 203 runs, in case you're wondering) I got a St Paul weekend weather report: snow, poor roads, high temps in the teens.
Weather in Melbourne this weekend - sunny and 70s. And now that my work is done, we're going to the pub and enjoy a cold beer in the sun.
But I'd still prefer a white Christmas in MN.
Weather in Melbourne this weekend - sunny and 70s. And now that my work is done, we're going to the pub and enjoy a cold beer in the sun.
But I'd still prefer a white Christmas in MN.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
A Day of Thanks
Thanksgiving and all that goes with it - eating turkey, pumpkin pie, and mounds of mashed potatoes - is a uniquely American phenomena (although the Canadians have a similarly named holiday). With Matt in the US for the Thanksgiving and Melbourne embarking on summer – it didn’t really ‘feel’ like Thanksgiving so I thought I’d just let this American holiday slide on by. My dear Aussie friends, Dominique, Maria, and Jen had another idea altogether.
For weeks these three had been conspiring WITH MY MOTHER to put on a surprise, honest-to-goodness Aukee Thanksgiving dinner of turkey with all the trimmings. Family recipes like yams with pecans and marshmallows and rutabaga casserole made their way to a Melbourne table thanks to email, much time to converting family recipes from imperial measurements to metric, and driving to the lone USA store that sells canned pumpkin (another Aussie slang term for you – “in the middle of nowhere” is referred to as “woop woop”).
The clever ruse was an invite to Jen’s for pizza so I wouldn’t have to spend Thanksgiving alone. Sounds good, I thought, all this alone time is torture for my extroversion.
6pm on Thanksgiving night I walked into Jen’s house and was greeted by the giddy looking trio. First they brought me to the dining room, which had a beautiful tablecloth laid with Jen’s finest china, wineglasses, and full silverware. There were hand-made Thanksgiving decorations on the table - felt turkeys. Wow! What a beautiful table, I said, so much trouble to go to for a pizza dinner. Well, not quite pizza. They brought me into the kitchen, opened the oven door to produce a turkey and multiple covered dishes of family favorites. I was (in another apt used Aussie term) gobsmacked. "Happy Thanksgiving!!!" they chimed.
Eight of us feasted on a delicious meal. It will always be one of my most cherished Thanksgiving memories. One that closed with a full stomach and a very full heart.
Marlys Dom Maria Jen
For weeks these three had been conspiring WITH MY MOTHER to put on a surprise, honest-to-goodness Aukee Thanksgiving dinner of turkey with all the trimmings. Family recipes like yams with pecans and marshmallows and rutabaga casserole made their way to a Melbourne table thanks to email, much time to converting family recipes from imperial measurements to metric, and driving to the lone USA store that sells canned pumpkin (another Aussie slang term for you – “in the middle of nowhere” is referred to as “woop woop”).
The clever ruse was an invite to Jen’s for pizza so I wouldn’t have to spend Thanksgiving alone. Sounds good, I thought, all this alone time is torture for my extroversion.
6pm on Thanksgiving night I walked into Jen’s house and was greeted by the giddy looking trio. First they brought me to the dining room, which had a beautiful tablecloth laid with Jen’s finest china, wineglasses, and full silverware. There were hand-made Thanksgiving decorations on the table - felt turkeys. Wow! What a beautiful table, I said, so much trouble to go to for a pizza dinner. Well, not quite pizza. They brought me into the kitchen, opened the oven door to produce a turkey and multiple covered dishes of family favorites. I was (in another apt used Aussie term) gobsmacked. "Happy Thanksgiving!!!" they chimed.
Eight of us feasted on a delicious meal. It will always be one of my most cherished Thanksgiving memories. One that closed with a full stomach and a very full heart.
Marlys Dom Maria Jen Wednesday, November 26, 2008
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