The Meeting of the Families...

It was just as we had imagined...a darkly lit room...tension filling the night air...Walter "The Costa Rican Don" Herrera sat in the shadows...his face shielded...only the glow from his cigar visible in the dark as the 'muscle' (Sara) stood steadily by. The foreign visitors were ushered in...assured that the Don was eager to meet them...and so after five years together, our families were to finally meet. 

To everyone's relief, The Don gave his approval of the foreigners, and my parents were warmly welcomed to Los Angeles. Over the next five days we sought to show them a little bit of what LA has to offer, as well as enabling them to relax and recover from their jet-lag. 

My father completed his mission and arrived at an Air Museum with Walter within 24-hours of arriving in the USA, while my mother strangely enough chose to avoid this excursion in favor of getting to know Sara better. The Herrera hospitality was wonderful and my parents were able to meet everyone, although my request for name-tags was ignored by all. We also made important pilgrimages to the Getty Center, Hollywood, UCLA, Laguna and a bonfire on the beach. 

Rejuvenated and happy to have been able to meet so many of Jen's family, we packed the olds into our rental car and set off for the next leg of this crazy journey. It is a truly bizarre experience to be taking your parents on a holiday...complete with them sitting in the back of the car marveling at my ability to drive a motor car on the 'wrong' side of the road. Our next stop was San Francisco...with a trip up the famous coastal road of Highway 1 ahead of us. 

Big & Tall

The sun had set by the time we pulled into the R Ranch, a group of cabins located in the Sequioa National Forest. The beauty of the surroundings more than made up for the strangely inadequate ranch name as we settled into a cabin that was much closer to 'nature' than Jennifer prefers to get. It is a strange tradition that any trip into the 'wilderness' (well compared to LA) must be accompanied by the consumption of sufficent alcohol to fill a small swimming pool. This aside, the next day we set off on our hike through the Trail of 100 Giants...a stunningly beautiful path that provided sufficient time and natural splendour to make us all feel wonderfully and rightfully insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Convening with nature is an exhausting task...and thus we returned to our cabin and made our way to the swimming pool to greet our fellow nature lovers. Everyone has their own way of appreciating nature of course...the 15 year-old security guard for instance liked to show everyone the dead rat he had just found in the pool you got out of, while regailing you with local ghost stories...brillant. As night fell once more we were greeted by some more locals, including a fox and an over-confident racoon, and then it was back to civilization and reality. 

Working Holiday

As I believe I have mentioned previously ~ graduate students sign 13 month yearly contracts when they enter the program...in effect agreeing to be working...or at least pretending to work...the entire year. This is ironic really given that the majority of graduate students have continued their education for the very reason of avoiding full time work. This said, as students, we are afforded the luxury of the summer break...three months of the year during which we are excused from classes and seeing patients. Of course, it is during this three month break that we are expected to work fervently on our research and papers...and it thus with guilty and mischievous looks that students discuss their summer plans.

It is thoughts such as these that drift through my mind as I sit next to the pool in Southern California. My research making fleeting appearances as I remove my shirt to reveal a second sun…a chest so magically white that it could only come about with the special combination of a Scottish bloodline and four months of a Midwestern winter. For the coming week Jennifer and I will be catching up with friends and family in LA ~ then…wait for it…my parents arrive on their first visit to the USA. After five years together, our parents will finally meet...after which we will be road trippin’ up the West Coast…a wonderful combination of “Meet the Fockers” and the Griswald’s Summer Vacation.

Quote of the Week: Jennifer ~ “I think I want to work as a medical interpreter at the hospital…how do you say ‘interpreter’ in Spanish?”

The Lakehouse Life

With the weather improving we are beginning to realize that every man and their dog has some connection to a house by a lake...somewhere...somehow. It is here that summer days are spent ~ relaxing, drinking and engaging in a vast array of water sports. 

In the past two weeks we have had the opportunity to sample this lifestyle ~ with trips to Lake Michigan and to a smaller lake further East. We went kayaking - thus enabling Jen to fall in the water (naturally) and me to get sunburnt (naturally)...and then spend a few lazy hours sitting on the pier or walking the beaches as the sun dropped below the horizon. 

In bigger news ~ Jen bought a bike ~ and is learning to ride (without training wheels cause she is so hard). Updates and pictures to come. 

An old friend in Chicago

This past weekend we headed to Chicago to catch up with an old friend...the famous or infamous...Kaz. Kaz was one of my roommates at UCLA; we lived in a small room which somehow accommodated five dashingly handsome intellectuals that year. Kaz was one of those unique characters who you would find half-naked cooking rice at 3am as you return from a bar...or who would hand out shots of sake failing to tell anybody that he had just boiled the liquid. It was great to see him though ~  a night spent catching up, drinking and developing great admiration for any individual who can consume more than one slice of Chicago style pizza.

Pictured: Old and new friends...and finally flowers take the place of snow in South Bend, Indiana.

Ten days of peace and quiet...

In the interests of self-preservation I will allow it to remain ambiguous as to whose 10 days of peace and quiet it was ~ but ladies and gentleman...allow me to introduce the latest addition to the world of extreme sport meditation...Jennifer "Perhaps a little too emotional" Herrera! That's right, this past weekend Jen returned from her first 10-day Vipassana retreat, and it sounds like she jumped in head first. Many of Jen's reports I think were expected...a great sense of peace, very relaxed, the infamous fourth day in which she became almost homicidal. However, there were also a good number of reports that no sane man would have put money on two weeks ago. For example, Jen usually greets the morning with a hateful stare and a threat of violence, however she was up at 4am every morning and in the meditation hall...a wonderful display of will-power and one that has effectively ruined any chance of her being allowed to sleep in every again. Then there were the reports of her steadfast lack of emotionality...this coming from a girl who can tear up during a 15 second Kleenex advertisement, or go from 0 to crazy in all of 6.2 seconds flat. And finally, her "enjoyment", yes folks, "enjoyment" and satisfaction in eating nothing but fruit and tea for the final meal of the day (at 5pm). Now all jokes aside, it is an incredible feat to endure a Vipassana retreat, and we are all extremely proud of her. She has returned to the real world (which as it does for everyone finishing the 10 day retreat, hit her square in the face) with a renewed sense of peace and a deepened level of motivation to pursue a career helping others. So here's to Jen...a huge congratulations...for kickin' it like the Buddha.

Hard Rockin' San Diego

The process of 'networking' is indeed a strange and complex art form; however it is one that very rarely manifests anything that can be described as sophisticated, beautiful or breathtaking. Instead, it is for many a necessary evil, one that leaves them feeling distinctly dirty and unclean, but is part of a game that must be played by both sides. This was to be my fortune as I traveled to San Diego to attend the Behavioral Medicine conference held each year. Mind you, before this is interpreted as any form of complaint, let me assure you that I am more than happy to rub up and down against people's legs for three days in return for a free trip to the West Coast.

That said, as I walked around the conference, I observed the ritualistic mating habits of many wonderful species of scientist: the pathetic yet endearing 'eager graduate student'…the exotic and always apprehensive 'junior faculty member'…and of course the king of the jungle…a giant amongst mere mortals…the rarely seen 'celebrity scientist'…individuals who have often accidentally made their way into the mainstream media…and now are considered "The Fonz" of their respective areas of research. Despite a hangover I performed well, gyrating against legs with the best of them, and managing to leave my scent on a number of influential director's shoes.

With the conference concluded and having showered three times with a metal brush, Jen and I were free to enjoy San Diego and some beautiful weather. We spent a night at the newly opened Hard Rock Hotel with some friends…which was very cool…the hotel…not me of course. And then watched the sunset at the famous Coronado Hotel. The weekend concluded with the standard insanity ~ whereby we try to fit an entire month's worth of family gatherings into the space of two days in LA. It was a great time, and great to see so many friends and family in such a short time.

I am now back in South Bend on my lonesome. Jen has taken the plunge and went straight from LA to the 10-day meditation course that I completed at the start of the year. It is the fourth day for her as I write this, and if I remember my experience correctly, she will be cursing the world and its existence about now. So for those three people who still read this blog…cross your fingers for her.  

Pictured: The famous Gaslamp District, San Diego, Coronado, and Jen in the sand.

Birthday: 2008

Thanks to Jen, my family from afar, and some close friends in Chicago...my 28th birthday was celebrated in style. I was able to see my first Chicago Bulls game, with Jen going to the special effort of having them win for once this season.



Photos: Da' Bulls...and Chicago freezing over during the winter.

Straight up with BB King.

So ~ by an astounding twist of fate, the bus carrying the undisputed King of Blues, Mr. B.B. King took a wrong turn ~ and ended up playing a show in our own neck of the woods. Thus, on a cold winters night we ventured into downtown South Bend to see one of the most lively 82 year-olds we have seen – put on an amazing show with his band. Strangely enough, he also turned out to be one of the dirtiest 82 year-old men that we have come across – complete with numerous advertisements for the wonder drug that is Viagra ~ and his days (which are still ongoing it seems) of chasing women. This amazing musician was on stage for over two hours, and put on an incredible show ~ and was of course not something we thought we would see in South Bend, Indiana.

Advertising Slogan of the Week:
“If we can’t kill them…we’ll eat them!”
~ Pest Control Company.

Extreme Sports Meditation

Ladies and Gentleman…let me introduce our two contenders…in the right corner…weighing in at a powerful 10 days of grueling silence…combined with 10 hours per day of meditation…no contact with the outside world…and a brutal left hook…Vipassana ‘Kickin’ it like the Buddha said’ Meditation.

In the left corner…weighing in at an embarrassing 165 pounds…with bad knees and ankles…a constant need to be productive…already emotionally retarded…and a hardly noticeable right jab…Errol ‘What am I doing here’ Philip….

That’s right folks…this youngster from Australia…with absolutely no idea what he is getting himself into…is taking on the extreme sports of meditation…a no holds barred…take no prisoners…approach to enlightenment. A ten day…no speaking, no eye contact, no gesturing, no emails, no phones, no books or writing material, total silence, up at 4am…bed by 9pm…11 hours of meditation in between…heaven or hell…who can tell…experience.

So yes indeed it was an ‘experience’. One of the most challenging and amazing ones I have been through. The first two days were full of pure physical agony as I quickly realized that for some uniquely comical reason - my left shoulder is unable to support my left arm. Granted my biceps are licensed weapons in the state of Indiana…but this did come as a surprise. By the fourth day I had conceded defeat trying to find a ‘comfortable’ position - my pillow somehow transforming into concrete when I sat on it…and regardless of how I managed to wedge certain limbs into position – I would be in pain by the thirty minute mark. I would sit and watch people build couches around themselves, or mentally strangle those who sat in chairs…determined to come to terms with this new found discomfort.

Strangely enough…once I realized (perhaps three days too late) that this was going to be a matter of acceptance…and that my mind would simply have to stop reacting to the pain and discomfort…it wasn’t actually that bad. You realize you have reached a ‘special’ place when the feeling of your legs draining of blood becomes an enormously pleasant sensation compared to that of your spinal column squeezing itself into your underwear.

By the seventh day I had adopted a mildly manic depressive state – strange for such a ‘balanced, calm and emotionally retarded individual’ – but there I was – undulating between highs and lows throughout the day…peaking at lunch when they would serve even the smallest amount of chocolate with our standard bowl of vegetarian creativity.

Then of course there is the veritable symphony of our bodies functioning amidst the deafening silence. It appeared by day four that most individuals had decided that given they were surrounded by people who could not laugh, snicker, make eye contact or gesture…and were enduring one of the most wonderful experiences of physical and mental torture…that it was a gaseous free-for-all. I have not heard such a wonderful array of public flatulence in all my life.

So after ten days of being trapped in my head…a scary place even when you leave the light on…I emerged back into the real world a changed person. Despite facing 164 emails and a week of classes to catch up on…I have never felt more at peace in my life…and as I now try to integrate two hours of meditation practice into my daily schedule…we shall see whether this new found calmness and peace will remain.

A New Year and a New Jen...

Our trip home to LA for the holidays is nearing its conclusion - a wonderfully hectic three weeks with family, friends, food and drink - and we will return to South Bend with two extra bags of Jen's clothes, a mild trepidation for the soon-to-be faced snow, a few extra pounds around my midsection, and a short-haired Jennifer.

Christmas was an excellent break, and afforded us time to speak with family and friends in Australia, as well as spend many hours catching up with those here in Los Angeles. We welcomed the New Year in the mountains with all 350 Herrera's - with four days spent eating and drinking almost continuously, while admiring the beautiful lack of snow due to the mild winter.

Now it is back to South Bend for a few days before I leave for a 10-day silent meditation retreat near Chicago. It promises to be an interesting and perhaps horrifying challenge - being left alone with my thoughts for a 10-day stretch - with no use of phones, emails, books, writing, or social interaction...and instead the promise of physical discomfort and 10 hours of meditation each day.

Baby it's cold outside...

It is that time of year once more – a time when slightly cool winds and a dusting of snowflakes move through the Midwest for the winter…the time of year when Jennifer begins to look more affectionately at our space heater than at me…and the period of time where we seek out cheap airfares to warmer climates as we curse the heavens for delivering upon us the one inch of ice attached to our car. We enter this time period however feeling slightly more prepared than last year – and figure that if we are able to move through the winter without a car accident or a flooded apartment – then it will be a pleasant one. One thing I am yet to understand, is how to make this winter weather as romantic as Dean Martin when he alerts his lady friend to the fact that Its cold outside’…I have tried many times to make such information romantic…but it inspires nothing more than a barrage of profanity or a retreat under the covers from Jennifer…

We are now in LA for the Christmas break after a marathon 15 hour travel day from South Bend to Orange County. We did however receive our first Christmas gift when our final flight was overbooked and they asked for volunteers to wait three hours for the next one. Given we had already spent 12 hours in airports or on planes, we didn’t see much of an issue with an extra few hours, and thus volunteered. In return we received two wonderful round trip tickets to anywhere in the USA – the equivalent of $400 each for our regular trips to the West Coast. A day’s traveling to warmer weather, and a profit – not bad at all.

Finally – a quick piece of golden American advertising which recently arrived in the mail from Neptune Society: America’s Cremation Specialists. Following their self-proclaimed motto of being “Simple, Economical and Dignified”, Neptune was kind enough to offer the chance to win a pre-paid cremation! Now if that doesn’t get you in the holiday spirit…nothing will!

Pictured: Notre Dame after the first snow fall

Life in the fast lane...and its legal both ways!

There is a long list of the advantages and disadvantages that have come with moving to America. On the positive side: I have been able to experience a different culture, have not been held responsible for the elected President, am generally considered unique and exotic, have access to hundreds of cable channels, and basketball shoes are cheaper (this would be at the top of the list if I was rating them). Not so great is the need to jump through immigration hoops, to not be understood (sometimes a positive), more expensive health care and insurance, and as I experienced this past week...the need to revisit my teenage days and apply for a drivers license. The irony of obtaining my learners permit as a 27 year-old was especially amusing to friends and family...and Jennifer took great joy in 'teaching' me to drive. While having my photo taken for my learners permit I felt like I should consciously break out a few impressive pimples to make the transition backwards complete.

My first driving test was traumatic enough...and I still remember somehow managing to change lanes without indicating and then speed up to make it through a yellow light while exiting the carpark...an impressive and efficient 38 seconds into the test. While I managed to pass this test, with the help of my long eyelashes and flirtatious laugh with the male examiner, I had no desire to repeat this effort during a Midwestern winter. Fortunately, the weather held out, and accompanied by one of the meanest looking women I have seen, I prepared myself for the drive. The first test was to demonstrate my use of the indicator lights - simple to everyone else - but on the opposite side here to what I am used to - and thus I had to concentrate hard in order to not activate the windscreen wipers instead. All went smoothly though, and after a suitable amount of flirtatious giggling and batting of my eyelashes I had passed the test and was one step closer to being a number in every system in America. So I am now legally allowed to drive on both sides of the road...and like to mix it up a bit when I get homesick...so wave and then move if you see me coming.

Pictured: A fully-fledged licensed American driver!

Hard Rockin' Chicago

After arriving back from Portland and catching our breath, we welcomed Val, a friend from LA, as she arrived in South Bend to visit us for a few days. We took in the sites of the city and Notre Dame before heading to Chicago to celebrate Halloween on Saturday night. This trip we were traveling in style however, as Val was in town for business and had a room at the Hard Rock Hotel all set for our arrival. We checked in and raced downtown to see Val's brother's band play - who are touring at the moment -
before heading out for some dinner and drinks. Despite being under dressed for Halloween, we met up with some friends from Chicago and London, and toured the town in order to judge the most creative costume. There were some definite highlights of creativity - with crowd favorites including a gentleman with a box around his waste (Google 'Justin Timberlake in a box' for this crude reference), and a 6-foot guy dressed as a Whoopee Cushion. It was a brilliant night with some old friends, and now I promise, it is back to reality, and we will finally do some work.

Pictured: Jen and Val; and the view from our room.

Melbourne, Oregon.

Jen’s immediate family is not small, and is in fact closer to the population of a small country than the ‘parents and two-kids’ model that I grew up in. So after learning everyone’s name, a two-year process in itself, it was time to extend the circle and meet her Uncle’s and their families in Portland, Oregon. After our classes on Friday, we set off for Chicago, and after a quick stop in Denver, we arrived in Portland, looking as great as ever after a 14 hour trip on planes, trains and automobiles. While at night it was hard to get a feeling for the city, the following day I felt completely at home, and realized that I had arrived in the American version of Melbourne (yes this is bias…and yes Melbourne could be the Australian version of Portland…but I am writing…so it is as it is). We were welcomed warmly into Jen’s uncles homes, greeted many of the family from LA, and starting Saturday morning, began our whirlwind tour of Portland and the surrounding area.

It was an amazing few days, with all sorts of weather greeting us as we toured magnificentt waterfalls and scenic lookouts, the city of Portland and a possible school for Jen, as well as riding four-wheelers around Jerry & Wendy’s beautiful property away from the city. While staying with Luis & Christina, Luis provided background music for many of our adventures, as well as proving to be a most capable tour guide, complete with ‘hole-in-the-wall’ eating recommendations and cheesy jokes. Finally, Lucas and Kirsten happily set aside any possibility of getting something accomplished over the weekend, and were more than willing to provide us with hangovers to take sightseeing the next day. In all, the time went far too quickly, but thanks to the entire family, we were able to see so much in just a few days. Now it is back to reality…and the six-week countdown to the Christmas break.

Pictured: Scenic lookout and waterfalls; Jen four-wheeling; Portland.

"E" is for "Apple"

Three months ago I began training as a volunteer at a foundation here in South Bend that provides free tutoring to children with dyslexia. This amazing organization provides three years of one-on-one tutoring for children in the community, whose families are unable to afford such services. It has also served to provide me with one of the most uniquely humbling experiences of my life.

As a professional student who refuses to get a job, I am very comfortable in the academic domain. I have my own little research field which I can talk about until your ears bleed, I can skim book chapters, read abstracts in place of entire articles, use unnecessarily big words, and look serious and busy so nobody thinks academics' have it easy. Further, despite being Australian, I was under the impression that I had a fairly decent grasp of the English language. I am no longer under this impression. I didn't think that helping kids to read would be too much of learning curve...how wrong I was. It really only takes one time for a 10 year-old to correct your pronunciation for you to throw your entire ego out the door...an ironic and uniquely enjoyable experience indeed.

Once you start getting down to it, the English language is pretty damn complicated. Apparently there are all these different catergories including so-called 'verbs' or 'adjectives'. Then there is the phonetic aspect of language comprehension, which I have realized does not mix well with an Australian accent. So as if these poor kids aren't doing it tough already, now they end up with friggin Crocodile Dundee as a tutor - who is going to attempt to teach them to read with a strange accent. Plus, given that I was never really exposed to the wonderful world of 'digraphs' and 'r-controlled vowels' - it is back to square one in a beautifully humbling manner. I am also of course surrounded by professional educators, the sorts of 30 year veteran teachers who create lesson plans as if they were breaking wind. So I am well and truly out of my depth, and for some reason, I am enjoying it.

C'arn the Cats!

There was something ironic, yet special, about singing the National Anthem at the top of my lungs while standing in a Chicago bar surrounded by 250 fellow idiot Australians on Grand Final day/night. A chorus that I barely knew came flooding back as the crowd, fueled by the magical taste of Coopers, burst into passionate song. It was indeed a special feeling as we all settled down to watch the AFL Grand Final from afar, especially for those Geelong supporters in the crowd who no doubt believed that another Final loss would result in the town of Geelong being removed from the Australian map.

After a few minutes explaining the basic rules to our fellow Americans, we watched the game unfold. The few Americans in the bar were vastly outnumbered...and not that popular either...with two foreign gentleman in the bathroom commenting that 'they would rather be ***** American than a Port Adelaide fan'. Three hours later, and with Jen (in her Geelong jersey) asleep at the bar, the few dedicated fans who remained threw a final fist in the air as the siren sounded. What a wonderful night it was to see Geelong finally take home the flag...and while it may have been sweeter still to share such a moment with the crazed Peat/Dunstan family in Melbourne...this was one I was glad to have seen...even if it was in a shady bar in the Midwest of America.
The following day was spent carrying a well-deserved hangover around Chicago - and some quality time spent with Jasper and Judette at the Hyde Park Jazz Festival - where some sax players blew the crowd away...no pun intended.

Pictured: We are Geelong...and the First 'Annual' Jazz Festival in Hyde Park.

Moving on...and moving out!

A question...what is the last thing you would feel like doing after flying back from a week in London...arriving home with an almighty hangover from the flight...and with work scheduled all weekend? Does moving apartments sound like a possible winner...?
So the only thing more stupid than accidentally scheduling our move date the weekend of our return...was purposely scheduling our move date the weekend of our return...and thinking this was a good idea at the time. We figured that we would already be packed...we were moving to an apartment in the same complex...and really...we don't have that much stuff after all?? Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! After 8 hours of trips back and forth with our contents (with one trip solely devoted to Jennifer's shoe collection)...the apartment looked exactly the same as when we started...and thus we climbed into bed at the end of the most unsatisfying day of labor imaginable. The next day was slightly more bearable...with the furniture finally moving with the help of some free labor...and our new apartment taking shape. By late Sunday night it was done...we were nearly dead...and the only thing left to do was to once again reminisce about the fact we arrived in South Bend...one year ago...with only a car load of belongings. This was indeed an impressive lesson in the art of material accumulation!

Visiting the Queen...

With four hard weeks of the semester behind us...and starting to feel like life was all a bit too much like hard work...an academic perk came to the rescue...with the week arriving that would see us fly to London for me to attend a conference. Fortunately for me (and Jen - who decided that London was too good to pass up), one of the top psycho-oncology societies is run by men and women who consider conferences to be largely social events - and one that should take place in exotic European locations. Thus last Friday we were on a plane to London for a week of sightseeing, London pubs, catching up with friends and family...and attending conference sessions.

It was an incredible week - with time spent with my most hospitable family on the outskirts of London; drinks with friends who we had not seen in years; and afternoons spent in Hyde park and all around London. We visited all the museums and galleries we could, rode double decker buses to nowhere in particular, and escaped to Richmond where I used to work, and to the nearby area where my grandmother lived. We were also fortunate enough to be welcomed into a friends home in Hampstead - where we lived the London high life for a day or two - as well as feeling a pressing need to discuss my relationship with my mother - only to find out that we were indeed only a few houses along the street from where good ol' Sigmund Freud lived. In all - it was a wonderful week - and one that we felt very fortunate to have been given.

Pictured: Hyde Park's many sites, and the House of Freud...tell me about YOUR mother.

The Annual Blueberry Festival…without Blueberries.

The second week back in town saw the start of classes, the return to routines, and the consequent need for distraction during the upcoming weekend. The distraction came in the form of a German named Jasper – a close friend from UCLA – and recent international student arrival to Chicago. With a weekend to plan – we decided we would need to find some serious Midwestern fun…thus…on Saturday morning…with a hangover in tow…we found ourselves standing in another world…the Annual Blueberry Festival in Plymouth, Indiana.

The locals made us feel most welcome as we arrived in town…with one fine gentleman declaring as we drove past…’…if you hit me, I will hit you back’. Fair enough I say! Then we began our tour of our first Midwestern Festival – and the most striking array of gastronomical adventures I have seen in awhile. From deep fried Twinkies to chocolate-dipped cheese cake on a stick…turkey legs the size of small children…elephant ears and anything else you could possibly imagine to deep fry. As we walked around…taking a day off our lives with every bite of food…the most amazing aspect of the festival was the distinct lack of blueberries. Granted – you could have get them mixed with sugar...in a smoothie or ice cream – but if you just wanted plain blueberries – then the blueberry festival was not the place to be. A cool experience none-the-less – and then it was back to South Bend to partake in the insanity that is Notre Dame Football.