This photo is pretty much self-explanatory.
I swam straight through it, because…well…how often do you get poo-ed upon by a whale? Actually, in my case, at least half-a-dozen times I can recall.
This is the first time, however, that I managed to get a photo of cloudy-liquid whale poo, as opposed to soft-serve-ice-cream-like whale poo.
I advise everyone who travels to Tonga with me to practice swimming and generally get into good cardiovascular fitness before arriving.
Rachel didn’t heed my advice and was too slow in the water on her first day, so I had to administer remedial fitness training:
(She’s actually training for a half-marathon. I just enjoyed being drill sergeant.)
This is the label from a package of tissues in the Chinese restaurant in Vava’u:
No one (not even the Chinese speakers among us) can make heads or tails of the intended reference.
I must admit a certain level of apprehension when I first saw this.
I was worried that the unconventional choice of vocabulary was an elliptical reference to a potential contrast between the impression the food imparts on the way in and on the way out.
Fortunately, my anxiety proved unfounded.
Note: First noticed by Gina and Frederick, who seem to have a singular talent for spotting Engrish.
For the 2010 humpback whale season in Tonga, I’ve traded in my heavy all-black overcoat for a lighter orange jacket with reflective tape, primarily because I had to cut weight to meet airline baggage restrictions.
As you can see, I’m making the best of it. First, there’s no way anyone can miss me with this coat on…which is generally a good thing out on the water.
As an added bonus, my black wetsuit + orange jacket just happen to match the black-and-orange hard case that I carry with me every day, as well as my all-black underwater camera housing.
Who says fashion sense has to suffer if you’re out whale watching?
Of course, the bright white croc knock-offs I procured locally sort of spoil my colour-coordination, but hey…there’s only so much I can do out here.
Several people have already complimented me on my appearance, so perhaps my innovative Black-and-Orange-Dorky-Whale-Watcher look will catch on.
The orange jacket is actually standard wear for construction workers and other laborers in Japan, so at the very least, I’m sure my Japanese friends will get a kick out of it.
There were two people from China who joined me for my recent humpback whale acoustics research trip in Tonga.
One of the two, Song Ye, is a former member of the Chinese national swim team, and goes by the nickname Mermaid.
In addition to being a talented swimmer, she is also a natural when it comes to cetacean acoustics research, as is clear in this video:
I was tempted to tell her that the hydrophone wasn’t effective for two-way communication, but in the end, I didn’t have the heart to spoil her fun.
Richard Smith is an eager young marine biologist and underwater photographer who lives in Brisbane, Down Under. He is writing his PhD thesis about pygmy seahorses, and from what I gather, he may actually even finish it.
I’ve only met him once, by chance in the Lembeh Strait last year, and I only had the opportunity to speak with him for half an hour or so.
He seemed pleasant enough, and he’s even planning a trip to dive in Japan with my friends in Izu.
It struck me as somewhat odd, however, that the dates he picked for his visit to Japan coincide with dates that I specifically told him I can’t possibly join him.
I mean…we share common interests, and we had a terrific talk in Lembeh, so why…I wondered…could he possibly be avoiding me?
After thinking long and hard about this conundrum, the proverbial light bulb went off in my head.
This short video clip of Richard explaining the mating rituals of pygmy seahorses to me when we met in Lembeh probably has something to do with it:
(In case it’s not obvious, the point of this post is that if you meet (or already know) Richard, you absolutely must ask him to do the pygmy seahorse mating dance. Even better if you video it and post to the www.)
A couple of days after TDEX wrapped up, a few of us drove up to Ayutthaya. Actually, a couple of us drove. The rest of us sat in the back asking: “Are we there yet?” at 30-second intervals.
The primary goal was to have lunch at a restaurant called Ton Nam that’s famous for serving river prawns.
We also tried a thai dessert/ snack called roti sai mai, which is sort of like stringy cotton candy that you wrap in a thin roti. I’m not really a dessert person, but it was good, as you can see from the expression on Mean’s face:
To work off some of the calories ingested, we spent a bit of time walking around a couple of the temples, mostly Wat Mahathat and the reclining Buddha. If you live in Bangkok or have occasion to visit Thailand, it’s worth travelling to Ayutthaya to learn a little about Thai history. The first time I visited the old part of the city was over 20 years ago.
It was a weekday during rainy season, so there weren’t many other people around. This gave us the perfect opportunity to conduct extensive tests of our photo and video gear…as you can see in the two series of gif files below.
Among us, we had a Canon IXY220IS compact camera, an Olympus Pen camera, a Panasonic GF-1, a Canon 5D Mark II and a Sony CX550V handycam…so we had to put all the hi-tech hardware to good use.
It probably says a lot about us that this was what we decided to do:
Despite appearances (particularly Eric’s Calvin-like grin), this was a serious camera test. Eric was running through us with the video camera set to capture slow-motion footage.
One of the clips actually turned out quite nicely. I’m sure Eric will post it once he’s back home…if for nothing more than to demonstrate that there really was a (somewhat) constructive purpose to his running a slalom course in the middle of the old city of Ayutthaya.
And of course, after getting back to Bangkok, we went for more food, starting with incredibly good Som Tam Gai Yang (green papaya salad, grilled chicken, plus other stuff) and sticky rice:
…followed by my all-time favourite dessert, mango with sticky rice, from the vendor on the corner of Thonglor and Sukhumvit:
Eating so much in one day was certainly hard work, but someone had to do it.
Eric and I gave two talks each at the Thai Travel and Dive Expo in Bangkok this weekend.
Here’s a snapshot of Eric showing a photo he took of flamboyant cuttlefish while we were in Lembeh back in March, using the Inon wide-angle macro lens:
Both of us are accustomed to public speaking, so for the most part, things went smoothly…nothing unexpected or out of the ordinary…except, of course, for a spontaneous gathering of a gaggle of giggling girls expressing undying adoration for young Mr. Cheng (no doubt related to his adroit handling of the aforementioned phallic lens):
Being the consummate professional that he is, Eric took things in stride (note the dopey expression on his face, visible even from behind), even deigning to pose for a group photo with his doey-eyed fan club after he had finished expounding on f-stops and lens angles:
Despite relishing the attention lavished upon him, young Eric did appear somewhat uncomfortable at times, particularly during the photo session…when he was careful to keep his hands in his lap, lest he inadvertently infringe upon the modesty of one of the innocent young lasses around him:
It is, however, a sad fact of life that all good things must come to an end. The captivated co-eds soon lost interest in my friend, leaving him alone, staring into the distance with a forlorn, pensive expression:
Actually, I was with Eric for the rest of the afternoon, but he seemed rudely disinterested in any attention I attempted to lavish upon him.
Go figure.
Every time I trawl through my virtual mountains of data, I come across images I’ve completely forgotten, like this one:
It’s the label of a ketchup bottle aboard Golden Dawn.
Question: Is “ketchuppy” a real word???
Credit for spotting this grammatical conundrum goes to Julie Edwards, who seems to have an unusually keen eye for oddball things!
I just received the following photo from my friend Dr John Potter:
More interesting than the photo is John’s “explanation” of what this is:
“The picture is of a 30m long oil-filled tube containing an array of 4 state-of-the-art hydrophones with preamplifiers, spaced 2m apart (hence the aperture of the active part is 6m). The oil-filled tube allows the array to be neutrally buoyant and either towed or hung vertically in the water with the minimum pickup of flow noise. There is also a portable 96 kSa/s 4-channel recorder in the centre of the image that will record sounds up to 48 kHz from the array onto an SD card. Since the oil-filled tube is 30m long, we can deploy the 4 hydrophones at the depth of our choice up to about 20m below the surface. This will allow us to record humpback sound at close range, without disturbing the whales, with the highest quality and with the possibility to measure their range and source levels. Think of the 4 hydrophones as being able to record a kind of surround-sound, hyper-stereo, THX acoustic landscape.”
After reading this a couple of times, I think it means: “It’s a kick-a** hydrophone that we can send down to 20 metres and record really cool whale sounds.” though I’m not entirely certain.
Anyway, we’ll be using this high-tech gadget on the trips that John and I are running together in Tonga soon, with the objective of kicking off what we hope will be a long-running project to understand more about acoustic communication among humpback whales. (More explanation about our trip/ project here.)
There are still a couple of spots left on the first trip from 29 July to 4 August. Drop me a line if you’re interested in helping me decipher John-speak for a few days.
There’s something that’s bothered me for a long time. Like years. A couple of decades, actually.
Bicycles are a big part of life in Japan. Many people use bicycles to get around, particularly to get to-and-from train stations, from which they commute to-and-from work, school and such.
If you live in a country where bicycles are not a mainstream form of transport, it might not occur to you, but with thousands of bicycles in every neighborhood, there is substantial demand for parking space.
Around most train stations, particularly those in or near major urban centers, there are dedicated parking lots for bicycles. They range from simple open-air plots of land to fancy multi-level covered parking lots…just like there are for cars.
Of course, you have to pay to use these bicycle parking lots.
The thing that’s bugged me for so long is the pricing system. Example below:
The typical arrangement is something like what’s indicated above. For bicycles: 1,500 Yen for one month; 4,500 Yen for three months. (The 2,000/6,000 pricing is for small scooters.)
Umm…duh.
I have never been able to figure out why it’s necessary to show the price for three months.
Most people in Japan, I assume, are able to multiply 1,500 Yen by three to derive 4,500 Yen, so why the need for that extra column? Just to fill up space perhaps? Why not list the prices for two, four, five, six, seven, etc. months as well if we’re going to do simple calculations for everyone?
I know. In the grand scheme of things, it’s not a big deal. It’s just something that gets under my skin every time I pass one of these signs.
Today, however, I came across this sign…
…and felt an enormous burden lifted off my shoulders.
Looks like someone else finally figured out the math and realised the three-month deal wasn’t such a bargain after all.
On the return journey from Bohol, I had a brief stopover in Manila, where I was able to catch up with friend and fellow photographer Gunther Deichmann.
It was a perfect opportunity to talk about the future of photography, the meaning of life and other thought-provoking subjects while we shared a drink or two (or perhaps more accurately, several pitchers plus a few bottles…or was that several bottles plus a few pitchers?).
Never mind.
Before hooking up with Gunther, I read this note in my hotel room:
It says:
To our valued guests:
There are occasions when the hotel receives calls from individuals trying to connect to our guestrooms. These prank callers identify themselves as members of “Abu Sayyaf” and that they are working with hotel employees. Their objective is to scare hotel guests into giving them money.
We wish to assure you that the management has taken steps to ensure protection to our guests.
In case you receive any of these calls please advice the reception at local 7 or Security at local 222 immediately.
Tips:
1. Do not give your room number and name to anyone you do not know outside the hotel.
2. Do not answer calls from people you do not know.
Fair enough.
I probably should’ve been concerned, but actually, I laughed it off and forgot about the note. My desire to take a shower and change into clean clothes was more pressing.
But…shortly thereafter, my phone rang. The operator indicated that I had a call from “Mr. Desmond”.
Hmmm.
All of the sudden, the content of the cautionary note became relevant, since I don’t know any “Mr. Desmond” in Manila. I told the hotel phone operator that I did not know a Mr. Desmond, and hung up.
Back to my shower.
Shortly thereafter, the phone rang again.
This time, the operator said: “Mr. Wu, you have a call from Mr. Junta.”
My first reaction was: “Gee these would-be extortionists are certainly persistent.”
I was just about to hang up again when the proverbial light bulb went off in my head.
Junta. Desmond. Junta. Desmond. Junta. Desmond.
Aha! Gunther Deichmann.
I took the call, and sure enough, it was a somewhat puzzled Gunther wondering why I’d refused his earlier call.
Simple. The hotel operator had misheard/ mispronounced Gunther’s name, and as a result, I thought he wanted to extort money from me.
Of course, I didn’t say that to him, but when I showed Gunther and a few other friends this photo later that evening, we all had a good laugh.
Wetpixel