The problem, as it turns out, is quite the reverse of what I expected: I have no time to stop and think and write about my trip. I probably could sneak a bit of down time here and there at work (as I'm doing at the moment), but I really am overloaded with meetings and research and writing while I'm here so that doesn't work well. And then my evenings are taken up, and my weekends, and that's pretty much the entirety of my waking hours.
When you are not working, you have time to write.
The Internet rental box at the hotel turns out to have a port through which I can read the memory stick of my digital camera, but uploading those photos from the memory stick to my Livejournal gallery in the US takes an impossibly long time (and I'm paying by the hour). So I'm accumulating a nice little collection of visual souvenirs for myself, but nothing to make for the sort of photojournalistic accounts that Matt and Deb may have had in mind. Once I realized that the photos serve as literal souvenirs for me, touchpoints for me to remember an entire place and circumstance and feeling, I started to get a bit liberal about what I'm photographing: The train station, buildings I pass on the way to work, random people I meet when I'm out. Perhaps I'll tell stories with the photos on my return, at my leisure.
But what am I doing this week, you may well ask. Work, yes. I can now tell you all about iSCSI files, and NetVault:Replicator, and even some really basic authentication stuff. It's not that I have to write full administration guides to these topics, but I have to understand these products and concepts as background to what I do have to document. This is not a quick thing.
Oh, wait, I'm talking about work. Sorry.
As for my evenings: Monday was another fancy meal (alone, it was my take-it-easy night) and last night I met up with beardoc and a friend of his named Garth for dinner followed by Bear Trivia Night at the Laird Hotel (which was quite the wild and flirtatious time and my team won and Seumus now has photos of me that I myself wouldn't dare to publish). Tonight the system administrators are taking me out to a prototypical Australian pub. Tomorrow night, because I'm in town, Britannia Morris is dancing out rather than holding practice, so I'll be putting on kit and heading to the Dickens pub and dancing once more. I seem to end each evening watching Big Brother Late Night, but that's an essay in itself. I'm lucky if I manage six hours sleep.
Friday I'm off to Sydney, for an actual vacation which I will sorely need.