Moto GP

Andrew is a massive motorbikes fan - I remember the night he rolled up to one of our pub crawls with a new bike. Not just the bike but the fact it was the first time one of our group wasn't drinking because something (ie getting the bike home safely) was more important than getting drunk. Unfortunately he's also suffered the curse of bike riders - a crash and a few months on crutches. So its no surprise that it has been one of his life's dreams to get to a 500cc MotoGP, and its no accident his visit to Portugal was timed to coincide with the race at Estoril. However the race had sold out well before his dates were confirmed, and the urge to chill almost overrode the desire. But not for long. We decided it was better to try to experience as much as possible, get as close as we could rather than regretting "so near yet so far". So we joined of the motorcade of bikes heading west to Lisbon and on to Estoril.
We stood in line until tickets sold out then spent a couple of hours standing at the gate watching keenly for scalpers or people with extras. One of the advantages of people visiting is that I learn to apply Portuguese in different situations so I can now beg, haggle and scalp tickets :) After a complicated deal involving buying two grandstand tickets then onselling a standing room ticket (all at face price so no actual scalping - bizarre!) we were in!
Not that a grandstand ticket gets you a seat - I don't think anyone has heard of overcrowding so the only room was on the grandstand stairs packed in amongst all the Spanish that had ridden across the Iberian peninsula for the day.I've always thought motorbike riders/enthusiasts were a close-knit, passionate breed but the intensity of feeling here surprised me. One guy next to me practically sulked when his favourite rider crashed out. I tried to mimic the same emotion when the lone Aussie crashed out but just couldn't match his passion. Or that of the young Valentino Rossi fans below anxiously hoping he can regain front position towards the end of the race.

I've never been a big motorsport fan, nor a major bike fan. Yet you couldn't help but be caught up in the excitement of the race - the noise, the speed, 4 lead changes in the last lap and a photo finish at the end. A Spanish rider won meaning all the Spanish fans rode back east happy, Valentino came second and went to the top of the riders championship so everyone in "46" was happy, and Andrew had seen a race so he was happy. Me? Of course I was happy ;)

You'll notice from recent photos that my hair has grown stupidly long. I have some options - 1) wait til my next trip to Lisbon and get a "fashion" haircut where at least I might be able to speak English to keep it almost normal 2) go to the hairdresser in town that my fashion-conscious gym trainer gets hair cut at (and his legs waxed) 3) go to one of the millions of small barbers shops around Montemor. Hmmm what to do?!

Where the river meets the sea

Last weekend I went to visit a friend in Figueira da Foz on the central coast or Silver Coast north of Lisbon. I've been meaning to get there for a while but weather and commitments have conspired to keep us both busy or indoors. But since last weekend was full of sun I decided to swap the computer screen I was staring at the previous weekend for this view from a hotel balcony. Figueira is an old port and fishing village (Foz means "where river meets sea") which is now a summer retreat full of holiday homes and apartments empty for 11 months of the year. On autumn weekends like this its a little empty making it easier to find a place to have a beer overlooking the sea and watching the sunset or find a spot on the beach (theres 900m of sand between sea and the road so I wouldn't have thought it was too much of a problem!).
Perthites might consider wandering down to Scarborough on the weekend and doing a "Compare and contrast" with that photo. The sun sets into the ocean just the same. Theres the same single high-rise, the same row of apartments, the same expanse of beach, a walking path alongside it for a jog or a bike ride and the same road along the beach for people run into each other when they look at the view (sunset or joggers ;) instead of the road. Theres even the same stupid clock-tower, except the Figueira one actually chimes the hours, along with the first few bars of the regional anthem. By midnight you're ready to break the speakers. In fact it was broken for a year and I suspect the guy that fixed it has had to leave town.
Anyway lots more photos to show you from the port, from the forests, from the mountains and from Coimbra in the next couple of days. For now I'll leave you kicking back anticipating a dinner of fresh seafood and fish, then out for a few beers with the local crew in the outdoor bars and a bit of people-watching as they promenade the streets. I've worked out one problem with this daylight saving thing - there were two 1am's on Saturday night and alcohol was not solely to blame. Its very confusing, especially if you're trying to work out whether to keep drinking or go to bed. Alcohol does help somethings including lowering the language barrier, although the seagull noise associated with stealing bar snacks differs between Portugal and Australia. Some things are still lost in translation - a very drunk cousin of somebody introduced himself with "Hi I'm *****, I have a very big chicken." I could've been nice and told him that the correct slang is 'cock' but to be honest I'm looking forward to watching him try and charm some female tourists by talking about his 'chicken'......

Cromeleque dos Almendres

I've been to visit this cromeleque twice yet the only time I took a camera a storm rolled in, making for a more atmospheric but less detailed picture. Better detail is in the photo below taken by my predecessor who didn't bring the rain like I seem to. The long axis of the cromelque is aligned in the direction of the town in the background (Evora). Significantly the shadows cast at sunset point directly towards Evora at the equinox.

As explained by the info board at the site:

The Megalithic enclosure of Almendres, one of the first public monuments to be erected in human history, comprises the largest group of menhirs to be erected on the Iberian peninsula and one of the most important in Europe. It was a monument which had religious functions and was probably also a primitive astronomical observatory.

This monument originally consisted of over a hundred monoliths. Recent excavations have detected various phases of construction throughout the Neolithic period (5000 to 4000 BC).

There are 92 menhirs with differenst shapes and dimensions, some small rudely shaped blocks, others of greater size. They form two enclosures erected in different, distinct eras, twinned and aligned in accordance with the equinoxes. Ten of the monoliths are decorated , exhibiting reliefs or engravings, with four of them just displaying dimple marks."

Primitive religious functions = fertility rites, so no-one tell Bry I touched a menhir :)

Mourao

The castle where I was busy riding cannons was at Mourao, 8km from the Spanish border. Given the size of the castle there I suspect it was the Spanish border at some stage in its existence. The castle is very open to the public so not only can you jump on cannons you can can climb the walls and and pace the ramparts pretending you're a soldier watching over the town or over the lake to Monsarraz. All good clean honest fun if you like narrow staircases and vertigo-inducing views. Personally I don't so I resisted the temptation until the end when a group of Spanish guys and girls headed up to the top and my new-found Latino machismo got the better of me: "if they can do it, I can!". Mourao is now separated from the rest of Portugal by a dam built in the last 10 years, which if nothing else makes for nice backgrounds to photos.

News from home

Im beginning to wonder which side Australia should be on in the war against terror (assuming that we should take a side - another debate in itself). 74 years ago our greatest racehorse was poisoned (if you believe the evidence) and our national dish has been banned (or is it just a media beat-up?). If these are our friends......

Australia's most prominent young politician has decided to retire from politics to spend more time with family. I remember the feeling I had when she was elected that young people almost had a voice in government. Now any chance of a strong 3rd party now rests with the Greens. I wasn't going to point out that she was also one of our only women politicians, but sadly this appears to be relevant. Still a long way before a female Prime Minister it seems.

Sometimes Australia seems like a microcosm of the world. The question is what world?!

How to desecrate a 1704 cannon

This weeks poll - which of the following photos is least respectful to a country's hisorical monuments or the worst use of an 18th Century cannon?

As you can tell I had a friend from Australia over last week as only Aussies manage to do this sort of thing! Unfortunately his visit wasn't all fun and games as we were held up/mugged Tuesday night walking the streets after a good dinner, no harm done except losing a bit of cash and more the shock that it happened in Evora not a rougher area.

More photos and stories to put up later since I've spent this weekend digitising orebody interpretations - you know its time to call it a night when MTV sinks as far as "The making of Paris Hilton's album". For the non-geologists this weeks lesson is how to construct a resource model - the lines below outline the area predicted to have more than 1gram/tonne gold, which can then be made into a 3D model and then the total tonnage/gold content calculated (and a mine designed to extract it).

RIP: Gloopy thing

Those who have been to my desk or my house over the last years will have met the gloopy thing, a timer which mimics diapirism where less dense material rises through more dense. Of course I only knew that when I did a geology course, and then an honours thesis on granites. I actually bought it in Sydney in 1993 (unlucky 13 years ago!) during a high school orchestra trip because of its electric blue colour and viscous texture and have had it ever since. Countless people played with it, countless nights its kept me company while studying, countless times its hypnotised me with as air bubble after air bubble rises (and gloop after blue gloop falls out the bottom). Until last week when I knocked off my desk and smashed it, the day after my laptop's power cord shorted out. I guess its one of those times and I should take comfort from the fact it lasted years longer than Az's.

Edit: I decided to give the gloopy thing its own post. It was only fitting. Plus I'm still not sure whether I won't delete yesterdays post at some stage

Cheese lovers unite

I've just come from another meeting of the Cheese Appreciation Society of Escoural. I didn't actually realise I was a member. But tonight the cheese appreciation couldn't start until I was out the back, beer in hand, ready to try the salt-cured cheese (kinda like a parmesan or a romano) which needs to be sliced thinly with a sharp knife, then eaten on a thick hunk of crusty bread. Last Wednesday we went through half a dozen cheeses but tonight it was only four, homemade and brought down after work along with home preserved olives.

OK I'm bullshitting. This is just another name for after work beers. But it also shows routine is back. You'll have noticed on my notes on Santiago da Cacem that I'm not quite as enthusiastic as I used to be about the sights. Last weekend bed and the couch won over touring to somewhere new, partly because I wasn't sure that I'd see anything radically different than I had before and because I didn't have the energy to get out and test those assumptions. I guess thats when you start living in a place and not being a tourist, when day-to-day or going for a walk is needed more than sightseeing, and you have to go further afield to be stimulated again. This week could be different: in my quest for receiving the Portugal-Australia tourism award I host Mr Appleby and its easier to get moving when you have someone to show things too, plus the best way to refresh your view on a place is to see it through someone else's eyes.

Santiago da Cacem

Santiago da Cacem is where the residents of Mirobriga moved to when they decided that they wanted to be on top of a hill and to have a view of the Atlantic.

No Bill, the Atlantic was on the other side.

It is an indictment on me that I can only descrive the town thus: Moorish hilltop castle rebuilt by the Christians similar to the one in Montemor, which incorporates a 1755 church built on the foundations of the church ruined by the earthquake. The historic centre is the typical maze of narrow streets you find everywhere in Portugal winding down the steep slope to the river and the wider main roads out to Lisbon.

So I need a little help:
"The origins of the castle of Santiago do Cacém are rather curious, the result of the victory of a warrior princess over a fierce Moor called Kassen that took place on Santiago's (St James's) day. She therefore named it Santiago de Kassen, which, over the time, became Santiago do Cacém Rectangular in shape, ten towers and cubic turrets reinforce the halls."
Oh they didnt mention that when the castle stopped being a castle they started using the interior as a cemetery (the dead need protecting as the living can protect themselves?!)

But just occasionally you get a glimpse of life up a side street like here - a man cooking sardines for lunch, the wife coming to check on progress and the cat (bottom centre) just waiting for someone to take their eyes off the "brasa".

Romans were here

You know it from the rows of cypresses..... and the temples.......
The Mirobriga archaeological site is next to Santiago da Cacem close to the Atlantic coast of Portugal. To get the history right: Mirobriga was settled first but during the 4th Century the population moved the town from the side of one hill over the hill onto the top of the next (and taller) hill. This left Mirobriga to fall into disrepair and be covered by farming until it was re-discovered in the 1950s and protected/excavated (along with many of Portugal's archaeological sites - this was also when most of the Roman workings were re-started as modern mines with over 50 being operated at this time).

There is a large and impressive buiding here which contains conference rooms, brochures for sale and no other information on the site whatsoever. Despite half a dozen kids walking out of there with a sheet of A4 paper I was told they only had 5euro brochures for sale. Hmmm. You are forced to enter this building before you enter the site (why? presumably to view your taxes at work) but if you come between 12 and 2 you get away without this essential part of the experience.
I cunningly took some archaelogical experts with me to explain the site instead of relying on getting information there (i.e. my parents) and am assured that the ruins shown above and below would have been the bath house. You can see the under floor drainage where the water was diverted around the different pools and heated on the LHS of the photo below.

Its October already?

Summer left Portugal a couple of weeks ago. I had to drive to work every morning last week peering through the morning mist, trying to work out whether my ute had a foglight, again splashing throught the river at the ford. But on Friday there was no mist, just a rich golden sun low in the sky, rays reflecting off the low clouds, the sun not strong enough to banish them completely and a light golden haze covered the fields instead. I bounced along to happy music while to my right a goat stood on a rock, as if to check that the sun was really there, a bit later on my left the leaves on the vines were turned into golden lamps by the light, and the grape pickers in the fields seem to belong in a painting rather than the real world.

Its been a week or two of animals - the other day a small marron waved a claw at us from a puddle, one the next day was a little more aggresive and decided to attack my shoe. In the ford last week I had to slow to avoid a tortoise who had found that the river wasn't quite passable despite the rain. I would've made my vet nurse cousin proud as I stopped, carried it across the road and left it safely in a puddle (pausing only to take a photo and dodge a few cars, who either slowed to look or sped up to hit me!).

No posting since I returned because the world has been very busy. Not just unpacking and resettling, at work we've been trying to start drilling again and trying to start a new project plus touring a series of prospective investors around the projects/country. Also my parents have been visiting and it's nice to show them around both the sights and the cafes, although perhaps the best meal was the BBQ out the back after work last Friday.

To complete the set my brother came for a visit with his wife and baby and I got to experience first hand a taste of baby life and meet my niece. The photo above should deter anyone from suggesting that Bry and I should get one of our own or that I can baby-sit theirs. Steve and Kim, Marty and Jo take note!!! (and public congratulations too on the birth of William and Jo's pregnancy)

As if life couldn't get any better on Saturday the West Coast Eagles managed to be on the winning side of this years AFL grand final thriller. For the first time in 18 years I couldnt watch any of it on TV so I listened to the radio through the net, lying in bed at 7.30am having heart attacks as the boys held on, then watched it again Sunday night when the match replay FINALLY appeared on afl.com. No internet streaming of the GF, crap highlights packages then they can't even upload it 10 hours later even though they can sell the DVD in Perth on Sunday. Dont get me started - well I did as in my old age Ive become a letter writer so Telstra, the AFL and 6PR all copped emails at 6am. A bit of emotion watching the celebrations and half a thought of whether I could pull the boots on again to try and get one myself. I could go on about the game a lot longer but I'll restrain myself and just observe that its great to see Beau Waters has decided to prove that footballers havent turned into elite athletic machines.

More emails with pics of some new and different places soon. I promise. Just have to finish a release, model two deposits, design a drill programme or three and work out a project for a student :)

Wedding cake for breakfast

Vivaha - A Hindu wedding

"To allow you, our cherished guest, to understand the reasons behind the colourful processes that mesh together to become Vivaha we have produced this guide shedding light on some of the exotic events that would otherwise remain obscure. We cannot promise that your intrigue will entirely be satisfied. Perhaps that is in tune with the meaning of Vivaha. After all, marriage solemnises love and love is best conceptualised as the faith that carries a couple through the unknown"
"During this wedding please think about a long and happy life together for Priya and Aaron. These wishes contribute to the bond which is forming between these two. Your thoughts will wander - after all, that is the essence of meditation - but please, if they do wander, bring them back."
Food, dressing up, and dancing to finish. An all-day wedding means an all day recovery which is easier if you add sugar into the system nice and early. Wedding cake for breakfast to put me right. Now how did it get all the way home?

Where's Billo thanks guest photographers Bwon and Rhino for their skills

Domestic bliss

This photo is aimed at making everyone away from Perth homesick or jealous that they haven't visited yet. It goes some way to explaining why it will always be home for me, and why it can be so hard to leave.

From the desert to the sea

Margaret River is the centre of WA’s South West – well the South West as defined to tourists anyway. The area is the most popular weekend away for people from Perth or visitors with some spare time because its only 3 hours from Perth, cooler and stays green year-round.

Metaphors such as “Perth’s holiday home”, “WA’s backyard” or “the garden of the state” are used liberally on tourism websites as it's an area full of farms, wineries and providors for the gourment traveller, artists and artisans for the collectors, or beaches and some of the best waves on the planet for the bums and surfers. But it’s full to bursting on weekends and school holidays, overpriced accommodation, meals and fuel, plus overdeveloped in some areas.
Since I've always stayed with friends down south away from the tourists I've come to view Margs and its surrounds through "local" eyes and look at the tourists with disdain. It’s lost some of its original attraction as a relaxed escape from the rat-race or a hangout for hippies and surfers chasing a back-to-nature lifestyle where work came second when the swell was up. Now people would rather import builders from Perth to build their houses on time rather than embrace the “down south” attitude.

Despite having a love-hate relationship with the area its still beautiful especially when you can get there without the crowds and enjoy it at the pace its meant to be taken at, and those hosting you have the time to talk about their lifestyle with you. So as a winter getaway it was perfect - too cold for swimming, true, but plenty of wine tasting, touring through misty forests and relaxing in front of a log fire.
I always love tasting new wineries and thinking I've been one of the first there. I've tasted most of those around Dunsborough on previous trips so since we were staying south of Margs this trip we made a point of keeping to the area SE of the town. Wine tasting notes are compulsory:

• the Cab Savs and Merlots at Brown Hill were very tasty and full-flavoured (always a good sign when the bloke pouring your tasting looks like hes had a bottle for lunch)
• excellent Pinot Noir at Cavalier Crest, very hard grape to grow so good to see a small winery was producing some. Their other reds were pretty good too
• Swallows Welcome is the epitome of "down south". Greeted by a Jack Russell it has (among other projects) a winery (Cab Merlot Franc), a hand-built rammed earth chapel and an art studio. When they aren't heading off to the bank or to play tennis that is - but they were still happy to show us around all these and explain the winemaking process.
• Cape Grace to the west is more expensive but again the Chenin Blanc, Merlot and Cab Sav were spectacular, also nice that they didn't get snobby with Bry and I being young or not so fashionably dressed. Too many wineries down here were barely polite when we turned up and in return I'll do them the favour of not spending my money there or naming them to you.
• Happs, Watershed, Vasse Felix and Capel Vale are all household names in WA so I'll just point out that they're still good. You have to check these things ;)

The shadow of the headframe

Kalgoorlie is the centre of the Western Australian mining industry (if not Australia’s). There are hundreds of mines surrounding the town; at a quiet moment the sounds of drills and diggers working the largest of them (the Super Pit) are carried on the desert wind from the edge of town. Gold runs through the veins here both those under your feet and through the blood of the people, miners with a nugget in their pocket and a story to tell (although the pub owners usually have the nuggets).

The town centre is a 1900s Federation statement of goldrush wealth, demanding attention and respect in the manner of the nouveau riche, the souped-up V8s passing by providing the modern analogue, worth more than their 20 year old drivers should be able to afford. One concession to reality is the 4 lane streets, no show of power but dictated by the turning circle of a camel train.

Not every story is one of romance and success. As the skimpy battled to match the faded chalk written wine list with the bottles in front of her (fine dining is possible in a mining town) the guy at the bar asked me how the conference was going. “I’m new in town, I’m working at a gravel quarry at the moment but I came here to try and get onto the mines. I want to drive dump trucks if I can.” I never found out where he’d come from, who he’d left behind or was hoping to bring with him, instead I left him as alone as I found him, his dream not melting as fast as the ice in his bourbon and coke as every story here still has a grain of hope.

Not simply a typical Aussie backyard - the hill behind is formed by waste from the Super Pit.

I was there for Diggers, the mining industry’s trade show where every mining magnate, wanna-be magnate or just geos there for a beer hoping for an idea or deal to let them make an impact is clamouring for the attention of Australia’s money men, bankers and stockbrokers dropped into the middle of the desert and given the hard sell. The hard sell is especially effective if you keep them at the pub til late, although when they go its time for catching up with old mates, spreading rumours and telling tall stories about how big your projects going to be. This is the other end of the spectrum to the geology conference I went to, here everything is about resources and money, every person meeting you is making a contact, trying to see if they can help you or you can help them. No-one contacted me after the conference in Portugal, already I’ve had half a dozen emails/calls since Kal and I’m not going to tell you how many job offers (if any geos need a job get in touch and I’ll give you some contacts).

Flickr

I take a lot of photos as anyone who's met up with me after/during a trip and been subjected to a viewing will attest. I tend to observe while I travel, not neccessarily research information to write with. One of the hardest things about this blog is only posting 5 or so from each place, also selecting/sizing them so you can see whats in them without them killing your computer (LJ has a cut, why not blogger?!).

So I now have my own Flickr page (link also on sidebar). Most of the photos are from when I first arrived as I've already hit my limit of 200 free photos and am toying with my options. I have issues with paying people to host my photos when I'm pretty sure I could make that happen for free, but I don't like being restricted in the number of photos or people missing out on photos/slideshows when they're replaced by newer ones.

Over to you. My decision will largely rest on how much people look at them, what feedback I get (here, there, email) and people's preferences about seeing hundreds in person versus viewing of dozens in your own time.

People pictures will remain friends-only so if you want to see them you'll need a Flickr/Yahoo ID. By the way I have Skype now too so anyone who wants to chat can email me their username.

Cocktails and cameras

"Capirinha com ananas?" the barman checks back with me. Casually he turns and picks half a pineapple out of the ice bucket before shearing thick slices into the blender. Adding a measure of cachaca he pauses and throws another half in there for good measure. The noise is swallowed by the pulsating Brazilian rhythms pumping out (or are they African? Cuban?). I've been here on a Friday night when both blenders in the long scarlet bar are running every second, but on a Monday night the blenders pulse intermittently. Not that the bar is empty, almost full just seems spacious when compared with full to bursting.

That's the way Bairro Alto is. The maze of restaraunts, bars and clubs is crowded even on a Monday but there is more space between each group allowing the differences between them to emerge - some tribal/hippy dreadlocked warriors, glammed up hipsters, tourists looking lost and people just cruising. There's also those that live there, walking their dogs, hanging out washing, coming home from the shops. All these people against the dark background of the dilapidated old town.

Depending who I'm with I get a bit nervous walking around as when I first got here I was warned that some streets were safer than others. While it's no more dangerous than Northbridge or London the unfamiliarity makes it seem more sinister. It's paranoia, honestly, the fact it goes away after dinner or after the first couple of drinks proves that. If you were watching it would probably be funny, watching me get halfway down a street and remember this is one of the bad streets, or discreetly trying to sneak a look up a street before turning into it.

Those paranoias get shattered occasionally - last night when after a steady swag of 3euro cocktails full of fresh strawberries and mango (half a tree of mint in the case of the mojito) Ali, Karen and I went wandering to hang out with the outside crowd. When we were drawn back to the cocktail bar (can't think why) the bar guy called me over "You guys left a camera". We hadn't even noticed it was missing yet. But he goes back to his casual, no hurry bar service, occasionally wandering the bar to pick a few empties and check on the customers.

For future reference - cinnamon-flavoured schnapps with gold flakes is a bad idea. But pretty.