What I’m thankful for

Hi friend!  How are you?  I hope you are well and starting to get in the holiday spirit!  I have to say I’m not feeling particularly festive with three essays staring me in the face.  They’re due in the next four weeks, so I need to get a move on….clearly.

Being away from home during the holiday season can really put a damper on your mood as well.  As most of you know, the United States’ Thanksgiving holiday just passed on the 24^th of Nov. (last Thursday of the month).  It’s a day where you gather with family (which in my case means 20+ people) and friends and give thanks for the great blessings in your life.  I have missed Thanksgivings before this, so it should get easier right?  Unfortunately, I am vividly aware of the fact that I will not be going home for Christmas either, so I think that exacerbates the loss of this holiday time.  In the spirit of the season, however, I thought it would be appropriate to make a list of 10 things I’m thankful for this year to make sure I don’t overlook the true meaning of this holiday despite being far from home.

1)  I’m thankful for my family.  My brother (finally – just kidding Neb) got the webcam hooked up for my parents and we were able to skype before Thanksgiving.  So that was the first time I’d seen their faces since I left, and that was definitely something to be thankful for.  It gave me a good laugh watching my dad shouting into the camera even though that was a) not where the microphone was located, and b) Neb was still setting up everything.  Not helpful, Dad.  On Thanksgiving I also got to skype with family in California, who I lived with for a year before law school.  I called my grandpa on Sunday after T-day too, which caused me to salivate over the meal description and wish I could visit him and my grandma.  Everyone who has a great support network like I’m fortunate to have, please remember to show them your appreciation.

2)  I’m thankful for my friends.  When you move around, it’s funny how your life sort of becomes a series of acts in which different friends become central characters.  While others may be supporting cast at different junctures in your life, that doesn’t mean they are less important or praiseworthy.  My childhood friends from back in Eagle Grove:  those people in your life who you might not see more than once a year, but you’ve got such an extensive history, background, acquaintances, understanding of each other, and similar set of developmental experiences that you feel instantly comfortable with each other and like you’ve never been apart.  They’ve seen me at my best, at my worst, they know how I tick, and vice versa – they make me strive to be a better person and for that I am so thankful.  My friends from Teach For America:  those people with whom you’ve gone through an extremely intense, emotional, stressful experience for a short period of time.  It’s a lifetime bond that you’ll always share.  A common understanding of a situation that is really hard to explain in totality to others.  I’m so thankful for their brains, dedication, continued passion to achieve even if not in the teaching field, and for all the things I continue to learn from them.  My California friends:  those people who teach you so much about yourself through their help and guidance.  I am so thankful to have experienced firsthand their unbelievable generosity and wisdom.  Their example makes me realize how I want to live my life in relation to the other six billion people in the world.  My law school friends:  those people with whom you share a season of personal growth, a particular body of knowledge, and a common challenge that having lived through it, you’ve jointly earned your stripes.  Even though we have all headed different directions, not just in terms of location but career paths within the legal field, I am so thankful for their unwavering support of my professional and personal development.  Their sense of humor kept me going during some incredibly bleak moments and still brings me joy an ocean away.

3)  I’m thankful for great food, good wine, and dessert.

4)  I’m thankful for my car back in the States.  Most of the time I don’t miss having a car; I feel better for how much I’m walking.  But there are times when you just want to get behind the wheel and direct your time.  Be the master of when you arrive rather than rely on timetables and be cramped next to someone you don’t know who may or may not adhere to the same level of body odor avoidance as you do.

5)  I’m thankful for Sony noise cancelling headphones.  They allow you to block out unnecessarily loud and annoying conversations going on next to you when you are trying to get work done, whether in a coffee shop, train, or even a library (gasp!).

6)  I’m thankful for rainproof jackets.  The genius of those who invented such material is unparalleled and does not go unappreciated by this constant forgetter of the umbrella.

7)  I’m thankful for beautiful sunshine.  It makes me so happy to see blue sky even when I know it’s freezing outside.  If only I could transfer that sunshine and myself onto a beach somewhere, I’d be even more thankful.

8)  I’m thankful for the constant generosity and welcoming spirit I’m shown over here by Europeans.  Inviting me for holidays, making sure I have places to stay, food to eat, and showing genuine concern for my future.  They don’t have to do any of that, and for all the times I’ve been reminded of the different ways we look at things or our cultural differences, the more I realize we are pretty much the same and in this life together.  Cross-cultural understandings are to be had with a little curiosity and open-mindedness.

9)  I’m thankful for adequate health care.  I’m sneezing and coughing up a storm over here, which should remind me every time that I am so privileged to be able to take medicine and have my ailments cured.  Some are not so fortunate.

10)  I’m thankful for all of you.  People who care enough about me to check in and make sure I’m still alive and kicking over here in Scotland.  I’m sure my drivel is sometimes not that interesting, but thank you for taking a few minutes out of your day to read my thoughts and show your support for me.

I wish you the very best during this holiday season, and I will write again soon.  Take care of you.

Cheers, Beth

When things go wrong...

Hi friend!  How are you?  Hope you are well and surviving the cold weather.  For those of you not in a cold weather climate...well, I have nothing more to say to you.  Today was the umpteenth (very scientific) time I was caught in the rain sans umbrella, rain pelting me in the face, and no hood/stocking hat.  Of course you know that means my frizz crown was out of control, inevitably I wear my glasses every time it rains so I was blindly walking through the building until I got to my class, and I was running late so I was stomping and sweating trying to get there on time.  I guess that explains how I see people walking around with no coat on.  Literally I'll see these little girls (okay, they're in university but still, pocket people compared to me) prancing about with no coat on a really windy, chilly day and wonder how they are surviving.  Turns out, when you walk everywhere you don't feel the cold as much as when you only sprint from your home to your frozen car and sit in that while you drive to work and then sprint into the warm building.  I'm consistently wrong in gauging the appropriate garment level.  One sweater too many and I'm overheating.  No scarf and I think my extremities will freeze off.  So complicated.

Okay, since we last spoke, I've had all number of weird things happen.  All on the same day.  Thursday the 17th started off like any other day.  I woke up groggy, shuffled to the kitchen in my sweat pants and stuffed my face with a huge bowl of cereal (come on, who really follows those recommended serving sizes on the box?  One cup, that will last me 10 min. and then I'll be searching for bagels).  We were told not to shower that day between 10-4 because some maintenance guys were coming to take our shower heads away and delime them...or something?  Well, as you all know, that was no problem for me as I am adverse to the hassle of showering anyway, so - nice excuse right?  Wrong.  From here the debacle stems.  So sure enough the guys come and remove said shower head.  The first guy tried to convey some type of information, but I couldn't understand a word coming out of his mouth.  His voice was completely hoarse, which I'm pretty sure was the result of some sort of illness (cancer), so I felt terrible giving him a clueless look after already asking him to repeat himself twice.  He realized I was never going to get it, so he gave me a shrug and moved along.  Uh, why can I not get this accent?!  Most of my friends here are also foreign, so I am actually not constantly exposed to Scots...that's not an excuse, but it's my excuse I guess.  Best I've got.

So, I proceed to sit in my pajamas reading for my Thursday evening class and wait for them to bring my shower head back.  It's now around 11:30 or noon, they said a couple of hours.  Okay, so I go to the kitchen to make some soup.  Of course the potato soup can explodes all over me.  I mean, that stuff shot out of there like a geyser and conveniently landed on my sweatshirt, face, and hair.  Uhhhh.  Okay, well, still no shower head, so I guess I'll just have to wipe myself off and carry on with the day until they get back.  Around 3:00, still no maintenance guys, so I go to the kitchen to have a snack and sulk.  Mind you, I have class at 4:00.  Not looking promising at this point.  So all of a sudden, my roommate Dani and I hear them return and hooray, my shower head is back.  I literally make eye contact with them as they're outside the kitchen door, so they know I'm there, I know they've come and replaced my shower head, all is good, all is right.  Wrong.  I leave the kitchen (they'd gone by this point) only to discover that my bedroom door is locked.  The maintenance guys had locked it behind them and my room key, my cell phone, and my non-potato stained, non-sweat material clothing and actual shoes versus slippers were locked in that room. AHHHH.  Okay, so thank goodness my roommate was home and let me call security from her room.  I get the guy on the phone, and his response was literally, "oh, well, we have a situation going on here and I can't send anybody. Sorry."  What?  Are you kidding me?  What is the point in having security if I can't call and have someone "respond" to my lack of security.  I tried to be polite as possible, but when he launched into a lecture on how I'm supposed to take my key with me even when I'm just going to the kitchen and lock my door EVERY TIME....I was done.  It was 20 min. until my class started by now and I had no time for his drivel.  He would have someone come at 4:00...right when my class was starting...he said when I cut him off and demanded to know when their "incident there" would be over.  While this mind-numbing conversation was going on, my roommate had done the genius move of running down to see whether the maintenance guys were still here, and sure enough - she found them!!  So 15 min. out I got into my room, changed out of the potato clothes, threw on a hat, called security to let them know not to come (I will never get service again), and ran to my class.  The first thing my professor smirks and says to me when he's checking who's there - "oh, I didn't recognize you with a hat."  I didn't think he'd find it humorous that my hair contained dried potato chunks, so I just gave him a "oh yeah, sorry" while everyone laughed.

So two hours later, I walk into the apartment and go straight to the kitchen to make dinner.  I find my two female roommates sitting there looking warily between the bottom of the fridge and the bottom of the oven.  New arrival - we had a mouse.  Sure enough, Ratatouille appeared next to the washing machine and my Singaporean roommate screamed and jumped on the couch.  So I helped move the ENORMOUS amounts of food being stored on our counters (vegetables, fruit, bread, eggs, etc.) to the various empty cupboards higher up so we could make our kitchen less attractive as a mouse paradise.  Predictably, that night I had also scheduled a tutorial session with one of the Chinese girls who lives next door.  She needed a native English speaker to go through her essay and point out grammatical errors, better phrasing, etc.  So periodically throughout the two hours I would have to bang on the table to scare the mouse back under the stove or washing machine.  Poor thing (her, not the mouse) - she jumped every time and was really freaked out by the mouse...sure enough the next day she sent me an email that the mouse had moved into her bedroom.

At the end of that eventful day, I got to bed at 12:30 and had to get up 4 hours later to catch my 5:30 train.  I traveled up to Aberdeen for a mini-conference on land use and climate change presented by the Royal Society of Edinburgh.  They were discussing their report on the implications of the Land Use Strategy under the Climate Change Act of 2009.  Very interesting, met a lot of cool people doing cool things - makes me wish I had studied science before I went to law school.  For any of you considering a career change into the climate change field, it would behoove you to know about biology.  Anyway, quite on par with how dumb I am sometimes with traveling, I had a vague idea that the James Hutton Institute where it was being held was out to the west of town.  The website said to take the #16 bus.  Okay, but infuriatingly, my research stopped there, which I didn't realize I needed to be concerned about until I arrived at the train station.  I didn't know where the #16 stopped, how long it took, where I was supposed to get off....so of course I did my classic ask people for help.  I chose more carefully this time (reference the service van guy disaster from Sept.), and a very nice professional directed me to the main street where I would likely find the bus stop.  The street was lined with bus stops, so after searching the map, I found the cross streets and the #16.  Once I was on the bus and we'd gone a fair distance, I started to get nervous that I was going to miss the stop.  So once I saw a street sign with the name of the stop, a church with the name of the stop, I knew I had to ask the bus driver.  There were only three people on the bus at this point, and the girl in polka dot pajama pants got off at the next stop.  Before we started off again, I inquired whether the driver knew where to get off for the James Hutton Institute.  He literally put the bus in idle and got out from behind the wheel to confer with the lone old guy on the bus.  *So nice!  Scottish people on the whole are so amazingly nice and generous - one time I asked directions when I got off the train in a small town and the husband and wife even offered to give me a ride!*  Turns out the situation was being complicated by the fact that the institute had changed names and neither of them knew it as JH but rather as the Macauley land institute.  Once we got that cleared up the bus driver said, "oh, I bet that lass with the spotted pants was headed there."  (ha! lass. spotted pants. so cute!) I kind of laughed and said, "oh, right, very student of her - wearing her pajamas to class."  He gave me a strange look -  "uh no, it's actually a thing.  Didn't you notice weird outfits around town?"  Apparently I have even less fashion sense than we all thought.  It didn't even occur to me that the mismatched, wild colors and patterns outfits were any different from the uber-fashionable outfits I'm surrounded by and not attempting to mirror on a daily basis.  It was a nationwide charity awareness thing, so that would explain the tartan leggings, knit sweater circa 1983, and tie-dyed scarf affixed to the purse of this girl at the land use conference who I overheard telling her boyfriend that she just had to stay until after lunch and then she could leave....... Which is probably best since I can't really think that anybody was going to take her seriously in that outfit.  I'm all for charity, but really?  Being young and female already stacks the odds against you that none of the old white hairs will discourse with you about land use until you show them you know what you're talking about.  I don't think I made it clear either - she didn't have a skirt over the leggings.  Quite possibly the least professional thing you could wear to a suit and tie conference.

So no limbs lost or catastrophic events.  Just wildly unfortunate mishaps that seem to compound on each other making me panicked, lost, sweating, or all of the above.  Thanks for reading!  I have to get going on essays....note the procrastination involved in writing this email :)

Hope you are well, take care, and I'll write again soon!
Cheers,
Beth

Flames Galore

Hi friend!  How are you?  I hope you are well!  I'm sorry it's been awhile since I've written.  Starting to get into the busy part of the semester with final essays, etc., so that's why I've been MIA.

Okay, chronologically speaking - the end of October/beginning of November has been interesting.
One day my flatmate walked in and asked if I was going to see the Olympic Torch.  What?  The Olympic Torch is in Edinburgh?  The Olympic Games are over 6 months away?  Not only was it here, they had set up this gigantic Coca Cola bus in the middle of our student union square with a little tent where you could actually hold the torch and get your picture taken with it.  Upon rounding the corner to the square though, we literally almost bumped into the last person in what was an interminable line.  It was ridiculously long - thus, there was no chance I was going to wait.  But we did get some good pictures of the scene.  Unfortunately, none are of people taking pictures with the torch, which of course turned into - what's the silliest pose I can do with this huge gold thing?  If you want to see them, go to my Picasa album!  https://picasaweb.google.com/100003400901805538894/OlympicTorchHalloweenAndDiwali?authuser=0&authkey=Gv1sRgCIKslci5o9eGXg&feat=directlink

This unexpected visitor was soon followed by the Diwali celebration I got to attend with my flatmate.  It's the Hindi "festival of lights" so they had Indian food (I was in heaven until the sheer quantity I had consumed started to sink in), traditional dancing (which I sucked at), and saris everywhere - they were so beautiful!  I even got my hand henna painted!!!

Halloween was next, which turns out is incredibly popular over here.  I thought maybe they didn't celebrate it, like it was only an American thing.  Nope, dead wrong.  They do wear significantly scarier costumes though, so that was different.  The default was putting black circles under their eyes and playing a plain-clothes zombie (lazy) or drawing red lines from the corners of their mouths as vampires.  Mine was always going to be a hit or miss if people had not seen the movie Dodgeball, which upon studying its box office results here in the UK I realized might be very few people as opposed to the US, but I got a few positive responses aside from the Americans I met up with.  Mostly I was just gawked at as some crazy person with bushman eyebrows and ugly circus red lipstick by people on the bus.  Eh, you win some, you lose some.

The real Halloween celebration in Edinburgh is actually ON the 31st of October though, which this year happened to be on a Monday night.  The pagan tradition of celebrating harvest leads into this end of summer celebration, called Samhuinn, where they have a parade and this group called Beltane Fire Society literally has flame throwers, drum corps, and street theatre.  Of course it was a torrential downpour right at 9:00 when the parade started, so my flatmates and I didn't go out until 10:00.  We caught the end of the drumming and saw some terrifyingly scary red-painted demonic people, the other drum performers, who had finished and were headed to the bar.  I couldn't believe how many people were out that Monday night though and appeared to be in it for the long haul - it was raining and I'd already exhausted my costume on Saturday, so it never occurred to me people would actually go out on Monday as well.  Clearly I was mistaken.  Very cool annual tradition to catch though.

Last Saturday was Bonfire Night.  This annual celebration on Nov. 5th, where there are fireworks set off all around the UK, is in honor of Guy Fawkes.  He was part of a plot to blow up the Houses of Parliament in 1605 due to continuing intolerance for Catholicism under the British monarch.  When you are plotting with 12 other people, however, make sure nobody rats you out by sending a letter directly to whom you are trying to blow up.  Apparently, someone in the plot folded like a lawn chair and notified a member of the House of Lords that Nov. 5th was the day.  Not only did Guy never get a chance to ignite the 36 barrels of gunpowder stored in the basement of Westminster, but the guards stormed in while he was down there, captured, tortured, and killed him for treason.  Talk about a plan gone wrong.  So on that Nov. 5th night in 1605, people around Britain lit bonfires to celebrate the safety of the King and the tradition continues today.  We got to see the huge amount of fireworks set off in the soccer stadium from Holyrood Park, which sits at the base of the extinct volcano Arthur's Seat where people hike up with torches or flashlights and set off fireworks as well.  That was cool to see from the ground - I'd be willing to put money on it that it was F.REE.ZING up there!

I hope you are doing great!  It's quite unseasonably warm for Scotland, apparently, so we'll see how cold it starts to get here in the next couple of weeks.

Thanks for reading and take care!
Cheers,
Beth

The Beautiful Cotswolds

5:20 p.m. UK time - Sat., October 22, 2011
Hi friend!  How are you?  I hope you are well!  I feel unusually close to you at this moment because....I FIGURED OUT HOW TO LISTEN TO THE HAWKS LIVE ONLINE!!!!  So, it feels like I'm just down the road listening to the same radio program as opposed to thousands of miles away.  I don't really think I should admit how much time I spent searching for this radio station - it was more than worth it though...obviously.  Go Hawks!!

So two Fridays ago I traveled six hours by train down to the upper southwest part of England to visit a rural development/land use contact I know through a contact in the States.  Richard and Susan had kindly invited me to stay at their 17th Century home (so cool huh?!) for the weekend.  It is situated in Winchcombe, which is close to Cheltenham in the Cotswolds region. The night I arrived Richard had to give a land use presentation at a local meeting called Friends of Winchcombe.  It's a surprisingly large local group formed in the 1950s to protect the character of the town, so since its inception they have basically not been keen on new houses added to the town.  The local planning board was recently told they have to accept 100 new houses to accommodate growth, so his angle was to convince them they should be proactive about considering how those 100 new houses should be integrated into the town structure and design instead of complaining about an ugly new development that doesn't fit with the town.  The most interesting difference to see from an American perspective - he spoke about climate change and how they needed to keep an awareness of the strong UK carbon emissions reduction policies when creating their plan for the community.  Mind you he was speaking to a group of people who were all 65+ years old.  Love the lack of denial factor about scientific consensus on this side of the pond!  I also love the fact that after this meeting they had a wine social with "nibbles" (that is literally how snacks were labeled in the budgets provided on every other chair at the meeting = adorable).  I love the conversation that probably happened in planning for a community meeting - "what type of refreshments should we provide afterward?  Alcohol, duh."  Are you kidding me?!  Brilliant.

The following day we hiked along the Cotswolds Way in sort of a triangle.  We started at Stanway, which is the beginning of a huge estate, aptly named...the Stanway Estate :), that was owned by an abbey for 800 years and now the Tracy family has owned it for 500 years as the Earls of Wemyss (I have no clue how this royalty stuff works).  Its owners insist upon sustainable agricultural practices by their tenants, which is good since it's situated in an area of outstanding natural beauty.  So hiking along one of the bridle paths, we walked straight up through the woods until we emerged onto tilled wheat fields and pasture land stretching for miles.  It was so strange to literally open the gate of a farmer's field and walk through right next to his sheep.  But that's part of the beauty of UK property law - you cannot restrict people from walking on your rural lands.  In England you can designate a path they should stay on, as opposed to Scotland where they can walk anywhere as long as they don't cause any damage, but there is no concept of no trespassing just because it's your property.  You would have to apply for special permission from the local authority to be able to actively keep people off your land.  Interesting huh?  So we tromped through multiple fields until coming to the road that led us to Snowshill.  A National Trust manor is located there, meaning the owner deeded what is usually a historical property to a national organization that maintains it for tourism through the support of four million members throughout the UK (myself included).  This property included a manor and gardens totaling about 16 acres I think, but the former owner, Charles Wade, never actually lived in the manor.  He lived in this tiny little cottage off to the side.  He literally purchased the manor around 1920 for the sole purpose of storing thousands of antiques since he was a self-proclaimed collector.  His family was very wealthy, so what that translates into:  he got to travel all over the world and buy whatever he wanted that struck his fancy.  So the house contained 15+ Chinese cabinets with all sorts of knickknacks inside, an entire room dedicated to ancient Samurai suits of armor, a musical instrument room, coats of arms all over the walls, an assortment of old wooden bicycles in the attic, weaving looms, an antique laundry contraption, decorated chests, clocks....you get the point.  Amazing amounts of random shhhtuff.  Too much time and money on his hands is sort of the thought running through my head the whole time, but it was really interesting to see.

So that was my weekend in the amazingly beautiful Cotswolds.  I was so fortunate to get to experience that scenery, have good conversations, sleep on a mattress that felt like a cloud, and eat the most amazing food (Susan is the most UNBELIEVABLE cook - homemade curries, Thai soup, Japanese miso soup...ooh, my stomach was in heaven).  If you ever have the opportunity to travel over to the UK and are wondering whether to carve time into your schedule to visit the Cotswold region - DO IT!!!  Enchanting is the only way to describe that place.  Absolutely enchanting landscape.  See it here:  https://picasaweb.google.com/100003400901805538894/TheCotswolds?authuser=0&authkey=Gv1sRgCPvhzrGsvdWRrwE&feat=directlink
Let me preface your viewing by a little disclaimer though....I am a land use and farming nerd, so I may have gotten a little carried away with landscape pictures. oops :)  But, fortunately for you, I have included a lot of descriptive captions so maybe it won't just look like the same bit of beautiful hillside and trees and stone houses over and over again.

6:15 p.m. UK time - Sun., October 23, 2011
This morning I woke up at 7:15 a.m. to go to a pub with an outside courtyard fully stocked with picnic tables and a big screen to watch the All Blacks New Zealand rugby team win the Rugby World Cup 2011!!!!  They beat the French (yes!!!) 8-7, and while I was engrossed in the game most of the time, the people watching was beyond priceless.  The guys with their faces painted black and white shouting incomprehensible noises along with the New Zealand haka before the match, the women who looked like they had taken four hours curling their hair to come watch a rugby match, the older French gentleman who was sporting a navy blue plush velvet coat over his bright daffodil colored hoodie sweatshirt, the French girl who I'm sure had dyed her hair a cranberry color in support of her team (at least I hope that was the case - incredibly unfortunate if that is her normal style choice).  What might surprise you though is the relative civility with which all these fans mingled.  I thought rugby fans would be the rowdiest (let's pause and appreciate I worked for the Raiders though....stiff competition for that title), but apparently soccer fans are way worse.  Someone explained it to me that there is so much violence on the rugby pitch itself that nobody finds it necessary to punch each other out in the stands.  Fair enough - but my jaw literally dropped when all of a sudden during halftime I looked over and there was the French girl with the tricolor wig and another with a French flag in the form of a cape taking a picture on the laps of the All Black face-painted guys.  Perhaps gender had something to do with it, but still, shockingly civil.

I hope you have a great week and Halloween festivities!  They actually celebrate it here (hoorah!!! you know how much I love Halloween), so I'm most likely going with a repeater - Dodgeball.  Hope all is well, take care, and I'll write again soon!

Cheers,
B

Turkey Day the Canada Way

Hi friend!  How are you?  I hope you are well......and enjoying college football (you don't know how lucky you are being able to enjoy football Saturdays).  I heard the weather is starting to turn back in Iowa.  It is rainier and colder every day here as well, so my big purchase of the day - Wellies (Wellington rain boots since I refuse to have my feet soaked and freezing any longer...I'm putting my frostbitten foot down).

I have a ton to catch you up on - so here goes nothing.
My Scottish friend who lives just north of Edinburgh invited me out to stay with her and her family two Friday nights ago.  The following day her daughter was having a 3rd birthday party, so they were so amazing to invite me to share in their family time.  I can't tell you how nice it was to relax in front of the television on Friday evening.  I don't really watch that much TV in the States (as most of my friends can attest to since I'm always hopelessly clueless on pop culture), but not having a television even available if you did want to watch it is very different than simply choosing not to turn it on.  I don't know if this is available in the States, but if you can find Outnumbered - watch it.  You won't be disappointed with this somewhat improv British comedy sitcom.  The next morning I got to visit Perth due to a last-minute party shoe swap the birthday girl needed, so my friend's husband took the girls shopping while I toured the John Duncan Ferguson gallery.  Without going into too much detail, he is the most famous painter from Perth and part of the Scottish Colourist group.  His oil paintings are reminiscent of the impressionist style that he was exposed to upon moving to Paris around 1920.  He was married to Margaret Morris, a dancer who became quite famous for her sort of new-age method of movement that honestly just reminded me of that scene in Music Man with "One Grecian Urn, Two Grecian Urn".  The pictures I was allowed to take of the paintings I really liked...so a picture of a picture...after signing my life away that I am not going to commercially reproduce my shoddy copies of his works are on Picasa if you're interested!
https://picasaweb.google.com/100003400901805538894/Perth?authuser=0&authkey=Gv1sRgCPWj0M7rnsbBKg&feat=directlink

On Sunday evening of that same weekend, my Canadian friend hosted Thanksgiving dinner for a bunch of people from my program.  Now I realize you might be scratching your head saying, "Wait, I thought Thanksgiving isn't until the end of November?"  Well, my friend, I'm not afraid to admit that I also had absolutely no idea Canada has a Thanksgiving.  It's the second Monday in October.  Apparently they have the same tradition of eating turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, etc. as in the US, but it's to celebrate a good harvest instead of having any of the US historical connotation...obviously.  So this was a new one for me in terms of celebrating T-day in October, but additionally in terms of the noticeable lack of meat on the table.  My friend is vegan, so she and her family cooked a vegan meal for everyone that was delicious....just not quite as coma inducing as my usual tryptophan-laden turkey meal accompanied by excessive amounts of pumpkin pie.  Enter Irish cider stage right.  Clubbing after Thanksgiving dinner.....on a Sunday....the place was packed (?)....most unique T-day I've ever had.  Well done Meghan.
https://picasaweb.google.com/100003400901805538894/ThanksgivingCanadianStyle?authuser=0&authkey=Gv1sRgCP3Q76TAtKCrgwE&feat=directlink

Now for those of you shaking your head in dismay at the thought of me perhaps not being prepared for or missing class due to clubbing on a Sunday, you'll be happy to note that my professor had canceled class for the following day.  Which allows me to segue into a brief note about my program here!  I really like all of the material we are analyzing and I am definitely learning something new every day.  I'm embarrassed to admit this is the least amount of class I've ever taken.  We only have three classes per week, each only two hours long, bringing me to the grand total of 6 hours per week.....cake walk I know.  However, I have tons of reading per class - usually somewhere around 150 pages, so my off-time is spent preparing and hoofing it from point A to point B.  Seriously, it's amazing how much time one can spend walking if you have no other option.  The bus is not convenient to the Uni from my residence and would not save that much time - so, I walk.  Everywhere.  Anyway, my Monday class is International Climate Change Law with an absolutely brilliant professor, Navraj Singh Ghaleigh, who is teaching us about the complex climate change regime made up of treaties, Conference of the Parties decisions, and soft law instruments.  Just this past Monday I had one of those out of body moments where your head feels like it's going to explode when he was taking us through the COP places and years and what each stood for in rapid succession.  It's been incredibly interesting so far to learn about the different options available for carbon emissions reductions, and I think by the end of the course we will have studied the Clean Development Mechanism under Kyoto quite extensively - his major research area.

My Tuesday class is Comparative Environmental Law, so looking at different national laws for Protected Areas, Environmental Impact Assessments, Land Use rights, Forestry, etc. and international treaty provisions that may be applicable or mandate national law-making in that area.  I loved the land use class in which we had a guest speaker from the International Institute for Environment and Development.  He sparked interesting thoughts about land use rights from a developing country, primarily those in Africa, perspective that are involve customary collective rights and communal management - very outside the realm of normal for registration/ownership-obsessed westerners.  Hopefully I can do some work with this organization next semester or in the summer.  And finally, my Thursday class is International Environmental Law with Alan Boyle - human rights expert and international lawyer who argues in front of the International Court of Justice quite frequently.  How the judges understand him is beyond me though thanks to his thick Northern Irish accent - I had to move to the front of the room so I could hear him fully and watch his mouth shaping words after missing an inordinate amount of content in the first class.  It's shameful how many people I still can't understand sometimes given the fact that I'm a native English speaker - my Turkish friend laughs and thanks me for making her feel better that it's not just her who can't understand the thick brogues, but I'm sure she is beginning to wonder what's wrong with me....as she should.  Pathetic.  I'm going to blame it on my bad hearing....Grandpa Toby's legacy lives on....

So there you have it.  I won't write any more about my program since I'm only a month and a half in, and my program director basically looked at me like I was insane for already having ideas about my dissertation topic.    On par with what seems to be a pretty relaxed pace in comparison to the States, people don't really start thinking about what they want to write until very late Dec./early second semester....which makes me light-headed and nauseated with anxiety at the thought of not having my ideas in line by then.  So I'm just going to keep talking to agricultural/environmental/land use/rural development people and try to figure out the narrow scope I want to pursue next summer.  More to come on that front.

For now, I have to sign off as it's very late here.  Very quickly though, funny story about applying for a job.  So I was toying with the idea of picking up a part-timer at a pub close to my house.  It's a busy pub on the Royal Mile, so I went there one Tuesday night to check it out and ask if the position was still open.  So I order a pint and sit down at the bar to watch the Scotland v. Spain soccer match, and as sports will do, I am soon agonizing over missed goals and wimpy Spanish attempts at getting fouls with the guy to my left.  In chatting with him, he and his wife were down from the Highlands for the week on holiday but had to return by the end of the week because he is a Gaelic singer - how cool is that?  Well, since he knew I was a student he bought me a pint in his next round, so I was now two pints in and hadn't asked about the job yet.  I was just about to finish and make my inquiry as the game ended (Scotland sadly losing), when all of a sudden this gigantic horsefly swoops in and lands inside my pint glass.  Staring at this monstrosity with a horrified look, the bartender catches my gaze, deftly takes a coaster and slips it on the top of the glass to take it away.  Then of course, he pours me a replacement pint.  So Gaelic guy leaves and I'm now three pints in when the traditional music starts.  Wonderful accordions, hand organs, violin, etc.  It was very stereotypical Scotland, and I was loving it.  So in watching the band to my right, the couple on the right starts chatting with me.  Turns out they are from Ireland, over on holiday, and in finding out I'm a student, the guy insists on buying my next two rounds of Guinness.  So there I left, five pints to the worse, too embarrassed at having been there for so long to even think about talking to the bartender, and no job.

Hope your week is going great!  Take care, will write again soon!
Cheers,
Beth

How many times?

It's funny how many new foods, drinks, stores, events, etc. you try for the first time when you move somewhere different.  It may be a one-timer, as was the pickled herring I tried on Saturday, or it may, despite all your best efforts, be a multiplicitous occurrence.  Allow me to elaborate.

1 - the number of times I've experienced a live rugby match now.  Last Friday, my flatmate and I took the bus to the unnecessarily gigantic rugby stadium where Edinburgh was facing off against Munster (Irish team).  Watching a sport where you don't understand the rules is pretty hilarious, especially when they do the craziest things - like actually kick the ball out of bounds on purpose.  Turns out (based on seeing this happen repeatedly) that they mark where the ball goes out of bounds as where the team in possession throws it in bounds to restart play.  I sort of missed that the first couple times around since was more focused on the fans almost getting taken out by the ball being punted right into the crowd ("now there's a souvenir for a lucky fan"), which I found out later one may have been my other flatmate's friend who was fiddling around on his phone and looked up only as she was diving out of the path of the oncoming ball.  I have to say it was a great experiment in learning how to read social cues, such as when you should be either ecstatic or pissed about something happening on the field.  All of a sudden there would be broad grumblings of "brilliant, that was fantastic" or the sarcastic "well done, Ref" by the guy immediately behind us in response to a foul call.  Seeing as I couldn't tell one way or the other whether it was a good call or play, I would look around confusedly and try to clap or boo when the time was right.  Turns out the guy behind us was for the Munster team....so I was actually cheering for the wrong team for a good chunk of the game.  For how violent soccer (or football to the rest of the world - very hard to transition to using that label instead) matches get over here, however, rugby is surprisingly calm in the stands.  An example, Munster scored a try (like a touchdown in football) and one out of their many incredibly vocal fans actually pulled out an Irish flag on a pole and started waving it around (Irish pride is huge throughout the UK)....having worked for the Raiders, I fully expected him to be mobbed and wheeled out on a stretcher circa the 2007 KC Chiefs game, but everyone left him pretty well alone.  Maybe it's because there is so much aggression on the field they don't feel they need to knock each other out as opposed fans.  While Edinburgh did pull out the win, I left disappointingly empty-handed thanks to the inept moose mascot in charge of the t-shirt gun.  He sort of sauntered over after a hefty amount of halftime had already passed.  His helper then spent half the time trying to stuff his oversized moose finger into the trigger of the gun, and then two out of the four he managed to launch before the team reappeared had been packed so sloppily that they unraveled and sort of fell onto the first three rows.  Due to serious spatial misplacement by the moose, three of the four went to the far left side of the crowd before they figured out the projectiles needed to be packed tighter into the barrel, so I remember thinking, "oh my gosh, that one is going to peg me in nose" as the moose moved toward our center section.  As I sort of half shielded my face in preparation, the moose let fire and the last shirt shot out, literally rebounding off the back wall of the stadium to either biff someone on the back of the head or unravel upon impact.  I can't say for sure as I was still ducking up front.

2 - the number of times I have now taken a journey by train.  The first was the Newcastle debacle, but this Saturday I took the train up to Dundee, north of Edinburgh by an hour and 15 min. ride.  Infuriatingly, I almost missed my train again, but this time it was not my fault (other than not allowing enough time for me to be an idiot and not know where I was going).  The sign pointing to where the travel & ticket center was said to go down this flight of stairs.  So I went down.  No sign at the bottom directing me further.  I was hurrying at this point - I think it was 8 min. til my train was set to depart and I still had to get my tickets from the kiosk - and it appeared I had put myself squarely into the parking area.  So I walked alongside the building that had all these doors with covered windows and no sign of life inside, thinking that maybe if I rounded the corner at the end the entrance would magically appear.  No dice.  So I hurried over to a woman in an official looking outfit (remembering to avoid scruffy commoners when asking for advice now), and she told me to just go back to where I came from and take a right.  A right?!  I walked back toward the stairs, saw a sign from that direction saying travel & ticket center with an arrow pointing ahead, but where the heck was I supposed to turn right?  Turns out, you have to walk under the stairs and then it was literally a Harry Potter moment - this huge train terminal appeared out of nowhere.  Thankfully, an orange vested worker was shouting for confused passengers for my train, so I made it after sprinting to the train at the far end of Track 16 (how I was supposed to know there was a difference between the train cars sitting at the front v. the back of Track 16 is beyond me).  Dundee was charming - having planned to arrive a little early, I went to their museum that was premiering an exhibition of photos taken over the last century of Queen Elizabeth II.  The whole royalty thing is just so interesting and foreign to me, so I wandered through the rooms progressing from her inauguration to pictures of her holding her newborns.  Then, I was fortunate to have lunch with a rural development contact to talk about dissertation ideas, so it turned out to be a really great day.  I'll figure these trains out soon enough.

3 - is the number of events I managed to see during the Doors Open Day two weekends ago.  The City of Edinburgh obviously has tons of historical places that attract visitors from all over the world.  But some of them are not open regularly for visitors or had maybe stopped after the summer tourist season was over.  So this local group organizes this weekend for free entry at a bunch of locations.  My flatmate and I first went out to the Water of Leith Conservation Trust educational center.  The River Leith runs through Edinburgh out to the sea, along which a 12 mile trail has been maintained.  We walked on maybe a mile of it and turned back...slackers.  But in the process, we happened along what I immediately thought was a gypsy camp because of all the ramshackle sheds and tarps laying around in roughly sectioned off areas.  In fact, it was a community garden where people could buy plots and store their gardening tools.  Much more logical than a gypsy camp set in Edinburgh proper.  We then tried to tour the John Knox House adjoined to the Storytelling Museum on the Royal Mile, but apparently "free entry" doesn't mean free entry sans ticket in some cases.  Though they were free, you still had to call and reserve tickets to actually go inside the house - annoyed.  So, we saw the gift shop and the outside, then moved on to the really important stuff, like eating fish & chips.  The next day we toured these vaults that were built into the bridge joining Old Town and New Town back in the late 1700s.  Originally, they were intended for storing shop inventory, but since they planned ahead so well and forgot to use leak resistant surfacing material, they were unusable by the above store owners and ended up being used as slum dwellings instead.  Tiny rooms the size of a kitchen would have housed 20+ people, which led to rampant disease and death.  The guide said if you went to live in those vaults, the average life expectancy was 18 months....not years, months!!!  So after being abandoned for a couple centuries, an ex-international rugby player decided to restore the vaults for tourism and personally dug out 18 truckloads of stone and filth.  They reeked of mold/dankness, and I totally fell for the cleverly placed scare props (rat and skeleton), but they were neat to see.  Amazingly, or perhaps not, he was able to make a pub out of the ones closest to street level - The Caves.

5 - the number of times I had to repeat myself at the drugstore, every time changing what I thought might be the name of the chest cough medicine Lynn, our house cleaning lady, told me to get.  The ladies just stared at me blankly, until finally the pharmacist came out from the back and was like, "do you mean Covonia?"  He then laughed at me when I got excited that he had figured it out...I forgot that kind of goes along with his profession as a pharmacist, the whole knowing brands of medicine and which symptoms they match.  Fail.

12 - the number of times I've almost stepped in dogshit.  Excuse my language.  It's everywhere.  There is either no rule against leaving it in the middle of the very traveled sidewalk, or people just casually ignore the rule and there is not enough public consensus against it to shame them into changing.  For a pedestrian society, it seems counter-intuitive and cruel as it is only a matter of time before that shit ends up on my shoe.

25 - how many times I've trudged up the hill toward school, pain in my chest and knee from the steep climb, and wished I had my car.  However, I would instantly be killed in head-on collision since I still can't figure out which way the cars are going to be coming and which way to look when I get to the intersection.   So I'm that really obvious, pathetic tourist who just keeps looking both ways frantically and doing that indecisive toe dance, one on one off back up back down, before making a run for it and inevitably almost getting clipped by a speeding car coming from the opposite way I thought it would be.

100 - the number of times I've wished I didn't have the world's most uncomfortable mattress and a bed frame that squeaks violently every time I even think about turning over, which unfortunately has to be a regular occurrence since my hip can only take springs digging into it for so long.

1000 - the number of times I have tripped on the uneven sidewalk squares, curbs, mini steps into offices/shops, door frames, winding staircases, the third flight of stairs to my flat.  I've discovered I cannot do anything more complex than walk if I want to proceed trip-free.  Texting - out of the question.  I almost bit the dust one day on a relatively level sidewalk right in front of a busy cafe window.  I resisted the urge to look back at the culprit and pull the whole "where did that giant cavern in the sidewalk that made me trip instead of my own clumsiness go?" routine.  Two days later I majorly biffed it coming out of a store carrying my new drying rack, which could have been really unpleasant seeing as it's metal and has all sorts of gaps where my various limbs could have gotten stuck.  I didn't look down to see the mini step at the exit.  Thus, my foot was only halfway on it, so when I stepped down my toe hit the ground three inches below and my heel sort of slid down to meet it, jarring my upper body forward slightly and causing me to let out a high-pitched, overly dramatic exclamation.  These four old Scottish people standing to the side window gazing looked at me like I was insane, so I gave them an "oops" and scuttled off.

I hope you are well!  Thanks for reading, friend!  Have been battling this chest cough for over a week now, so sorry it's been awhile.  This whole go to the doctor anytime, it's free thing hasn't really sunk in yet.  If you want to see pictures from this post - go to https://picasaweb.google.com/100003400901805538894/DoorsOpenDayRugbyDundee?authuser=0&authkey=Gv1sRgCOeZmqi826-2eA&feat=directlink

Take care, will write again soon!
Cheers,
Beth

Photos on Picasa

Finally figured out how to allow you to see photos!

https://picasaweb.google.com/100003400901805538894/September232011?authuser=0&authkey=Gv1sRgCMCG0f7I1obxlwE&feat=directlink

Cheers!

Lessons Learned

After almost two weeks in this country, here is the knowledge I can impart upon future visitors.

#1 - If you going to visit Edinburgh, NEVER, EVER, EVER take a train out of Haymarket station.  Especially if you live very close to Waverley station or want to be anywhere near the actual center of the city.  Though things may appear close on the map, it may actually be a good 45 min. to an hour walk from your accommodations and you will miss your train.

#2 - Whilst you are searching for said station, or really any landmark, and are lost, frantic, and profusely sweating due to the 25 quid you are about to waste if you don't catch your train which is leaving in 7 min., DO NOT ask some rando worker driving a service van at 6:53 in the morning for directions.  He will "take a piss on you" as the infinitely more credible banker informed me when I had to again ask for directions after the service van guy's directions led me back to where I started.  Next step - find and annihilate service van guy.

#3 - When you finally find the train station and approach the ticket office, do not take it personally when the ticket guy takes one look at you, says "oh great, this is going to be a story," and shrugs off your disastrous morning without giving you the free ticket on the next train you know you deserve.  They handle frantic, poor tourists all the time who have missed their train for any number of reasons.  This was the pep talk I had to give myself as I tried to calm down with music and coffee on the train ride I had purchased yet again down to Newcastle.

#4 - Absolutely do not leave Edinburgh without climbing Arthur's Seat.  It's the extinct volcano looming above the city that will offer amazing views and an exhilarating walk.  Do not, however, go without an umbrella or raincoat - you will get rained on anywhere from four to seven times.  It's Edinburgh.  Also, do not go with a rock climbing enthusiast who prefers to take the "hard" way, where you literally climb on your hands and knees up the rocks, if you intend to take a pleasant Sunday stroll.  The "easy" way is to follow Holyrood road around the base to the eastern side and walk up the grassy slope.  My friend Dan and I went around to approach the summit from the western side - enough said.

#5 - Do not stay down on Holyrood near the Scottish Parliament building (ugliest building known to man that went 10x over budget) or the Queen's Palace.  You risk being assaulted by a drunk/high/insane person who will talk at you in an indecipherable Scottish accent, attempt to kick your friend in the groin and block your entrance into your building, all the while managing to not drop a noodle of the pasta dinner he is devouring.  The police will have to take statements, disrupting your night by at least 30 min., and they will never find out who the person was unless by some stroke of luck you happen to be right in front of a CCTV camera.  American lawyers, get ready for this one.  They have cameras all over the city that they can just play back in court and convict someone because of the facial identification technology.  Evidence what?

#6 - Do not be surprised if you are totally restricted from entering a building (in this case, the law library) for the ENTIRE WEEKEND as a security measure for the Princess' swearing-in ceremony as the new Chancellor of the University on Monday.  Princess Beatrice (Fergie's daughter - remember those hideous hats  she and her sister were sporting at the royal wedding?!) is our new Chancellor apparently.  What connection she has to Edinburgh I have no idea, but nevertheless, there are tents all over the law school and I have to get my readings for next Tuesday by 5:00 today, otherwise I will be out of luck.

#7 - Make sure to revel in all of the glorious contrasts between your "normal" and life in Edinburgh/the UK at large.  You just may end up drinking four cups of tea per day, saying cheers to everyone instead of thanks, watching cricket (weirdest sport I've ever encountered - aside from curling), and taking class in a room that appears as though it has not been renovated since the 1950s and requires entering from only one specific door, climbing two flights of stairs, going outside on a balcony to another entrance and climbing another set of stairs to get to it (who says law schools have to have modern facilities and easily accessible, large classrooms?).

More to come, thanks for reading friend!  Hope all is well with you!
Cheers, Beth

First Encounters

Hello Friends!

Or perhaps I should say "Hi'ya!"  This is the way almost every Scottish person has greeted me since I arrived in Edinburgh, to which I of course awkwardly do a "uh, hi" and ask some question that leaves them staring at me blankly like I'm from outer space.  For example, my new Indian roommate and I were searching for the postgraduate office building and the map was fairly unhelpful.  So we tried the door of the building where it appeared to be located - locked.  So we proceeded to the next door which had a placard stating it is the Career Office, but we figured we would just ask someone in there for directions.  First, the entryway was dilapidated and, judging by the state of the walls, it was either in the process of being renovated or had just been cleared of an infestation of rabid raccoons.  So we said a tentative hello, nobody answered, but in peering into the first room, there sat three very unpleasant-looking men who most certainly could not have helped anyone with their career.  I asked politely where the postgraduate office was, one sneered, "I think it's in the library...that 12 story tall building just down the way."  Okay, aside from the not-so-subtle dig at us for not being able to find this apparently looming tower that nobody with half a brain can miss, his advice was total crap since that wasn't even the right building.  Fail.  I'm going to blame that unfortunate interaction on the Scottish propensity for drinking any night of the week.  They all looked really hungover, particularly the one guy who did not even lift his head off the table when I asked my question.  Add in the fact that there is even more incentive for them to drink mid-week right now with the international rugby cup going on (don't worry if you didn't realize this monumental event was happening - I had no clue until I arrived here and every sidewalk blackboard outside a pub is advertising their showing of the next rugby match) and therein lies the most logical explanation.

Everyone else has been really nice.  Tonight the same roommate and I went to a free dinner for international students, and I tried my first haggis (lamb liver in the form of like a pate mixed with a grain of some sort).  It sounds so disgusting, but I LOVED IT!  I don't know what that says about my tastebuds, seeing as I don't like normal stuff like onions, but I thought it has a good flavor and not a gross texture.  Little did I know this meal was to be followed by a ceilidh (those traditional Scottish/Irish partner dances they do at weddings - pronounced "kaylee"), so thankfully the haggis portion was small.  Talk about a workout!  Not to mention I felt like I was going to catch an elbow in the teeth at any second since there were a thousand people stuffed into a small space swinging and twirling.  My dance partner from Northern Ireland was not very adept at his role, so we just sort of stomped back and forth with his hands on my shoulders as the overly anxious undergrad in a kilt was shouting into the microphone to do.  Then, he would twirl me on the shouting man's command...let's just say the song seemed interminable and they made us do it twice.  I got so dizzy I was certain I was going to get disoriented and think backward was forward, thereby crushing the pocket person of a girl behind me.  However, it was really fun in the end.  Especially when we got to do the one where you prance around in a circle with 6 people, and then do the skip toward each other, stomp stomp.  Yeah, I was sweating profusely...of course.

Flight went well.  Apparently, other countries don't trust each other's security checks.  I had to go through security with my carry-on in Iceland, then again in Manchester after I had already been checked in Minneapolis.  Upon landing at Edinburgh, an ill-fated stop in the bathroom on my way to customs led to me being ABSOLUTE LAST IN LINE behind one thousand asian students who had landed at the same time I did and over an hour wait in the "queue."  So, thirteen and a half hours after leaving the States, I met my friend in the arrivals gate and had a lovely short evening chatting with her and her husband before I crashed for twelve hours straight!  My jet lag is pretty much over, although I couldn't tell whether that's what prompted my nap today or the gale force winds that almost knocked me off my feet all day as I was walking around campus.  High winds projected for tomorrow and then back to normal (rain and chilliness with brief glimpses of blue sky) apparently.

Will write again soon!  Cheers everyone, Dooley :)