Aussie Sun

The sun here is intense. And we’ve experienced Colorado sun and Kenyan sun and Kalamazoo sun (…oh wait – did Kalamazoo get sun??), and I still say Australian sun is INTENSE. This is partly because we get a lot of blue-sky days. It’s also partly because of that proverbial Ozone Hole. Yep – thanks to that, UV levels are much higher here than in the northern hemisphere. I don’t know if I’ve seen a day where the UV index isn’t “Extreme.” Consequently, skin cancer is much more common – it’s been dubbed the National Cancer.

So now, the Fanson household (we’ll pretend we’re in the same house for the sake of this story) has 4 broad-brimmed hats, 6 different bottles of sun-block, and 2 chapsticks with UV protection. This sun means business, and we’re not about to fight it unarmed.

That's right, cloud - hide that sun!

I spy: My commute

After dealing with Chicago and Sydney traffic, I'm a really big fan of my commute to work right now (which, incidentally, is not in a car but on my bike - better yet!).
I go down the gravel path,

past the beach,

over the bridge,

up the cement bike path named after an aboriginal tracker (you can see the Zoo signs in the background),

by the gum trees,

and finally I'm there!

Dubbo PhotoNews

Another thing to add to the list of what I love about Dubbo: the Dubbo PhotoNews. It's this great, happy, feel-good FREE paper that comes out every week. It's mostly just filled with pictures of locals: at So-n-so's 40th birthday party, at the park, in front of iconic international monuments (e.g., the Eiffel Tower) wearing their "I (heart) Dubbo" T-shirts. They have sections for "Hitches" and "Hatches." They feature several interviews with locals, so you can learn that 4-yr old Bailey wants to see the beach when he grows up, or that Sophie, the "Page 3 Girl" thinks that different languages are the weirdest thing in the world.

And speaking of foreign languages, here's a bit of Australian for you. This is what it says on the front of the Australia Day issue:
"It's the celebration of a nation, when we rock up to a rellie's or a mate's place in the arvo, throw some snags on the barbie, take the ankle biters for a dip, act the galah for a bit, but above everything, get proud of living Down Under. In this issue, you'll meet some fair dinkum Aussies along with beaut ideas of what's going off this weekend."
If you need help translating, let me know.

Ironing

If I learn nothing else from this job, it will at least teach me to iron. Now this is not to say that I didn't know how to iron beforehand - I was raised by a good mother who taught me all the important basic life skills (e.g., how to iron, how to separate an egg, how to take care of my eyeballs... and elbows). But I never do it. I don't know if I have ever actually ironed since Mom made me practice on Dad's shirts. We got a wonderful ironing board from Grandma for our wedding shower, but while we galavanted around the country doing fieldwork for 3 years, it apparently grew legs and walked out of storage. And while we puzzled about where it could have gone, we never actually missed it (sorry grandma). Even when Ben got his fancy corporate job at Abbott, we still managed to avoid ironing.

But now, every week when I do laundry, I iron my uniform. Maybe there's hope for my domestic skills, after all.

Happy Australia Day!

Australia Day is a lot like 4th of July - a national holiday in the middle of summer filled with barbecues and good times. It celebrates the day the First Fleet arrived from Britain to colonize Oz with convicts. And one of the major activities of the day is Thong Throwing. Yup - thong throwing. Now I'm cheating a little bit, because I neither witnessed nor participated in any thong throwing this weekend, but I'm going to write about it nonetheless, because this is a subject that just has to be written about.

So to clarify, the word "thong" here refers to a type of footwear, not a type of underwear. [Actually, it can describe underwear, too, but it's predominantly used in reference to flip-flops.] So drop that mental image of a bunch of crazy convict grandchildren running around flinging their underwear everywhere. Instead, picture them throwing their shoes, which - though better than underwear - is still a little odd. But it's Australia Day and everyone is happy and proud of their Lucky, Sunburnt Country, so they can throw their shoes if they want.

I stole this pic, but thought it would give you a better feel for thong throwing.

House of the week

I was starting to feel a little settled, so I decided it must be time to move again! Now, I’ve taken up residence at Tamara’s place (she’s the person I’m filling in for – I kinda feel like I’m taking over her life…). Anyway, Tamara is down in Tasmania (which becomes Tassie when you follow the aforementioned Aussie rule of shortening the word as much as possible and then adding –ie). Her PhD is on Tasmanian Devils, so she’s there for 2 weeks to do some field work, and she asked if I’d house/cat sit for her.

So I’m living in a nice brick house with a great loft (which is a bit of an oddity out here – very few houses have basements or second floors). I have 2 cats to keep me company: Merrick and Scrappy.


There’s actually a law student renting a room here, too, but he’s hardly ever around and Tamara didn’t trust him with the cats, so that's why I'm house-sitting. And although I hardly ever see Peter, he's proved to be an interesting guy. He's a nice enough guy, but he has his quirks. For example, I think the second thing he said to me is "Are you OK if I walk around in just my shorts/boxers?" Tamara had actually warned me about this, and given the temps, I say do whatever makes you comfortable. Nonetheless, I was a little taken aback when I came home to find him cooking dinner in nothing but lime green briefs! And when Scrappy was looking out the window the other night, he decided it was animal cruelty to keep cats confined... in a 2 story house.

Diligently writing a new blog post... uh, I mean working on my thesis:

Bye Bye, Bush!

Well, I sure wouldn't want to be the poor guy, but I'm glad Obama is finally in charge! It doesn't seem to be getting as much attention here as the election did, and I think that's because 1) we know who is moving into the White House, so there's not the suspense, and 2) I'm in Dubbo, where international politics take second seat to local affairs (e.g. who stole the plants from a health centre's garden, which locals are trying to make it big on a reality TV show, and what water restrictions are in place).

Nonetheless, a weathered Aussie bloke at work said that he got up at 3am to watch the inauguration, and that he shed a few tears because he was so moved. People here are definitely excited. And I'm going through major NPR withdrawal!!

I spy: Pilons

Another thing to add to the list of things I love about Dubbo: their pilons. The pilons under at least 2 of the bridges have been decorated with Aboriginal designs (primarily animals). Each bridge has maybe 10 pilons, and each side of the pilon has a different design, so you’re always noticing something new. Just the other day I noticed a great sea turtle I hadn’t seen before. And the area by the river (i.e. under the bridges) is quite nicely developed.

Phones

So the phone, being one of our more ancient forms of communication, is pretty familiar to everyone, and pretty straight-forward to use, right? You pick up the phone, you dial the number, you chit-chat away. Except, during my adult years, I’ve rarely found it to be that easy (and I don’t think it’s just because I’m that stupid). Between landlines, mobile phones, Skype, satellite phones, calling cards, and who knows what else, it’s impossible to figure out what works for what type of calls and which option is the cheapest.

For example, a 19min call from my mobile to Ben’s mobile cost $12. I know – how insane is that!?! So a call to the US should cost a ton, right? No. A 25min call to my parents’ home phone was just $6. I don’t get it.

Then add to that our exceptional ability to evade phones (e.g., being stationed at some remote field location that has no landlines and doesn’t get reception, or being hidden away in the lab), and there’s the added difficulty of figuring out when who will be by which phone.

I know I shouldn’t complain, since international communication is so much easier than it used to be, but I feel like you need a graduate degree in Phones to figure it all out.

Fruit of the day: Kumquats

So growing up, I remember hearing about the mystical “kumquat,” and with a name like that you’ve just got to be intrigued, but I never had any idea of what it was. In fact, I had this notion that it was a horrible vegetable that your parents might threaten to make you eat if they wanted to punish you.

In fact, it’s like a little teeny-tiny orange. The skin is so thin that you just pop the whole thing in your mouth, and the taste is kind of like a cross between an orange and a grapefruit or lemon. They’re great!

Zoo House, aka The House of Fun

Yep – The House of Fun, according to the guest book. THOF for short. Also known as “Inkson’s House of Debauchery” or “Gecko Lodge.”

However, since I’m currently here alone, there’s not too much fun and debauchery. No pranks involving electric blankets on 90 degree days, no blokes camping in the roof, no packaging up of black rhinos, no Big Brother-style evictions, nobody’s water breaking (in some unknown room of the house) because the baby decided to come early. Maybe I’ll have more stories before I leave.

But even without all the fun and debauchery, it’s a great place to live. It’s nicer than Brookfield’s Zoo house - I know, the 70’s décor is hard to beat – but this house is actually INSIDE the zoo! [OK, I realize I was pretty much living inside the zoo my last few months at Brookfield, but it’s not the same when you’re locked in the lab.] This house is also more updated (i.e., the appliances look like they were made sometime this century), and it has a beautiful patio and a fireplace. According to the guest book, the fireplace is nice to have at times, but right now I’d rather have a/c, which the house does not have. It does have some good ceiling fans and big huge windows, but the aforementioned patio (which surrounds most of the house) is all brick and spends the whole day sucking in heat so it can trap the house in a nice heat bubble even when the temp drops at night. But it’s going to get cooler soon.

Given the current lack of depravity in the house, I’ve taken advantage of the quiet evenings to explore the zoo. Western Plains Zoo is “one of the world’s finest open range zoos… where endangered animals breed on wide open plains.” Basically, the enclosures are big. I don’t know if the animals are so skittish during the day, but in the evening, when you’re the only person walking around, all eyes are on you – it’s kind of crazy to have a whole field of elands watching your every move. The zoo also attracts some wild animals, especially birds, because it has some great ponds (and probably a lot of surplus food lying around). I failed to spot any camels at the camel exhibit, but I saw more cockatoos, galahs, parrots, and rabbits than I’ve ever seen. I secretly suspect that the rabbits are plotting to take over the zoo. But my favorite moment was when I was standing by the kangaroo exhibit watching the roos and rabbits stuffing their faces side-by-side, and I heard a footstep behind me – only to turn around and see a WILD kangaroo standing about 15 feet away from me. We both stared at each other for a little bit, and then it decided to go on its merry way. I just stood there, still a little stunned, and watched it go.

These are some of my other neighbors (wild black swan and maned wolf):

A day in the life of poo girl

So, you may be wondering – what is this new job all about, and is it really so wonderful that it’s worth moving 6 hours away from Ben? (Actually I’m still wondering that last part myself…) One of the main missions of Western Plains Zoo is to establish captive breeding populations of some of the world’s most endangered species. The problem is that most of these species don’t particularly like to breed in captivity, so they need a little monitoring and a little help. To facilitate whole breeding process, they hired Tamara Keeley as the reproductive biologist 4 years ago. Tamara decided it would be a good idea to add a PhD to the requirements of a full-time job, and after 3 years of juggling both, she’s decided to take 6 months off to focus on the PhD. That’s where I come in.

So for the next 6 months, I’ll be taking her place - monitoring hormone profiles of several different species with the primary objective of figuring out who is ready to mate and whether or not it worked. And yes, for the most part, the words “monitoring hormone profiles” can be replaced with the words “playing with poo.” I won’t be doing any sperm of egg stuff, but hopefully I’ll learn some more about it.

AND, I have a uniform. This may not sound thrilling to you, but I’m pretty happy about it, because 1) I don’t have to go shopping, 2) they pay for my clothes rather than me paying for my clothes, 3) I don’t need to think about what to wear in the morning, 4) it’s not a big deal when I get poo all over my clothes, and 5) they give you a weekly allowance to clean your uniform. How good of a deal is that!!

Dubbo

Well – here I am, all tucked in in Dubbo. Actually, ‘tucked in’ is the last thing I’d want to be – it’s pretty toasty here. It reached 40 degrees, today. That’s like 104 in American. I had a little cheese stick thing during the morning tea break, and it had nearly melted by the time I finished eating it. Now this is the Australia I came to see!!

Dubbo is a decent little town of ~4000 people. It’s kind of in a transition zone – some people say it’s basically the outback; others classify it as suburbia. It has 2 malls, a Target, a McDonalds, a KFC – in many ways, it’s Small Town, Anywhere. But there are several things that make it unique and give you something to get attached to. I suspect the town will grow on me as I get to know it. My favorite thing so far is the Macquarie River – partly because it’s a beautiful river with a great path and it provides a nice shady retreat from the heat; partly because it’s called the “Macquarie” River and I can pretend that I could hop in the river and float down to Ben. [In reality, the river would take me in the exact opposite direction from Ben – the fact that they have the same name is just because Australians picked a few favourite people and named everything after them – but hey, a girl can dream, can’t she?!?]

And I think work will be good. The zoo is quite nice and all the people are super friendly. Tamara, the person I’m replacing, is from Canada, so it’s fun to compare notes about adjusting to life down under. But I'll write more about work, later. So all in all, I'm settling into life in Dubbo. Ben’s worried I might go country, ‘cause it’s that kind of place. He might be right.

The Move

Well – it’s finally here. Time for Kerry to move to Dubbo to start her new job. I have very mixed emotions about this. It will be a great opportunity and fun to get to know a different part of Australia – a place with a little more Outback feel. But right now I’m primarily dwelling on the fact that no matter what awaits, I really don’t want to leave Ben and Ani. I daresay I’m even a little pouty about it, and spend most of my vocal efforts expressing how much I want to stay with Ben and rewording song lyrics to express similar sentiments. (Ben may be happy to see me go!) But, as has been said a million times, it’s not that far away and it’s only 6 months.
For those of you interested in the logistics, Ben and Ani are going to stay at 184 Midson, and Kerry is going to live in the Zoo House. We’ll take long weekends and squeeze in visits and a few adventures when we can. And the lab manager in Ben’s lab (Maria) got us a calendar so we can count down the days until we’re under the same roof, again. But for now, Hi Ho, Hi Ho, It's off to Dubbo I go...

Happy New Years!!

We had a quiet New Year’s Eve for the sake of Ben’s stomach (as mentioned in the previous entry). We got some Thai food and watched “20-to-1: the best Aussie parties,” as well as some of the numerous 2008 recaps. But it was a gorgeous night and the fireworks were calling. Australia prides itself on being the first country to welcome the new year (apparently New Zealand doesn’t count), and Sydney makes every effort to make sure the new year is ushered in in style. This year, an estimated 1.5 million people crowded downtown, and 3,000 boats - beautifully decorated with lights - filled the harbour. Paris Hilton even came for the party (which was big news here). There’s one round of fireworks at 9pm for those that don’t last until midnight, and another stunning display at midnight.

On one of his runs, Ben had discovered a pedestrian bridge with views of downtown, so we thought, since we couldn’t handle the downtown insanity this year, we’d enjoy the fireworks from afar. We weren’t the only ones with this idea – we were joined by 100 or more other people, which just added to the festivity: the countdown en mass, the ooh’s and aah’s, the celebratory shouts of things that were ushered out with 2008 (mainly high school or college, since the school year just ended) and things to look forward to in 2009 (new jobs). A beautiful night, a nice view of the fireworks, and an arm around someone you love – couldn’t imagine a better way to start a new year.

Best wishes to everyone for a wonderful 2009!

I can't take credit for this picture, but if you click the blog title, it should take you to more great fireworks photos.