Hier nun das 2. Paar Babysöckchen, dieses Mal von der Spitze nach oben gestrickt. So schwer wie ich dachte war das gar nicht. Die Anleitung in dem Buch ist wirklich super!

Was faszinierend ist, ist die unterschiedliche Passform der beiden Sockenstrickmuster:

Die sehen wirklich total unterschiedlich aus. Nummer 2 gefällt mir aber wesentlich besser.
Jetzt geht es los mit richtigen Socken. Vorher muss ich jedoch eine Maschenprobe machen. Aber gut, ich bin brav und mache sie. Wird schon nicht so schlimm sein.
Liebe Grüße in die Runde,

Steffi

Sorry for yesterday’s error. Of course a storm in the southern hemisphere is like a letter “p”; both 6 and 9 are left-turning spirals. But a storm in the southern hemisphere is a right spiral, a backwards 6, with the tail upwards towards the equator.

Here is a hurricane off the coast of Brazil. The image comes from an astronaut in 2004. A hurricane in this location is unprecedented, so it has no name. It’s just The Hurricane off the coast of Brazil. You can see the letter “p” on its side, or perhaps a lower case “e”. In any case, a left spiral.

Hurricane off Brazil

Corey’s family had planned to go home through the Bahamas because Dad wanted to be in a warm place after Wellington in winter, and Mother wanted go right round the world, not back across the Pacific. Alas! As the day of departure drew near, it gradually became clear that there would be no trip through the Bahamas this year. A late-season storm was developing into a hurricane, and the Bahamas were off-route indefinitely; they would have to make new plans.

Corey looked at the pictures of the hurricane. They were beautiful in their way, heavy lines of cloud gracefully spiraling inwards, counter-clockwise.

Hurricane spiraling left

Counterclockwise… To the left? “Hey, wait a minute,” Corey exclaimed. “Aren’t the Bahamas in the northern hemisphere? How come the winds are going left?” He brought the picture to his dad.

“Dad, why do the winds turn left when my arrows always turn right?” he asked.

Pete was building a model train with the Barkers’ wonderful set of cars and tracks, but he stood up for a minute and looked over Corey’s shoulder.

“They’re trying to,” he observed and then sat down again. Corey watched him for a second, frowning.

“Trying to what?” he asked.

“Go right,” answered Pete and then flipped the switch so the train gave a long, loud whistle. Corey covered his ears.

“How can winds try anything?” he shouted. Pete didn’t seem to be listening; he stood up to survey his train.

“How do you know what the winds are “trying” to do?” demanded Corey when it was quiet again.

“Look,” said Pete. He leaned over Corey’s picture an­d quickly drew two arrows on top of the storm image.

Pete's hurricane lines showing that the winds are trying to go right.

“Hey, don’t draw on it!” cried Corey, but Pete just shrugged; he was already back to his train.

Dad was quiet for a minute. “It is a left-turning spiral,” he began, “A counter-clockwise storm like all northern storms.” His finger traced the winds coming into the storm from each direction.

“But the wind is not an arrow,” he continued. “It’s just a word for moving air. Air is the arrow, and Pete is right. Each parcel of air seeks to go straight to the center of the storm, but it goes off to the right and then it keeps being corrected by the tug of the storm center.”

“Being corrected!” said Corey thoughtfully. “Being corrected is why it curves then. Gaspard says that a curve is a continuously corrected motion. So the air is like an arrow that always wants to go straight to the right, but a continuous correction pulls it to the left.”

“Yes,” agreed Dad. “As the wind comes closer to the center of the storm, always staying to the right, it goes faster and faster always to the right but it also receives a stronger and stronger correction to go left instead of straight. You notice the hole in the middle of the storm? It never does get there.” He winked at Pete, who had sneaked a look at him but now quickly turned away.

Corey was not quite satisfied.

“But why does the air go towards the storm anyway,” he had to know. “Why doesn’t it just stay where it is and leave the storm alone? I don’t get it. Nobody is shooting the air; the wind isn’t some kind of bowman, or blow-man or something…”

“Whoa! Whoa!” Dad shook his head and waited for Corey to settle down a little.

“In the center of the storm” he began, “there is a space of soft, thin air, called low-pressure air. If it were in a balloon, the balloon would deflate. Low pressure is like a valley in the field of the air, and, just as rivers run into a valley, air wants to run into the low pressure space. But it can’t get there because it keeps racing off to the right, past the storm. Then the valley pulls the air in again so the air changes direction; but it still heads straight off to the right and the valley has to pull it again. So to you, it seems to be spiraling left, but to itself, it’s just going straight and being pulled sideways all the time.” He drew more arrows.

Dad draws continually corrected right turns.

Corey studied the pictures and the arrows for a while in silence.

“Then what if the storm begins at the equator,” he finally asked. There was a momentary silence.

“They don’t,” said Pete. (How did he know?)

“They don’t,” agreed Dad. “Very rarely, partly because the hottest latitude moves around a little between June and December, a strong storm can form in the South China Sea, but hurricanes and typhoons usually weaken anywhere near the equator. Our hurricanes never start there; and they don’t cross and go south.” He waited for Corey to catch up with this thought.

“And New Zealand’s rare hurricanes spin to the right,” he added. “Clockwise.”

Corey took a deep breath as he pondered this.

“Dad,” he said at last, with a sigh, “I didn’t know you knew so much.”

“I didn’t know Pete knew so much,” answered Dad. “Anyway, let’s go to France instead of the Bahamas. How about it, Marie?”

“I’d rather go to France than the Bahamas any day,” answered Mother. “Allons!”

(Which means, in French, “let’s go,” and that meant that she really wanted to be in France, not some steamy, stormy little island.)

(To be continued…)

In case you don’t read comments faithfully, I want you to be sure to look at this animation found by my friend Sam, the Polish chef. Notice that it has movement from north to south in the northerh hemisphere, and from south to north in the southern hemisphere. Notice also that lovely ring of clouds over the equator. As I mentioned, they are always there, not terribly conspicuous if you don’t look for them, but perfectly definite when you do.

As always, animations only do the easy part of the Coriolis effect. What happens from south to north in the northern hemisphere is where people get confused; and what happens from north to south in the southern hemisphere is hopeless. But not for you because we talked about it in class, using a globe, and  explaining, to the surprise of many, that a man standing still on the equator is going 1000 miles an hour towards the east, and the arrow he shoots keeps that eastwards motion. So it lands many miles east of any target. At our latitude, I think we’re going about 750 miles an hour; it would land 250 miles east, assuming no friction…

All very unexpected. Named after a French engineer of the 19th century. You can research his life for your science project. I’ve never been able to find much; he was a good Catholic when that was not the way to get advancement.

#9  Latitude Gardens

That night, Corey fell asleep wishing he could tell Gaspard what he had learned in New Zealand. He wondered if GGC-1835 had a southern hemisphere…

“Of course I have a southern hemisphere!” said Gaspard.

They were walking along with a bright patch of buttercups to their left, a most unusual planting in what Corey concluded must be the most unusual garden ever planted. It was only a few rows wide, but it stretched away to the horizon both north and south as far as he could see. It wasn’t all buttercups, of course. And it wasn’t all level, either, for soon they were walking up a steep hill towards a patch of merry forsythia in golden bloom. The forsythia was a massive bush, and more of the golden shrubbery was spaced 25 yards to the left and right, crosswise to the garden. Gaspard called it the Summer Circle, “Yes, yes of course! It goes all round the asteroid.”

Corey thought he must have seen one of these bushes from the top of the pine tree. Gaspard agreed: “it’s about 30 degrees north of the equator.”

Past the forsythia, they found anise, carrots, daisies, bush beans, and then they were looking down along some ferns and asters into a little valley with cattails and a willow at the bottom and several more herbs and flowers and some kind of fruit tree up on the farther hillside.

“Peaches,” said Gaspard, “and ripe enough, but too high to reach. I suppose you might drop me one – just knock the branch of course, so we don’t have peach soup.”

It was not hard to drop several. Corey missed the first shot, being uncertain of how much turning to expect, but in the slow motion of the flight, and in the disturbance of the leaves, he knew exactly where his arrow went – six inches to the right — and he was on target after that.

They crossed the valley and ate their peaches which had hardly bruised in the thick grass below the tree. Then Gaspard said he wanted to walk south and let Corey see how the arrows changed their flight curve with latitude.

It turned out that the plantings were Gaspard’s latitude garden, and each bed marked a change of 1º of latitude, “so I know where I am,” he said, “but the arrow’s flight doesn’t change the same amount with each latitude,” he added.

“I know,” answered Corey. “I figured it out once and then Pete had an equation. But I don’t know how much it changes.”

Gaspard smiled. “Pete,” was all he said, shaking his head.

They faced south and Corey shot his arrows one by one at the start of each planting: towards the beans, towards the daisies, towards the carrots and then the anise, even towards a spray of forsythia hanging outside the line of the garden.

By the time he ran out of arrows, they were retrieving them as they walked, and he could see how they were closer and closer to his visual mark. When a bright patch of sunflowers came in sight, Gaspard proposed one more shot and then a picnic at the equator, for indeed the sunflowers marked the center latitude on GGC-1835.

Corey agreed; he was hungry again, and he remembered Gaspard’s French bread and butter. They passed some white peonies, broad leaved comfrey, golden daylilies, deeply fringed parsley, and several other plantings before they reached the equator and sat in the shade of the sunflowers. The north equatorial section was taller with pale yellow flowers while the south equatorial planting was a crowd of shorter sunflowers with flaming red centers. A narrow path of white stones passed between them and beyond, apparently wrapping itself around the whole asteroid. Corey’s arrow to the equator was off his sights by less than half an inch.

He ate contentedly for a few minutes and then gave a quick little sigh of frustration. “Isn’t there anywhere that you just shoot where it looks right and the arrow goes there?”

“Hmmm,” said Gaspard. “Good question!” He was buttering his last crust very carefully and looking sideways at Corey, a twinkle in his eye.

“I mean, a kind of Isabela Island,” continued Corey. “It made me like to use my eyes! But here we are at the equator and I’m still off a little. Not very much, but…”

“Hmmm,” said Gaspard again, nodding his head with a slight frown betrayed by his twinking eyes.

Corey sat very still. Into his mind flew the image of Dad with the verse about turning left in the south…

Suddenly, he jumped up, grabbed his bow, and ran south along the latitude garden. As he ran, he noticed that the plantings were the almost the same as those in the northern gardens, only warmer and richer colors. He passed golden clover, fragrant cilantro, red Hibiscus, a borage bed full of bees, and more until he came to the red peonies.

When he reached these, he turned around to aim away to the north at a drooping white peony that hung to the side of its plot. Gaspard had moved well away from the garden and was smiling broadly.

“I wonder will my arrow turn left, then right?” wondered Corey. “No, that’s silly. The arrow goes straight but it might seem to be going left into the garden at first, and then right back out to my target. I wonder…” He aimed precisely where his eye told him, pulled his bow and let the arrow fly. It made a beautiful arc just slightly towards tallest sunflower, and then straightened itself back out to cut the white peony cleanly from its stem.

Gaspard went to pick up the arrow — and the peony — and turned to meet the young bowman as he came running up. Corey was so happy he was almost crying.

“I did it; I did it!” he called.

When he had caught his breath, he had to settle one question.

“So then the arrows went straight by the Wolf Volcano because I was shooting across the equator?” he asked eagerly.

“You may have been shooting across the equator,” said Gaspard. “Certainly Isabela Island sits at your equator, and Wolf Volcan is precisely upon it. But more importantly, your world is bigger than mine and your arrows move faster there. The sine anywhere near the equator is very small, and you could not have measured the curve whether you were precisely on the equator or just nearby.”

Corey gave a sigh of contentment.

“Hey,” he said shyly, rubbing his toe in the grass. “Do you have an apple tree?”

But Gaspard did not answer. When Corey looked up, he was in Wellington, and his arrows were beside him, smelling slightly of peaches. The sun was rising, and a large vase of red and white peonies stood on the windowsill. He did not remember seeing them before.

(To be continued…)

(If you’re new to the blog, you’ll want to go to Corey’s Page and get up to speed with this story.)

Corey’s Bow #4: Meeting on GGC 1835

Corey slept fitfully. The next day, he went out and sat on the back of his wagon, deep in thought. He was not moving; his target was not moving – “unless you count the rotation of the earth as a movement,” he thought. But anyway, he and his bow and arrow were also moving right along with the earth, so that didn’t count.

He sighed, let his bow slip to the ground, and dropped his head into his hands.

“So there, laddie, what’s ailing you,” asked a kind voice. Corey looked up to see a large, rather angular but kindly face leaning over him, with a broad forehead surrounded by hair so thick it made him think of a bear, only it was very neatly combed. “I see you have a good bow here,” the visitor continued, “and I wonder if you’ve come to shoot in my park?”

Suddenly, Corey realized that he was not sitting in the wagon at all, but on a kind of wooden chair or ledge with an amazing, tall, wooden observation tower directly behind him. Meanwhile his feet were dangling comfortably over a low, mossy depression in the soil right before the tower. Startled, he glanced around and saw that he was indeed in some kind of park. The grass was emerald green and neatly mowed all around him, and the sun was climbing into the sky in a rather odd way off to his left. Where was he?

As if in answer to his thought, the park man said, “This is my asteroid, GGC 1835. I thought you would like it because it is so small, but still big enough for your bow. Would you like to shoot something?”

Corey stood up, looked off in the distance, and saw no targets but a low-growing shrub, some sort of pine with a cone at the top, dancing slightly in the wind. He shrugged and then looked at his bare feet. “I do like your asteroid, sir, but I don’t know if I can hit anything. Something is wrong, at least on Earth where I live, and when I shoot, it doesn’t go straight as it should. Except on Isabela Island.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, let’s see,” answered his new friend. “Why don’t you go ahead and shoot that pine cone; it’s large enough, and I should like to eat the seeds if they are ripe.”

Standing in the center of the depression, Corey shot. He missed, but the flight of the arrow was the loveliest sight he had ever seen. It seemed to be going in slow motion, as if the air were thick (but his breathing was easy) so he could watch the arc of its flight and even though it curved to the right, it flew so gracefully that his heart leapt, and he almost applauded. He looked up with awe.

“Of course you are Gaspard,” he said, smiling. “My name is Corey. I see that my arrow has gone to the right, and I think I see why: I am at the North Pole…”

“The North Hole,” Gaspard interjected.

“At the North Hole, then,” Corey continued, glancing down at the moss, “and since I am standing still and your asteroid is turning, my arrow missed completely.”

Gaspard smiled. “Very well then. You seem to understand your problem perfectly.”

“No I don’t,” said Corey. “Because in my world, I live at 42º latitude and that’s not at all the same as the North Pole. And anyway, my arrow always goes to the right — north, south, east, or west. If it were just about the turning of the earth, it would go right when I shoot south, but then left when I shoot north, while east and west should work perfectly.”

Gaspard looked thoughtful. Then, “let’s try it,” he suggested.

They walked south (there was no other direction to go) and passed an inconspicuous white path on the way. Gaspard called it the Park Circle and said it went all the way around the North Hole. As they walked, the sun quickly climbed the sky, and the tree seemed to climb the sky as well. It was a towering specimen, a little sequoia whose its height had been hidden over the curve of the asteroid. Corey picked up his arrow, many feet from the base of the tree, and then looked up where the rapidly climbing sun shone through its majestic branches.

“How long is your day?” he asked.

“Just two hours,” answered Gaspard. “Two of day, two of night, and 8 miles around the globe. If I walk fast enough, I can stay at noon even on the equator. I could never do that on Earth!”

Corey chuckled and fitted his bow. Carefully, he aimed towards the North Hole, or rather towards the observation tower just peeping over the horizon. The arrow arced gracefully north – no, northeast. It spiraled gently around and though he couldn’t see its actual fall, it seemed to draw in from the east before it disappeared near the tower. Corey’s mouth fell open as he lowered his bow and looked at Gaspard.

“You are moving,” Gaspard reminded him. “You are moving east and your bow and your arrow were moving east with you. Did you think that the arrow would forget the motions of its bow and just go north?”

Corey was speechless. So northbound flights turned right after all, just like southbound flights… He scratched his head.

(To be continued…)

Corey returned from Isabela Island much encouraged. His eyes were indeed amazing; his bow was perfect; his arrows were straight; his aim was faultless. It took a few days to regain the habit of shooting to the left, but he was more cheerful about it, knowing there was nothing wrong. Of course he still wondered, got discouraged, and sometimes he didn’t even want to shoot his bow. One such morning, however, Pete called to him excitedly, “The Jumblies are here!”

The Jumblies. Wow! What a perfect day! The Jumblies, grandchildren of the couple across the street, always had good games, and there were five of them, Jack, Sarah, Scott, Kip, and Jenna, so they could really play great games. Corey and Pete raced through breakfast and ran outside. The Jumblies were pulling a wagon, throwing balls, calling and shrieking with delight. Their new game was called “Vector in the Ball.” Jenna was in the wagon with a ball, Kip was pulling, and Jack was standing by the sidewalk with another ball. There was a tree in the yard across from Jack. The game was that just as Kip pulled Jenna between Jack and the tree, she and Jack were both supposed to throw their balls at the tree. The hilarity was that Jenna simply could not hit the tree, and Scott and Sarah had to scramble for the balls to start over. Corey and Pete watched for a few minutes before Jenna saw them.

At once, she scrambled out of the wagon, calling them to take a turn. Pete got in first and Kip and Jenna pulled him. As they crossed in front of the tree, Jack and Pete threw their balls as hard as they could. Jack’s bounced off the tree; Pete’s went off to the side and never came close. Jenna squealed and clapped.

“Try again,” she called, jumping up and down. “Corey, you take Jack’s place.” So Pete rode the wagon back and threw his ball again. It went wide on the other side of the tree, while Corey’s ball bounced his a knobby section of bark and bounced sideways. After a few passes, Pete climbed out and Jenny made Corey take a turn in the wagon.

“You try it,” she giggled. Scott and Pete pulled. Jack returned to his post, and as he came by, Corey threw hard and fast. He almost got it, but not quite. They turned the wagon, and he tried again. This time, he thought he would throw the ball backwards a little, since it was falling somewhat past the tree, but he still missed, and now it was Jack’s turn in the wagon. Sarah and Scott both had to pull him because he was so big, but everyone was eager to watch.

“He’ll hit the tree anyway,” they said, “so we don’t need two runners to get the ball.” Sure enough, Jack knelt up straight as he neared the tree, and suddenly threw the ball distinctly backward; didn’t aim towards the tree at all. Sure enough, however, it hit square on. Corey watched him thoughtfully, but Pete disappeared. The game stopped for a minute when Mrs Jumbly came out to say hello.

When they were ready to start again, Pete turned up with his own wagon. He proposed that they use the street (it was a secluded dead-end) and pull two wagons and see if the riders could throw balls to each other. There was a lot of laughter and scrambling while they decided who would ride first. Then they were at it, fast and furious. The first round, both Sarah and Scott threw and their balls met in mid-air. The second round, Jack was pulling Jenna, and since he knew he would pull fast, he let Kip and Pete start first. Sarah called “throw” when the Jack was even with Pete, but neither ball reached the other wagon and then there was a scramble to return the balls to the wagoneers.

By the end of the morning, everyone but Jenna was aiming pretty well, and she made up for it by clapping the most. The rest knew, if the wagons were moving at the same speed, to throw as if they were not moving; they knew to throw the fast one back and the slow one forward if they were at different speeds. It felt all peculiar and exciting, and somehow Corey felt that it was about his bow, but he couldn’t figure it out.

“I’m not moving when I shoot,” he mused, “and neither are my targets. Just the same, it does feel like my bow problem, throwing where my eyes don’t agree. I wonder what it means…” He turned to Jack. “Where did you learn the game?” he asked, but Jack didn’t seem to hear.

It was Jenny who whispered, “Gaspard taught us; I like Gaspard,” and she gave a little skip.

“Shhh!” everyone said. “You’re not supposed to tell.”

“Can if I want,” she answered. “Anyway, Corey is my friend.” She looked up at him. “We have red hair,” she grinned. But she didn’t dare say any more that day, nor next day at the zoo, nor the next, and then the Jumblies were gone.

“Drat!” said Corey. “Something’s up, but I just don’t get it. “Vector in the Ball!” What sort of a name is that? The wagon motion was in them… that was clear enough. They went right on moving forward like the wagon the whole time they were being thrown. But I still don’t get how it’s got to do with my bow… And how come everyone knows Gaspard but me?”

Pete never said a word.

(To be continued…)

Corey got pretty good with his bow, slowly learning to adjust his aim — always to the left for distance, but perfectly true for close in. He frowned and sighed. He had really good eyesight, and he didn’t like having to correct his aim for no good reason. Then one day, he got exciting news.

“We’re going to Isabela Island,” said his mother. “Pack your bags!”

“Isabela Island!” exclaimed Corey. “Where in the world is that?”

“In South America,” said his brother Pete. (I forgot to tell you he had an amazing little brother; his brother didn’t have a bow, so I thought it wouldn’t matter at first.) “Isabela with one “l”, off the coast of Ecuador, which is on the equator. Equator, Ecuador. A Galapagos Island, too.”

“Wow,” said Corey. How did Pete know such things when he was only 8 years old? Then, what really mattered to him, “Can I bring my bow?”

Of course he could, and Corey and Pete and their mom and dad packed and went to Ecuador the next day and to Isabela Island the day after. They had many adventures, the most exciting being that Corey was allowed to shoot his bow right beside the Wolf Volcano. He was not allowed to shoot goats or pink land iguanas, of course. He had to set targets, which was slow because he was shooting so far. But how many kids get to take their bows to Galapagos? He had no complaints.

And there was an even bigger surprise waiting for him…

The first time he shot, Corey missed his target completely. As he lowered his bow and looked, his mouth fell open. His arrow had fallen distinctly to the left of the target where he had aimed out of his new habit. Quickly, and full of excitement, he fitted another arrow and shot straight where his eyes told him.

Bull’s eye! He could hardly believe it. He spent the whole afternoon with his bow and every shot after the first went precisely where his eye sent it. Pete watched and generously helped him get his arrows back. Corey could hardly contain his excitement. Every arrow perfectly true. “Do you suppose it’s got anything to do with being on the equator,” he wondered to his brother.

“Of course,” said Pete. “Gaspard told me.”

“Gaspard!” exclaimed Corey. “Do you know who he is?”

“Friend of mine,” said Pete, and he sat down beside a friendly pink land iguana with black stripes and wouldn’t say another word.

To be continued

Some of the things that govern the weather are, as Winnie the Pooh might say, not very thingish. Today, I would like to begin a discussion of something that is not very thingish and that is usually misunderstood, partly because it is hard to explain. It is the Coriolis effect, and it governs the four winds of the world and the seven seas and a great many other things you never heard of. It brought Columbus to America and it took him home again, and it forms and moves everything from Hadley cells to hurricanes. You don’t study weather without meeting the Coriolis effect, sometimes called a force, but it is hardly a force unless math is a force. It’s just a fact, an odd one, one of the oddest in all the world and one of the least thingish.

Common explanations fall into two categories — good ones with more math than you have at your disposal, and bad one that break down so quickly as to be almost useless. I suppose there are also bad ones that require a lot of math; I wouldn’t know. But anyway, I have begun my own explanation, and it comes as a story which I hope you will enjoy.

Corey’s Bow (part one)

Once upon a time, there was a young man named Corey, who, on his 12th birthday, received a wonderful bow and a quiver of seven bright arrows from his uncle across the sea. He opened it with awe and delight, and then found, tucked into the wrapping, this mysterious message: “If you can shoot Gaspard’s Apple from across the valley, you may keep the bow, but if you miss, you must give up your bow on the 20th of August next.” Just one year away!

Well! Think of that! Corey was already an excellent bowman, and he was confident that he could shoot anything, over hill or down dale. He could shoot a crabapple from the top of a tree; he could catch a bumblebee in flight; he could trouble the wingtip of a hawk bothering the songbirds in his back yard. He picked up his bow and marveled at its lightness; he pulled it taut and marveled at its smooth response to his tug; best of all, he shot his new arrows and and marveled at their flight, swift and true — and very far.

Well, pretty true. I mean, he could still shoot crabapples and bumblebees and whatnot, but these were all nearby. It was whenever he shot at a distance — a new experience with these magical arrows that soared so easily across the broad fields — that Corey had a problem. His arrow always fell to the right of his target. Always.

No… not quite always. Once he got a jackrabbit on the crest of a distant hill, but when he went to retrieve his prize, he found that there was a light wind up there; he had not noticed it and no doubt it had corrected his shot. It was most troubling. The arrows were perfectly balanced, and if they had not been, they would have gone as often left as right. The bow was faultless. Corey squinted; he prayed; he rubbed his neck and his eyes — to no avail. The arrow went off to the right, and he must shoot left of his target, just as he had long ago learned to shoot above it. But Corey understood the shooting higher; of course an arrows falls in flight. This was different, and it irked him to turn left after sighting his target; and how far left? It was all so mysterious and unreasonable…

And who was Gustav, anyway? What apple? He began to feel protective of his bow and hostile towards this stranger who could take it away by putting an apple on some hill or other. What hill?

(To be continued…)

I just finally (I actually finished spinning and plying the yarn in December) skeined up and finished the singles that were left after spinning and plying my Girl Insane top.  The colors in the top were light to medium pinks, shades of grey to black, light to dark purples and white. (Don’t have a picture of the top, so here’s the link to the original listing in etsy: Girl Insane Top.  I split the colors into lights and darks, spun the singles fairly thin (I’m still terrible about figuring out things like what drafting method I used or how many twists per inch etc.) and then plied the two together.  It came out really pretty.  When I was through, I had just under 100 yards of singles left from the dark batch, so I skeined it and finished it tonight – it’s drying right now.  Pictures to follow once it’s dry and I get off my lazy ass and take the pics.

Any suggestions on what to do with just about 100 yards of light fingering to heavy lace singles?  I’m stumped, but this came out so pretty that I want to use it.  I thought about plying it with itself after it finishes drying, but then I’ll only have 50 or so yards and I know there’s not a lot I can do with that.  Any thoughts would be much appreciated.

The Coriolis socks are coming out beautifully.  I’m back on track after the frogging incident and I’m really enjoying these socks.  I’m going to buy the book (I’ve had it out of the library for two renewals now and I don’t want to keep it out of the hands of others who might want to read it) before I leave for CA (on Tuesday) and work on the last sock on the plane ride.  It seems like a good, portable project for the plane.  It’s either that or my Clapotis and that thing is pretty big and bulky for a plane ride at this point.

As for my two baby gift projects:  I’ve hit a wall with the Moderne Baby Blanket as the book is still packed up in a box somewhere in this house (I swear we’ll never be fully moved in) and I was able to find the pattern as a freebie through Ravelry, but it’s a scan of the book and doesn’t include the border, so until I find the book I’m kind of stuck.  I know I could just come up with my own border, but I’m just not feeling that creative with this one.  I draw a blank whenever I try to think of a good border pattern for this…again, suggestions are welcome and appreciated.  The Anouk pattern is coming along nicely.  The baby it’s for is due in July and I’ve got the first half done and am ready to start on the second.  The first went really quickly so I’m hoping the second will be as swift.  These are the only projects I plan to bring on the trip, along with some needlepoint that I’ve been working on for awhile on and off.  I figure if I don’t have many choices I can’t get caught up in “startitis” and might actually finish a few things on time…

Artist: Bridgeshadows
Title: Pray For Rain
Website: www.myspace.com/bridge_shadows
Style: Gothic/ Dark Rock/ Industrial/ Classic Metal
Label: YoungSide Records
Rating: 7.9 out of 10
By C.W. Ross

The main person behind the band Bridgeshadows is former Wedding Party keyboardist KL (guitar, keyboards, programming). First forming in 1999 the band has released a limited CD-R EP for the Cornerstone Festival in 2002, along with an independent self-titled release in 2004.

The band was signed to PsychoAcoustiX Records in 2005, but plans for their first label release feel through when the owner of PsychoAcoustiX Records, Carl Crandell, passed away and the label folded.

In late 2007, kL got together with Jonathan Stamets (guitar, programming, drums, vocals), the front man of Coriolis, and in January 2008 they added vocalist, Bethany Jones to the band’s lineup. Although don’t get to use to her vocals because according to the band’s MySpace page in a posting by kL it states that, “Bethany will no longer be involved in the band due to time constraints and also due to my desire to take things in a different direction musically.”

It’s too bad because I thought that the use of her soft vocals set against the more haunting dark vocals from Jonathan Stamets worked well together.

Bridgeshadows’ latest release, Pray for Rain, was released at the 2008 Cornerstone Festival, where the band performed. Musically their style is a mixture of Gothic, industrial, metal, and a haunting dark rock sound.

Pray For Rain opens strong with the keyboard filled up-tempo song, “Feedback,” featuring lead vocals by Bethany Jones. For the next several tracks the release goes more into a melodic, dark, Gothic sound.

Track-6, “Pray For Rain,” is one of the more rocking tracks with its big metal guitar riffs, and pounding drum parts. The song also offers up some very passionate vocals.

The last several tracks are where this release really kicked it into high gear for me. I really enjoyed the way it mixed metal guitar and drum parts along with a beat-heavy techno keyboard sound. The result is fresh, original sounding music that will get your heart pumping as your reach over to crank up the volume control on your stereo.

Also don’t be too quick on the off button when track-11 seems to finish at the 5-minute mark because if you’re willing to wait through approximately 30 seconds of silence you’ll be treat to some more music that run the total time for the track up to just under 10 minutes. I love these little hidden type bonus moments.

In closing, It’s to bad that Pray For Rain will be, both the first and last release, from the band with this lineup because their combined styles worked for me.

Hej igen, fortsätter i samma veva som jag skrev om innan, just rollspel. Har suttit denna kväll… till och med natt som jag just insåg att det har blivit. Får ta mig till sängs snart då jag skall upp om några timmar.

I vilket fall som helst. Så finns det väldigt mycket rollspel där ute, och självklart så finns det som genast snappas upp genom första intrycket, jag har alltid blivit dragen till spel med en mörk bakgrund, domedagen, vampyrer, you name it (tyvärr bygger dessa spel ofta på så mycket klyschor att det blir.. dåliga spel). Visuellt så är ett spel mycket för mig, jag kan ha kul med ett spel, men om det lockar mina ögon så blir det dubbelt så kul. Lite som med mat, ser det bra ut smakar det bättre.

Så efter en stund har jag hittat fyra stycken rollspel som jag skulle vilja kolla upp lite närmare. (Ingen speciell ordning)

1. Dark Heresy.
Ett rollspel som utspelar sig i Warhammer 40k mörka värld. Eftersom jag spelar figurspelet var detta ett ganska lätt “val”. Intresset finns där, dock tror jag det bara finns på engelska. Jag har ingen problem med engelska själv direkt, men tror ändå att det kan bli ett bättre flyt mellan spelare om det är på svenska. (Vad vet jag).

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2. Mutant.
Åter igen en mörk värld som har allt egentligen. Förstörelsen, människor och mutanter, futuristiska milöjer. Som det står på hemsidan:
Bland ruinerna efter den stora katastrofen kämpar människor och mutanter för sin överlevnad. I de förbjudna zonernas stålskelett pågår jakten efter den gamla tidens teknologiska rester.

____________________________
3. NOIR
Oooh mörkare än mörkast.. och jag vill egentligen inte göra mer än just lägga till här vad dom själva skrivit:
En mörk, vuxen och nervkittlande dystopisk och fascistisk spelvärld inspirerad av exempelvis Dark City, The Crow, Se7en, Sin City, Blade Runner, Batman Begins, V för Vendetta, Max Payne, L.A. Konfidentiellt, Basic Instinct och klassiska film noir-filmer, samt verk av Clive Barker, David Lynch och Franz Kafka.

____________________________

4. Coriolis
Ett stämningsfyllt Sci-fi äventyr har jag förståt det som, och med illustrationer som inspirerar så ger det mycket intryck. Dock det som kommer sist om man skulle räkna upp dom i någon ordning just för att den tar en lite för långt ifrån det “alldagliga”… fråga inte vad jag menar.

/Alex

(Kristina) Mina inlägg om Corioliseffekten har rönt stor uppmärksamhet bland intresserade, inte minst för att jag toppar bland fysikbloggarna på wordpress ikväll. Det viktiga nu är för mig att börja fundera på hur min klänning skall se ut när jag mottager det kommande Nobelpriset i fysik. Håret kommer jag att ha uppsatt i svinrygg och det säger sig självt åt vilket håll den snurras upp (sprejar man håret hårt håller svinryggen även för en tur tvärs över ekvatorn). Jag tävlar i hård konkurrens med svarta hål, galaxrotation och mörk materia.

(Kristina) En liten varning till alla som tänker testa detta nu genom att kolla åt vilket håll tallriken i mikron snurrar. Dagens vitvaror är anpassade till en global marknad för att maten även skall bli varm på andra sidan ekvatorn så här är effekten inte synlig. Detsamma gäller moderna tvättmaskiner och torktumlare.

(Kristina) Jag vill gärna återkomma till det här med den viktiga Corioliseffekten. Kort sagt innebär den att vattnet snurrar åt ett håll på ena sidan ekvatorn och åt andra hållet bara tio meter på andra sidan ekvatorn. Det här vet jag med säkerhet eftersom jag har ett giltigt certifikat på att jag sett det in real life. Originalcertifikatet, som är handmålat med crayons, är i säkert förvar hemma hos mina föräldrar men bifogat är en kopia. Corioliseffekten omdebatteras av många fysiker som rent humbug men samtidigt är bevisen många. Hårvirvlar tex, går åt ett håll på skandinavier men åt motsatt håll på afrikaner. Att många afrikaner från länder runt ekvatorn dessutom har väldigt lockigt hår är ingen slump utan en ren konsekvens av Coriolis upptäckt. Effekten är ju starkare ju närmare ekvatorn man befinner sig.

För att se att det inte är fejk är hela familjen Griswold samlad nedanför ekvator-skylten. Den pimpade guiden som ser ut som han är hämtad från en 70-tals gangsterfilm står till höger i bild.

(Kristina) Hugo bad om juice för att fira halvårsdagen och snäll som jag är äter jag självklart en apelsin. Men då händer följande: när jag skalar så får jag det obligatoriska apelsinsprutet och som alltid träffar den ögat. Hur kommer det sig att världens tunnaste, finaste stråle alltid träffar ens öga (ibland den som sitter mittemot) men alltid ögat. Har det att göra med jordens gravitation, uppåtgående luftströmmar, den ack så viktiga men omdebatterade corioliseffekten, månens baksida eller bara ren och skär djävulskap??

The first time I crossed the equator I was flying from London to Nairobi and it was early morning. The cabin crew was clearing away the breakfast trays and fellow passengers were gathering their things for our imminent arrival. I had opened the window blind and was gazing down at a rolling terrain of green hills and arid sun-scorched plains hoping for my first glimpse of African wildlife. ‘Was it possible to see an elephant from 20,000 feet?’ I wondered while surveying the sunrise that illuminated the not-so-dark Continent.

The First Officer announced that we had just passed the equator. Naturally, there was nothing to see or feel, but a murmur of excitement rippled through the cabin. We were in the southern hemisphere.

A few days later while driving to Kenya’s Northern Frontier

District, we crossed the equator for a second time, although on this occasion on the ground and there was something to see: a large roadside sign marking the invisible line that encircled the planet. We stopped the minivan and all bailed-out for the obligatory photograph…and science demonstration.

Everyone knows that in the northern hemisphere water flows down the drain in a clockwise direction whilst in the southern hemisphere it travels anti-clockwise. In my excitement and jet-lagged state I had forgotten to verify this phenomenon in my Nairobi hotel room, but now I had someone standing before me willing to provide a personal demonstration.

Anthony led me over to a bright yellow plastic jug filled with water and a large orange plastic bowl. He showed that the bowl had a small hole drilled in the bottom which he plugged with his finger tip, then bent over and filled it with water. He placed the jug upright on the ground, removed his finger from the hole and positioned the bowl on top of the jug. The water slowly drained into the jug beneath. Anthony took several small pieces of wood from his pocket – each no larger than a toothpick – and dropped them into the water. After a moment, the two sticks began to rotate anti-clockwise demonstrating that the water was flowing out of the bowl in that direction. With that, he fished out the sticks, picked up his equipment and led us 40 feet north into the northern hemisphere.

An equal distance from the sign, he repeated the experiment. Except this time, the little sticks rotated clockwise. Finally, we followed him back to the sign and directly beneath it, right smack-dab on the equator, he did it all a third time. Although the water was clearly flowing into the jug below, the sticks were only slightly oscillating, moving neither to the left nor right. It was an impressive display for which we happily paid Anthony a few dollars and received our commemorative equatorial science certificates.

Back in the van we continued our journey north through lush rolling hills not far from Africa’s second-highest peak, Mount Kenya. All but one of us had our certificates. The odd man out was sitting quietly by the window with a bemused smirk on his face. “You didn’t want the demonstration, David?” we asked curiously.

“It wasn’t true,” he explained. “How the water drains depends on how it was introduced into the bowl and on what forces have affected it since,” he continued.  “This is true anywhere on earth, not just at the equator. The question seems to be based on the false, but often asserted, premise that the Earth’s rotation causes basins and toilets to drain clockwise in the northern hemisphere and anti-clockwise in the southern hemisphere. This is certainly true of cyclones and other large-scale weather phenomena, but the Coriolis force is so weak that it simply cannot affect a system as short lived as a basin full of water.”

With that, he turned back to the window while we folded up our certificates and placed them in our pockets…and no one spoke to David again for the rest of the trip. Next thing, the poor disillusioned young man would be telling us that Santa Claus didn’t exist.

Photo and post by: Simon Vaughan

Το περασμένο καλοκαίρι ταξίδεψα με αεροπλάνο και κατά τη διάρκεια της πτήσης παρακολουθούσα τον πλοηγό στην οθόνη που βρισκόταν μπροστά στο κάθισμά μου. Παρατήρησα λοιπόν πως το αεροπλάνο δεν ακολουθούσε ευθεία γραμμή αλλά καμπύλη. Οπότε μου γεννήθηκε η απορία γιατί συνέβαινε αυτό. Με αρκετή αναζήτηση ανακάλυψα πως αυτό οφείλεται στις δυνάμεις “Coriolis”.. Τι συμβαίνει λοιπόν;

Επειδή η γήϊνη σφαίρα περιστρέφεται, κάθε κίνηση στο Βόρειο ημισφαίριο εκτρέπεται προς τα δεξιά, εάν το κοιτάζουμε από την θέση μας στο έδαφος. (Στο νότιο ημισφαίριο είναι αντίθετα προς τα αριστερά). Αυτή η φαινομενική πλάγια δύναμη είναι γνωστή σαν δύναμη Coriolis. (Ονομάστηκε έτσι από τον Γάλλο μαθηματικό Gustave Gaspard Coriolis 1792-1843). Το φαινόμενο Coriolis είναι λοιπόν η φαινομενική απόκλιση ενός σώματος σε σχέση μέ ένα σύστημα αναφοράς που και αυτό περιστρέφεται (εδώ τον ρόλο αυτόν τον παίζει η Γη). Στην πραγματικότητα το σώμα δεν αποκλίνει από την πορεία του, αλλά απλώς δίνει αυτήν την εντύπωση.  Πρέπει όμως εδώ να σημειώσουμε πως επειδή η ταχύτητα περιστροφής κάποιου σημείου στη Γη, εξαρτάται από το γεωγραφικό πλάτος, η απόκλιση τελικά εξαρτάται από την περιστροφική κίνηση της Γης και από το γεωγραφικό πλάτος.

Ας θεωρήσουμε αυτόν τον κόκκινο κώνο που κινείται προς τα νότια στην κατεύθυνση της κορυφής του κώνου.
Η Γη περιστρέφεται, ενώ εμείς παρατηρούμε το θέαμα από μια κάμερα τοποθετημένη στο διάστημα. Ο κώνος κινείται κατευθείαν προς το Νότο.
Κάτω, βλέπουμε την ίδια εικόνα με την κάμερα τοποθετημένη πάνω στην Γήινη σφαίρα.

Κοιτάξτε τώρα την ίδια κατάσταση καθώς φαίνεται από ένα σημείο υπεράνω του Βόρειου Πόλου. Εμείς έχουμε σταθεροποιήσει την κάμερα, ώστε αυτή περιστρέφεται με τη Γη. Παρατηρήστε προσεκτικά, και θα δείτε πως ο κόκκινος κώνος σχηματίζει μια καμπύλη προς τα δεξιά καθώς κινείται. Η αιτία που δεν ακολουθεί την κατεύθυνση στην οποία ο κώνος δείχνει είναι, φυσικά, πως εμείς σαν παρατηρητές στρεφόμαστε μαζί με την Γη.

Εδώ, βλέπουμε την ίδια εικόνα, με την κάμερα σταθεροποιημένη στο διάστημα, ενώ η Γη περιστρέφεται.

Η δύναμη Coriolis είναι ένα γνωστό φαινόμενο. Παραδείγματα αυτής της δύναμης υπάρχουν πολλά, τα λάστιχα των αυτοκινήτων που τρίβονται στην μιά πλευρά γρηγορώτερα  παρά στην άλλη, οι κοίτες των ποταμών σκάβονται βαθύτερα στη μιά πλευρά παρά στην άλλη. (Ποιά πλευρά εξαρτάται σε ποιό ημισφαίριο είμαστε: Στο Βόρειο ημισφαίριο τα κινούμενα σωματίδια στρέφονται προς τα δεξιά.)
Στο Βόρειο ημισφαίριο ο άνεμος τείνει να περιστραφεί προς την αντίθετη φορά των δεικτών του ρολογιού (καθώς φαίνεται από τα παραπάνω σχήματα) καθώς αυτός   προσεγγίζει μια περιοχή βαρομετρικού χαμηλού. Στο Νότιο ημισφαίριο ο άνεμος περιστρέφεται σύμφωνα με την φορά των δεικτών γύρω από περιοχές χαμηλής πίεσης.
Η δύναμη Coriolis την περίπτωση των ανέμων οφείλεται στην περιστροφή της Γης και έχει μέτρο F=2*ω*συνφ. Όπου ω=γωνιακή ταχύτητα περιστροφής της Γης και φ=το πλάτος του τόπου.

Υ.Γ.: όλες οι παραπάνω εικόνες είναι animated. Αν για κάποιο λόγο δεν τις βλέπετε να κινούνται, πατήστε πάνω τους και θα ανοίξουν σε νέα σελίδα..

The Coriolis effect is the effect Earth’s rotation has on moving objects. Because of the Coriolis effect, objects like planes don’t travel in straight lines. It also influences wind and water patterns. After learning about the Coriolis effect in my astronomy class, this is the effect it had on me.

I cast on a sock! This is the Coriolis architecture from New Pathways for Sock Knitters by Cat Bordhi. Hearing about the Coriolis effect in class reminded me of this pattern, and I just had to cast on. I used the master pattern for the spiraling Coriolis socks so I could pick my gauge and foot size. The yarn is Socks That Rock-Mediumweight in the Backstabber colorway. 

This is the first pair of socks I’ve made from this book, and they are definitely more challenging than the plain socks I make. I really had to follow the instructions closely, especially for the heel. Even though it was slightly more complicated, the results make it worth the extra attention. I’m happy with the overall fit and I really like how this yarn knitted up. Other than the pooling around the increases, it made really nice stripes.

I ended the socks with a folded hem. I liked how the sample sock in the book looked, so I decided to use the same hem for the top of my socks.

These socks took a little longer to finish. That’s mostly due to the fact that I’ve been working on other projects, not the complexity of the pattern. I started them October 1st and finished on October 23rd.

*** First written June 20, 2002***

Hey All,

Its been brought to my attention that I have not yet mentioned the reverse Coriolis effect that occurs when liquids are swirling down a drain in the Southern Hemisphere.  Basically, its supposed to swirl in the opposite direction than it does in the Northern Hemisphere.  Has something to do with the rotation of the Earth.  Well, the reason I haven’t mentioned it is because it’s rather hard to tell which direction the toilet is swirling because of the velocity at which the water hits the bowl.  There is really no chance of the survival for anything or anyone who might be lingering around when the toilet flushes.  I’m surprised the porcelain is still there. A N.H. (Northern Hemisphere) toilet is more akin to a waterslide in a waterpark (and not one of those Six Flags waterparks either).  An S.H. toilet, at a similar scale, is like a #5 rated rapids on the Colorado River.  Once you’re among the white water, there is no discerning the particular direction, just that you know the ultimate destination.

The swirling drain is a commonly known legend.  What is not, however (or maybe it is and I just haven’t heard about it), is the difference between televisions in the S.H. vs. the N.H.  Now, bear in mind that we have not gone on a fact-finding mission to determine the veracity of these statements.  But, if its not true, it makes for a good myth —- When going to and from New Zealand (as with most other in countries) with electronic gear, there are a few things to take into consideration.  U.S. runs at 180V — the rest of the world runs at 240V.  U.S. uses NTSC as their video/broadcast format.  Most of the remaining world uses PAL (which is a superior format, BTW).  These are pretty well known at this point.  However, we were told that TVs are made specifically to be used in the Northern Hemisphere OR the Southern — but not both.  Evidently, if you buy a TV here, and bring it back to the States, the picture will actually begin to bow in on the sides, giving a kind of pincushion effect.  This seems to have something to do with the difference of polarity or magnetism of the Earth’s poles.  Again — we can’t verify this, but its rather interesting.

Downtown Wellington is filled with cafes, restaurants, and bars.  Lots of bars.  They are even called “bars”, rather than “pubs” (surprising, given the British history).  I don’t know what they would be called in Maori.  Probably something like Malataihanukapoapoa.  They were smart to choose “bar” — just for the savings in printing costs for signs, flyers, and newspaper adds.  All the bars have TVs to watch sporting events (not strange in the least).  The biggest event has obviously been the World Cup since we’ve been here.  This should not be confused with the America’s Cup (which also takes place in New Zealand this go around).  One event is populated with sweaty, dirty men hitting a ball around with their feet and heads. The other has to do with a cruise on a yacht.  Both events would be preempted, however, by an All Blacks match.  The All Blacks are the local rugby team and they have the same celebrity status as, say, the Lakers in L.A. or the Red Wings in Detroit.  The town is crazy for them.  I haven’t seen little All Black flags on all the cars, but I’m sure they would sell like Barbra Streisand tickets in West Hollywood.  I would have as much chance of picking out an All Black in a crowd as I would Marc Maguire or Barry Sanders (given my less than nil interest in watching professional sports).  But, if I were to make a wager, it would be the guy with a black eye and missing teeth, sitting amidst a swarm of admirers and drinking a pint of Steinlager.

As a side note, the New Zealand basketball team is the Tall Blacks.  No joke.

But, I digress with my banter about sports, when the point was to talk about bars.  When reading these, keep in mind that I haven’t actually had time to go hang out in bars, so these observations come from just walking around town and peering through windows.

The Original Molly Malone’s is around the corner from the hotel.  I find it hard to believe that an Irish bar named Molly Malone’s originated in New Zealand.  But who am I to question.  Looks like a standard Irish pub with the requisite Guinness sign outside.  But what struck me as odd is that, mounted against the outside wall,  molded statues of toucans carry pints of beer on there beaks to some other place (South America, or Africa, or wherever the toucan’s indigenous habitat is).  Like storks delivering babies.  And this is an array of 6 or so toucans.  I’m not a zoologist, nor am I an expert on foreign cultures, but I do not see a logical correlation between a toucan and the Irish.  I’ve already gone through the whole trauma of figuring out why toucans would love the flavors of fruit.  Now I have to deal with toucans delivering Guinness to the unfortunates in the world who don’t have a Molly Malone’s to visit.

Another bar of note is The Fat Ladies’ Arms. Self proclaimed as “The Best Bar In The World”. This remains to be seen.  I would agree that it might be the best NAMED bar in the world.  It surely tempts me to go and see what exactly makes this the Best.  Its a very bold statement for a bar that is surrounded by other bars.  Who knows?  Maybe you can Karaoke while watching an All Blacks match? Maybe all the drinks are free all the time?  Maybe its government subsidizes to allow such a thing?  I’ll let you know when I’ve found the secret.  The Golden Fleece of the bar world.

I received a shot to work on today finally, so I feel like I actually did something. Granted, I didn’t get it until 3pm, but I got some work done nonetheless.

A rep from Electronic Arts came in today to demo The Two Towers Playstation 2 game that is due out next year.  The stuff looks like other PS2 stuff.  Its a hack/slash action game where you can choose between Aragorn, Legolas, or Gimli and thrash orcs about the head and shoulders. The game benefits by being able to use all the art direction that’s been put into the movies.  One brilliant thing about it is that Weta allowed EA to use many of the assets from the film to use in the game.  3D environments, 3D characters and creatures, and motion capture data is the same stuff between the game and the movie.  The game just has to make things simpler for the PS2 engine to handle.

Something that the guy said is that PS3 (due around XMas 2005) is going to be able to presumably handle 8 million polys at a rate of 60 fps.  For those of us in the industry — this means its REALLY fast.  For those who are not — this means its REALLY fast.

They promised that they would send new versions of the game as the development progressed and that we were free to play it as much as we wanted.  I asked “Who gets to play it?”  Which was interpreted three different ways by numerous people in the room:

the EA guy =  “Who has permission to play it?”

the artists = “Whose turn will it be to play it?”

the supervisors = “Who is going to have time to play it?”

Its much later than I want to be awake, so I am signing off.

More of “Reflections with Todd” tomorrow.

Todd’s New Zealand tips:  Don’t drive through a drive-thru.  Its hard enough to understand the person taking the order when ordering in the States.  Putting a New Zealand accent into it turns it into a low-brow sitcom sketch of misunderstandings.  When in doubt, go inside.