The Best and Worst of Wellington

My time here in Wellington is nearly up. In a few days, I pack up all my stuff and shuffle off to the South Island for a little New Year's revelry, and then on to Melbourne. So, what to say about Wellington?

The Bad

There's no doubt that my time here has been, uh, challenging. Both of my personal computers, the one that sits on my lap and the one that rests between my ears, have experienced spectacular hardware failures. If only my bio-ware were as easily replaced as my laptop.

The weather has been disappointing too; even the local are complaining about the lack of a summer. But there's something to be said for high winds in a city full of women wearing skirts. Never let it be said that I fail to see the glass as half-full. Seriously, watching women gamely trying to hold their skirts from blowing over their heads is funny, funny stuff.

And as a base for digital nomadism, I can sum up Wellington in two words: "Don't bother." There are no coffee shops with free WiFi, period. What Internet there is, is sloooow and expensive. Want coffee with free refills? Ha! You can't even buy filtered coffee here -- espresso only, and it's pricey.

The Good

I feel guilty complaining at all about beautiful Wellington. Like when I went for a short jog up Mount Victora the other day...

 

It took only 10 minutes to reach this breathtaking view:

 

And it's only 10 minutes in the other direction to walk into town, where I've made myself a fixture at several local establishments. I can enthusiastically recommend The Malthouse, a beer-lovers oasis. And! And! They have free WiFi. I know! The staff are beer geeks (and computer geeks) of the first order. Ask for a bottle of Coopers Extra Strong Vintage Ale. Good stuff.

I've also become close with the whole staff of The Jimmy Cafe and Bar, the site of my little medical mishap. They made me promise to keep in touch after I leave, and I will.

For a cafe with serious hipster credentials, I like Midnight Espresso on Cuba Street, and Fidel's. In fact, all of Cuba Street is pretty darn cool.

And obviously, I don't hold Wellington responsible for my health and hardware issues. On the contrary, I couldn't have hoped for a more forgiving place to encounter challenges like those. I've learned a lot about how to cope without really ending up worse off in any way. So bonus.

I leave in a few days for the South Island, where I'll experience complete radio silence. My next post will probably be from Melbourne, in a new country, in a new decade. So until then...

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. And what a year it's been!

The Nu Nomad, Now In Book Form

I've linked before to nunomad.com, a site devoted to location-independent living. Well, now you can learn the ins and outs of working and traveling from a easy-to-carry paperback. The Nu Nomad: Location Independent Living is available now from Amazon.com, just in time for the holiday!

 From the description:

Would you like to travel for months at a time and maintain or even increase your spending power while you have the time of your life? The Nu Nomad is a "how-to" manual for those who are serious about breaking out of the office and into the world. This resource includes information on all vital aspects of designing a location-independent lifestyle.

(Disclaimer: I haven't read it. This ain't a review or a recommendation.)

Making Lemonade from Laptops

The laptop I bought last week turned out to be a lemon. That's the bad news. The good news is that I can continue to use it until the new model comes in in a few days. Then, I get essentially a free upgrade. W00t!

Here's what I've learned from this experience:

1. Buy from reputable firms that will stand behind their product. For me, that was Harvey Norman, a big electronics chain in New Zealand.
2. Understand your power as a consumer. The technician first tried to tell me nothing was wrong. Then he tried to tell me that it's normal for trackpads to be jumpy when the laptop isn't on a perfectly flat surface. First, that's bull. Second, it doesn't matter. As a consumer, three words suffice: "I'm not satisfied." There's no arguing with that. Once I made that clear, we got straight down to business.
3. Be firm about your requirements. I can't afford any more downtime, so sending it away for repairs was not an option. The store manager understood completely and worked with me to come up with a solution.
4. Never let anyone talk you into buying the display model, regardless of how much of a discount they give you. That machine has been on and running for probably 8 months, and people have been pounding on it non-stop. Is it any wonder that the trackpad would be possessed be demons? The keyboard will probably give out too, and the battery is already weak. Just say no to the display model.
5. When hardware isn't behaving 100% to spec, don't hesitate; get it looked at or replaced immediately. Hardware problems never get better on their own, and they usually get worse -- much worse -- very quickly. Heard any strange noises coming from your hard disk lately? Run, don't walk, to the nearest PC repair shop. Really.
6. Don't scrimp when it comes to your professional tools. I tend to be frugal and make do with what I have. But when it comes to the tools of my profession, I'm not scrimping any more. The productivity gains more than make up for it. I'm putting myself on an aggressive upgrade cycle. Laptops, phones, accessories, services -- I deserve the best! So do you.

One other good thing has already come of this: I splurged for a bluetooth mini-mouse. How did I ever get anything done without it? It's a fabulous investment for any traveling computer professional.

Rotorua and Orakei Korako

Just got back from a weekend with C at Rotorua, New Zealand's geothermal stink-pot. Smells like rotten eggs, looks like nothing you've ever seen. These next photos were taken about 45 minutes South of Rotorua at Orakei Korako Thermal Park, where the ground steams, geysers erupt and mud boils. It's nuts.

 
 
 

Here is lovely Lake Rotorua, actually the caldera of an active volcano. That doesn't seem to trouble the hoards of tourists playing in its waters and enjoying the local hot springs and mud baths.

 
 

All the swans on Lake Rotorua are black. Isn't "black swan" supposed to be idiomatic for a statistical outlier? Nobody tell Nassim Nicholas Taleb, ok?

Backup, backup, backup

Everyone is always jammering about backups. "Backups are important. You backup your data, right?" Times were when my backup solution was a hastily burned, unlabeled DVD, lost in my office under dusty piles of O'Reilly books. Real men don't backup! (But they do cry often.)

When I decided to travel, I decided my old system (a-hem) wasn't good enough. Yesterday, I put my backup system to the ultimate challenge: total system failure. How did it fair? Let's see!

But first, let's recap. For my backup solution, I went with Jungle Disk, a so-called cloud storage provider and backup service. You install Jungle Disk on your computer, and it copies your data to a server in the sky, safe from harm. Every so often, it scans your disk for changes and updates its remote copy.

So when my laptop overheated yesterday I was merely livid as opposed to homicidal. My data was safe. (There was also a fair amount of ridiculous running around in the rain looking for a PC repair shop, but let's stay on topic.) I walked into an electronics shop, plonked down my Visa and walked away with a new machine.

I installed Jungle Disk on my new laptop and pointed it at my remote data. "Fetch!" I commanded. And fetch it did ... veeeeery slowly. Turns out, in New Zealand "broadband" doesn't have quite the same meaning it does in the States. I eventually recovered my data by a combination of (a) being patient, and (b) quickly copying data off my old laptop before it would overheat again and die.

Lessons learned?

1. Remote and secure redundant backups are a Good Thing, but ...
2. Having your backup on the other end of a slow pipe is almost like not having a backup at all.

I was lucky this time because I was able to pull some bits of data off my old machine. Next time I might not be so lucky. It probably wouldn't hurt to augment my cloud storage backup with my old friend, the hastily burned DVD.

On the bright side, this new machine smokes.

Work, work, work

"Wow, you get to travel AND work? That's so cool"

"You hang out in coffee shops all day? Must be nice."

"You should take the day off and go to [some local destination]!"

"What do you mean you haven't been to [some famous landmark] yet?! It's RIGHT THERE!"

"Hey, why don't you post more pictures?"

There seems to be some confusion about my travels. I get these questions a lot. It's understandable. For most people, travel == vacation. But not for me. This is my life, and I need to work for it.

Yes, I can work from anywhere, but I still need to work. And at times like now, when my client needs me badly, I work quite hard. Just because I'm sitting in a coffee shop doesn't mean I'm sipping lattes all day with my pinky extended and my feet up. I wouldn't be able to keep that up very long before my clients got wise.

Balancing work and life is always a challenge, and it's no less so now that I'm on the road. But once the critical issue is resolved and the next release is in the bag, I can step away from my computer and go explore someplace new -- like Rotorua (http://www.rotoruanz.com), where C and I will be this weekend, soaking in volcanic hot springs. Ahhh...

And yes, I'll post pictures.

A Black Eye: Traveling With Epilepsy

I debated whether or not to write this post. The short of it is this: my disability is a pretty significant part of my journey, so it's fair game. I have epilepsy, and some days this is what it looks like.

 

Last week, I seized in a coffee shop in Wellington. Knowing immediately that something was wrong, I went to the barristas to tell them about my condition, but I didn't quite make it. My next conscious thoughts came about 20 minutes later as I was looking up at paramedics.

Crap, here we go again.

Epilepsy certainly adds a certain je ne sais quoi to traveling, but there's no reason to let it stop me. Here are the things I do to deal with my disability while on the road.

• Let People Know: I make sure my friends, hosts, and flatmates know about my condition and what to expect in case I have a seizure.
• Let RoadID do the Talking: Even after a seizure, when I can't tell the paramedics the who's and what's of my condition, I can still fish out my RoadID tag and let it do the talking for me. I'm religious about keeping my medical information current with RoadID.
• Prescription Refills by Mail: I order a 3 month supply of meds via mail. These show up for me at my forwarding address in Seattle (hurray for EarthClassMail!). FedEx gets them to me wherever I am in the world.
• Know What to Expect from the Local Health Care System: In New Zealand, everybody gets emergency care, full stop. Nobody asked to see my insurance information, or asked me to sign anything, or gave me a bill. That's not true everywhere, of course, and I'll need to choose my destinations carefully, or get travel insurance.

But why travel with epilepsy? Why risk it? I look at it a different way. How would staying home help? Is taking a header in a coffee shop in Seattle any better than doing it in Wellington? No. Ironically, if this had happened anywhere in the US, it would have cost me more money! Staying home isn't the answer. Being prepared is.

I could talk and talk about my epilepsy, how my life has changed since my diagnosis, what having a seizure is like, how it has changed my views on life, death, consciousness and how our brains mediate reality, but this isn't the place for it. If you're curious, drop me a line.

All's Well In Welly

My first week in Wellington started inauspiciously. I arrived, jet-lagged and sick, to be greeted by bitterly cold winds and gray somber skies. The flat I had arranged the week prior -- that I was so looking forward to settling in to -- was ... dear God, it was a hole. What in the world was I doing in Wellington? If it weren't for my friend C who graciously offered me her sofa, I may have just gotten back on a plane and headed back to San Francisco.

The next day, the sun came out briefly, and this view greeted me from C's deck:
 

Wellington is beautiful, and C's flat in Hataitai has a spectacular view of Evans Bay. C showed me the ins and outs of getting around Welly, helped me buy a SIM card for my mobile, and gave me tea and "throat lollys" for my hacking cough. By my second day there, I had lined up a better flat and was feeling much more chipper about the whole thing. It doesn't hurt that Wellington is exploding with flowers this time of year. Oh right, that's why I came.

 
Spring: the real reason I came South.

Today, C and I hopped a bus to the coast and wandered Island Bay and Owhiro Bay. Picture waves smashing against volcanic rocks, a winding road hugging the coastline, and little houses dotting the green rolling hillside.

 
Near as we can tell, this is really just someone's home.

Next week, I move into my new flat in Mt Victoria, where I'll have easier access to the coffee shops and bars of downtown Wellington. You know, back to business as usual.

Sunrise over Auckland

My travels have finally taken me away from North America! I've just arrived in Auckland, NZ. Soon I board a plane to Wellington where I will meet up with my friend C. And here in Auckland, the sun is just coming up. :-)

Running Around Town, Part 5

Trite thought for the day: there's beauty wherever you look for it. Case in point: Cornelius, NC. Less than a mile from Doug's place is the really-quite-lovely Lake Norman, which is surrounded by parks, trees and walking paths -- perfect for a short jog.

 
Squinty, a little sweaty, but otherwise happy.

 
Beautiful Lake Norman, created in the 60's be the construction of Cowans Ford Dam. Fancy a swim? Watch out for Normie, the Lake Norman Monster. Think I'll file that one in the "Shameless Tourism Ploy" category.

 
This is Doug leaving me in the dust. Hey, wait up!

More Bang For Your Starbucks

The only coffee shop within walking distance of my current home base is a Starbucks. They're not usually my first choice when looking for a hot cuppa (or second, or third, or...). Starbucks normally charges for their wifi, but I've learned how to beat their little system.

AT&T Free Wi-Fi

Starbucks wifi is provided by AT&T. Recently, AT&T agreed to provide free wifi access to US users of certain smartphones on the AT&T mobile network, including iPhones and some BlackBerrys. You can read all the details here. I walked into Starbucks and my BlackBerry Bold connected to the wifi automatically, no configuration or login necessary. OK Starbucks, not bad.

Bluetooth Tethering

Only my AT&T mobile device has free wifi access at Starbucks. My laptop, however, does not. In another post, I described how to tether a BlackBerry, using it as a Bluetooth modem for a laptop.[1] So my laptop connects to my phone through Bluetooth, and my phone connects to the Internet via wifi. Problem solved, right?

USB Tethering

The problem with Bluetooth tethering is that you are limited to Bluetooth speeds. Also, I find it drains my BlackBerry's battery pretty fast. Instead, I found I could connect my BlackBerry to my laptop using a USB cable. That boosts the speed and keeps the phone charged. Configuring a BlackBerry as a USB modem was pretty simple, and is described on BlackBerry's support forums.

So that's it: unlimited, free broadband at any Starbucks in the US. Now, if only I can convince them to stop playing the new Barbara Streisand album. Ack.

[1] Sorry US iPhone users, you can't tether your phones.

Absentee Voting

 

It's time for King County Elections, and you know what that means: another moronic initiative from Tim Eyman. Now that I'm a nomad, does that mean I can't vote? No!

Before I left Seattle, I legally changed my address to one given to me by Earth Class Mail and signed up to vote via absentee ballot. A few days ago, my voting packet turned up in Seattle. Earth Class Mail forwarded it to me in North Carolina. And today I put the smack down on ol' Tim. Damn, that felt good.

Amazing Maize Maze

One nice thing about staying in the US Southeast: many of my old college buddies are in the area. Friday night, my friend Rob drove down from Charlottesville, VA to meet up with me and Doug for a mini college reunion.

 
Today, Rob, Doug, Doug's girl Hannah and I survived the Amazing Maize Maze at Rural Hill. We warmed up after with hot spiced cider and hot chocolate. Yum!

 

If this shoe looks like it has been chewed on by a dog, that's because it has. After getting back from the maze, I thoughtlessly left my muddy Doc Martin's out back, much to the delight of Doug's dog Coco. There's a lesson in here for couchsurfers and friendsurfers everywhere: keep a keen eye on anything that might look like a chew toy to your host's pet. Guess it's time for some new shoes!

Mobile Blogging (and Davidson College)

I'm trying out this mobile blogging thing. If you're reading this, I've learned a new trick: uploading pictures and text from my mobile phone to my blog.

I'm taking a post-lunch stroll through Davidson College in North Carolina. There's a distinctly Old South feel to this place, not unlike my alma mater, the University of Virginia. The red clay, red brick walkways, classical architecture -- red bricks and white columns -- are giving me a sense that I've been here before, even though I haven't.

Pretty soon, I'll head back to the local coffee shop (Summit Coffee) and get back to the project that has so absorbed me for the past two weeks. But for now, I'll wander and enjoy one of the last sunny, warm days North Carolina has to offer.

Intrepid Explorer

My career as a (peripatetic) programmer began with my childhood fascination with planes. So it's appropriate that my present wanderings should take me to the USS Intrepid, a WWII-era aircraft carrier-cum-floating aviation museum that now sits in New York harbor. I went with my father. We spent the whole afternoon there.

 
My, what a big boat you have.

The Intrepid is hours of geeky entertainment, with planes from the 40's to the present day on display, not to mention the Intrepid itself which is an engineering marvel.

 
A WWII-era Grumman E-1B Tracer. They have newer and fancier planes on display, but I like the oldies and goodies.

 
I was particularly drawn toward the command and control centers, the 40's-era cryptology tech, and the pneumatic tubes used throughout for communication. Above is a teletype machine that would bang out decrypts. A pneumatic tube would carry them to the captain's bridge with a whoosh and a thunk.

 
On the bridge, the captain would sit in his chair and read his decrypted messages (and do other captain-y things, I suppose). This captain's chair looks worse for wear, though.

As for how my love of planes became a love of computers and programming, I'll leave that for another day.

Only The Dead Know Brooklyn

I got a last-minute tip-off that my friend B from Seattle was staying with friends in Brooklyn. So I jumped the LIRR to Flatbush Ave. and met up with him for some drinks and some poutine.

 
Brooklyn poutine, not that bad. Seriously.

 
Me and B, like old times.

The title of this post is a reference to a great short story of the same name by Thomas Wolfe and published in The New Yorker, June 1935. The (fabulous) first line is:

Dere's no guy livin' dat knows Brooklyn t'roo an' t'roo, because it'd take a guy a lifetime just to find his way aroun' duh f_____ town.

It tells the story of a guy trying to find his way to the Redhook neighborhood with a map of Brooklyn, and getting bum steers from locals who don't know Brooklyn t'roo and t'roo. After leaving Flatbush Ave. in search of B and his friends, I could definitely relate. Duh place is a f_____ maze. Fortunately I didn't have to go all the way to Redhook, but B did; that's where his friends live.

Red Hook! Jesus!
-- Thomas Wolfe

People, Not Places

Here I am, almost six months into my nomadic life, and I've spent only one month out of the country! That's a little embarrassing considering all my big talk back in March. It's funny how expectations rarely line up with reality.

Six months ago, I was excited thinking about all the places I wanted to visit. But freedom to travel also means freedom to see more of the people I care about -- to visit old friends and family and to be there for the people who need me. Rather than picking destinations based on how exotic or beautiful they are, I've been drawn to the ones called home by the people who energize and excite me.

Blah, blah, blah! Here are some pictures from the Feast of San Gennaro in Little Italy, NYC, which I used as an excuse to catch up with my friend M from Seattle and Y from San Francisco (both New Yorkers, now):

 
A heavy smoke hangs over the crowded street. The street vendors were doing a brisk business in grilled beasts of all sorts.

 
Throw another squid on the barbie! Ick.

 
Washington Square Park, where I was nearly hustled in a game of chess.

Not long from now, I'll board a plane for North Carolina -- another destination not originally on my travel itinerary -- to visit an old buddy who, for his own reasons, has recently come to more fully appreciate the people in his life. I'm really looking forward to it.

Fire Island, by Me

It's been a week since I got back from Fire Island, and I've been remiss about uploading my photos. Chalk up my lack of motivation to the fact that Gail's photographs are better than mine. Next time, I'll show my pictures first.

 
Oooh, pretty clouds.

 
A walkway through the Sunken Forest.

 
A view from the top of the Fire Island Lighthouse.

 
Sunset over Fire Island.

You can find the rest of my Fire Island photos here:
[thumbnails] [slideshow]

Fire Island, by Gail At Large

My friend Gail vacationed with me and my family on Fire Island for a few days. As in Toronto, her photos are so much better than mine that I'll just show hers. Be sure to check back, as I'm sure Gail will be adding more photos to this set.

[thumbnails] [slideshow]

Running Around Town, Part 4

I step onto the beach and turn right to run into the wind. On my left, the surf. Ahead is an unoccupied stretch of sand and, in the far distance, the lighthouse.

My first few strides are short and tentative as I get a feel for the loose sand under my bare feet. First aide tape is wrapped around my big toes for protection. Soon my legs and lungs are pumping. Waves pounds the sand. My feet pound it, too; four steps for each wave. Now five. Six. Watch out for broken shells. Jellyfish. Breathing heavy now, in and out like waves, misty salt air in my nose, a salty residue on my sunglasses blurring my vision. My salty sweat coming down on my glasses, too. In the sky ahead, a big hazy ring around the sun.

I turn and put the sun and the wind at my back, waves crashing on my right now. Spy the water tower, my landmark. Pick up the pace. The surf and my breath are the only sounds. Faster. And now just my breath. The words drain from my mind and there's an emptiness, expanding, carrying me with it. Carrying me.

Greetings From Arthur Ashe Stadium

My father scored tickets to the US Open, so yesterday we funneled into Arthur Ashe Stadium along with about 30,000 other tennis fanatics from around the world.

Not everyone loves tennis so I won't bore, but we really did see some great matches in Center Court: Roger Federer vs. Leyton Hewitt, Melanie Oudin vs. Maria Sharapova, and Andy Roddick vs. John Isner. The Oudin/Sharapova match alone was worth the price of admission. Watching the 17 year old American beat back from a 1 set deficit to win was just too much!

 
I seem to recall Arthur Ashe wearing more than this.

 
We were in the nose bleed section. Getting even this mediocre shot of Maria Sharapova's serve was a challenge.

 
The late afternoon sun does a peek-a-boo act with the Goodyear blimp.

 
My father and I are happy and tired from a hard day of spectating.

Running Around Town, Part 3

This is the little corner of the world I grew up in. Armed with a camera and a pair of running shoes, I set out to see it through fresh eyes. And what do you know? Long Island is more beautiful than I remember.

This is part of Tappen Beach. If I could post smells to the blog, I'd post a smell of a salty bay at low tide, with some stale seaweed and the distinctive odor of mussels baking in the late afternoon sun. It smells like my childhood.
 

Kayak rentals at Tappen Beach.
 

The waterfront along Hempstead Harbor. Not that bad.
 

This guy looked like I felt at this point in my run.