Shaking all over...

So, did the earth move for you last night?

I remember my first earthquake. I was in Milan, woken up by the chink, chink, chink of my earrings hitting the side of the glass they were kept on, bed was shaking. "Hmmm" I thought, "it's an earthquake" and rolled over and went back to sleep.

Tomorrow morning I'm off to the Galapagos Islands for an eight day cruise so I won't be blogging, facebooking, flickr-ing or emailing. The boat I'm on is called Amigo for those of you who feel it's your duty to worry about me (I'm talking about you, mum). I've got 10 gigabytes of camera memory, two bottles of sunblock and a million pieces of paper.

See you next week.

Itchycoo Park, that's where I'll be...

I went to the park yesterday. Parque Simon Bolivar. It's only a small park, about 100 metres by 100 metres but it's got some amazing wildlife (well, tamed wildlife). Mainly Iguanas but also turtles, squirrels, pigeons and human beings. Here's one brave pigeon trying to nab a biscuit from this group of Igs - better it than me.

P2250058
Originally uploaded by Shiralee Matthews

Let's go surfing now...

I have to say that Ecuador has not impressed me so far. Having a cold doesn't help but I had a cold in Ushuaia, Argentina and I still managed to do stuff. Here all the trips seem to depend on good weather, after all who wants to go to a waterpark in the rain? and trekking and climbing have never been my thing. In fact, I've been in Quito for four days and I have spent more time in an internet cafe, surfing and playing games than doing anything else. It's cold here, the hostel (as I've said before) is wreathed in cigarette smoke and while I did get to watch some tv (three hours of CSI) yesterday in the communal room, I had to fight off (not literally) young Americans who wanted to look for something more interesting to watch (which turned out to be reruns of Friends). At least the internet cafe is smoke-free (very necessary with my cold) and warm (the hostel has NO heating).

Tomorrow I catch the bus to Guayaquil. The weather there is around 30 degrees C and humid but it could also be raining! The hostel I've booked into has a swimming pool so, hopefully, there will be plenty of comfortable sitting areas and I'll be able to avoid the internet cafe (and unsquare my eyes).

Shivers down the thighbone...

Would you believe I'm coming down with another bloody cold!?! I've been to the pharmacist and got some strong pills (only sold in sets of three, god knows what's in them). It's not helped by the almost non-stop rain happening here in Quito. I know it's the rainy season but please.... And the hostel is a smoker's paradise, there is literary nowhere to sit (comfortably or otherwise) that isn't in a smokey haze with a side serving of overflowing ashtrays.

Luckily the internet cafe I've been using is non-smoking and relatively warm, and I've finally managed to upload all the photos from Peru. The Nazca lines need to be enlarged in order to see the 'lines' but I promise you they are there (somewhere). I was worried by my inability to upload while in Peru, so much so that I went out and bought four more 2 gigabyte memory cards for the camera - well at least I won't run out of memory in the Galapagos Islands!

Just listen to the music of the traffic in the city

I've been thinking about my reactions when I arrive in a new place. I've realised that when I arrive in a small town (El Calafate, Valpariso or Nazca, to give three examples) I'm generally relaxed and looking forward to some downtime. When I arrive in a city, on the other hand, I get all excited and can't stop grinning. I am a city person, I love the buzz, the potential of such a density of people and, a little bit, the potential danger. In reality I avoid any known danger areas but the thought they are there just adds to the thrill.

Real danger (like walking down a rock-strewn slope or along the ege of a cliff) doesn't excite me. In fact I remember when I visited Petra in Jordan and ended up walking along a practically non-existent path (about 15cm wide) halfway up a sheer rockface with nowhere to go but 200 metres down - while wearing openback sandals. I really thought I was going to die - I was too scared to cry, that's how bad it was. Obviously I survived but I would never choose to do something like that again, even now it brings me out in cold sweats.

Anyhow, I'm in Quito, the capital of Ecuador, it's evening and I'm excited. Hell, I might drag myself away from the internet cafe, go out in the pouring rain and get something to eat.

I'm singing in the rain

Let me tell you about Nazca. Not the famous stuff (lines, cementeries etc.) but the mundane, every day stuff.

Like how, after being told that Nazca only gets 30 minutes of rain a year (yes, a year - that's not a typo), the skies open on my second evening and it rains for several hours. In fact it rained so heavily that one of the local rivers (the non-polluted one) burst it's banks and the town was flooded. The locals started calling it Venice. There were people wading around barefoot with their trousers rolled up and sandbags at road junctions and in doorways to control the flow.

Once the water went down and that took a couple of days) it was apparent just how much damage the water had done. Roads that previous had been smooth and level were full of potholes, roadworks that had previously seem stable had collapsed leaving foot deep trenches across the road and pavements that had been safe to walk on, now had to be watched carefully because slabs had disappeared leaving unexpected holes. And despite all this, life went on. The bicycle stalls were wheeled around town (central Nazca is extremly small), taxis pretended to be 4x4s and the few actual 4x4 charged around as if they owned the place.

The rain happened on Saturday night and there seemed to be no real knock-on effects on Sunday. But, of course, Sunday is a down day (although not dead) and come Monday the wrinkles started appearing. Several of the locoturios (shops which sell telephone calls) had no connection to the outside world (and I needed to make several important calls on Monday morning), shops which had remained closed on Sunday had to clear out mud and water (using more water) and the market was very subdued. Yet the locals took it in their stride, no misery, no moaning and a great deal of smiling - now compare that with "the wrong type of snow".

On Hostels

I was talking to my dad a few weeks ago when he asked me about the hostel. This made me realise that a lot of the things I take for granted, you know nothing about. So here are the highs and lows of hostels.

Nowadays hostels are very different from when I went inter-railing twenty years ago. The modern hostel is generally very welcoming in the same way that prostitutes claim to offer the "real girlfriend experience" (don't ask me how I know, just believe me) so hostels claim to offer a "home from home". Let us examine the ways...

Sleeping: most hostels accommodate you in dorms, rooms with between two and twelve beds, usually bunk beds. However, most hostels also have private rooms which can be booked for a group, a couple or an individual. These rooms are in short supply so if you want one you need to book well ahead of time. Unfortunately the tendency here in South America is for the matresses to be made of foam. Said matresses can be good or bad. Good if they are thick and/or new. Bad if they aren't. Occasionally, you will come across a sprung matress, unfortunately these tend to be old and saggy. In Argentina and Chile the choice is thin and narrow whereas Peru prefers thick and wide. Odd, considering Peruvians are the physically smallest of the three nationalities. As well as bunkbeds (which can be stacked so low you cannot sit up in the bottom bunk, or so high you need to be a mountaineer to get into the top bunk) modern hostels supply bedding and (occasionally) towels.

Bedding: The type of bedding you get makes a huge difference to how well you sleep. Most hostels use hard flat foam pillows (which are too thin for my liking) but can be folded in half for more comfort. The best hostels use some form of puffed foam filled pillow which can be moulded to your head. In addition to sheets (more later) you also get a bedspread or, in the best places, down-filled duvets which can be folded up and put under your pillow for more comfort when the weather is warm. In towns where it's regularly cold the likelihood is that you will get one or two extremely heavy woollen blankets. Great in theory but combined with a thin matress, it's hip hell. Also the blankets don't seem to quite fit the bed when there is a person sleeping in it and there is the necessity to cocoon yourself in order to keep warm. Which leads us to sheets. Ah yes, sheets. Decent cotton sheets which are changed either every day, every guest or every week (if the guest stays longer) or, at a push, new polycotton sheets. Cotton sheets are more expensive initially but last longer and can be washed more often. Polycotton is cheaper and comes in pretty colours and patterns. You take your pick.

Bathing: this is probably the most difficult thing for hostels to get right. Rooms either come with an on-suite bathroom or shared amongst several dorms. Usually there are toilets, handwash basins and shower stalls but rarely a bath. In Argentina and Chile the showers work like the ones you're used to. In Peru the water is heated in the shower head (water and electricity - wonderful combination). Thus when a Peruvian hostel says it has 24 hour hot water (a major selling point) what they mean is hot showers but not hot water to wash your face/hands at the end of the day. Doesn't matter, just have another shower!

Eating: it is pretty much standard nowadays for the hostel to provide a kitchen for the guests to use. This is great because it means you don't have to eat out all the time. The downside is that you're sharing a kitchen with people who've never had to look after themselves before, don't know how to wash up and think nothing of stealing your food if they haven't bothered to buy any or have run out of something (my milk disappears on a regular basis). You're are supposed to write your name on everything you buy but equally everything is stored in one family sized fridge (can you imagine just how chaotic it is?). Which brings me onto the second point. Sometimes the kitchen is actually the family kitchen and has not been adapted for use by many people eg. one sink, one cooker, one worksurface. Add to this the family themselves wishing to cook and there is a potential for chaos (especially, as in Chile, the family includes chilren who resent the guests having the best television or internet connection, and who regularly browse through the fridge to see if anything has been left behind).

Entertainment: Don't know what to do in the evening? watch tv, watch a dvd/video or surf the internet. Don't want to do any of the above, then speak to other guests, there's always someone to talk to. Internet connections have been standard in every hostel I've stayed in and mostly it's free.

Staff: Staff make or break a hostel. In a good hostel, the receptionist is friendly, welcoming and always willing to help. I've found the hostel run by people who've been travelling are the most helpful with family-run businesses coming second. The worse ones are those whose owners see it just as a business - this filters down to the staff who think nothing of the casual rip-off (not providing receipts for paid items then not removing paid items from the final bill)

Cheap Hostels: cheap hostels aren´t actually cheap in price just in attitude. Examples include cramming in an extra bed (your seven bed dorm has eight beds), turning off the hot water early in the evening, polycotton sheets so old that they´ve started pilling (and I do have sensitive skin - I notice these things) or sheets too small for the bed. In addition, the use of ecologically sound long-life bulbs but turning them off at 10pm and not providing handsoap in the communal bathrooms.

I have to say the most extreme example of cheapness I've come across was the hostel which expected the guests to provide their own washing up liquid and to clean the kitchen as "only guests use the kitchen therefore guests should clean it". A reasonable rationale on the surface but who is going to wipe down the surfaces, clean the cooker hood or mop the floor?

So there you are. In my time travelling I've been tempted by the thought of opening a hostel, using all my experience to make it into a really good one but the truth is, running a hostel is bloody hard work. Me? I think I'll stick to teaching.

The tracks of my tears

I'm currently in Nazca, home of the famous lines. Petroglyphs created on a high desert plateau called the pampa by a pre-incan civilisation. Many theories have been put forward to explain them, from god worship through astromical calendar to extra-terrestial landing pads. Whatever the reason for their existence they are fascinating and remarkable especially when viewed from the co-pilot seat of a four seater airplane. Which is what I did this morning. I even managed to get some photos (not that I've been able to upload them, but that's a different matter).

It is a very different experience being in a small plane and one I'm not sure I want to repeat. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't more bumpy than some of the commercial flights I've been on and there was plenty of legroom. It was just so immediate. There was you, a thin metal partition and, a long way down, the earth. The fact that we were banking left and right in order to get good views of the petroglyphs probably didn't help. None of us were sick but I was glad I hadn't had any breakfast. Tonight I hope to see it all again but from the comfort of a seat in the local Planetarium.

In the meantime Nazca, the city which see about as much rainfall as Cairo has been flooded. Not only was there a huge rainstorm last night (I slept through it) but one of the local rivers (the clean one) burst it's banks due to excess water coming down from the mountain. Nazca town is more like Venice at the moment (except with sandbags). The locals are moving around without shoes and the coach companies are unable to sell tickets as their computer isn't working!

Me, I'm sticking to the safe routes and staying indoors.

All my loving...

You miserable lot! There you are safely tucked up with your loved ones, exchanging kisses, hugs, cards and pressies. Did any of you think I might appreciate a valentine's greeting? Well, did you?

Just because I'm on the other side of the world, enjoying the holiday of a lifetime, doesn't mean I wouldn't have appreciated a little valentine's tlc.

HA!

btw I've just booked my galapagos trip and bought a third memory card for my camera (not that I'm bragging or anything, just... mumble, grumble, no valentine's - again)

Going to the chapel...

I'm in Arequipa, Peru. A city built of white volcanic rock and thus named "The White City". It's been an interesting couple of days, yesterday was all about admin - uploading photos, sorting out a schedule and letting some of you lucky people know what it is, booking bus tickets, reserving flights, trying to phone a friend (who will persist in being out enjoying himself), getting information about the Galapagos cruises, trying to change my flight to Australia and, last but by no means least, trying to buy a new battery for my watch (only 18 months old but the battery has gone already - typical Argentine quality).

Today, however was all about the tourist in me. This morning I went to the Museum to see the "Ice Mummies" - children sacrificed by the Incas to appease their angry mountain gods. Strictly speaking they aren't mummies as the bodies were buried and preserved whole. The world-famous "Juanita" is actually in a preservation tank at the moment and not on display, I saw Serena, one of the other thirteen bodies found. While I don't condone human sacrifice, the explanations given at the museum are much more realistic and less bloodthirsty than the popular press would have us believe.

This afternoon I went to the Convent of St Cathering. Now don't get the wrong idea, I have no intention of giving up the secular life but I do have a fascination with those who opt for something different. This convent was set up in the 1600's by a Spanish imigree who selected companions based on their nationality (Spanish), their social status (upper class) and their dowry (which had to be considerable). These nuns lived in high style with 'servants' and their own houses within a 20,000 sq metre city block. They were cloistered within this large area until 1970 when, following a couple of earthquakes, they were force to regroup within a section of the block and the rest was opened to the general public as a tourist attraction. There are still about 30 nuns cloistered away today but the rest remains for outsiders to wander around. It is being looked after and is part of the Unesco World Heritage site encompassing the centre of the city of Arequipa. On top of all that, my photos are gorgeous.

Talking of photos, I've splashed out on a second memory card for my camera (and may even buy a third) as I doubt I'll be able to do any uploading in the Galapagos Islands. The date of that cruise has now changed and I won't be hitting Australia until the third week of March at this rate. Still, I'm sure I'll find something to do.

Up, up and away

So, Puno - what a fabulous place. Small, noisy, crowded, dusty but still fabulous. As I sit here in an internet cafe I can see a man inserting bicycle spokes into a wheel (basically making it from scratch) while chatting to his mate, there's Andean pipe music in the background (and not cover versions of pop songs), the sun is shining, it's hot and I've just escaped from the festival. Yes, another festival. This one is the Festival del Virgen de Calendaria (I think). I don't really know what it's about but there are brass bands, dancers in costumes and a general feeling of goodwill and fun. The festival actually started on Friday night and hasn't stopped since. I have some photos which I hope to upload today but don't hold your collective breaths.

On Friday I did a half day excursion to Sillustani where there are pre-inca funerary towers, mostly destroyed or badly damaged by the Spanish invaders but some of which have been partially reconstructed. There are three basic types, those with polished stones (like Machu Picchu), those with carved but unpolished stones and those with rough-hewn stones. The towers went up to 12 metres high and would contain between 6 and 12 bodies (in the fetal position) from a single family. The construction would seem to depend on the status of the family.

Yesterday I went onto Lake Titikaka (or Titicaca and which is supposed to be pronounced 'te te ha ha'). First we went to the floating islands - literally islands made of totora reeds woven together and replenished every month - where several Uro families live permanently, following centuries old traditions. The Uro live by three simple principles 'Do not steal', 'Do not be idle', 'Do not lie' which have been handed down since Inca times. There are no full-blood Uro left but the traditions have been preserved.

The floating islands were most peculiar, like walking on a waterbed. You didn´t want to stand too long in the same place because you started to feel like you were sinking into the island (although they are actually up to four metre thick, so the chances of going through are slim to nonexistent). There are about 35 islands but you can only visit those where the family group has agreed to receive tourists (and then only on a guided tour really). We actually took a 'taxi' reed boat across from one island to another - very quiet and peaceful.

In the afternoon we took our motorboat to Talquile Island (a real island, made of rock and everything). This was hard work for me. Not only were we over 4,000 metres above sea level but we had to walk to the top of the island for lunch. We went up the 'shortcut', a rough-paved path which took the young/fit/healthy about 25 minutes and me forever. Luckily I had borrowed a trekking pole and that's how I made it. Lunch was simple but delightful and then we had to walk down. Walk down 540 steps. 540 rough carved, not levelled, varying widthed steps. In my heart and mind I feel about 17, yesterday afternoon I felt about 97. My legs were shaking, my heart was pumping, I felt sick - you know what I mean, the feeling you get when you finish a marathon - well that was me. However it was worth it, if only to say I've done it.

The people who live on the island (pronounced te kil er) are farmers and fishers and follow centuries old traditions especially in what they wear. The men wear 'santa claus' caps which they knit themselves and the caps are symbols of their social status. Half red and half white means the man is unmarried, red and blue stripes mean he is married, brown or black indicates some form of authority as does the traditional pointed cap with earflaps. A man's sons wear the same cap as him until they are old enough to knit their own. The women wear the thick, many-layered, circular skirts and a black poncho. Each poncho has a pom-pom at it's four corners. Big pom-poms mean she is unmarried and small ones mean she is married. There are various other indications to do with belts and bags but I can't remember them. Normally, I'd redirect you to Wikipedia at this point but the site doesn't seem to be working so you'll have to find it for yourselves.

The lake itself is incredibly clear and cool. So with the sun beating down from above (and at that altitude there isn't much atmosphere to block it out) and the cool, clear lake below we took the peaceful three hour cruise back to Puno. I was exhausted but happy.

UPDATE
I've just re-read this and corrected the mistakes. Also here is the link to Wikipedia. Enjoy

On good days and bad days

When you are travelling, you will have good days, bad days and disastrous days.

Good days are when everything comes together. The tour you want to do is available at the price (or less) you are willing to pay and can be booked through your hostel. The guide picks you up on time, speaks decent English (I don't expect native speaker level), is informed and engaging, doesn't expect any extras and gets you back to the hostel on time. You see what you want to see and are satisfied. On an exceptional day, you see things that aren't expected (a local festival, rare and elusive wildlife) but they are far and few between.

Bad days are when nothing comes together. The taxi you ordered to take you to the bus station doesn't arrive because there's a strike (not that they thought to phone and tell you). You walk down to the main square and manage to catch a cab who tries to rip you off when you arrive at the bus station. The bus you booked and paid for doesn't run because there's a strike (which the travel agent knew about but didn't care enough to think it might affect you), the person in the ticket office lies to you rather than admit she doesn't know the answer. After wasting a day waiting for a bus that will never arrive (and being assured by the same lying ticket person that everything is alright) you find out she's only willing to book you on a bus leaving at 5am the following morning. You ask for your money back only to be told that you have to speak to the travel agent (who's on the other side of the strike bound city). You pay for a ticket with another company (at a third of the price of the original ticket) and leave the bus station nine hours after you got there (and two hours after you were supposed to arrive at your destination). You finally arrive at your hostel in the middle of the night instead of the middle of the afternoon only to be asked to keep quiet because everyone else is sleeping and no, you can't use the microwave to heat up your empanada because everyone is sleeping so you go to bed hungry and cry yourself to sleep (without having the opportunity to even brush your teeth). I think you can guess I had a bad day yesterday.

A disastrous day is when you have an accident, are a crime victim or someone around you does something so foolish you end up suffering - this happened to someone at the bus station yesterday. I'm not sure of the details but I think her three(ish) year old son somehow lost/hid her purse with all her money in it. She was in tears and kept hitting him around the head as she dragged him from one place to another looking for it. It got so bad that some other women intervened and protected the boy while she went on looking - don't get the wrong idea, she wasn't beating him up but she was taking her shock and frustration out on him. I can imagine this was a very big deal for her - this is a poor county and those of you who have been poor will remember what it's like to suddenly lose all your money. Eventually a police officer went searching with the little boy who was definitely too young to understand what he had done wrong. I don't know the outcome but I hope it was good. So far, touch wood, I haven't had a disastrous day.

Machu Picchu, so good they named it twice

It was worth it. It was worth getting up at 4:45am (note that, AM) two days in a row in order to be frozen, rained on, misted over and then roasted. I was in Machu Picchu at just after 6am this morning with a group of like-minded souls being taken on a tour of the site. We weren't the only group but we were one of the first and so my photos have few people in them (really just enough to give a sense of scale).

It is a remarkable place and well worthy of being one of the new seven wonders of the world . Some of the buildings have been restored with thatched roofs, others have had walls rebuilt and some are untouched - remaining exactly as they were when the city was abandoned. There are several different types of walls including the famous 'no motar, couldn't get a knife between the stones' used for the temples. If you want to read more about it go here

There is a lot of up and down in Machu Picchu (it is, after all, built on the top of a mountain) and if you don't like climbing stairs, this is not the place for you. Equally, if you suffer from vertigo, don't bother coming here, I saw one poor man who'd made it into Machu Picchu then baulk at the first set of stairs. It can be very scary, especially when everything is wet. Personally, I don't mind the going up (although it is physically tiring), it's the coming down I hate. I have a really poor sense of balance, lousy depth perception and a fear of falling flat on my face (and breaking my camera). Still, I clung onto the walls and handrails, made everyone wait and got round. Then, after the tour, I went back for more. So some of my photos are misty and some are in brilliant sunshine.

Oh and there were llama too, what more could anyone ask for?

My heart belongs to Eddie

Can you think of a better way to pass a boring two hours uploading photos in an internet cafe than watching Eddie Izzard on YouTube?

The only drawbacks? Trying not to laugh out loud (thus garnering surprised stares from the other users) and needing to go to the loo because he's so funny.

Raindrops keep falling on my head

I have to admit it's been tough these last few days. Despite having been to a higher altitude when I went to Humahuaca in northern Argentina, the height has hit me here. For the last three days I have had a headache, slight nausea and shortness of breath. I know my weight doesn't help but this is more than that. I had a small crisis last night when I couldn't face the soup I'd bought for my tea and thought I was going to throw up everywhere but fresh air soon sorted that out. As a consequence I've been living on eggs and fruit juice - well they warn you to eat lightly and I could do with losing some weight.

All of this has meant that I spent the first day at the hostel sleeping only venturing out briefly yesterday to try and sort out a trip to Machu Picchu. I was, however, confounded by the day (Saturday) and the rain (I didn't quite get drenched but I did brave the terrors of flagging down a taxi). After a siesta at the hostel I went out again in the evening, hence the soup episode.

Today I went out again and spent most of the afternoon and early evening roaming around the city. I also went on another spending spree - well it's so cold here I just had to buy an alpaca jacket (and very warm it is too) - and almost booked a trip to MP. Originally I had planned on doing it independently but my shakiness and the weekend has left me insecure about may abilities. I have found somewhere at a reasonable cost but they can't confirm until tomorrow morning. Thankfully MP is at a lower altitude than Cusco so I should be able to enjoy it.

The other thing that put a spoke into my plans but in a good way is that it's the festival of San Blas here in Cusco so I got to see a parade and took some photos (just before my battery ran out). They'll be up on flickr soon. For the locals this festival is celebrated not just with a parade but with the deployment of water bombs thrown at each other leaving some soaked to the skin (and quite a few young gringos have joined in). I remember something similar on Easter Sunday in Poland but this has a level of sophistication with kids joining forces to throw small bathtubs of water at their teenage opponents and spraycans of soapy water on sale all over the place for those who want to join in. I managed to avoid the worst of it, getting squirted at only once by a group of gringos who should have known better.

Anyhow it's 8pm here in Peru and I can hear singing and music, and the occasional (but very loud) round of firecrackers. I might go out for a hot chocolate later but then again I might not.

Who let the dogs out?

There is a type of dog here in South America which I have christened 'dead dog'. It isn't that the dogs are actually dead, more that they do amazing imitations of said state.

The dogs in South America are a mixed bunch, down south in Patagonia they are likely to be purebred or close whereas further north they are truely Heinz 57. However one thing they all have in common is their total lack of road sense. They think nothing of wandering out across a road regardless of oncoming traffic - in fact it seems the responsibility lies with drivers to avoid them even if the dogs are being stupid. In Chile the dogs have a fondness for chasing after cars as close as possible to the rear passenger wheel while barking loudly while in Argentina they just think they own the roads.

Despite this, the reason I call them 'dead dog' is their ability to fall asleep in public places without any concern for their security. On the grass of public parks is understandable, under benches in pedestrian areas is acceptable but on the pavement at one of the busiest corners in the city centre (Santiago), in a carpark (Ushuaia) and in the road (Chiloe) is taking things a little too far, and these are not isolated incidents.

When L and I travelled together, I initiated a game called 'dead dog' wherein the first of us to spot a sleeping dog would call out 'dead dog'. Unfortunately it soon got boring because we were calling out approximently twice a minute (although L came up with an alternative in San Antonio de Areco 'live horse' which she won hands down). I was going to take some photos but it would become incredibly boring very quickly so you'll have to use your imaginations. Look at your dogs asleep and transplant them to the most ridiculous public place you can think of - that's a 'dead dog' for you.