Round the blogging tracks - Matthew's trip to the Middle East, more on Israel Folau

All work and and too little play has made Jim rather a dull chap recently. Both my blogs and my fellow bloggers have been somewhat neglected. It's been a miserable day here in Daceyville,  cold and raining quite heavily, so I thought I should take some time just to browse.

Over on Happy Antipodean, Matthew da Silva reports in detail on his Middle Eastern trip, daily reports with photos. It's quite a long series. Perhaps the best way to navigate is to start at the first day, Abu Dhabi on the outward leg, and then follow through using the side bar. This is easy to do because the posts are all in order.

I have not visited any of the places Matthew mentioned. I found it an interesting series, well illustrated with his photographs, although I learned perhaps more on the vagaries of taxi drivers and street touts than I might have wished! And I got a little lost in the multiple pricing references.

Of the sections, I found Amman, Petra and Istanbul, most interesting, Jerusalem less so, although there were still incidental things of interest. I'm not quite sure why I had this reaction, but the picture I got  was very blurred.

On 20 April 2019 in Problems of employment and free speech - Folau, Ridd and Anderson, I explored in a tentative way the issues raised by Israel Folau's sacking by Rugby Australia because of the way he expressed certain religious views. In a comment, marcellous pointed me to a strange case, Gaynor v Local Court of NSW & Ors [2019] NSWSC 516. The summary reads:

CIVIL PROCEDURE – where plaintiff made application that judge should disqualify himself because of apprehended bias – where plaintiff argued that the judge’s apprehended bias is based on the alleged political views of the judge’s tipstaff – whether the alleged political views of the tipstaff would cause an independent observer to believe that the judge could not or might not bring an independent mind to the task of deciding the case – application dismissed.

I read the case with a degree of bemusement trying to work out what it was all about. Fortunately, marcellous provided a later explanation in Twinks and Tipstaves. I leave it too you to read. It's worth it!

In early June, Winton Bates had a parallel column on the Folau case, Does Israel Folau deserve support from advocates of free speech?  Winton's view was yes, although he was not absolutely convinced by John Stuart Mill’s arguments in On Liberty on the question. Interestingly, ethicist Professor Peter Singer (hardly an advocate for Folau's religious views) also quotes Mill from On Liberty in concluding that the Australian Rugby Union had acted unwisely. In Singer's word, the ARU had "scored an own goal". 

I suspect that Rugby Australia Chief Executive Officer Raelene Castle would now share that view. The case has blurred together issues associated with freedom of speech and freedom of religion, including the question of the extent to which an organisation can impose conditions on free speech as part of an employment contract. From a purely practical perspective, it has cost the ARU a key player in the lead-up to the World Cup and has divided a code with so many Pacific Islander players who share Mr Folau's religious views. It has also cost the ARU a fair bit of cash with more expense to come to defend an unfair dismissal claim.

I do not know how all this will play out, but it has been an unfortunate experience.

Postscript

Mr Folau is really making things difficult for those of us who are concerned with underlying principles with his latest public forays. This is but one example of the latest reports. If he wishes to be a preacher he is entitled to argue his views. One could say that now he has been sacked, the matter is under legal dispute, he can say what he likes. But I do think that he needs to recognise that there are other views. I think that there is a conflict between the preaching role and his role as an ARU employee. 

Reflections in my latest Armidale visit - a mix of travel, history, the town: a mixed bag

Just back from Armidale where I delivered a paper on Friday (13 April 2018) in the University of New England's humanities seminar series 'New England travels: journeys through space and time".The paper was described in this way in the blurb:

 This paper explores key themes across 30,000 years of the history of Australia's broad New England region, the Tablelands and surrounding valleys, showing how the interaction of geography and events has moulded life and culture from the arrival of the Aboriginal peoples to the end of the twentieth century. 

An historian and economist by profession, Jim Belshaw is writing a history of the broader new state New England from Aboriginal times to the end of the twentieth century. Jim, an alumnus of UNE, also writes the weekly history column for the Armidale Express.

It had been several years since I last spoke. These papers take a fair bit of effort in preparation and then there is the trip itself. I normally treat the trip part as a mix of professional, social and holiday, but this time it was harder work, partly because I was very tired when I drove out.

As always, I came back with things to do. This includes completing the footnotes so that I can provide copies to the people who have requested it. I will write up some elements in posts here and on the New England blogs; this post reflects on the trip. itself, sort of an aide memoir.

The Journey

I know the road very well after all this time. You can always tell Armidale locals because they know the shortest route. Going north it's up the Paciifc express way. This stretch is pretty boring, but its generally fast unless clogged by holiday traffic. 14k past Raymond Terrace you turn left onto Bucketts Way. This runs in a north westerly direction through Stroud, a historic AA (Australian Agricultural Company) town to Gloucester. . It's quite pretty country with lots to explore. .

At  Gloucester, you turn left onto Thunderbolt's Way following the Walcha signs. The road passes through the little town of Barrington where I usually stop for coffee at the little post office cum general store cum petrol station cum restaraunt. It's a good little earner. Coming back this time tired, that Barrington stop was very welcome. I sat on the verandah savouring my cappuccino writing up my trip notes.

Just past Barrington, the road turns hard right passing through the the headwaters of the Manning River. This is a pretty road that meanders up and down, constantly swinging back and forth over the ridges and along the streams.  Near the Bretti Nature Reserve, the road climbs quickly up the escarpment. This road did not exist when I was growing up. The New England Highway was the only route to Sydney. The road was cut through in 1961 but was not greatly used until tared. I didn't really start using it until after we moved to Sydney in 1996.

Driving habits have changed. I grew up driving on country roads, often dirt. While I do like to get from point A to point B quickly, I enjoy variety, don't mind curves and am philosophical about delays including being stuck behind timber jinkers and cattle trucks. Drivers trained on city roads and expressways find it more challenging. That road, a friend said! It's a very popular road with motorcyclists.

At the top of the mountain the little village of Nowendoc lies to the right just off Thunderbolt's Way. There is a little reserve with a hall and toilet.where I often  stop This is fugitive country country. Most recently, the hall was the centre for the ultimately successful police search for Malcolm Naden. Returning to the main road, New England Cheese can be found a little further on to the left.  I had one of their little freezer bags to return, but the gate was shut, so I drove on.

Often I find small adventures on this road (Sunday Essay - early morning on a New England road, Curious cows Walcha-Nowendoc Road). Again I had to stop for stock! I also spotted through the trees some homesteads that I had not noticed before.That was not wise, I wobbled dangerously. I didn't have time to stop, but you really have to if you are to investigate.You have to walk the ground.

Running north from Nowendoc you enter what is called the Three Falls Country where the head waters of three major coastal rivers - the Manning, the Hastings and the Macleay are co-located. Geoff Blomfield’s “Baal Belbora: the end of the dancing” explores the frontier wars in this country. This is also an area where a number of Aboriginal language groups overlap.

Coming into Walcha, I noticed that some new pieces had been added to the Walcha sculpture streetscape but did not have time to stop.From Walcha, the road continues  to Uralla.

Julia Griffin, Rain on the Uralla Road, one of my favourite paintings. Fortunately, this drive was dry. 

At Uralla, we leave Thunderbolt's Way, turning right to join the New England Highway for the last short stretch into Armidale.

Around Armidale

I was very glad to get to my motel to unwind. Accommodation had been a real issue, as it had been five years before when my delivery of a paper coincided with graduation. I described this a visit at the time in a photo essay. The beauty of Armidale & UNE. This time it was worse because the TAS (The Armidale School) junior (under 12) rugby carnival was on. .

This is the largest carnival of its type in the country. This year it brought together 44 teams from 21 schools and 16 clubs from across three states with 108 games of rugby. It also brought national coach Michael Cheika to town.

Reporting in advance of the carnival,  the Canberra Times' the Cauliflower Column  ( Folau fallout continues as Cheika) said in the context of the problems that have been facing Australian rugby::

The school will welcome an estimated 950 children from as far as Dalby, the Sunshine Coast, the Southern Highlands and even the Perth-based Western Spirit. It will be a rousing statement, particularly on the back of some flat participation numbers revealed in the 2017 Annual Report this week.

This must be the first positive story about Armidale to appear in that paper for quite some time!

I drove past the school grounds on my way home on Saturday just to look. It was a busy colorful  scene with the multiple parked buses, multiple little tents and games, Sadly I could not stop.

While many of the players themselves were accommodated in school boarding houses, the teams also came with officials and parents adding to accommodation pressures associated with graduation. All motels in the immediate area were booked out as were Armidale's 128+ Airbnbs some able to accommodate as many as six people plus the caravan park. There were also "luxury" tents (their phrase) at the showground, although these were too pricey for me in any case! I managed a motel room for the Thursday night and the last available Airbnb room for the Friday night, a simple room in a two bedroom flat. .

I don't know the final visitor numbers, but the town really was packed. The TAS rugby carnival alone brought in an estimated $1.6 million in visitor spend. I went for a walk on the Thursday night past all the motels with their no vacancy signs to buy some takeaway food. All the takeaway places had queues.

As I drove out to the university on Friday morning, I wondered how many people I might get, given graduation. In the end, there were about 45-50 people, A lot were older and from town attracted by the topic as well as my role as a public historian, but I did attract some staff as well including Martin Gibbs, professor of archaeology. Nicholas Fuller, the Armidale Express' newly appointed
arts and culture reporter, also came.
.
The questions were helpful in refining my views. Later over coffee in the staff room I was able to catch up with people including finding out out some of the latest research. Because I work so much outside the academy, I was a little nervous in talking. I form my own views, develop my own syntheses. I do expose this through the blogs and in the columns, but there is still a degree of caution when I come in contact with others with their own particular expertise. I think in practice I probably get more feedback and have greater freedom and more time for thought than those burdened by KPIs and growing teaching loads.  .

Part of my mission is to try to create interest in New England history. I found the conversations with Martin particularly because it gave my new ideas, but also helped me understand the problems he faces in attracting students to archaeology in general and New England studies in particular. There is also a growing problem in getting approvals to dig from Aboriginal communities, something others including John Mulvaney have talked about.  .

I will write more on this later, as well as the ideas that I picked up.I have already been sent two papers containing work that I had not seen before.

After the seminar I wandered around town a bit, sitting in Central Park for a bit to write up notes. It was quiet and beautiful.  One thing I noticed there and elsewhere were the number of older people just sitting. This is a feature of an aging population. Again, thoughts came to mind for later writing.

After lunch I went into the Express to do an interview with Nicholas Fuller. He also took photos of me standing next to the iron lacework outside the Armidale Folk Museum. We talked about his role, but also about the changes taking place in the newspaper world. I have written a little about this, but the discussion helped me extend my thinking

After seeing Nicholas I went out to see Bill Oates, head of the Heritage Centre. I then walked around the old Teachers' College building. This was managed by the University but was recently handled back to the State Government. I found this a profoundly depressing experience for reasons I won't go into here beyond mentioning that one side effect is the need to re-house or throw out archival records, books, newspapers previously stored at in the College building. The lack of periodic maintenance on the College building was clear to see. At a purely personal level, my intention to give key family papers to the archives may prove impossible.      

Again, I may write something more when I have had a chance to process it all.

After seeing Bill, I went into town to look at the display at the Council community consultation centre and then back to my room to have some food and continue writing up my notes. Driving back the next morning I was generally pleased with trip, if still depressed about what I had seen at the old Teachers' College. I wondered what might be done to rectify the position without coming to a firm views.  .      .

Train Reading - Introducing The Travels of Marco Polo

My train reading used to be very disciplined. There was one simple rule. I had to pluck a book of my shelves that I had not read before and then read it until it was finished. No matter whether or not I liked it, it had to be finished.

It's taken me down some interesting by-ways. However, in the last few years my train reading has become spasmodic, less rigorous.

There are particular reasons for this. My main reading time is too and from work. It's hard to train read in the traditional sense when you are deeply embedded in, to take a current example, the late Pleistocene and what it meant for the Aboriginal settlement of New England. Material connected with that topic tends to dominate the brief case. Random reading is crowded out.

Feeling in need of something different this week, I plucked The Travels of Marco Polo off the shelves.Yes, no doubt I should have read it before, it's a famous travel piece, but I hadn't. I was far more familiar with the game Marco Polo, something I used to play with the kids and their friends. Mmmm, I wonder whether I will ever do that again?  It was fun.

My copy of  The Travels is the Penguin Classics edition translated and introduced by Ronald Latham. I don't know a lot about Ronald Latham, although he was clearly a well known classicist.
By melding various accounts together into a coherent story, he created what appears to have become something approaching a best seller. First published in 1958, the book was reprinted in at least 1959, 1965, 1967, 1972, 1974 and 1978 (my copy).

Marco Polo was born in Venice on 15 September 1254. Wikipedia reports that he learned the mercantile trade from his father and uncle, Niccolò and Maffeo, who travelled through Asia, and met Kublai Khan. In 1269, they returned to Venice to meet Marco for the first time. The three of them embarked on an epic journey to Asia, returning after 24 years. The map shows their journey.

There has been some controversy about the accuracy of The Travels. It was written after Polo's return to Venice, dictated to a fellow inmate Rustichello da Pisa while they were prisoners of the Genoans (1296-1298)  Rustichello da Pisa, described by Ronald Latham as a romance writer, incorporated tales of his own, as well as other collected anecdotes and current affairs from China.

I'm not sure the accuracy question matters greatly. It remains one of the great travel epics, painting a picture of a vast world that was then little known to those who lived in Europe.

Train reading: Australian life - the Corner Country 1

My train reading today has been John Gerrison's Tibooburra - Corner Country (Tibooburra Press, Tibooburra, 1981. Before going on, this is a photo of Tibooburra from Gordon Smiths's lookANDsee photo blog..

For those who don't know, the corner country lies in the far north western corner of NSW near the border of South Australia, NSW and Queensland. Tibooburra is the main settlement in the the corner country.

To help you orient yourself, this is a map of NSW. Tibooburra is up in the far left hand corner, just about as far from Sydney as its possibe to get, almost 1,200 kilometres, over 16 hours driving time.

If you want to come from the coast of Northern NSW  such as from Coffs Harbour, the drive time is over eighteen hours!  This distance means that while Tibooburra is technically in Northern NSW, it has very little connection with other parts of Northern NSW. Its focus has been south to Broken Hill, south east to  Bourke or Wilcannia, north into Queensland or west or south west into South Australia. It belongs to NSW by accident of history and the rigid lines of the cartographer.

.This is dry, dry country, marked by recurrent droughts. The Aborigines who knew the country well trained their young men in the land and all possible sources of water. The expansion of the European population was due especially to the discovery of gold combined with pastoral activity. They struggled with lack of water and with drought. It was so dry that horses or bullocks could not cope in dry spells. For that reason, this became camel country.

Today, fewer people live here than existed in Aboriginal times. In later posts, I will look at some of the special features of this inland part of Australia.  

Hot air balloons over the Hunter

We were woken by  a hsst hsst sound. While daylight, it was still early. With breaks, the sound continued. We wandered out onto the little patio at the front of the room to find out what it was, shivering in the still cool Hunter Valley air.  In the distance, we could see a hot air balloon.

We had seen them in the sky the day before, but some distance away cross-country. Finding one nearby on the ground was confusing. Had it just landed? What was going on?

While hot air balloons have a long history, dating back to their use as airborne lanterns (Kongming lanterns) for military signalling purposes in China during the Three Kingdoms era (220–280 AD. However, the first untethered flight with human passengers seems to have taken place much later, in France on November 21, 1783.

The hssst hsst sound continued. As we watched, we could see that there were in fact two balloons, that they seemed to be inflating. This is a long range shot. From where we were standing, we could barely see the balloons, let alone the people.  

As the hsst hsst sound continued, first one and then the second inflated, then came the first take-off.

Now the second was ready to go. In this shot, you can clearly see the hot flame heating the air, with the chase vehicles standing by. With hot air balloons, directions depends on wind. The chase vehicles follow the balloons to collect the passengers at the other end and to repack the balloons.

  

As it lifted, the first of the chase vehicles set off through the vineyards. The others soon followed.

Hot air ballooning has become big business, with providers packaging the flights with all sorts of extras such as champaign breakfasts to add to the experience. This is an example. Excitement over, we wandered inside to prepare for breakfast. 

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Stray cats, cruelty, civil aviation and my Hunter Valley trip

Much of Sunday afternoon, Monday night plus three hours this morning before I went to work, were spent first on trying to fix email problems and then on resolving quite aggressive virus/malware issues. Given that this meant that I had not been able to write pretty much anything, I was so looking forward tonight to coming home and settling in to writing. But it was such an early start and then busy day that I was exhausted by the time I got home. 

In an earlier post I mentioned the stray that I felt obliged to feed, in part because I had known him for two years (I’m sure that he had belonged to someone). I called him Blackie; obviously he is not. Still, Scrawny is not a bad name.

For the benefit of the pet Nazis in our midst, he is not my cat. I have neither the time nor money to put him through the cat registration process. I am simply stopping a nice and well natured cat from starvation.

Speaking of Nazis or at least the Authoritarian robotic rule makers who now dominate public policy, we were talking today at work about the impact of the latest anti-smoking laws in prisons and especially mental institutions. The mark of a psychopath is lack of human empathy. The mark of an authoritian system is rules enforced conformity. There seem to be a lot of both around at the moment, For the first time, and it is a first time in this country,the word cruelty has entered the public debate as a marker. I hadn’t seen it before, but I think that it’s right.

The latest Australian Government action on boats may or may not be cruelty. I don’t share some of the views of refugee advocates, but it certainly seems to have had a further adverse impact on our relations with Indonesia.  The practical suspension of our cooperative relationship with Indonesia continues. Assuming the newspaper reports are correct, It is hard to see how the relationship might be fixed before the Indonesian elections.  And then there will be a new and probably less sympathetic Indonesian president.

Turning to more positive matters, I began a series with Towards a new approach to economic and community development 1 Introduction. Winton, while I have only done one post since I haven’t forgotten. The New England aviation series is actually part of the story.

On a still more positive note, kvd will remember my 2010 Greek trip series. I am now doing something similar with my recent trip to the Hunter Valley.  So far only two posts, but I am working on a third. This is the first post in the new series: Journey to the Hunter – Friday 18 April 2014: the adventure starts

Abu Dhabi, Australia and the Asian century

Alan Joyce and Qantas eat your heart out! This is the new mosque in Abu Dhabi. Construction began in 1996, with completion in 2007. It's a striking building that I have enjoyed vicariously via trip photos. Further comments follow the photo.

Abu Dhabi is home to Etihad Airline. Eldest has just flown on Etihad, staying in Abu Dhabi. Just 120k down the road is Dubai, home to Emirates Airline. We flew Emirates and stayed in Dubai on our Greece trip. Two carriers, two international airports, yet closer together than Sydney and Newcastle!

Australia's carriers have been affected. Etihad is linked to Virgin, while Qantas has bet on Emirates. The competition isn't friendly. "Qantas un-Australian, says Etihad boss James Hogan" read one July headline. Qantas has effectively closed its Singapore hub, refocusing on Dubai. The Kangaroo route is gone; Qantas struggles to relocate.

But how did two adjacent Middle East centres with a total population less than Sydney come to dominate air travel so quickly? Why is Australia with its 23 million people actually struggling to retain a viable locally based international air service?

The answer partly lies in money, the capacity to spend big dollars. The answer partly lies in the willingness to back winners. But more, the answer lies in location, location, location. At a time of Australia in the Asian Century, it's helpful to remember that Australia still sits on the periphery, the periphery of Asia, the periphery of a world of which Asia is still only a part.

From Abu Dhabi or Dubai, the planes travel on to Europe, but they also travel to Africa. And Africa is a rising continent in its own right. By contrast, we have New Zealand and the Pacific Islands! I think that it's helpful to remember that in all the hype.

Just to finish with another shot of Abu Dhabi from eldest's trip. This is sand dune 4wd. Once you get the people, then you have to entertain them.

Note to readers:

This post is part of an irregular series that began with Economic threads & the need for a new view. I am listing all the posts there.

Saturday Morning Musings - Coal, Gunnedah & that boom

This morning's muse starts with a photo from my recent trip to Gunnedah. Just a simple shot of a fairly non-descript building in a smallish New England country town. Yet this shot is an on-ground sign of the changes taking place in Australia.

Gunnedah sits on the Sydney-Gunnedah-Bowen Basin. Without going into the geology of it all, before the Gondwana supercontinent broke up, a 3,000k foredeep or rift that ran from modern Sydney deep into Queensland filled with seawater. The sediments that resulted formed vast coal seams that provided, after iron ore, the second leg supporting Australia's recent mining boom.  

The building is the local headquarters of Shenhua Watermark Coal Pty Limited, a subsidiary of the Shenhua Corporation. Founded in China in 1995, Shenhua claims to be the world’s leading integrated coal based energy company. Its main businesses include production and marketing of coal, power generation, railway transportation and port operation.

The next shot is an inside shot of Gunnedah's Bitter Suite restaurant. It provides breakfast, lunch and tapas. Now that's a cultural melange! Like all modern institutions, Bitter Suite has its own Facebook page. 

This shot was taken just after we first arrived to plan the day. A little later, one of the tables on the back left was occupied by a Chinese Shenhua executive sitting there in the middle of the Liverpool Plains working on his lap top.

In a way, that's the story of the Australian mining boom. Forget the statistics, important though they may be. A boom like the one we have had works itself out on the ground. It affects locals, but also those who come and do such as our Chinese executive, as well as those who feed off the whole thing in the big metro centres in Australia and elsewhere.

Australia has come to the effective end of the current boom, although the effects will continue. Gunnedah locals know boom bust cycles all too well. During the 1990s, Gunnedah was hit be the closure of mines and the abattoir. Had the resulting job losses occurred within the easy travel range of Australia's metro located reporters, they would have been national stories. Here they went unnoticed. Only stories relating to insecticides and the local cotton crop made national news at the time, and then because they were sufficiently sensational to demand attention.

Shenhau is not the only big company in town. This is the local Bhpbillition office. As I walked past in Gunnedah's glorious early morning sun, I wondered about the people working here. There must be such a huge gap between them and the heavies making the real decisions. For the locals beyond the office whose very livelihood depends on those remote decisions, the gap must be larger.

This is a muse, by the way. I am not writing a highly structured piece, simply letting my recent thoughts take me where they will.

Over the last few years, I have written a fair bit on this blog and elsewhere about issues associated with the mining boom and the consequent changes within Australia. I have spoken of the thinning out of the Australian economy. I have spoken of the clashes that arise between those who pay the price of change and those who benefit. I warned of the ending of the boom when euphoria's golden glow still covered  official forecasts. I claim no prescience, simply the caution generated by experience and a tendency to look at the evidence. Plus, I suppose, an interest in looking at and trying to understand the on-ground impacts in areas that I know and love.

I regret that we were not able to capture all the benefits before the boom ended, that the fight to achieve some balancing of costs and benefits has failed. I regret that our obsession with big picture items, with simplified national measures, has derailed the process of discourse. Yet it's not all bad.

in a piece in the Lowry Institure blog, Australia's economy: Crash or crash through?, Roger Donelly compares the contrasting domestic and international views of the Australian economy. I was surprised at the apparent international pessimism about  Australia's economic outlook. I actually think that the end of the current mining boom is no bad thing, nor would I be distressed if the value of the Australian dollar fell. It slows the pace of adjustment, gives the country time to catch up, punctures certain balloons.

Mind you, I want to resume my travel writing, and to do that I need to travel. I had begun to work out how I might return to the Greek Islands next year, adding Turkey. That way I could resume my Greek series and then extend it geographically. I fear that a lower dollar might put a cramp in my plans.

Meanwhile, in Gunnedah candidates for the Shire Council elections have been spruking their wares, explaining where the town and shire should go now. But that's another story. 

Ruins, hats and forts in Iraklion

On leaving Iraklion's Battle of Crete Museum (Arrival in Iraklion) I found my way to the place where the rest had gathered for lunch. This proved to be the place where all the bus drivers bringing tours to the Archeological Museum gathered. Not posh, but quite cheap.

From here we struck of through town looking for a place to check ferry tickets, but also on our way to the Venetian fort. Here I need to introduce you to another feature of the trip, ruins. Not great archaeological sites, but ruined houses. This one shows one such in Iraklion.

Why ruined houses? Surely a strange thing to look at?

Well, there were a number of reasons for this obsession.

To begin with, it gave us a feel for different types of construction, including thick dry stone walls that were then thinly rendered and covered with some form of wash.

Fellow blogger Helen Webberley had a fascinating post, Colourful islands and coastal cities, showing the way in which variations in colour gave different places their character. This is certainly true of Greece; colour gives often similar constructions a different look and feel.

Its something that Australian towns could learn, but that's another story.

I found it interesting, too, that older buildings were fixed up, real ruins that in Australia we would condemn. Again, that's something that Australian towns could learn.

We kept walking past the now being rebuilt ruined building towards the port. Near the port we stopped so that Dee could check ferry tickets. Here we waited and waited. I did not begrudge the time.

I am reasonably organised, but Dee makes me look like a pussy cat. By the time she was finished, everything was organised. We had our on-line bookings already, but now we had all the paper work we required to board. This type of thing really eases all the stress and uncertainty of departure.

As we waited, I did my usual trick of wandering around.This photo shows the view up Iraklion's main drag. You can see all the square concrete buildings that I talked about in an earlier post plus some of the colours.

I had arrived in Crete without a hat and only one pair of shorts. Getting away had been chaotic and I really hadn't focused on the weather. It was hot. Now, ferry tickets in hand, I was marched off to get a new hat; sandals and a pair of shorts would be added a little later. 

From here we walked down to look at the Venetian fort guarding the entrance to the old port.

Venetian Iraklion, Candia it was then called, must have been quite a considerable place.

Under Venetian rule, it became the seat of the Duke of Candia. As a result, the whole Venetian administrative district of Crete became known in Italian as "Regno di Candia" (Kingdom of Candia).The Venetians built huge walls to guard the city, along with the fort and other military buildings including large arsenals.

The walk to the fort took us down past the old harbour and along a breakwater past fishing boats. One surprise in the Greek Islands was the absence of fish. I had expected there to be lots of fish based meals. This proved not to be the case. Further, some of the fish that was on sale was in fact apparently imported from China.

Iraklion itself is still a working if small scale fishing port. The fishing boats tied up on the right of the photo were all small, some very small, but came in a variety of shapes and size.

Unfortunately, I didn't take any photos. After running out of battery, I had put another battery in the camera, but it too needed charging, so I was guarding my shots. I say unfortunately, because there were some good shots of fishermen mending their nets or simply smoking while they hard a yarn.

As an aside, modern travellers carry so much battery or electric operated kit now that charging or connection is an an issue. In our case, there were five mobile phones, two digital cameras plus two lap tops. Even though we had some cables and converters with us, simple things like re-charge were a constant problem. 

Returning to the fort, as you can see from the photo, it is a well preserved and visually attractive building. The lower floor contained barracks and storage areas. Youngest who is into things goth, immediately saw the party possibilities. My immediate reaction to this suggestion was more prosaic. Shuddering at the thought of cleaning up broken glass, I immediately advised plastic cups! Guess I'm getting old.

The interior was pleasantly cool on a hot day. It would have been very different during the winter wet season.

Water is a problem in forts. You need water supplies, but you also need to be able to get rid of water. I wondered what the place would have been like on a cold wet day with moisture running down the walls, cold damp rusting armor, moldering food. Quite unpleasant, I suspect.

I also wondered about gunpowder. Visiting Europe a few years ago, we saw displays of changing military weaponry at St Marks in Venice and then Castel Sant'Angelo in Rome. Gunpowder changed the military equation, reducing the value of heavy fortifications.

Walking around, I couldn't remember dates, so had to look them up later. Gunpowder had yet to reach Europe in 1204 when Venice purchased Crete. By 1669 when the city fell to the Ottomans, gunpowder was widely used. Even so, you can see how strong the fortifications were when you consider that it took a twenty two year siege before the city fell.

The last photo shows a view of the fort from the top. It also captures the juxtaposition of new and old that marks Iraklion and so much of the Greek Islands.

From the Venetian fort, the eyes move across the modern ferry boats through modern Iraklion's cement buildings to the radome perched on the ancient hills beyond.

It was now time to leave to visit the Minoan ruins at Knossos.

Leaving the fort, we walked back along the waterfront to the Ferry Terminal where the car was parked.

It was again time to brave the city traffic on another venture into the unknown.

Arrival in Rethymno

Today I was going to continue the discussion that I began in Skepticlawyer and the humanities. I will come back to this, because from my perspective, that post was simply clearing some of the ground in my own mind. However, I now have access to the Greek trip photos, and so want to continue the story from my last travel post, Postcard from Dubai.

From Dubai, we caught the Emirates' flight next morning (Sunday 19 September 2010) for Athens en-route to Crete. Flying into Athens for the first time I was struck by just how dry and treeless the hills were.

Upon arrival, I made my usual visit to the smoking room before exiting customs. Yes, I know that I shouldn't smoke, but it is quite a good way of meeting people. My family laughs at the way I do this, but it helps ease my insatiable curiosity!

In this case, the bloke in jeans on the left had come to visit family and was full of tips. Meantime, my family waited outside and took photos.

By Australian standards, the Greeks and especially the older ones are a very friendly and patty people. I lost count of the number of times I would get to talking with someone and then have them pat me on the back or shoulder as we walked away. 

Once we were through customs and waiting for our connecting flight, youngest made a beeline for McDonalds while I prowled around looking for possible photos. I did take some, but none were especially good.

The time came to join the Aegean flight to Crete. Here we had one of those nasty shocks. At Sydney duty free, Dee had purchased two small bottles of alcohol, including a very nice gin, so that we could have a drink in the evenings. This was promptly confiscated by security even though it was still in in its original sealed bag from Sydney,

This was not the first time this had happened. Two years ago I had to bin a very expensive bottle of scotch at Hong Kong airport. The problem is that it is quite hard to know when you are likely to break the rules regarding liquids on planes. In the Greek case, we would have been okay had we put the bottles into the main luggage before checking in. This was not possible in the Hong Kong case, because our luggage was going straight to Shanghai. I was simply doomed to lose the scotch because the security arrangements required us to re-enter security.

  Have you had similar experiences? Do you know what the rules are?

As an aside, Kangaroo Valley David asked for my impression of Greek security and security procedures. Apart from our annoyance over the alcohol, at no time did we find the security oppressive, nor were we worried at any time about security threats.  It just wasn't an issue.

We had wondered whether or not we might be affected by the strikes and demonstrations over the austerity measures. There were a number of demonstrations while we were there; there was at least one truck blockade with TV footage of empty supermarket shelves in Athens; some museums were either closed or, better, free as a consequence of industrial action; while people drove round old utes or small trucks broadcasting recorded protest messages. However, there were no real problems from a visitor viewpoint.

"We are lucky in Crete", one woman explained to me, "because we grow and process our own food. It's worse in Athens."

"Those politicians", she went on. "The ordinary person did not ask them to borrow the money. Now we all pay the price." The tourist season had been quite good on Crete because of international tourists. This was less true elsewhere. "Numbers are down", another woman said on Mykonos. "The people from Athens haven't come in the way they normally do."

By the time we caught our plane for Hania, we were all very tired.

At Hania airport, we had made arrangements to pick up a van large enough to hold five plus assorted luggage. We became quite fond of that van, but initially there was all the usual confusion over things such as doors, window locks (one proved to be broken) and the workings of various controls.

Once loaded, we headed for Rethymno. All in all, I think that we made a planning mistake here. We would have been better off over-nighting at Hania. 

Both Hania and the road itself are very pretty, but we really didn't have time to look at this. Instead, very tired, we had to navigate Greek roads for the first time in a strange car heading into the growing dusk. This first drive was quite nerve wracking. By the time we arrived at Rethymno, it was well after dark,

We were staying in the old Venetian part of the city. Cars are banned here on most streets during certain times, and our hotel had no parking. But where was the hotel on the midst of all those small alleys?

By accident, we found a car park in the old city and then set out dragging our luggage through the streets looking for the hotel. We had instructions, but kept getting lost.

Next morning we were to find that the old city was really very small, but now we were just confused, in fact walking within feet of the hotel without seeing it. Finally, after multiple telephone calls, we got there.

It was quite late by our body time and we were tired, but we still needed to eat. Dropping the bags, we walked a few paces to a restaurant recommended by the Hotel with the very Greek name, Bohemian!

It wasn't a bad restaurant, actually; reasonable food and a very pretty courtyard. Youngest quickly left for bed, while the rest of us sat round and unwound.

There is always something exotic and exciting in being in a strange place for the first time. Now that we were comfortable, fixed in place for a time, those narrow streets that not so many moments before had seemed so confusing were now just interesting.

During our first family trip to Europe, we collectively fell in love with Venice. Even in our tiredness, the Venetian feel to Rethymno was unmistakable. Now we were about to find out more.

But that's another story.   

Postcard from Dubai

We arrived in Dubai almost by accident, so accidentally that youngest did not know that we were stopping there, did not even know where Dubai was!

We had decided to fly Emirates to Greece. Dubai is the main Emirates hub, and they offered us free food and accommodation to overnight there. None of us had been to Dubai before, so we decided to accept the offer.

I had never been to Dubai before, and had wanted to see the place for some time. My first memories of Dubai and of the other Gulf states came as a child from reading the Economist and from popular books. Then the various emirates were very small and often in conflict with each other.

This was a British Empire sphere of influence, although the primary Imperial concern was not territory as such, but the protection of the sea route to India including suppression of piracy. To this end, the Empire became effective protector and umpire. The area became known as the Trucial States or Trucial Oman in reference to the 1853 treaty between the British and a number of the rulers which established British oversight.  

As part of the process of dismantling Empire, the British Government announced in 1968 that it intended to end in December 1971 the treaty relationships with the seven Trucial Sheikhdoms which had been, together with Bahrain and Qatar, under British protection.

This created an unstable situation for the micro to small states now with known oil reserves but with insufficient resources to defend themselves. The nine attempted to form a union of Arab emirates, but by mid-1971 they were still unable to agree on terms of union, even though the British treaty relationship was to expire in December. Dubai and Abu Dahbi decided to form a Federation. In December 1971 they were joined by four other emirates to form the United Arab Emirates; the seventh Trucial State joined a little later.  

I said that these were micro states. In 1968, the year the British announced their decision to withdraw, the total population of the area that would become the UAE was just 180,226.

The discovery of oil first in in Abu Dahbi in 1958 and then later in Dubai transformed the economic and demographic position. The total population of the Emirate of Dubai grew from just 58,971 in 1968 to 1.8 million in 2009. The population of the UAE as a whole grew from 180,266 in 1968 to an estimated 8.19 million today. This huge population increase came largely from guest workers drawn especially from the Indian sub-continent. Today, Emirati citizens make up around 17% of the Dubai population.

Dubai's limited oil reserves led to a deliberate program to diversify the economy away from oil towards services. One result was a property boom that in turn meant that the city and emirate were hit hard by the global financial crisis. Indeed, while we were there, Dubai One (the English language TV channel) was carrying stories about the latest re-financing proposals for Dubai World, the property conglomerate that was hit hard by the downturn.

Coming into Dubai my predominant impression was hazy browns and yellows and then of heat. My second impression was one of construction: there were building sites everywhere, many of them in suspended animation. My third impression was of a remarkably polyglot society.

We were staying in the Emirates wing of the Millenium Hotel near the airport. While Australian are used to diverse ethnic communities, the people thronging the lounge were remarkably varied. It took me a little while to work out that the mix reflected not just Dubai, but all the countries that that Emirates flew to using Dubai as hub. Women in full burqas mixed with western women wearing a variety of clothes; Africans in full white robes mixed with people from a variety of countries from the sub-continent. The one group not fully represented to Australian eyes were the Chinese.

Emirates has an interesting business model, for the costs of putting passengers up are then offset by hubbing savings and ancillary spending by visitors. It is clearly important to the Dubai economy: there is an entire infrastructure dedicated to helping visitors spend!

More broadly, the entire Dubai economic model could not happen in Australia because it breaches fundamental Australian assumptions about economic efficiency and the role of the state. I will talk more about this in a later post. For the moment, I simply note that Australian policy approaches would have left Dubai relegated, as has happened to so many parts of Australia, to economic irrelevancy.

Leaving our hotel in the late afternoon, the women decided to take a shuttle to visit one of the main shopping centres (photo).

This proved to be a mistake, for it was a mall much like any other. The people were a little different, and so to a degree were the goods, a mixture of the mundane with the up-market. It was interesting watching, but a mall is still a mall.

What we should have done given our limited time was to take an organised bus tour. They were being sold in the lobby and would at least have given us a better feel for the place, including the new developments. I had wanted to see these because of all the stories about Dubai's official extravagance, the desire to create a modern centre in what is, after all, a desert land.

After Sydney and its water restrictions, it was interesting to observe the use of water to create lawns and other greenery.

Getting back to the hotel, I wandered off looking for a beer and found Biggles. As I sipped my drink, I thought of the incongruity of a bar in modern Dubai named after such a quintessentially English school boy hero! Mind you, the restaurant next door was called Cactus Joe's, thus getting both sides of the Atlantic.

Watching the economic news that night, it appears that commercial lending is again expanding in the UAE, so the economy is recovering.    

Back but jet lagged

Back from Greece last night, still jet lagged and with a bad cold. I have a lot of things to do today, but thought that I might indulge myself first with a simple catch-up.

We left Athens in the afternoon for Dubai, then left Dubai for Sydney in the middle of the night Dubai time, arriving in Sydney about 11pm Sydney time. I have travelled a fair bit over the years, and have learned various ways of managing the jet lag problem. One key is to progressively switch to destination time. In this case, that meant treating the flight as a late night then day time flight. However, here I hit some problems.

To begin with, Emirates served just two meals, one called breakfast, the second lunch. From my body's viewpoint, the first was indeed breakfast, but the second had to be classified as dinner because of the long gap between the two. A snack was served in the middle, but I found this indigestible.

A more important problem lay in the plane lighting. As day dawned, the plane was kept in darkness. This made it easier for people to see the back seat screens and no doubt helped the cabin crew; these long flights must be exhausting; keeping people asleep or watching screens does make management easier. That said, it made it bloody hard to adjust my body clock to a night, day, night sequence.

Worse, when I went to put on the reading light to allow me to do some reading and writing, I found that it shone on the person beside me. This really made it quite impossible to do what I wanted to do. I sat there bored and fumed quietly.

As I looked round the plane, I thought that there were going to be some very badly jet-lagged travellers. West-east flights are always worse than east-west flights. I had to fight to stay awake in the darkness. Those who spent the time sleeping with breaks for entertainment and food were going to find themselves wide awake in the middle of the night Sydney time, essentially wiping themselves out for the next day and, indeed, probably the day beyond. I may be tired today, but I am at least functional!

There have been a number of stories while I was away on some of the perennial topics that interest me.

I was struck in Greece by just how cheap many things were. Cigarettes 3 euro 90, many alcohol products up to 60% less than the Australian equivalent, even foodstuffs including meat. Food and especially meat prices came as surprise, for Australia used to be a low food cost country. No more, I fear.

I mention this because of the current stories about the impact of irrigation cuts in the Murray-Darling basin, along with the concerns expressed that, for the first time, this country is going to become a net importer of food outside certain broad acre products.

There are a range of issues involved in these topics. For example, sky-rocketing sheep meat prices are linked partly to the decline in the wool industry and a consequent decline in sheep numbers, along with growing export demand. In the case of pork, cheap bacon imports have reduced local production. We pay less for bacon, but more for other other cuts. We want more water for environmental reasons and for urban supply, but then have to rely more on overseas foodstuffs, effectively importing water.

I am too tired to flesh all this out in detail, and it might also get too boring. I would simply note that I think that the issue of food prices and food security is likely to become quite important over the next decade. Globally, rising living standards together with changing expectations means that demand for at least certain foodstuffs is pushing hard against supply. As we become more dependant on imports, the simple combination of shifts in global prices with exchange rate shifts makes us more vulnerable.

The potential impact is greatest on lower income Australians.

Recently I did some very rough modelling, trying to compare the present and past living standards of a person on a low income. To provide an income base, I took the old age pension. To provide a consistent basket of goods, I took past consumption patterns, assuming that the household smoked a packet of cigarettes a day, that they drank the equivalent of a bottle of beer several times a week, that they generally ate cheaper cuts, with the occasional more expensive meal.

Whichever way I cut the numbers, I found the household was worse off.

It rained while I was away, it has been raining today, there are again floods in South-Eastern Queensland. In Water, water everywhere …, John Quiggin complains about the maintenance of mandatory water restrictions on gardening when there is plenty of water. I quote:              

It makes sense to require water-efficient sprinklers, taps and so on – investment in such measures now will pay off in a drought. But, when water is plentiful, there should be no restrictions on when and how it is used. That way, restrictions will have more bite when they are actually needed.

I agree, and indeed complained strongly about the way that water restrictions were implemented in Sydney. I couldn't use the water to garden properly, yet others could fill their swimming pools. I guess that I am going to continue to complain about current rigid rules based approaches!

The Commonwealth Games began while I was in Greece. To answer a question posed by Legal Eagle in Is anyone watching the Commonwealth Games?, I was really looking forward to doing just that.  Sadly, India's initial problems in mounting the games were so widely reported that they clearly damaged the event itself.

Beyond international media coverage, the on-line Australian press provided my only access to Games reporting. I found the triumphalism of this reporting quite repulsive. Get real, chaps. I note that the UK as a whole has as many medals as us!

Hopefully, now that I am back, I will see some reporting. I have always enjoyed the Commonwealth Games because I see sports and countries not normally featured.

Well, I need to move on. Over the next week or so, you can expect reporting on some of the key features of the Greek trip.     

Note from Athens

It's raining slightly. I am waiting for the others before we go to visit the Acropolis. A lot to write about when I get home. I am also looking forward to catching up on all my blog reading. I am not looking forward to all the business catching up that I will also need to do.

My last two trips to India and China were much shorter, a week each. Both had a considerable influence on my thinking. Same for this trip, although the influence this time is more historical. I have barely seen TV, ditto newspapers, so current events have largely passed me by.

The economic reporting I have seen is pretty negative. We don't get quite the same feel in Australia. I have been trying to think through some of the implications. It's interesting getting different viewpoints simply because of the way it forces changes in my own thinking.

Well, we are ready to go. 

Greece's turbulent past

After a long period away from big cities, Athen's traffic is overwhelming; congestion, noise, a degree of pollution.

Flying out of Rhodes yesterday afternoon, the coast of Turkey was clearly visible, just an hour's ferry ride away. It, the Turkish coast, is even closer to some of the other Greek Islands.

In Santorini, Greek fighter jets were doing practice runs, a reminder of a not so distant past when Greek and Turkey fought several wars.

One thing you notice in Greece as compared to Australia is simply the juxtaposition of so many different peoples separated by language and culture. This area has had a turbulent and often very violent past. I feel that I can understand that past better now simply because I have a better feel for the geography. 

Lindos Beach

The beach stretches round in a small semi-circle, then there is a small headline and the main Lindos town beach.

From on high, each beach is marked by rows of sun umbrellas beneath which perch sun lounges. The tourists cluster round their lounges; some are stretched out sun-baking; others have towels draped over their heads, exposing the rest of their bodies.

Just to the left of me is the official control desk: a sun-shade, a water container, a book of tickets. There are two controllers. From time to time, one collects his tickets and goes out on patrol in case someone is occupying a sun lounge without paying. The first controller leaves, then a mobile rings. The second controller springs to his feet. Perhaps there is a breach, a tourist has not paid.

We are picnicking in the shade, attracting strange glances. In the cafe behind us, the sound system seems stuck on a Caribean version of the Sound of Music. Repitition six of Get Me to the Church on Time has just started. Initially attractive, the beat version has now become unbearable.

It must be the end of the official day. The remaining beach controller has just picked up his water, his tickets and strolled away. We leave too. 

Note from Rhodes

The sense of history in Rhodes is almost over-powering. Age after age overlaps. Very difficult to write about properly. Very difficult, too, to find computer access for any length of time!

Note from Mykonos

As I write, the noise from the children playing at the nearby school fills the air. A din perhaps, but one I like.

I am not much into shopping. Partly lack of money, more that shopping is a female sport. Travelling with four women means that I spend a lot of time outside shops! I wile away the hours watching the passing parade.

I have written before about the differences between rules based and principle based approaches. Greece seems to be a principle based society, one where rules can be neglected. By contrast, modern Australia is increasingly a rules based society. I prefer the first. It is far more interesting, flexible, relaxed.

Of course, these things are never black or white. All societies have rules.

That said, rules based societies tend to be more efficient, Singapore is an example, until the social and economic costs of the rules outweigh any gains achieved. NSW rather falls in this second case. By contrast, principle based societies are more chaotic, less effective. Still, I do prefer them

Given my interest in tourism, I have been taking notes as to the lessons from Greece for tourism in the areas that I am interested in. I guess that I will bore you with this in due course!

Problems with electric jugs

One of the things that makes Australian travel civilised is the presence of tea and coffee making facilities in rooms. Europe generally does not have this.

In Europe last time we brought an electric kettle and then carried it with us, leaving it behind at the end. This time we decided not too, and it was a mistake.

It sounds such a little thing, making a cup of tea or coffee in the room in the early morning or at night after getting back. Yet it really adds to comfort.

It is also a lot cheaper than either buying though room service if that is available, or at a cafe. Those three Euros a pop really add up after a while!

Santorini

The view from our balcony is really quite breathtaking. The room itself, while pretty, is very small; the balcony is pocket hankerchief in size, requiring me to sit sideways; however, the view makes up for it.

As I high on the cliff-top, the sea below is absolutely still. A handful of boats marks the only movement. The light has been muted to a pastel shade by a light cloud cover. Just in front of me are the islands of Thirassia, Nea Kameni and Palia Kameni. Looking up to my right, I can see Thira town crowded along the top of the cliff, running down a little towards the sea where the buildings, like our own hotel are built into the cliffs.

This is my first visit to Greece and I have been taking notes as I go along for stories to link to photos. Just as well; you know how quickly travel blurs impressions.

Most of my posts will have to wait until I get back. Insufficient time, and I cannot upload the photos at this point. Posting from internet cafes is also quite expensive. There are computers with wireless connections in the party, but for a number of reasons these are generally tied up by owner's wife and daughter. So I can't get the type of time required for posting.

Still, most of the stuff I want to write and post is not time sensitive, simply my personal reactions.

All for now.  

Bangkok to Seam Reap via Poipet, January 1966

Later in January Helen and Clare will be visiting South East Asia for the first time as part of a remarkably sprawling visit by Helen's cohort. 

I have spoken before about the clannishness of the modern young.

Helen's school group, including their friends from other schools, have remained linked together in a way that simply wasn't possible when I was their age - email, mobiles and especially facebook provide the communications glue, aided by continuing geographical proximity.

I used the term sprawling because it isn't a single visit. People are going at somewhat different times and indeed to somewhat different places, but still overlapping and joining at points. In the case of my girls, they are going first to Malaysia as a twosome, before joining up with the others in, I think, Vietnam. I say think because I am still a little unclear as to the details.

At this time In January 1966, brother David and I were in Cambodia as part of our first visit to South East Asia. It does seem a long time ago!

The photo shows the party - Belshaws and Calverts - in Poipet on the Cambodian side of the border. Mr Calvert had been at Teachers' College with Dad in New Zealand, and they met up again in Bangkok where both were working for different agencies of the UN.

With the exception of the Cambodian police office sign, its actually a very Australian-New Zealand scene: the cars with the picnic spread out on the top of the bonnet with people eating and drinking tea, even the make of car, VW Beatle and Holden.  

There was some debate about the wisdom of the trip. There were tensions between Thailand and Cambodia, the Vietnam war was raging, the road was reported to be bad and little used, while the Khmer Serei were reported to be about to launch an attack on Seam Reap, our destination.  We decided to go anyway, relying on the UN plates on the cars as well as advice from others.

Much of the road from Bangkok to the Thai border town of Aranyapathet was dirt, dry and dusty with very few cars. Beyond Aranyapathet, the border itself was marked by a narrow bridge. There were no guards: the swinging gate marking the border was opened for us by some kids.

Beyond the border lay Poipet. The little town seemed almost deserted, dozing in the hot sun. We stopped and parked while Dad and Mr Calvert went to wake up the border police who seemed to have been having a quiet siesta. Communicating in school boy French, they completed the formalities.

Beyond Poipet the road was narrow with a strip of tar in the centre. We saw no other cars. As we drove through the little villages the kids, attracted by the presence of the cars and seeing the Thai writing on top of the number plates, ran behind us pointing and shouting Thai, Thai Thai! As we entered Seam Reap we drove past the military barracks. The sentry was leaning against the guard post wall half asleep with one legging undone. The stories about a Khmer Serei offensive seemed somewhat over-stated.

Only at one point on the entire drive did we become nervous when, rounding a bend, we came across a group of black pyjamed men riding bikes with rifles on their backs. We waved and hastily drove past. And the roads? Very similar to many of the roads we were used to driving on in country New England.

A few years later the border here was closed as Cambodia descended into chaos. The border is again open, with the road trip once again an adventure.