Sometime in the early 1960s, a significant thing happened in Sydney, Australia. The city discovered its harbor. Then, one after another, Sydney discovered tots of things that were just sort of there-broad parks, superb beaches, and a culturally diverse population. But it is the harbor that makes the city.

Andrew Reynolds, a cheerful fellow in his early 30s, pilots Sydney ferryboats for a living. I spent the whole morning shuttling back and forth across the harbor. After our third run Andrew shut down the engine, and we went our separate ways-he for a lunch break, I to explore the city.

"I'll miss these old boats," he said as we parted.

"How do you mean?" I asked.

"Oh, they're replacing them with catamarans. Catamarans are faster, but they're not so elegant, and they're not fun to pilot. Hut that's progress, I guess."

Everywhere in Sydney these days, change and progress are the watchwords（口号）, and traditions are increasingly rare. Shirley Fitzgerald, the city's official historian, told me that in its rush to modernity in the 1970s, Sydney swept aside much of its past, including many of its finest buildings. "Sydney is confused about itself," she said. "We can't seem to make up our minds whether we want a modern city or a traditional one. It's a conflict that we aren't getting any better at resolving（解决）.”

On the other hand, being young and old at the same time has its attractions. I considered this when I met a thoughtful young businessman named Anthony. "Many people say that we lack culture in this country," he told me. "What people forget is that the Italians, when they came to Australia, brought 2000 years of their culture, the Greeks some 3000 years, and the Chinese more still. We've got a foundation built on ancient cultures but with a drive and dynamism of a young country. It's a pretty hard combination to beat."

He is right, but I can't help wishing they would keep those old ferries.

The benefits of regular exercise are well documented but there's a new bonus to add to the ever-growing list. New researchers found that middle-aged women who were physically fit could be nearly 90 percent less likely to develop dementia (失智症) in later life and is they did, it came on a decade later than less sporty women.

Lead researcher Dr. Helena Horder, of the University of Gothenburg in Sweden, said: "These findings are exciting because it's possible that improving people's cardiovascular (心血管的) fitness in middle age could delay or even prevent them from developing dementia."

For the study, 191 women with an average age of 50 took a bicycle exercise test until they were exhausted to measure their peak (最大值的) cardiovascular capacity. The average peak workload was measured at 103 watts. A total of 40 women met the criteria for a high fitness level, or 120 watts or higher.

A total of 92 women were in the medium fitness category: and 59 women were in the low fitness category, defined as a peak workload of 80 watts or less, or having their exercise tests stopped because of high blood pressure, chest pain or other cardiovascular problems.

These women were then tested for dementia six times over the following four decades. During that time, 44 of the women developed dementia. Five percent of the highly fit women developed dementia, compared to 25 percent of the women with medium fitness and 32 percent of the women with low fitness

"However, this study does not show cause and effect between cardiovascular fitness and dementia it only shows an association. More research is needed to see if improved fitness could have a positive effect on the risk of dementia and also to look at when during a lifetime a high fitness level is most important" She also admitted that a relatively small number of women were studied, all of whom were form Sweden so the results might not be applicable to other groups.

    Look to many of history's cultural symbols, and there you'll find an ancestor of Frosty, the snowman in the movie Frozen. It appeared on some of the first postcards, starred in some of the earliest silent movies, and was the subject of a couple of the earliest photos, dating all the way back to the 1800s. I discovered even more about one of humanity's earliest forms of life art during several years of research around the world.

    For example, snowmen were a phenomenon in the Middle Ages, built with great skill and thought. At a time of limited means of expression, snow was like free art supplies dropped from the sky. It was a popular activity for couples to leisurely walk through town to view the temporary works of chilly art. Some were created by famous artists, including a 19-year-old Michelangelo, who in 1494 was appointed by the ruler of Florence, Italy, to build a snowman in his mansion's courtyard.

    The Miracle of 1511 took place during six freezing works called the Winter of Death. The city of Brussels was covered in snowmen—an impressive scene that told stories on every street corner. Some were political in nature, criticizing the church and government. Some were a reflection of people's imagination. For the people of Brussels, this was a defining moment of defining freedom. At least until spring arrived, by which time they were dealing with damaging floods.

    If you fear the heyday of the snowman has passed, don't worry: I've learned that some explosive snowman history is still being made today. Every year since 1818, the people of Zurich, Switzerland, celebrate the beginning of spring by blowing up a snowman. On the third Monday of April, the holiday Sechselauten is kicked off when a cotton snowman called the Boogg is stuffed with explosive and paraded through town by bakers and other tradesmen who throw bread to the crowds. The parade ends with the Boogg being placed on a 40-foot pile of firewood. After the bells of the Church of St. Peter have rung six times, representing the passing of winter, the pile is lit. When the snowman explodes, winter is considered officially over—the quicker it is burnt down, the longer summer is said to be.