Monday Rant: FCOJ Reduction

Late last year, all of the canned, concentrated fruit juice in local grocery stores shrank. The cans used to make 1.42L, now they make only 1.13L, using the same "add three cans cold water" directions. Why? Why have they done this? It's all of the juice, from the big names (Minute Maid, Old South) to the store brands (Signal, in the case of my local Sobey's).

These juice containers should be considerably more full - the orange juice container, at 1.5L capacity, should be in danger of overflowing!

Unrelated bonus mini-rant: Attention Flickr/Yahoo, Google/Blogger, Hotmail, and other websites that require me to log in - I will not give you my phone number. You don't need it, I will never desire you to send me a text or a voice call, stop asking!

Book Club: The Origin of Species

I threw my lot in with Professor Angry by Choice to participate in his book club, reading Charles Darwin's The Origin of Species, one chapter at a time. Today marks his deadline for reading chapter 1, which I did over a couple of days during my christmas break.

Oxford "World's Classics" edition, with introduction by Gillian Beer

Oxford University Press, 1996

After the general introduction by Gillian Beer, we get to Darwin's Introduction, which is mostly an explanation of the circumstances surrounding the publication of the first edition of The Origin of Species. This printing follows most closely the second edition, published in early 1860 that included some responses and clarifications by Darwin to some early reactions to the first edition of the book. The important distinction between the fact of evolution, visible in the fossil record, biogeography, and other lines of observational evidence, and the theory of natural selection is made in the Introduction, with an emphasis that the observations alone are intellectually insufficient and require some mechanistic theory to explain them. The Introduction ends with:

I am fully convinced that species are not immutable; but that those belonging to what are called the same genera are lineal descendants of some other and generally extinct species, in the same manner as the acknowledged varieties of any one species are the descentants of that species. Furthermore, I am convinced that Natural Selection has been the main but not exclusive means of modification.

In these two sentences, Darwin lays out the importance of evolution for biological taxonomy and the relationship between descent and modification through time and Linnean taxonomy, as well as the point that natural selection is one of presumably several mechanisms by which this modification can occur. It's right there in the Introduction: natural selection is not the only thing in evolution.

Chapter 1

The part about the "many laws regulating variation" is interesting. Darwin describes several examples of what would now be called pleiotropy, or apparent connections between traits, and mentions the constraint this places on artificial selection - breeders manipulating one trait, such as beak size in pigeons, also carry along correlated changes in other traits, such as foot size. I think the field of evolution-and-development ("evo-devo") has explored and continues to explore this realm.

The following few pages, read from a modern perspective, appear to me as so much weak speculation, given Darwin's ignorance of genetics and embryology. There are some interesting examples there, and it is easy to see how he is tailoring his arguments to his audience, but I find it a little boring.

There's a discussion of the various views of the relationships between domestic and wild species, and the morphological characteristics used to distinguish between species and genera. Apparently, in the mid-1800's there was a popular view that any domesticated species set loose in the wild would automatically revert to its wild form in a few generations, and Darwin devotes some text to showing the holes in this argument - basically, there's no evidence at all to support this hypothesis, and considerable evidence, both circumstantial and direct, that it is wrong. There is also a use of the sneering or dismissive form of the word "empirical", in:

It has often been stated that domestic races do not differ from each other in characters of generic value. I think it could be shown that this statement is hardly correct; but naturalists differ widely in determining what characters of generic value; all such valuations being at present emprical.

The first example (possibly) of Darwin's ideas being later demonstrated incorrect: dogs.

I do not believe, as we shall presently see, that the whole amount of difference between the several breeds of the dog has been produced under domestication; I believe that some small part of the difference is due to their being descended from distinct species.

I'm pretty sure the entire domestic dog diversity arose from the domestication of the Eurasion grey wolf, Canis lupus, followed by strong selection on different lineages, much of it by breeders in the last few hundred years. He does say, however, "the whole amount of difference", and I wouldn't be too surprised by a bit of injection of genetic material from other wolf species (avoiding completely any arguments about species-level diversity within wolves) in the dingo or North American dog lineages.

I am less familiar with the work on the other example domestic animals given by Darwin, horses, cattle, sheep, goats, ducks, rabbits, and chickens, though I suspect all have been demonstrated to be derived from a single wild ancestor species, not many. After some more wanderings among the dogs, we get to Darwin's famous study of pigeons.

On the Breeds of the Domestic Pigeon - Believing that it is always best to study some special group, I have, after deliberation, taken up domestic pigeons.

The structure of the argument for natural selection is becoming clear in Chapter 1. Darwin is using the example of domestic pigeons to lay the groundwork, showing that extreme traits such as beak size or flight characteristics do not have to derive from wild ancestors, and can arise from the careful selection of mating pairs by breeders. This provides the first important piece of evidence, that novel traits can arise from a population and be heritable. I hadn't realized this point needed to be made, but this sub-argument takes the form of a thorough demolishing of the notion that all domestic races must have been each independently derived from now-extinct wild species.

Selection - Let us now briefly consider the steps by which domestic races have been produced, either from one or from several allied species.

This section is a fairly straightforward argument about the visible effects of many generations of Selection (always capitalized in as "Selection" here), both "conscious" as by breeders and "unconsious" by everybody else, on domestic animals and plants. Perhaps it is mostly my 150-years-after-the-fact perspective, but there were few surpises in this part.

Antibiotics

Unexpectedly, the issue of the use and misuse of antibiotics came up today. This annoyed me, but rather than yell at people, I'll put up a little primer here. I guess spending my time with biologists, chemists, biochemists, microbiologists, and toxicologists means I forgot most people don't spend much time thinking about these things.

Briefly, antibiotics are chemicals that kill bacteria; there are a few that will kill fungi, protists, or other organisms, but the vast majority of antibiotics prescribed for treatment of human illness will kill bacteria. Mode of action varies; many antibiotics interfere with bacterial cell division, which is a process different enough from how animal cells reproduce (e.g. cell wall synthesis - we don't have cell walls, some bacteria do) to hurt the bacteria without hurting the host (i.e. you). The net result of a course of antibiotics is to kill a very large fraction of the bacteria responsible for an infection, or to prevent them from reproducing long enough for the immune system to get ahead of the bacteria and wipe them out.

Antibiotics are an obvious agent of selection. Any bacterial cell that can avoid or reduce the effects of the antibiotic - for example, by producing an enzyme that destroys the antibiotic before it can interfere with the bacterial cell - will have a clear advantage, and its offspring will carry that resistance. This is why it is VERY IMPORTANT to take the FULL COURSE of a round of therapeutic antibiotics. The symptoms of the infection - pain, puss, whatever - might clear up in a few days, but the antibiotics will be in sufficient number of pills for more than a week. KEEP TAKING THE ANTIBIOTICS. The bacteria are down but not out after those first few days; most of the surviving cells may be resistant. In many cases, resistance means reduced but not eliminated effect of the antibiotics, so those nasty cells are still getting hurt, just not outright killed as their less fortunate compatriots were. Keep hammering them, and the immune system will clean up the mess - few bacteria can withstand the double-blow of compromised reproductive ability and roving bands of killer white blood cells.

Here's a picture of a neutrophil, a type of white blood cell (immune system) that targets bacteria and fungi (photocredit to Bob Blaylock and this Wikipedia page).

Sports Car Olymics 2011

The weekend of Canadian Thanksgiving, October 8 and 9 (the 10th was the holiday Monday) I drove my new-to-me BMW to Regina to participate in the 2011 Sports Car Olympics, hosted by the Queen City Motorsports Association (QCMA). I was a member of the QCMA for most of last year (2010), but I only took part in one-third of last year's SCO; this year I decided to do it all.

There were three events. First, on Saturday morning was the rallycross. The term has different meanings depending on where you are in the world; in Canada it means an autocross event on a soft surface of either dirt or gravel (rarely grass, which gets chewed up into dirt pretty quickly). Autocross events are timed runs through a course, usually laid out with bright orange traffic cones, one car at a time, with a handicap system to allow less-powerful (i.e. less expensive) cars to compete fairly with powerful sportscars.

Here's a shot taken by one of the organizers, Rob Howell, of me splashing through the wet part at the far corner. Hurray!


I took some pictures at each event, this is one of Elvis putting his new-to-him Saab 900 Turbo through its paces.

The second event was the Time-Speed-Distance (TSD) rally. TSD rallies are long-ish timed events held on public roads; the point isn't to go as fast as possible (that would be illegal in any case), rather it's a form of precision driving, in which navigation plays as much a role as driver skill during tricky cornering, and penalty points are gained by being too early through a checkpoint as much as too late. I greatly enjoyed last year's TSD, in which I navigated for a man who helped organize this year's events, rather than participate. I navigated for Elvis, in the Saab shown above, partly because I know Elvis is an excellent driver and partly because I didn't want to take my bimmer into that kind of driving environment before I've had a chance to re-tune my reflexes from front-wheel-drive to rear-wheel-drive (and approximately double the horsepower of my previous car).


Elvis' mighty 1989 Saab 900 Turbo, purchased only days before for $1000 - a hell of a deal, in my opinion, considering the total lack of rust anywhere on it. We had some troubles with it, mainly in the form of a malfunctioning cooling system, but it served us well. Plus, it just looks cool. Those rally lights were just something Elvis had kicking around in his garage, and didn't actually provide any useful additional light at night, though they were wired up fine.


In addition to a Swedish car, Elvis had inadvertently acquired a crystal ball, which I found under my seat during the rally.


Rally directions here cover up some of the crud on the windscreen, as we drive slowly along a path through a field.

The third and final event was an autocross, held at the 3 Flags Cart track near Lumsden, about 20 km north of Regina. QCMA often holds autocross events here, which is rather different from the parking lot we use in the Saskatoon Sports Car Club (SSCC); the cart track surface is less rough than a typical parking lot, and the track constrains the possible route choices severely compared to a big empty square.


A Porsche Boxter on the opening slalom at 3 Flags.

I drove down Friday night, for registration and because the rallycross started at 8:00am on Saturday. Thanksgiving weekend is a busy weekend for hotels, but I was able to book the last available room at the Sunrise Motel. I'd give it about 1.5 stars, which was perfectly adequate for my purposes.



I only booked one room at the Sunrise because I decided to gamble on somebody in Regina offering me a couch or spare bedroom. Such did not materialize, so I ended up spending more money at the Super 8 motel Saturday night. It was a lovely suite, the last anything at the hotel, though I confess I didn't use most of the facilities at all. Oh well, some gambles don't pay off.

Somehow, I'm not sure exactly how, yet, I won third place overall. I know I did poorly at the rallycross, probably not last but certainly not near the top, and I'm almost certain I came last in the autocross on Sunday. Elvis and I came in second place in the TSD rally, behind the first place winners by a slim margin. But, however it happened, I'm very pleased with my TSD Silver Medal and the additional free T-shirt I got for coming in third overall.




I would like to take this opportunity to point out that this very powerful Subaru rally car, driven by an experienced and skilled driver, was soundly defeated by Elvis and myself in a 22-year-old, $1000 Saab with "one-wheel-drive".

1996 BMW 328is

Today I bought a car. A 1996 BMW 328is, in dark purple (it's kind of an unusual colour), and with 250 000km. The previous owner is a professor at the University of Regina, and he told me he bought it from a Dean, who got it from his daughter. There are reciepts and expired vehicle registration documents going back to 2000, which includes the original invoice from Three Point Motors used vehicles department; I don't have any information on the original purchase, except the license-plate surrounds which state "Victoria BMW". As a strange coincidence, Pixie the Prelude, my previous car, has a Three Point Motors sticker on the trunk; both of my Saskatchewan cars were apparently sold at that dealership (they're mostly a Mercedes dealer these days, it seems) at some point.

I had been half-heartedly looking for a new-to-me car ever since I decided the rust issues on Pixie meant she wouldn't last another winter. Hondas from the 1980s don't have good defences against rampant metal oxidation, and once the rust got into the rear panels above the rear wheels it progressed rapidly. I was awarded a scholarship (that I'm still not 100% certain I'm allowed to talk about - it's from NSERC and they asked I not broadcast my award until after they've announced it through their news section) that started in May, so my budget increased from "it runs" to "hey there are some options at this price point!"; I upgraded my search to "whole-heartedly" a couple of weeks ago as the weather started to change. An older Bimmer really isn't THAT expensive, though maybe I should wait on such pronouncements until after my first significant maintenance. On that topic, the previous owner described some rather major recent work done on the car, including a new clutch - so at least I'm not likely to find myself stranded with a blown clutch on some half-abandoned gravel road, as happened shortly after I bought Pixie nearly two years ago.

This car does not yet have a name; I'm of the opinion names for cars emerge after some time has passed, and I await the appearance of the name.

As for Pixie, I have made arrangements for her to be an organ donor for a ministock racecar, a very similar 1988 Prelude that turns left, abundantly, at high speed. This is, I think, a better end for my faithful Pixie than to rot in a junkyard.

Enough text, have some pictures.

Sunday Drive 64: Afsluitdijk and IJsselmeer

Saturday, July 9, 2011

Before I travelled to the Netherlands, I talked to several people (in real life and on-line) about renting a car in the country and driving around. While everybody acknowledged the excellent train system and bicycling possibilities, I was also told that as long as I stay out of Amsterdam, driving in the Netherlands is a fine way to get around and really explore some places not easily reachable by other means (plus, I'm lazy and out of shape so long bicycle rides were a bit less appealing).

There were two examples of Big Engineering I wanted to see: the Afsluitdijk, which divided the former Zuiderzee into (part of) the Waddenzee and IJsselmeer, and the Delta Works, a series of dams, dijks, canals, and other structures that protect the province of Zeeland and important places further inland such as Rotterdam from flooding during large storms in the North Sea. In Dutch, -zee usually seems to indicate seawater (i.e., salty) and -meer a lake (i.e. freshwater). The IJsselmeer is a huge, shallow lake and since its creation nearly 80 years ago has had some areas walled off and pumped dry to create new land. Zeeland is a large and relatively sparsely populated province that would be almost unhabitable were it not for the protections built after a devastating flood in 1953.

I went with Andy to Schiphol airpot early Saturday morning - it's easier to check out of a hostel and ride the trams and trains with another person, even if both of you are carrying luggage. Andy headed for the departure lounges, but I turned left and entered the rental-car zone. Six car-rental companies operate counters at Schiphol, and because the Hertz desk had a small queue (and because their website had strongly implied much higher prices for walk-ins compared to on-line reservations, which I didn't want to do through the wi-fi at the hostel) I went to Europcar. I expect all of the companies had very similar prices and cars and at this point I'm not interested in being proven wrong - besides, no price quoted on a website ever carries over to real life in my experience. There's always *something*...

Anyways, arranging the rental was pretty straightforward. They gave me a choice of three cars in the second-smallest size class (smaller cars are much less comfortable, and cost trivially less to rent); I went with an Opel Corsa because we don't have Opel in North America. Of course, Opel is just a brand within General Motors, but there are different cars from even the large multinationals in Europe compared to North America (though the differences are less than I expected). As I expected from a rental, an Opel Corsa is more "driving appliance" than "proper car". It was boring, but massively reliable and thoroughly practical. They offered me a satellite-navigation system to rent for something like 12 Euros / day, but I'd brought along my Garmin GPS unit (named Serena) and downloaded their map of Europe before my trip. As an aside, despite the high cost of that map (about $100 through Garmin's website), it was very worth it. Not just for my driving around, but also getting lost in Amsterdam and other cities while walking.

It took me a little while to figure out the car, mainly the goofy windscreen-wiper controls and the very grabby clutch, but I was underway on Dutch motorways pretty quickly. Needing breakfast, I fumbled with Serena after I got off the motorway and found a small shopping plaza, I think in the town of Zwanenburg. At 9:00am, shops were just starting to open, and I helped a young man practice his English when I bought some ham-and-cheese pastries to enjoy just before the rain resumed. The pastries were very tasty, and the local crows watched me eat but politely waited until I was done before swooping in for the crumbs.

Once I got the car figured out and Serena fastened to the inside of the windshield, I poked around a bit and discovered I was pretty close to Zuid-Kennemerland National Park. The name "Parnassia", which is one of the park entrances, just sounded enchanting so I told Serena that's where I wanted to go, and I was off.


Getting out of Zwanenburg involved a short drive along the Zwanenburgdijk. Narrow roads like this one, with zero shoulder and frequent traffic-calming devices, are abundant in the Netherlands.


Once past the traffic and roundabouts of suburban Haarlem, I quickly reached the edge of the Park.

Zuid-Kennemerland National Park is built around the near-shore dune system, the ecology of grazing animals (semi-wild horses and cattle) on the scrubland vegetation in the dunes, and the broad beach at the North Sea. Parnassia is a small facility consisting of a restaurant with patio and a modest sandy walk down to the beach, with close access to trails leading through the dunes. The weather at the time of my visit was exactly what I was expecting when I saw on the map that I was close to the North Sea: rain, wind, grey. Perfect.










The structures on the horizon in the middle of this picture are on the breakwater protecting the entrance to the Noordzeecanal.


This is a very tight crop of a picture I took looking straight out to sea from Parnassia. The offshore windmill farm I saw from the airplane is just visible here, along with what I think is a tender ship.


The gulls (Lesser Black-Backed Gulls, Larus fuscus, I think) seem to like weather like this even more than I do.





After my wanderings near Parnassia, I tried to pay for parking at the automatic booth. It did not accept coins, nor any card I happen to possess. In my fumbling to get the machine to return my ticket so I could pay at the exit gate, I accidentally called the attendant. He was able to sort me out, and take my coins when I got to the exit.

My goal was neither bracing North Sea weather nor tasty pastries, so I set Serena towards the town closest to the Afsluitdijk on the south side, Den Oever, and returned to the Dutch motorways. Normally on my Sunday Drives I just leave my GPS on wanderings mode, showing the map and my position & velocity but not giving directions to anywhere in particular. In the Netherlands, I mostly chose destinations and had Serena give me directions, which was very useful both for getting to interesting places like National Parks, and for freeing me from navigation decisions when passing through small towns with many bicycles, traffic lights, and pedestrians to watch out for.

I got off of the motorway as I approached the dijk (the A7 runs right over the Afsluitdijk) and found a quiet side road near the dijk that protects Den Oever and the adjacent village of Ooserland from storm surges coming through the Waddenzee.


The N242 is a smaller road than the A7; I think the N-series are comparable to most 2-digit highways in Canada, while the A series are freeways; I refer to the A roads as motorways following the British convention for talking about big highways without stoplights (apparently I am alone in this habit).


I think this illustrates the difference: this is the A7, which is divided highway with a central grassy median.



My car for a few days: an Opel Corsa, in dull-as-dishwater dark silver. Still, it handled reasonably well, was comfortable, and never failed me.


Looking west along the shore of the Waddenzee


Playing with depth of field.

After my little diversion at the Waddenzee, it was time for the main event: the Afsluidijk. Really, it's not too visually interesting, as it's a straight dijk that runs for 32 kilometres and is as close to perfectly level as any human-made structure. Fortunately, there's a monument and some other facilities near the middle.


A view of the Afsluitdijk and statue of Cornelis Lely, the primary architect of the dijk.


The freshwater-side of the Afsluitdijk, showing the top layer of stones applied to the dijk as it was constructed. Every one of those stones was fitted by hand, though they were transported to the site by machinery.


Looking northeast from the overpass. It really is a rather boring bit of scenery, but its history makes up for it (in my opinion).

After going full-tourist on the Afsluitdijk, I continued across. I wanted to get off the A7 as quickly as possible, but I made a few wrong turns and missed exits before I could make my way back to the shore of the IJsselmeer.


A farm in Friesland. Lots of Dutch farms look like this, from what I saw. The Netherlands has some of the world's most efficient and productive agriculture, according to some sources.


Wandering around, generally heading towards the water, I eventually found myself on the road that runs along the base of the dijk that separates Friesland from the IJsselmeer. Unlike most of the other dijks I drove along in the Netherlands, I could not find any place open to the public to climb over and see the water.


Many of the churches I saw were not located within a town or village, and instead were surrounded by agricultural lands.

Having satisfied myself with the Friesland shoreline area, I perused my maps and set my GPS for Weerribben-Wieden National Park. This took me out of Friesland and into the province of Overijssel, but for atmosphere's sake I played with the car's radio until I found a station that might be broadcasting in Frisian. This is the local language, which is supposedly quite distinct from Dutch; I have a tin ear or something because I couldn't really tell the difference.


The Dutch are masters of bridge-building; every possible design appears in some form, somewhere in the country. I quite like this wooden structure, one of a pair, that crosses the A7 near Sneek.


I accessed the park at its north end, through the town of Ossenzijl. Dutch roads always seem to provide just enough time to adjust and mentally switch modes from motorway driving (pay attention to the cars, drive faster than 100km/h) to town-and-country driving (pay attention to the bikes and pedestrians, keep it under 50).

I'll talk more about the park in a future post about the wonderful national parks of the Netherlands that I visited. I only spent about 20 or 30 minutes at Weerribben-Wieden, mostly because I wanted to press on with my big drive - it's a beautiful area, and I'd be happy to spend several days there.

Looking at my maps and my GPS, I decided I had spent too much time on really big roads that don't show much of the country, and I discovered a nearby road that runs along the top, rather than on one side, of a dijk with the badass name of "Hammerdijk". Of course I had to drive it. It turns out this road/dijk is approximately the border between the provinces of Overijssel and Flevoland.


Driving along the top of the Hammerdijk.


Another presumably-high-efficiency Dutch farm, just over the border in Flevoland.


I don't know what was going on here with this little stone hut and the freakin' cannon on the dijk, I suppose I should have stopped. Farmers displaying their stuff prominently near roads seems to be fairly universal though, so perhaps instead of a plow or an old combine, this farmer has a Napoleonic (?) bit of fortifications. The signpost indicates two roads that meet on the Hammerdijk, Kerkbuurt and Blokzijlerdijk. The name of the road on the top of the dijk apparently changes along its length, perhaps the beligerence indicated by the cannon had something to do with this?


As I think I mentioned previously, many roads are narrow enough that even small cars must move into the bicycle lane when encountering oncoming traffic. Here on top of the presumably-centuries-old Hammerdijk, such narrowness at least makes sense.

Having satisfied myself with some dijk-driving, I set course for Almere. The province of Flevoland, which contains Almere, is largely composed of large polders constructed after the IJsselmeer was created. My Lonely Planet guide describes the province as:

"Flevoland, the Netherlands' 12th and youngest province, is a masterpiece of Dutch hydroengineering. In the early 1920s an ambitious scheme went ahead to reclaim more than 1400 sq km of land - an idea mooted as far back as the 17th century. The completion of the Afsluitdijk...paved the way for the creation of Flevoland."

Then the book goes on to describe Flevoland's cities as "grindingly dull places, laid out in unrelieved grid patterns." and doesn't mention Almere, a city of nearly 200 000 people, at all.


The shore of the IJsselmeer is lined in several places with large arrays of windmills.

I arrived in Almere, travelling mostly on high-speed, bordered motorways (borders of trees block out much of the road noise from surrounding areas, but conceal those areas from view from the motorway), at around dinnertime. Many businesses in the Netherlands close earlier than I'm used to, such that approximately nothing was open by the time I found a parking meter in downtown Almere. Some sort of festival or event was just packing up in one of the main squares, and the local McDonald's was full of children. Even here, so far from the usual tourist areas, the employees understood my English (smiling and waiting for the machine to show me numbers makes things easier).

I ate at McDonald's, rather than looking for something more "authentically Dutch", in reaction to my Lonely Planet guide. If I'm going to be in a cultural wasteland, I might as well dive fully into this dull grey nothingness. Having said that, I have no problem with McDonald's or their food; you get what you expect, at least. Plus, I was at the edge of a large mall in a concrete jungle built from recently-drained seabed within the past few decades. Throw some grime on everything and add a few flying cars and it would be a great stand-in for Blade Runner.

My Lonely Planet guide was more-or-less correct about most things, even if it sometimes takes a condescending tone, so I relied on it again and chose a bed-and-breakfast in Amersfoort as my first choice for the evening. I didn't want to drive in any big cities (parking is death), but I put together a vague plan in my head to try for Amersfoort first, then look for a motel or something in Utrecht if accomodations were very busy.

Serena was able to locate not only the B&B in its four-centuries-old building, but also the best way to enter the old town center of Amersfoort. The B&B itself was not very well marked, not with big signs or other clear indications that I was naively expecting for a place that charges money to sleep there. I found a big black door that seemed unlikely to be for a simple residence, and I knocked. I was let in, and at the desk made the happy discovery that they were far from full even on this lovely weekend, and their prices were quite reasonable - about 70 Euros for my own room with a shared bathroom (shared with nobody else - they were much less than 1/2 full) and a place to park my car down the street.

Having woken up very early after a noisy night of limited sleep, I was more tired than I expected when I got myself settled into my room, and I crashed on the very comfortable bed at some embarassingly early hour. The evening light was lovely, but I couldn't pull myself together enough to explore the town. Instead I resolved to spend as much time the next day here before moving on with my explorations.