Saturday, September 17, 2005

Computin' Away in Margaritaville

Without television, we've been increasingly tethered to our laptops at all stages of the day. They've been our continual source of entertainment, news, personal communication and income. Email is checked constantly, web pages are refreshed every minute or two, limited video programming (such as Major League Baseball and Daily Show headlines) are streamed, giving us a pseudo-feel of still having that magic glowing box which comforted us, surrounded us, made us whole. Either one or both of our laptops are being typed on at any given hour. The need for information on Hurricane Katrina really began this trend and the habit has certainly continued over the past few weeks.

Keeping on the technological circuit, Google Earth (http://earth.google.com) has replaced the satellite photos of the Eastern Suburbs here in Sydney. Great detail on these new ones, it looks as if they've dusted the Hubble off nicely and really upgraded their imagery. Along the bottom, you can see our street as well as the adjacent beach and park. Even the ripples of the ocean swells are visible, giving you an idea of where the surf breaks on the point both left and right of the beach.

Not sure where all the people are in this picture, as it looks as if it were taken during the dead of summer when the beach is the most crowded. There are some shadow-like forms on the edges of the beach, maybe those are the locals. Or, conversely, they could have blocked off the beach and park for a few hours in order for the satellite to get an aesthetic view. If Peggy or I were laying out that day, you'd see this huge, bright, mirror-like reflection, our pale bodies obscuring the frame.

You can also see the little train-track oval on the right-hand side of the park. The squares on the grass there are the electric BBQs and surrounding gazebos. Using this, combined with the old post, has laid it all out before you, my oz-blogging friends.

So, picture yourself languidly getting up in the early arvo after an evening of juggling bubblies, slipping into your speedo (in order to effectively smuggle budgies) and heading down the road for a dip in the primordial soup we call the Pacific Ocean. Weather is heating up (although water is still cold) so it should be nice and temperate by the time you arrive.

posted by ncawthon at 12:42 PM

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

The One Day I Didn't Bring My Camera

So during cricket training (practice) tonight, there was an interesting development on the adjacent rugby field. Everything at practice stated as normal. We had our usual warm up of playing a game other than cricket (this time it was ultimate frisbee), so we were a bit puffed (tired) once the actual cricket training began. While we were waiting our turn to bat, when we noticed some men playing a game of "touch footy" in the field adjacent. (Touch footy is basically rugby without tackles or scrums).

Some of the guys were playing without shirts -- this is normal, but it was a bit cold out. And then some of the guys were playing without shirts and wearing only their tighty-whities and trainers. Huh. Strange, but then there are a number of weird things about Sydney, so maybe this is just one of them. Maybe guys play sports in their undies. And then - oh my! - a naked guy runs past! Uhh... is that dude just an exhibitionist? Nope. Another guy drops his drawers. And then another. The footy game keeps going. The team with the fewer naked dudes scores a try. Clothing is scattered all over the field. Another try is scored. White butt checks are running back and forth. More clothes are removed. Things that we shouldn't normally see bouncing are bouncing back and forth. The women cricketers are getting more giggly. The footy game is slowly moving further and further away from our side of the field. Eventually, all of the male players are completely naked, still running and throwing the ball around. Then a whistle blew, there was a cheer from the nude dudes, and they all ran around the field like a bunch of embarassed naked guys looking for their clothes. They got dressed, and it was over. We went back to playing cricket. Other than that, it was a normal practice.

While I don't know most of the rules of cricket, I have been assured that the only items of clothing that are ever removed during a test match are the hat and the v-neck sweater of the bowler.

posted by Peggy C. at 8:46 PM

Sunday, September 11, 2005

The Season Approaches

Our second organized practice for Australia's oldest baseball club, the Waverly Waves, was conducted this afternoon. Five guys showed up, one was the coach. We seem to have a serious problem with truancy on our team. I asked the coach, whom I think is a pretty solid guy, 'So, are we going to have any problems fielding a team next week?', with little worries in his response. Being a bit older than I, he claims his grandfather played for the original club back in 1898 (says he's got a picture to prove it), and both he and his brother have continued on the legacy for a third generation.

During our basic drills, the curveball was breaking pretty effectively today, but it will be interesting to see how my control holds up in an organized game. I've been assigned to play 3rd 2nd grade baseball, to match my education level. I guess this is a compliment, given that it is the highest division we field a team in. There's also the 4th 3rd grade, which is comprised mostly of the South Korean and Japanese players (although some are pretty damn good), and they're lucky enough to be sponsored by Marlboro. If I screw up pitching, I could get sent down to this 'tobacco league' to work on both my mechanics and lung capacity. Should this happen, I stand to be under the scornful gaze of Coach Kim (of 'Ball Come Here' fame), whom I feel some sense of unplaced animosity towards.

The field today was, as usual, manicured by nomadic animals. There were actually deer tracks (along with droppings) on the pitcher's mound. At one point in the practice, we went scouring Centennial Park in search of wooden benches, which were taken from our little section of the field at some point last year. Upon locating these benches, in pairs we dragged them back to the diamond. These love-seat sized pieces of furniture were to serve as the dugout benches, although we hardly had any players, let alone reserves to sit on them. At the end of practice, we threw the benches in brushes of the swampy riverbed, located down the right field line, as to camouflage them for next week. Baseball in it's most basic form. Roll Waves!

posted by ncawthon at 8:15 PM