Chaos Monkey

This is hilarious, had to share: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chaos_Monkey

Every company pays lip service to the idea of "resiliency" - that is, the ability to carry on business-as-usual in spite of technical issues - and vast amounts of time and money are spent setting up "solutions" which are only ever tested when something bad does happen, and then rarely work as expected. Netflix decided to turn this on its head and in 2011 created "Chaos Monkey," a tool that would, at a random time, disable a random server, just to see what would happen. As someone described it, "Imagine a monkey entering a data center and randomly destroying devices. The challenge for IT managers is to design the information system they are responsible for so that it can work despite these monkeys, which no one ever knows when they arrive and what they will do."

While intentionally shutting down a production server in the middle of the day seems crazy, it's exactly what a resilient system is designed to handle.  And of course it's not just a server crashing but network problems, security issues, etc. Netflix eventually built the "Simian army," a collection of chaos monkeys designed to find faults or problems.  (My favourite is the "Chaos Gorilla" that shuts down an entire zone!)

That said, most of us don't manage a system like Netflix, don't have a need for constant uptime and don't have the time or resources to "design for failure."  But if we don't regularly change our tyres on a sunny day, how can we be expected to change a flat in the middle of the night in the pouring rain?  We throw a spare tyre in the boot but then never check it until we need it, and hope it's okay.  Having two servers running in two locations doesn't give you "resiliency" as much as it gives you "complexity," "synchronisation issues" and "maintenance headache."

So what are the other options?  Today a co-worker proposed a purpose-built emergency system, something I'd never considered before.  Rather than complicating and overloading your production system, most of which isn't even required in an emergency, build a parallel system that is just the bare essentials.  Since it's a separate system, you can test it easily and control it better.  You know exactly what capabilities it supports and it's available at a moment's notice.  Think of it as a the nuclear bunker of backup systems.

The only problem is business mindset, because by defining an emergency system the business has to decide, "What is important?" which is one they never like to answer.  In addition, the business has to spend money to create a system that they never plan to use, as opposed to hiding the cost of "resiliency" in a new system.  And of course not every failure constitutes an emergency, so if one server fails and a system goes down you wouldn't invoke your emergency procedures, but you will lament that particular system was not "resilient."

Of course, there's no one-size-fits-all solution, which is what keeps me employed.

The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Today was one of those days, where you regret getting out of bed and every time you think it can't get any worse, it does.  The only thing good about today was reaching the end, and knowing tomorrow has to be better.

It started, of course, looking like a pretty good day.  That's how they get you.  If you were expecting a bad day, it would just confirm your worries, but by teasing you with a glimmer of hope, it can crush you completely.  That glimmer was that I had a fairly light day -- normally I'm in meetings five hours of the day, and then trying to pack eight hours of work into what remains.  Today I only had two meetings -- one at 10:30am and one at 1:30pm.  I had scheduled a dentist appointment in the morning and was meeting my partner and a friend for lunch at noon.  I even thought I might be home on time for once.

My bike was in the shop so I had the car; thankfully my partner didn't need it that day.  The dentist appointment ran late, but I didn't have any cavities, so I was happy right until I got back to the car, when I saw three messages on my phone:
1. A meeting with senior leadership had been scheduled for today at 9am.  It was now 9:20am.
2. My partner, it turned out, needed the car to get to a school meeting at 2:30pm.  (The child in question had sworn it was on Thursday, but thankfully my partner checked and it was today.)
3. The bike shop sent a text saying the bike was ready.

At this point, I should have driven straight to work to salvage what was left of the meeting.  It turned out the meeting invite was accidentally sent to my co-worker.  Yesterday at 4pm he realised it was for me and so forwarded it without telling me I had to be there at 9am, and of course I didn't check my email after 4pm so I had no idea.

However, I made the (unwise) decision to go pick up my bike instead.  My logic was this: Parking around the office is a nightmare, so by the time I got in I would have missed most of the meeting, and then I would have still had to sort out the car for the afternoon.  Better to cut my losses and cycle in.

I got to the bike shop to find my bike on the rack, being worked on.  I said I'd gotten a text saying it was finished and the tech told me he'd lost one of the nuts so he'd jimmied something together, but he just found the nut so he was putting it back on.  That was slightly disconcerting, since the nut in question held on the derailleur, and I wondered if he'd planned on telling me about his makeshift repair, but I decided it wasn't worth making a fuss about it and waiting for him to finish.  He took ten minutes.

Now it was closing on 10am and I was getting worried I'd be late for my 10:30 meeting as well!  I then made the (unwise) decision to drive in after all, and pray to the parking gods to have mercy on me.  Except the new car doesn't have a bicycle rack and the bicycle takes up the entire back seat, so I couldn't leave it in. I drove home, left it in the hallway (I could have just as easily put it in the garage) and raced off to work.  The parking gods were smiling, but at me rather than on me,  In fact, they were practically crying with laughter.  After driving around for 10 minutes I ended up parking 15 minutes from work, in a 2-hour zone.  (Cycling would have taken less than 20 minutes.)  And it started to rain. I was in a suit with no raincoat or umbrella.

I arrived for the 10:30 meeting panting, wet and in agony because Sunday I'd just bought a brand new pair of leather work shoes, and today was my first day wearing them.  In the shop they'd been really comfortable, but today they were rubbing me in all the wrong places.  Of course, having walked on the pavement for 15 minutes, they are now mine to keep.  (Hopefully I'll break them in eventually.)

After getting my knuckles rapped for missing the 9am meeting, the rest of the meeting went fine, but only because my boss had forgotten about the three things he assigned me two weeks ago which I still haven't finished.  (See "5 hours of meetings per day," above.)  I got out of that meeting and had half an hour to respond to my emails before running off to meet my partner and friend for lunch.

We were meeting at my partner's work, which is only a ten minute walk from my work, but I had to move the car before the 2 hour window expired, and it was in the opposite direction.  I texted my friend and partner to start lunch without me.  Of course, I tried to move the car closer to my wife's work, but again the parking gods were pissing themselves with laughter, and after 15 minutes of circling I ended up parking even further away than where I started.  I walked to our designated rendezvous point, texting my partner and wondering why she wasn't texting me back.  It turned out she'd gotten stuck in a meeting, so our friend had just been wandering around for 20 minutes looking for either of us!!

We finally met up, and my partner joined us a few minutes later, but by then our friend had to leave, and I had to get back for my 1pm meeting.  We tried to get some food but both cafes had a long queue so I gave my partner the car keys, took her bike and left without eating.  As soon as I started cycling, it started raining again.

The 1pm meeting was very frustrating because it was with a user who believed the IT department was only there to make her job easier.  If you are still under such illusions, let me tell you: The IT department is there to make your job go away, period.  Last week I was in a meeting with a different group who were arguing that spending $30,000 on a new system would be cost-effective because it would save their team 10 hours per month in manually preparing reports.  I first pointed out that even by their calculations, it would take 2.5 years to see a return on the investment, and then I pointed out that unless someone was being fired, there was no actual cost savings.  They didn't get it.

So this user had the same attitude: I don't want to look in two systems for this information, so copy all the data from one system into the other system, and then keep it in sync.  I politely pointed out three times that she had no business case to justify this, but she was firmly of the opinion that I was just there to do whatever she asked.  Thankfully, after the meeting I had a good idea: I sent a message to senior management pointing out that they wanted this system right away, but if I did what she asked it would delay implementation by at least three months, so we should put that into "phase 2."  They immediately agreed, and I'll be sure to kill any "phase 2."

That high lasted all of 5 minutes, when my boss decided to share his vision of the future.  He passed me a sheaf of documents which he'd been quietly running past the CEO, and he felt the seeds were starting to take root.  Unfortunately, I looked at the papers and realised it was a stupid idea.

Trying to be as polite as possible, I pointed out he was shutting the barn door after the horse had bolted. His plan to create a "data czar" was fine, but about 15 years too late.  Data was already replicated and duplicated across the enterprise, and it was tied directly to the applications, so you couldn't just magically declare the data was "controlled." First, you need to physically put something between the app and the data, then you can start to claw back the data.  I'd already started to put plans together to do just that, but it was at least a two year project, and there was no point in brining someone on board before then.

My co-worker also pointed out that he'd had a data architect, whom nobody liked so he got rid of him earlier this year.  However, instead of firing him, he'd made him redundant, and under NZ law if you make someone redundant you can't create a similar position for at least a year! (I did not know that.)  On top of that, there is already a team in charge of "data services" so this new role would be a direct challenge to them.  So this plan was just a disaster waiting to happen.  Of course he didn't listen to us.

When confronted with ignorance, I always turn to pictures.  The aforementioned data architect had tried to make some system flow diagrams, but he'd managed to make them so overly complex that they were completely useless, and I had to start from scratch.  I drew up the "current environment" and the "future state" and just capturing the number of systems and data feeds I was aware of, it took six hours.  (It also highlighted how little I still know of all the systems and data feeds.)

It was now 11pm, and I still had to bike home, in the dark, wearing a suit and uncomfortable shoes, without a jacket.  (Did I mention it's winter in New Zealand?)  I texted my partner hoping she'd take mercy, but she'd already gone to bed, I normally wear a hi-vis vest but of course I didn't have that, either, but someone had left a bright green towel hanging outside, so I wrapped it around my shoulders.  I'm very grateful I did that because as soon as I struck out, it started raining.  Then it started pouring.  Then it got very windy.

I was soaked like a rat.  My glasses were covered in raindrops and I couldn't see a thing.  The towel miraculously stayed on even in the blowing wind.  (I had visions of it flying off and landing in a puddle, but because it was someone else's towel I would have had to stop and get it and carry it home!)  Thankfully there were very few cars out, but surprisingly there were several people.  I'm sure they will all be telling stories tomorrow about the guy in a suit with a green cape cycling in the rain at 11pm the night before.

I was so grateful when I got home, but it was clear I was the only one who felt that way: The porch light was turned off, the table was cleared except for my dinner dishes, and the remnants of dinner were sitting, ice cold, on the countertop.  It was quite depressing.  I left my partner's bike in the hallway (it would have been just as easy for me to put in the garage as well) so the kids will have fun maneuvering around two bikes tomorrow.  I made myself a grilled cheese sandwich and a cup of tea, and then wrote this as a form of catharsis, to let the day go.  Of course, it's now 1:30am, I have to be up in six hours, and I get to do it all again tomorrow...

Parashat Eikev

In today’s portion, Moses continues his speech to the Israelites, reminding them to keep God's commandments when they enter the land of Israel.  This year’s triennial begins with Devarim 9.4: “And when the LORD your God has thrust them from your path, say not to yourselves, ‘The LORD has enabled us to possess this land because of our virtues’.”  As a rallying cry for battle, it sucks, but as an eternal truth, it’s perfect.

It is human nature to believe that when things go well, it is because of ourselves, and when things go poorly it is because of others.  The axiom, “Success has many fathers but failure is an orphan” actually goes back to the 1st century CE, when the Roman Tacitus wrote: “This is an unfair thing about war: victory is claimed by all, failure to one alone.”

However, so much of our success is the result of circumstance, timing, our families, our schools and teachers, the people we know and those who went before us, and a large dose of luck.  Thomas Edison said, “Genius is one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent perspiration.” His first commercial success was in 1870, when he made a stock ticker based on the telegraph. Forty years earlier, Samuel Morse had patented the telegraph, but adoption was hampered by the cost of land rights to run the cables. In 1851, railroads allowed the cables to be run alongside the tracks, so telegraph operators were located at the stations.  In 1860, a 13-year-old Edison got a job selling newspapers at the local station. The station agent befriended him and taught him how to operate the telegraph, and he was an operator for 7 years before creating the stock ticker, which earned him $40,000 (about $750,000 US in today’s money) and allowed him to become a full-time inventor. If any one of those hadn’t occurred, we wouldn’t be discussing Edison right now.  He should have said genius is one percent inspiration, five percent perspiration and 94 percent happy circumstance, although admittedly that’s not as catchy.

Of course, there’s nothing wrong with taking pride in our efforts, accomplishments, children, etc. The problem comes when we believe our success is solely due to our own actions, because we then must also believe other people’s failures are solely due to their actions.  If we are successful because of our hard work, then less successful people must be lazy.  If we are wealthy because we are careful with money, then poor people shouldn’t be trusted with money.  When our children do well at school because we are good parents, then children who don’t do as well must have bad parents.

Rabbi Shira Milgrom writes, “We forget that in the web of the universe, we are all connected. We forget that our successes depend on the successes and sacrifices of countless others, we forget how dependent we are on a larger society, on the planet and its health. We forget our obligations to others—and, we forget that with all this material wealth, we will not be happy or even satisfied without gratitude.”1

Moses was warning us that when we take our success for granted, and assume it is because of our virtues, we cut ourselves off from G-d, our community and the rest of the world.  Rabbi Paula Feldstein wrote: “The family into which we are born, the schools we attend, and the communities in which we are raised all play a major role in who we become and how we succeed… We should respond to our prosperity with recognition of the factors that lead to our success and with humility before God.”2

The term ‘humility’ has gotten a bad rap; after all, it has the same root as ‘humiliation,’ from the Latin humus (“soil”).  Dictionaries define humility as a low self-regard and sense of unworthiness.  When someone said Clement Attlee was a humble man, Winston Churchill said “he has plenty to be humble about.”

However, that is not the original definition.  Rabbi Louis Jacobs, founder of the Masorti movement in the UK, wrote, “In the Jewish tradition, humility is among the greatest of the virtues, as its opposite, pride, is among the worst of the vices. Moses, the greatest of men, is described as the most humble: In Numbers 12:3, ‘Now the man Moses was very meek, above all the men that were on the face of the earth.’ In Genesis 18:27, the patriarch Abraham protests to God: ‘Behold now, I have taken upon me to speak unto the Lord, who am but dust and ashes.’ Greatness and humility, in the Jewish tradition, are not incompatible.”3

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks writes, “Humility — true humility — is one of the most expansive and life-enhancing of all virtues. It does not mean undervaluing yourself. It means valuing other people. It signals a certain openness to life's grandeur and the willingness to be surprised, uplifted, by goodness wherever one finds it."4

C.S Lewis wrote, “Humility is not thinking less of yourself, but thinking of yourself less.”

So being humble does not mean feeling bad about yourself, or debasing your own efforts and contributions; it only means acknowledging all of the contributors to your success.  Isaac Newton wrote, “If I have seen further it is by standing on the shoulders of Giants.”  Every week, as we recount the stories of our ancestors, we remind ourselves we stand on the shoulders of giants. Humility frees us from judgment and allows us to connect with one another, to lift up others and to recognise our place in the world.

The Talmud states, “The word of God can only be heard in a humble heart.”5

We all know Aesop’s fable, “The Ants & the Grasshopper.”  The ants are busy all summer storing grain, while the grasshopper plays his fiddle.  Come winter, the grasshopper is begging for food and the ants mock him and turn him away.  However, worker ants generally live only a few months, so the grain they were eating in winter was collected and stored by a previous generation.

Every spring, Monarch butterflies migrate 3,000 miles from Mexico to Canada, but they only live 6-8 weeks and it takes 4-5 generations to cross that distance.  The ones who left Mexico will never see their destination, but they start the journey anyway.  I’m not sure the Pirkei Avot had butterflies in mind when it said, “It is not your responsibility to finish the work, but neither are you free to desist from it,” but it certainly applies.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been collecting photos for the Temple’s 59th birthday, which is next Sunday.  Seeing people I’ve known for a couple of years engaged in Temple life twenty or thirty years ago has been delightful.  These are not people who took the Temple for granted, nor believed they alone could support it. They recognised the Temple as an inheritance, and that their hard work was needed to continue it for the next generation.  They did not do it for glory or recognition, but out of a sense of responsibility.  These are humble people in the truest sense and I, for one, am very grateful that I can be here today because of them.

Of course, I don’t want this to go to their head.  As writer E.D. Hulse said, “Humility is a strange thing. The minute you think you've got it, you've lost it.”

The last verse of the triennial is Devarim 10:11: And the LORD said to me, “Up, resume the march at the head of the people, that they may go in and possess the land that I swore to their fathers to give them.”

Shabbat shalom.

1 https://reformjudaism.org/learning/torah-study/eikev/all-you-need-love
2 https://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/the-challenges-of-humility/

3 https://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/humility-in-judaism/
4 https://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/83807/jewish/On-Humility.htm
5 Taanit 7a

Postcodes

In the UK, postcodes were introduced in 1857, but not standardised until the 1970s. Each postcode has four parts: area, district, sector and unit. (For example, RG4 8BW.) 

Today there are 1.8 million postcodes and each postcode covers an average of 15 properties. However, a single large building can be split into multiple post codes, and some high-volume organisations are allocated their own postcode. 

In the US, zip codes (short for Zone Improvement Plan) were introduced in 1963, and zip+4 was introduced in 1983 (and still not used today). There are 41,682 active zip codes, although about a third of those are used for PO boxes, military or individual organisations. It's remarkable that the USA is 40 times bigger than the UK, but the UK has 60 times as many post codes!

Each zip code covers an average of 7800 people, but that varies dramatically with population density. (Texas and California have about the same number of zip codes, but California has 12 million more people.)

In New Zealand, postcodes were introduced in 2006. They are 4 digits, with 1,856 postcodes currently assigned. On average each postcode covers 2,500 people.

Fun fact: The New Zealand post recognises both English and Māori placenames, so the following are equivalent:

Māori Language Commission
PO Box 411
Wellington 6140

Te Taura Whiri i te Reo Māori
Pouaka Poutāpeta 411
Te Whanganui a Tara 6140

https://www.bph-postcodes.co.uk/guidetopc.cgi

https://www.zip-codes.com/m/zip-code-statistics.asp

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Postcodes_in_New_Zealand

Kiwis need to realise 100 per cent pure is 100 per cent propaganda

I just read this great editorial and wanted to share it. It's no surprise that the New Zealand government wants to advertise its natural and cultural heritage as big draws for tourist dollars, but doesn't want to spend money protecting those very things. That's just human nature: eating your cake and having it too; the tragedy of the commons, etc. 

What is interesting is that grey area when the advertisement becomes propaganda. The government has done all the research, they know the sad state of New Zealand rivers thanks to contamination from cattle ranching. They know the sad shape of native birds because the "wild" ones still have to live in little, protected "predator-free" zones. (We live near one of the largest sanctuaries, and you can still hike around the perimeter in half a day.) They know the sad shape of the Maori communities, the amount of overseas land ownership, and a host of other factors that will have an execrable impact on the very things they are highlighting in these adverts. 

I guess the grey line comes down to the audience: If you're talking to people  overseas who want to see some of that magic but have no vested interest in preserving it, then it's just good tourism. If you're talking to locals who need to do something to preserve it, then convincing them otherwise is worse than propaganda. It's sealing their own doom. 

I hope you'll take the time to read the article, as it's applicable 100 per cent to the rest of the world. It also reminded me of another campaign, "Pure Michigan," which John Kerfoot brilliantly parodied.

P. S. It looks like "the man" finally got to John Kerfoot, as all but 3 of his videos have been made private with no explanation. Those 3 videos -- on road construction, Midwest winters and the Q-line -- are still hilarious, but nothing compared to his takedown of Mackinac Island or the Renaissance Festival. 

R. I. P. John

I mentioned that just after my trip to California last year, my long-time neighbour and friend, John Lynch, had passed away.* I didn't mention why he was so special to me.

[Uh, I just realised I never finished that post! It's been sitting in the draft folder for a year and a half! Well anyway, pretend I mentioned it and someday I'll straighten it out.]

I met John in 1996, two years after my father had passed away. He was in his mid-50s, about 30 years older than me, and while I never really thought of him as a father figure, he probably thought of me as a son. He never had kids of his own. 

I was looking at buying the house next door, and thought it a good idea to meet the neighbours first. I did not expect the neighbour to tell me that he built the house! He even took me on a tour of the house, told me why he had sold it, and told me stories about miserable the previous owners were. However, what I'll always remember from that first meeting was him folding his 6-foot frame through a 2-foot window -- he was always remarkably lithe and flexible. 

We got on like a house on fire, which is coincidentally what happened to his original house, and why he ended up building the new one. He'd just finished building a wooden bathtub (which was popular in the 70s) and his niece gave him a candle, so he decided to burn it in a little cage from the ceiling. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what happened next, but when he discovered his bathroom was on fire, rather than a try to put it out, he ran to the backyard to destroy his marijuana plants before the fire department arrived! Needless to say, he lost everything. (He also later learned the plants were all males, and useless for smoking.) 

When the new house was built, two things happened: he quit his job in mental health services and became a full-time builder, and one weekend he was not it of town he lent the the keys to a gay friend who threw a party on the back deck. The neighbours, who were deeply religious, were so appalled by what they saw that they put their house up for sale! John decided he wanted to determine who his neighbours were, so he bought their house and rented it out. 

A few years later, John's family moved to Oregon. Being Irish, family was everything to him so he sold his main house, left the little house rented, and moved to Oregon. However, he couldn't find enough work and eventually ran out of money. He moved back to LA, kicked out his renter, and lived in the tiny 1000-square foot house next to the beautiful 2600-square foot house he'd built.

17 years later, I arrived. We put in a new fence, two skylights, a hot tub, restored the back deck (although my wildest parties involved carving pumpkins) and a koi pond--indoors. It was a wild ride. 

The door was always open for John, and he was part of the furniture, as they say. He also helped me make a couple of pieces of furniture; although I was never particularly deft at woodworking, he showed me the basics and gave me the tools. The most important advice he gave to me was this: "Never put your fingers anyplace you wouldn't put your d---." 20 years later, every time I touch a power tool, I think about those sage words. 

In 1998, I wanted to go on a cruise around the Canary Islands to see the Leonid meteor shower, and I jokingly asked John if he wanted to go with us. When he said yes, my the-girlfriend and I exchanged glances of horror! We'd never travelled with someone else before, but we couldn't rescind an invitation, could we? In the end, he went with us and we had an amazing time. My girlfriend got seasick and would go to sleep straight after dinner, but John and I stayed up to the early hours listening to a fantastic jazz band. (I particularly remember him requesting "Little Brown Jug" and me asking for "Paper Moon" and on subsequent nights they would play those as soon as we arrived.)

There were many memorable events from that trip: One day we decided to hire a car but all they had were manual, which I never learned how to drive, so John took over. Towards the end of the evening he was getting nervous about getting back (the ship disembarked at sunset) but I wanted to see the black sand beaches. He was driving but I had the map, so we returned to the ship via a circuitous and completely unnecessary route, but I got to see the beach and he never knew any better. 

Five years later,  my ex-girlfriend and I were toying with the idea of restoring her grandparents' house and turning it into a bed and breakfast, and John gave me the second most-important advice: "Do it while you're young." He was referring to his failure in Oregon, of course, but I knew he was right; it was a risky venture and nobody knew if it would be successful, and if we waited for retirement we would be stuck. Fortunately some serendipitous events at work meant we could afford to start when I was 35.  Two years later, the place opened for business (and was wildly successful) but my girlfriend and I ended up splitting and I was left with nothing at all.

I moved back to LA, but sold the house and moved to downtown, which was an adventure in its own right. John's eyesight had deteriorated and he wasn't driving very much, so he didn't visit me and I only saw him about every other month. Around the same time, another set of neighbours that he was close to moved (ironically) to Oregan and he was left alone in Lomita. 

A year later, I got my UK visa and headed off on another adventure, not sure where that would end. John was not "technologically sophisticated" -- he didn't have a computer or even a cell phone -- and I was terrible about keeping in touch, but I'd see him every time I visited LA. Unfortunately as his eyesight deteriorated, so did the rest of him. He no longer had his zeal for life, and once he officially retired it was only a matter of time. 

He actually lasted longer than I thought he might, no doubt buoyed by the stream of rescue dogs he always had. But I knew from friends that he wasn't taking care of himself, wasn't engaged with anything, and of course that's the real killer. 

When he died he was 78 or so -- still 30 years older than me -- and I still think of him often and fondly. My stepson and I are currently constructing a hut in the yard, and although I'd be ashamed to show it to John (there isn't a square angle on it!) I still know that without John I wouldn't have even attempted it. And my stepson is having a blast playing with power tools. Pretty soon I'll have to share with him John's greatest advice.

(As my girlfriend had to point out, that old man is me.)

A mystery wrapped in a nightmare

A week ago, we drove to Auckland to visit the kids at camp. Along the way we took the "Forgotten World" highway and stopped at the Waitomo caves, which were both spectacular. I've been in New Zealand over three years now and have explored so little of its natural beauty, it's a real shame.

On Friday I developed a small headache; I took some paracetamol but it didn't help. On Saturday it got a bit worse, and I was quite grumpy all day, but on Sunday - when we were visiting the kids - it became a debilitating, stabbing headache that made me grimace in pain every few seconds. 

After we left the kids, we went to the Auckland A&E, but the triage nurse there suggested we go around the corner to the "Urgent Care Service" as we would be seen a little quicker. In retrospect, this might have been a mistake, as the urgent care did not have the specialists or support to figure out the problem. However, I don't think this was the case; I'll explain why later. 

The GP checked my neural signs to make sure it wasn't an issue with my head and did some basic checks on my eye, but couldn't find any cause. She suggested I take codeine and see a specialist eye clinic in the morning. I'd never taken codeine and was worried about the side effects so I declined. I very much regretted this later, as the headache just kept getting worse. 

We found a motel and stayed the night, but I don't think I got much sleep. At 8am we were at the eye clinic, but the only thing they could find was viral conjunctivitis ('pink-eye') and although they said that clearly had nothing to do with the headache, they gave me codeine and told me to follow up in a week. This time I took the codeine, and while it didn't do much for my headache, it at least allowed me to sleep a little while my girlfriend drove ten hours straight from Auckland to Wellington. In retrospect, they should have referred me to the hospital, not given me a bullshit diagnosis that they knew did not explain the main symptoms, but again I don't think it would have made any difference and I was happier to be close to home. 

I spent the next 24 hours in bed, taking codeine and trying to sleep, but it wasn't getting any better so Monday night we went to Wellington A&E. They, too, were at a loss but they kept me overnight and started me on morphine, so the pain was much less but I was so nauseous I wasn't sure which was worse. On Tuesday they gave me another full eye test and a CT scan, and Wednesday they gave me an MRI. Neither revealed anything. 

However, on Wednesday I started developing a patch on my forehead with distinct lines on it, and by Thursday it was clear what was causing the problem: Shingles. This had been considered but rejected earlier for two good reasons:

1. Shingles normally occur in older people whose immune system is compromised. However, I've been on immunosuppressants for my eczema since March, so in reality I'd "pre-compromised" myself. 
2. The optic nerve encompasses more than just sight; it controls the area around the eye, the ear, the forehead and part of the nose.  When shingles are in the optic nerve, it usually compromises vision in that eye. Mine had been fine.

So that's why I don't think anyone would have made the diagnosis until the blisters developed on Thursday. With the mystery solved, they sent me home with a goody bag of anti-virals, morphine, anti-nausea drugs, and gabapentin, which focuses on nerve pain. So while I'll still be sick as a dog for the next week or so - with complete bedrest - I should make a full recovery. 

And hopefully we can get back to see the Rotarua hot springs soon!

P.S. In Judaism, there is a prayer for the first time something happens (or the first time it happens in a season).  It's called the "shehecheyanu" and basically translates to: "Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the Universe, who has granted us life, sustained us and enabled us to reach this occasion."

I had a number of "shehecheyanu" moments, such as staying overnight in a hospital (as a patient), getting a line put in my arm (and later another in the opposite arm), getting a CT scan, getting an MRI, not eating for 5 days, not going to the bathroom for 6 days, not drinking tea for a week!!  I can't say they were all enjoyable, but it's remarkable that I got to this age without having any of those experiences before.

P.P.S. This whole week cost $99, and that was for the motel in Auckland.  Even the prescriptions were free. Thank goodness for socialised medicine!

Permanent Resident

When I got my New Zealand "resident" visa last year, I was bemused to find it meant I could live and work in New Zealand for the rest of my life, I just couldn't leave and come back. Seriously, once it expired (after one year), if I left New Zealand they wouldn't let me return.  In most countries, Immigration gets upset if you *stay* in the country; New Zealand gets upset if you leave! 

Since I would like to visit other countries, I applied for a "permanent resident" visa as soon as I was eligible, which I just received.  In addition to permission to return, it also allows me to vote and apply for public benefits and basically give me all the rights of a natural-born citizen.  In fact, there's absolutely no benefit for applying for New Zealand citizenship unless you're planning to move to Australia.

Since 1973, Australia and New Zealand have had a reciprocal agreement recognising each other's citizens.  If I decided to emigrate to Australia on my US or UK passports, I would have to apply for a temporary work permit and basically start from scratch.  If I had an NZ passport, however, I could just fly over and start work tomorrow.  (I wouldn't be able to vote or be eligible for public benefits in Australia.)

Since the reciprocal arrangement was implemented, many more people have emigrated from New Zealand to Australia, because the standard of living was generally higher.  However, in the past few years, as Australian mining has declined, many kiwis have been moving back to New Zealand.  This has resulted in a very heated property market.  Here is a chart from realtors Barfoot and Thomson, of median house prices and median rental value (per week) in Auckland between 1996 and 2015::

Since then, the median house price has gone over the $900,000 mark and the average property value over $1,000,000.  Auckland has been hit the worst but Wellington has not escaped.

When we moved from Kapiti to Wellington in 2015, we decided to rent for a year so we could get to know the area.  At the time, the average house price was $401,000; as of October it was $528,200.  That's a 31% jump in less than three years!

The new Labour government has implemented several measures to try and reduce house prices, including limiting migration, limiting investment by overseas buyers, and requiring more capital from speculators.  They are also looking at implementing measures to improve rental properties, such as requiring insulation and implementing a "warrant of fitness" checklist, which will reduce the demand for investment properties.

These efforts may, in time, result in lower house prices; however, by restricting the number of rental properties, they are having an immediate effect on rental prices! Today there was a news article that the number of available rentals in Wellington was down 71% from last year!  The law of supply and demand indicates that rental prices are going to soar.

Our lease is up in April, which is good for us because the vast majority of houses are rented in January and February, as people move before school starts; during the rest of the year the market is very quiet.  If our lease was up during that period, there would be very strong demand and the landlord would be tempted to significantly increase the rent.  I'm hoping in April he won't see that demand and will leave it alone.  In 2019, we'll have one child either in Israel or at University, and maybe by that time the property market will have cooled down a bit and we can look at downsizing into a 3-bedroom house.

Now, are you impressed how I went from "permanent resident" to "permanent residency"?

Recognition

One of these maps shows countries that recognise Palestine as a State. The other shows countries that recognise Israel as a state. Interesting, no?

Source: Wikipedia

MMP

Most democracies use a "first past the post" system -- that is, each constituency votes for their preferred candidate, and the one who gets the most votes represents that area. The party that gets the most representatives then is the "ruling" party. That seems quite reasonable; however, that "winner take all" approach means the elected representatives don't necessarily reflect the electorate.

In America, this is most clearly seen in the electoral college, but it can also be seen in Congressional races. For example, in the last US election, 45.2 million Americans voted for a Democratic senator while only 39.3 million Americans voted for a Republican senator, yet Republicans kept control of the Senate by focusing on where the votes were cast. Because each state gets two senators regardless of population, votes in small states are "worth" more than large states. Similarly, in "swing states" (where the election is close), votes are worth more than "safe states" because winning by one vote is the same as winning by a million votes. According to wallethub, a vote in New Hampshire is "worth" 84 times more than a vote in New York!

Of course, this isn't a recent phenomenon, and isn't limited to the US: In the last UK elections, Labour received 42.2% of the popular vote while the Conservates received 42.1%. However, Conservatives captured 318 seats (48.9%) while Labour only captured 262 (40.3%).

In 2011, the UK held a referendum to change the "first past the post" vote with what they called "alternative vote." It suffered a resounding defeat, although I believe it was because the Conservatives--who benefited most from the current system--ran a successful campaign of fear and doubt. Under "first past the post" a vote for a third party is effectively wasted because that candidate has no chance of winning. Alternative Vote would have allowed voters to cast multiple votes, specifying the order of preference, so voters could vote for a third party candidate followed by a major candidate, knowing their vote would count either way.

In the 1980s, New Zealand was suffering a similar situation but took a different approach. The first-past-the-post system had encouraged a two-horse race between National and Labour, and third parties were completely sidelined. In 1978, Social Credit won 16% of the vote but only one percent of the seats. In 1981 they won 21% of the vote but only 2% of the seats. At the same time, Labour received more votes than National, but National won more seats. When Labour won in 1984, the set up a Royal Commission to review the situation. The Royal Commission recommended an alternative that had been forced on Germany after World War 2.

In March 1933, the Nazi party won the German Federal election with 44 percent of the popular vote. This was enough to seize control, install its leader as a dictator and dissolve the Reichstag. All other parties were then banned. At the end of World War II, the Allies wanted to resume democracy but prevent one party from seizing control again.  They came up with a "party list" system to ensure proportional representation system, which worked like this: Each voter got to vote for a candidate and a party. They did not have to be the same. The candidate still won using the first-past-the-post system, but the party vote was then used to allocate additional seats to ensure the electorate reflected the national vote.

Using the US senate race as an example, imagine if voters from each state voted for one candidate and one party. 50 Senators would be chosen by direct ballot, but the other 50 would be allocated to based on the party vote.  If the Democrats received 53% of the votes but only 48% of the seats (as they did in the last election), they would be allocated 29 additional seats; whereas if the Republicans only received 46% of the votes but won 52% of the seats, they would be allocated 21 seats.  Thus, the Senate would have 53 Democrats and 47 Republicans to match the proportion of the party vote.

The idea in Germany was that by preventing one single party from dominating politics, they would be forced to form coalitions and work through compromise.  In the US 2016 election, third parties won nearly 5% of the vote; if that had been reflected in the results, neither the Democrats nor Republicans would have won an outright majority and would have had to form a coalition with one of the smaller parties.

In 1993, New Zealand formally adopted the system, calling is "Mixed Member Proportional" (or MMP) for reasons I do not understand.  There are 121 seats in Parliament; 71 are elected directly in regional elections and 49 are allocated from the party vote.  In the 2014 election, National and Labour still claimed the lion share (76% of the seats between them) but five other parties were represented, and National had to form a coalition with New Zealand First.

I mention all of this as a prelude to the 2017 election, being held in two weeks, which has been an absolute roller-coaster ride.  Unfortunately only permanent residents can vote, and I won't be eligible until December.  (I also want to talk about the saga of Kim Dotcom, an Internet millionaire who bought his way into New Zealand citizenship in 2009 and has been fighting US extradition on money laundering and racketeering charges since 2012, but in the meantime has bankrolled a new political party, called the Internet Party.)