stevengharms.com

Hope everyone has a great and safe one.

-Steven

Just wanted to wish everyone out there a happy holiday and hope that you’re spending it in a way that you find fun, relaxing, and rewarding.

As for myself, I spent Christmas Eve Day surfing at Bondi (or at least valiantly g etting thrashed about in the waves) - tiny little bits of improvement are all I see but that’s OK with me. I really enjoyed the day out there.

And guess what, whilst there I ran into none other than SANTA. Santa said that because I had been such a good boy this year i deserved a sweet wetsuit.

After my run in with St. Nick i headed back down the parade to the pavillion and rinsed off and grabbed a corn on a cob on a stick. Man, those things taste the same everywhere the world over: good.

From there I grabbed a chicken wrap and started the journey back home.

I’m a tiny bit pink and very ready for bed! Bye.

I have always been very interested in going to the holy land. Regrettably, the political situation in the world does not make it very easy for an American to be in that part of the world with a whole lot of comfort.

In particular, two fine Sydneysiders have made me think of it again.

A few years back when I was taking French at Texas I went to a welcoming committe gathering for foreign students coming to the US. I remembered what it was like to be a foreigner in Holland at a school and was very thankful that so many great Dutch people went out of their way to help me feel welcome. I figured I should return the favour.

While there I met many interesting people but one was a young man from Lebanon. A girl in my Finance class was talking to him and I was enjoying their conversation quite a lot (she was half Lebanese). As they talked it dawned on me that Lebanon was not this hellhole that I had always seen on the news growing up (bombs, rocks throwing, intifadeh, Hezbollah). The gentleman said something I’ll never forget. In a factual and yet wistful tone he said:

“Beirut, it was the Paris of the Middle East.

Having just been to Paris for the first time but a few short months previous to that discussion I was stunned. The math and architects lined up, the French imperial influence in northern Africa matched up…could it have been?

At the crossroads between Africa, the Holy Land, and the Mediterranean lies the fragrant cedar finger of Lebanon, stroking the western cheek of the Mediterranean, that sea that carried a thousand ships, bore a thousand civilizations, and quickened my own culture.

[ I suggest that if you have a laptop you keep a copy of the CIA World Fact Book on your HD, you will always learn something if stuck in an airport, ditto some Shakespeare, a greek epic or two ]

But it has been a great long while since I thought about this mysterious place - until I made the acquaintance of one of the excellent servers in the hotel. He is an absolute gentleman and, I daresay, his gift in this capacity is what makes it such a pleasure to be a patron within his cafe. He is polite, tactful, generous, and a very good conversationalist. I have been asking him to tell me about Lebanon and he has entertained my requests good-naturedly.

Today, I want over to the hair salon in the David Jones and I had the pleasure of meeting another Lebanese gentleman who, in addition to giving me a good haircut, was proud to tell me about his growing up in Beirut.

I related to him my dreams of visiting some day and he said that should things ever settle in Palestine between Israel and the Palestinians Beirut will stand to benefit as it is poised for a social rebound.

I should like to see Baghdad before I grow too old - I hope to see Beirut before then.

Well here we are again on Saturday, the Christmas spirit is, quite aclimatically, rather warm, and the white Christmas shall surely be a white sandy beach.

So, what has your humble narrator been up to? Well nothing of any great import I should say. This week was very busy at work as I tried to take care of as much business as possible so that everyone could have a stress-free holiday.

I’m sitting now in the very comfortable and very well lit “Gallery” here in the Sheraton. The obligatory classical music on guitar plays in the background and only occasionally manages to disturb the natural ebb and flow of those conversing at the tables around me.

I got up this morning and headed back down to Pho Pasteur where I had a large bowl and then headed back to Paddy’s marked for a back, shoulder, and neck massage from the people who have a booth there.

Last night was quite a lot of fun. After work a large group of my co-workers and I headed off to the pub across the way for a few drinks and then we headed down to The Rocks (a district) where we hit some of the larger pubs in that area.

It was wellnigh about midnight when I managed to, given that I had begun that adventure on an empty stomach, reach my limit. I was also tired from the early-ass conference calls back to the US I make on Friday morning. The traffic was packed so i hopped a bus and it (luckily) took me in the right direction.

Starved, I swung into the Mackers and had the entirely underrated experience of sitting in a gigantic bed with fresh sheets watching the late news and inrhaling a quarter pounder and fries.

I was a bit chagrinned that this morning there was nothing but a gray overcast sky - I had my heart set on going to the beach. There is always tomorrow though….

Monday afternoon I am going surfing.

One of the girls who works at Cisco was telling me about the art scene that she is pretty dialed into and it really reminded me a lo of the SF Gallery scene. I was going to try to learn more about it but she had to cut out - hopefully I can explore a bit of that.

New Pix: Newtown

Learning how to watch Cricket:

Ravin, Mr. cannot-X-for-toffees himself gave me, with a great deal of effort, a lesson in how to watch and be entertained by cricket. Once you understand how the game is played it’s really actually moderately entertaining. I do have to say that running back and forth lacks a certain visible achievement like a good run around the bases, but nonetheless it’s fairly exciting.

I have yet to see a player taken out by tagging the wicket though…

Australian versus American body image

Well, dig this, Australians are much better adapted vis-a-vis body image (well, this should not be a surprise given that Americans are the absolute worst). I have noted that girls who are curv-ed and not rail thin are quite pleased to show what they’ve got.

Now hang on, I’m not just saying that some choose to visit the beach sans-top (really, such a non-issue).

I am actually saying something quite different, that were a girl some few body-fat percentage points of XXX-tina Aguilera (who, by the way, can actually sing when she’s not doing that stupid Mariah Carey vocal acrobatics for no real apparent reason: Go Frank Lloyd Wright Chrissy), she would not sit at home doing Pole-Dance aerobics wishing she could tolerate being seen in a two-piece with her slender best friend - nay she’d just go out and have a good time … and know that she’d fill out the evening gown in a much more classic fashion.

Now, on the flip side, the aforementioned curvy girl is not to be confused with the overweight which, thanks to the American invasion of McDonalds (Mackers) and Burger King is now helping force a rapid increase in the obesity-related illnesses (can you imagine the stress this is causing on a country that actually assures its citizens health care?). Rather, this is that majority of the population that does not fit into the legendary size 6.

In sum, being comfortable with what you can’t change is good and Australian society seems to embrace this. Being depressed over what you cannot change is futile and you should accept - American society seems to reject this. The whole overriding dictum is that “If it is in your power, you should probably do something to remedy.”

In sum, happiness does not seem to be exclusively reserved for the thin and beautiful here. It’s hard for me to sort out given my years of acculturation to believe the previous statement.

Work

I’ve heard a lot about work over the years but here is the one place that I have ever been where people follow the CitiBank billboard slogan: Work to Live, Don’t Live to Work.

Yesterday I went to Sydney’s arguably most famous beach, Bondi. I will apologize presently for not having any pictures of it in the name of carrying minimal crap I decided to carry only my towel, clothes, and a few other items.

Furthermore, I didn’t want to sweat my camera being purloined whilst I waded. I mean, really, are too many people going to come in and steal my copy of The Golden Compass? Anyhow, the sun was up and beaming happily, this beintg the first weekend it has done so since my arrival.

I had opened my eyes that morning and hit the switch on the blackout curtains, to my surprise about halfway up I could see nothing but azure blue peeking between the buildings of the CBD - I knew my first beach opportunity had come.

So, as I was saying, I headed to Bondi via Wynyard (rhymes with vineyard, same syllabation as well) where I picked up a new iPod remote due to my iPod remote issue. I’ve now bought two of these things and am going to send Apple a complaint letter about it. I then took the train hop up to Cirqular Quay (“key”) and took a glance at The Rocks district and the building that my guidebook described as looking like turtles in congress.

BUT there was no time for that - I had a mission, beach with a vengeance. With the iPod of Doom playing along my bus ride through the Paddington neighborhood and into Bondi (township of) went by quickly.

I headed down the road (Bondi town looking a lot like Santa Cruz) and stopped in the grocery store for some peaches, plums, and a big ol’ thing o’ water. I continued walking towards the now very clear azure sea until I found the Bondi pavilion. There I changed into my trunks, hired a locker, and hit the sugary sand. I found a spot and slathered the SPF30 on. Looking singularly placental I lay back and enjoyed the mellowing sounds of the surf and the waves.

It wasn’t long before I ventured into the sea and found the water to be temperate and comfortable….well, after you get over that “holy crap when that next wave goes over my waist this is going to suck”. I spent four hours hanging out on the beach and had a nice conversation with my towel-neighbor from Ireland.

It was a fine time. Towards 4pm the clouds drifted in so I headed back to the pavilion and changed. I hopped the bus back to town and swung by The Windsor Hotel (which is a bar [pub]) around the corner. Being thoroughly wiped-out I watched some Cricket and ordered room service before retiring.

El Camino on Steroids Performance Review

Manufacturers’ Site.

I have an iPod and it’s worth every penny, no doubt..

BUT I have a huge complaint, the sheathing on my remote unit has receded and has exposed the delicate and tender wires underneath. I was wondering if any of my readers or if anyone that finds this comment in the Google Cache has experienced the same issue.

I have pictures here.

These are pictures from November 29th, when I was wandering about town working off a bit of airplane fatigue. More pictures (and more interesting pictures at that) are coming soon.

Sydney

1. Go to http://www.google.com
2. Enter “miserable failure”
3. Click I’m feeling lucky

h0 h0 h0!

Thanks to thousands of bloggers like yours truly entering miserable failure, Google’s engine is providing interesting results.

Karl Rove read this:

“Mission Accomplished!”