Getting some Zzzzzz's

I haven't felt like I've gotten quality sleep lately. It's not that I'm staying up reading Stieg Larsson - that at least it a plausible excuse for sleeplessness - I'm just waking up tired, even if I've been in bed close to 8 hours. So the question is, am I imagining the poor sleep, or is it really happening?

Browsing the apps available on Android (I got a swish new smartphone because my little cell phone just wasn't working anymore), I found something intriguing : Sleep as an Droid. I decided I'd use its two-week trial period to see if I could uncover something about my sleeping habits.

The app tracks your sleep patterns, keeps track of your sleep deficit, enables sharing (though why I'd post daily updates to facebook I don't know) and the paid version adds nature sounds to the alarm options. Plus, it has a cute logo - don't you think?

The principle is this : use the sensors in your smartphone (in my case, a Samsung Galaxy S) to determine how much you move around during the night, thus guessing what type of sleep you are in and for how long. The trick of course is that you have to put the phone on the mattress when you go to sleep, so this won't work for "burrowers" or "flailers" who may knock the phone to the floor as they doze.

The official webpage does a much better job at explaining the aim of the app:

https://sites.google.com/site/sleepasandroid/

So far, my first night's sleep looks similar to the sample graph, and I slept well last night - likely because I didn't eat too late, and we had the air conditioner on and a blanket so I felt like it was time for sleep. Napping on the couch without blankets? No problems. In fact I managed to fall asleep midway through a TV movie a few nights ago, gunshots and explosions notwithstanding.

Oh - and this isn't a single incident. See this blog for two more sleep aid apps.

On top of mapping my sleep patterns, Sleep as an Droid has a few features I'll be trying out :

• Gentle wake - begins to wake you with a pre-alarm, from 30 minutes to an hour before your set alarm, but only if it senses you are not in deep sleep
• Lullaby mode - quiets text and message alerts
• Music volume turns down as you fall asleep

I'll let you know if this is bunk or it actually works... Even if it doesn't, it might be worth it for the gentle alarm, according to other reviewers.

Taking On Water

This seems as good a time as any to start blogging again.


If you've been watching the news, my newly adopted state of Queensland, Australia is experiencing its worst flooding in more than a century. Originally compared to the serious floods of 1974, the water has risen above those levels, and the area affected is larger than France and Germany combined. Scarcely a week ago I was writing to worried family to assure them of my safety; last week's worst flooding was in Rockhampton, a good seven hours' drive north of Brisbane. By Monday, though, it became clear that Brisbane would not be spared.

Before I go further, let me assure you that my home is on a hill, and my area is not subject to flooding. Our drinking water is not contaminated, we have plenty of food (though very little fresh vegetables, and no bread - time for baking!) and flashlights and candles in case our power is cut.

I took a walk on Monday to the river and hopped on a ferry for the 3-minute ride to the university campus on the opposite riverbank. Even then, the Brisbane River was lapping at the sidewalk, debris cluttering my route - an hour after I took these photos, the walkway was closed.

Yesterday, by the time a break in the rain came and I ventured to the nearest grocery store (20 minutes' walk, downhill) the shelves were bare of bread (barring a few packets of wraps), bottled water, and longlife milk (except soy!) but I gathered some meat for the BBQ, soup and pasta, canned fruit, vegetables and tuna.

The Wivenhoe dam is at 190% and it may release the equivalent of 6000 Olympic pools per second. (Channel 10) Fortunately the rain forecast for today didn't come and the expected peak has been revised to a lower level, but the damage has already been done. Thousands are out of their homes, having lost everything. If you're going to worry or pray, please do so for those in low-lying areas. Many have already been evacuated, but the disaster relief centres are filling fast. Those with family or friends on higher ground have been asked to shelter there instead.

The death toll stands at 12, and dozens of people are missing. The media coverage is constant and people are harnessing social media to send out messages - some assuring friends they are safe, others pleading for rescue workers to aid people they've seen stranded on a roof. One now-homeless girl tweeted, with typical Aussie pluck, "We're ok. Send Sham-wows."

Just past noon today (Wednesday 12th January) I visited my favourite coffee shop - the proprietors are okay, just running low on milk and ginger beer - and continued down the main road of my neighbouring suburb, camera in hand. Helicopters flew by on their way to a rescue, warning sirens whooped, and a single policeman stood ankle-deep, directing traffic away from the intersection.

The supermarket I had visited just yesterday was shut, and water had started to roll in from downtown. Businesses had sandbagged their doors, taped plastic sheeting over the windows and put misspelled signs up, advising customers they had closed due to flood warnings. The West End's most popular cafe was closed and already gathering water in the front courtyard:

Today has been hot and sunny but now, at 8:45pm, it is raining. The next two days will bring the worst.  If, like me, you are safely on high ground, do not travel unless necessary.  If you can help, please send donations or volunteer through the Red Cross or Salvation Army, or your local church.

Theatre Liceu & Barcelona Port

Thursday September 9

Today I strolled down La Rambla and found the Liceu Theatre just in time for the next tour. The auditorium is one of the grandest I've ever seen, and our guide tells us it has more than 2,000 seats - the only theatre larger is in Paris. Only operas, concerts and ballets are performed here - no plays - and as it was built by the bourgeois it has no royal box. It is now a public building. Unfortunately I've arrived in Barcelona between runs, so I can't book to see a show. As the stage and hall have been destroyed twice by fire, what we're seeing today is a "faithful copy" of the original.

Plush red seats with oval backs and footrests are arranged in a horseshoe shape, which is good for acoustics but leaves some people with poor visuals. To this end, some seats on the outward curve of the horseshoe were fitted with small screens in the 1994 reconstruction. The amount of gilt in the auditorium is astounding. There is a circular bubble at the centre of the curved, painted ceiling, and elaborately decorated walls with raised, gilt-painted vines.

We move onto the hall of mirrors. This is where guests can get a drink between acts. The ceiling has a lush fresco painted on it, and above the mirrors, the walls hold sepia miniature-style portraits of famous composers, musicians and singers. This is all original, with only restoration work undertaken since the hall opened.

With the tour over, I continue down La Rambla until I hit water. For the first time since arriving in Spain, the sun is too bright, and I slip on my sunglasses. (The Aussie sun is much harsher, and I guess I've grown used to it. I can hardly believe this is my first trip outside the country in nearly two years.) The water is blue, blue, blue, and sailboats are tied up all along the port. I snap a couple of photos of the water, the sculptures, the buildings - and a European woman in a smart sundress asks, "Will you photo me?" I take her picture, and she takes mine. This is the first time I've allowed anyone to hold my camera, but she does give it back.

I am tempted by street vendors with hot dogs and waffles, but I should get actual lunch, so I carry on until I see a cluster of cafes at an intersection further along. The one I choose, Casa Pascual, says it's been open since 1916, and it has a "menu del dia" for 11.50 euros, so I go in an make an attempt to read the Catalan menu they give me. The waitress catches me glancing at the glossary in my guidebook and brings me an English menu. A few minutes later a waiter comes by, and I order as best I can in Catalan. He is especially pleased with my pronunciation of beer - "una cervesa" - and gives me a handshake and a "muy bueno!" The Estrella beer he brings is light-tasting but very pleasant, and the glass has been chilled.

I eat my artichoke and chicken paella, and later a dish of potato and seasoned white fish, hake. We have  hake in Australia as well. I'm pleased that many of the other diners have ordered the same main meal, and I can only pick out one other foreigner. For dessert I have oranges with cinnamon, curious whether the translation might have missed something - but out comes a plate of thinly sliced and peeled oranges, sprinkled liberally with fresh grated cinnamon, nothing like the powder I bake with. It's simple but heavenly.

Next, I find the Catalunya Museum of History, and spend quite a long time there - the exhibit is huge. I think Jody would have enjoyed it more than me, because a whole room is devoted to amour and mounted knights. There are a few interactive pieces, like the Moorish water wheel, and a stone wheel for grinding grain. The most interesting to me were all the posters from the 30s through the 50s, and the display of early gadgets, including an Underwood typewriter with worn keys.

An afternon in Zurich

It's a little before noon local time on Sunday September 5th and Jody and I have finally had some time to relax. Somehow - likely through sheer exhaustion - we managed to get about 6 or 7 hours' sleep on our 11 hour overnight Swissair flight. Still, neither of us feel particularly rested, and our calves and ankles are swollen from all the flying and cramped conditions.

It took some time to make a plan for the day and stick to it, but eventually we cleaned ourselves up- we're over the 36 hour travel mark now - had breakfast, and took the train into Zurich central. We walked until we saw water, then parked ourselves on a green bench in a gravelled, treed lookout point with a wharf.

The sun is streaming down, a welcome warmth after the pilot's announcement of our descent included a 6am weather report of 10 degrees. The two European young men seated next to me made a sound that needed no interpretation. I looked at them, clad in t shirts and shorts from their trip to Bangkok, and uttered one of the few German words I still remember: kalt. The guys grimaced. "Kalt."

It isn't cold now, which is great because I'm in my maxi dress and a half-sleeved cardigan. An older woman has come to ask if she can share our bench, and Jody gives up his turn of having his legs up.

The woman points at her legs and so do I, with an understanding smile. She looks at Jody and says, in accented English, she is young. I am an old woman."
She asks where we are from, and after Jody tells her, I muster enough German to say we've had 20 hours of flying. She returns that she's had 18.

In this half-English, half-German fashion, we remark on the water, the mountains, and the view, which is "wunderbar."

"Married?" The woman points at her rings, and I show her my own. "Mein mann," I say, "drei jahre."

She nods her approval. "Gross liebe," she says. Big love. If my German is terrible, she doesn't mention it.

We move on, have a coffee, and spend the rest of our afternoon in a grassy park with a rose garden.