Not good: Hundreds of dead penguins washed up in Brazil
Interesting: Whale of a tale for couple yachting off Cape Town
For everyone who asks what I think is going to happen with the oil spill: Searching for the Gulf oil leak's victims
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Monday, July 19, 2010
Whales this weekend?
No, sadly, no baleen whales this weekend. We did see a bunch of dolphins on Sunday, including a superpod of common dolphins. A superpod is a congregation of pods, which can contain 1,000+ dolphins. Think like this:
Also, some people on the cruises have no concept of geography whatsoever. The first was a six-year-old girl -- who can be forgiven because of her age -- who asked, "Is that Hawaii?" when she saw the oil islands in Long Beach Harbor. That was pretty cute, I have to admit. What was not cute, was the middle aged couple who pointed to the shore we'd left an hour earlier and asked, "Is that an island?!" No, um, that's where we started.
In more exciting news, Look Around You is tomorrow night! I'm hoping if I stand in line early enough I can get in, since I missed the online sign up for free reservations. Sigh.
Maths!
Also, some people on the cruises have no concept of geography whatsoever. The first was a six-year-old girl -- who can be forgiven because of her age -- who asked, "Is that Hawaii?" when she saw the oil islands in Long Beach Harbor. That was pretty cute, I have to admit. What was not cute, was the middle aged couple who pointed to the shore we'd left an hour earlier and asked, "Is that an island?!" No, um, that's where we started.
In more exciting news, Look Around You is tomorrow night! I'm hoping if I stand in line early enough I can get in, since I missed the online sign up for free reservations. Sigh.
Maths!
Saturday, July 17, 2010
As promised: My whale watching experience
These aren't the best shots I've ever taken, just the most recent:
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Whales!
This weekend was an exciting one for whales. Saturday we saw a mother and calf Blue whale pair, twice in a row in almost exactly the same place. The calf was very small, around 20 ft. and probably less than six months old, and the mother was so skinny you could see her spine when she dove. Still, exciting to see and interesting that they were at the same coordinates all day.
Sunday we saw FOUR Blue whales, an elephant seal (a bit unusual in the area), plus some California Sea Lions and Harbor seals. Two of those four whales were (I think) the same mother and calf pair from Saturday. One of the blues we followed fluked twice, which basically means this:
Not every whale does that on every dive, it's pretty special to see.
So now I have a week to kill before going whale watching again this weekend... Sigh.
Blue Whale:
Elephant Seal:
California Sea Lions:
Harbor Seal:
As soon as I can I will post some of my own pictures up here, not just ones I took from google image search.
Sunday we saw FOUR Blue whales, an elephant seal (a bit unusual in the area), plus some California Sea Lions and Harbor seals. Two of those four whales were (I think) the same mother and calf pair from Saturday. One of the blues we followed fluked twice, which basically means this:
Not every whale does that on every dive, it's pretty special to see.
So now I have a week to kill before going whale watching again this weekend... Sigh.
Blue Whale:
Elephant Seal:
California Sea Lions:
Harbor Seal:
As soon as I can I will post some of my own pictures up here, not just ones I took from google image search.
Friday, July 9, 2010
Signs I'm Getting Old(er): #1-4
1. I no longer regard the Lonely Planet Guides as infallible.
2. I don't really care about staying in on Friday/Saturday night.
3. I have a career path in mind.
4. I'm starting to desire matching, well designed dishes.
But I'm not old yet!
2. I don't really care about staying in on Friday/Saturday night.
3. I have a career path in mind.
4. I'm starting to desire matching, well designed dishes.
But I'm not old yet!
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Monday Monday
Monday was an interesting night. It was a roommate's 21st birthday so we went out for dinner and drinks, and then to a club. The night was Blue Mondays, an 80s darkwave night over in Hollywood. Come to think of it, the last and only other time I was there it was for another friend's 21st.
Straight off the bat one of the girls in the group gets approached by a guy who claims to be a TV scout. He asks if she'd be interested in stunt work, as she has great shoulders. (Which she does, it's true.) Next up, a girl in rave gear hits on me. A really, really tall girl. Tall enough that everyone thought she was actually a man. With a name like Scarlet Snow, one has to wonder. Anyway, she told me I was cute and I told her I was straight. Graceless, I know. We kept bumping into each other later that night, which was a little awkward.
We continued to drink and dance and drink and dance and request songs of the DJ. He had NO Cindi Lauper (outrageous!), but agreed to play some Madonna for us on account that I didn't think requesting The Wedding Present or XTC would win me any favors with my friends. For mentioning those two bands I got a high five and a "You're cool!" from the DJ, whose name I sadly cannot remember. Blame the $20 credit card minimum at the bar.
Now, all that dancing made me notice a shy, somewhat morose young man standing by the edge of the dancefloor. (Not a terribly uncommon sight at the kind of club that will play The Smiths.) When I tried to encourage him to dance with us he just said, "No English. Russian." What ensued was probably the most challenging, interesting discussion I've ever had. It was more like pictionary, really. Drunk, and with a thousand bar napkins, I attempted to explain that I study the ocean. For some reason I was convinced that he studied math or physics, and that is why he was here. I tried to communicate this by writing down physics equations... well, I could only remember one, really, that wound up being a hodge podge of f=ma and e=mc^2. I was scribbling f=mc^2 all over napkins when my friend, who took Russian for years in college but apparently didn't remember enough to translate for us, waltzes over to remind me that they use a different alphabet. Of course. I ask her if they have birthday cakes in Russia, and she says they do, so I scribble a cake with four candles and one with 5, printing "21" next to the second cake and point at our friend who is now of legal drinking age. I think he got it. Eventually it was concluded (I think) that he was from Odessa, Ukraine, was 29, and had come over here to just work. None of this may actually be true, as my drunk drawing skills are poor and may have lead to a string of miscommunication.
The next day, I get an e-mail from a TV scout from the Style Network, and I vaguely remember her complimenting me on my legwarmers the night before. I look at the e-mail... and it's for a makeover show. They want horrible dressers who are in extreme fashion ruts. Great. I call her back and tell her I don't normally dress in a sequin top, bike shorts, leg warmers, and sparkly blue shoes. Surprisingly, she is disappointed.
Anyway, that was Monday.
Straight off the bat one of the girls in the group gets approached by a guy who claims to be a TV scout. He asks if she'd be interested in stunt work, as she has great shoulders. (Which she does, it's true.) Next up, a girl in rave gear hits on me. A really, really tall girl. Tall enough that everyone thought she was actually a man. With a name like Scarlet Snow, one has to wonder. Anyway, she told me I was cute and I told her I was straight. Graceless, I know. We kept bumping into each other later that night, which was a little awkward.
We continued to drink and dance and drink and dance and request songs of the DJ. He had NO Cindi Lauper (outrageous!), but agreed to play some Madonna for us on account that I didn't think requesting The Wedding Present or XTC would win me any favors with my friends. For mentioning those two bands I got a high five and a "You're cool!" from the DJ, whose name I sadly cannot remember. Blame the $20 credit card minimum at the bar.
Now, all that dancing made me notice a shy, somewhat morose young man standing by the edge of the dancefloor. (Not a terribly uncommon sight at the kind of club that will play The Smiths.) When I tried to encourage him to dance with us he just said, "No English. Russian." What ensued was probably the most challenging, interesting discussion I've ever had. It was more like pictionary, really. Drunk, and with a thousand bar napkins, I attempted to explain that I study the ocean. For some reason I was convinced that he studied math or physics, and that is why he was here. I tried to communicate this by writing down physics equations... well, I could only remember one, really, that wound up being a hodge podge of f=ma and e=mc^2. I was scribbling f=mc^2 all over napkins when my friend, who took Russian for years in college but apparently didn't remember enough to translate for us, waltzes over to remind me that they use a different alphabet. Of course. I ask her if they have birthday cakes in Russia, and she says they do, so I scribble a cake with four candles and one with 5, printing "21" next to the second cake and point at our friend who is now of legal drinking age. I think he got it. Eventually it was concluded (I think) that he was from Odessa, Ukraine, was 29, and had come over here to just work. None of this may actually be true, as my drunk drawing skills are poor and may have lead to a string of miscommunication.
The next day, I get an e-mail from a TV scout from the Style Network, and I vaguely remember her complimenting me on my legwarmers the night before. I look at the e-mail... and it's for a makeover show. They want horrible dressers who are in extreme fashion ruts. Great. I call her back and tell her I don't normally dress in a sequin top, bike shorts, leg warmers, and sparkly blue shoes. Surprisingly, she is disappointed.
Anyway, that was Monday.
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