I never realized how much I missed night noises until I came back to the US.
Edinburgh has its own brand of night noises, I suppose. The rush of trains, the slamming of doors, the shuffling of feet and the buzzing of real Scottish Ales being consumed in vast quantities. City noises, voices and cars and dogs and your nextdoor neighbor’s TV set. Noises that I got used to but never really enjoyed. Noises we would complain and laugh about and turn up our music to drown it out.
But REAL night noises, I missed those. We sat up in a bed and breakfast in Harpers Ferry, WV listening to noises. Crickets and bats and an odd bird or cicada. Water and light laughter from an evening BBQ. Later summer breeze through late summer trees, and the night silence that only comes when you get out the city. The sound of hot sticky days and humidity mixing with cool night, the sigh and whisper of summer on the east coast. I missed these noises, and I had forgotten what they sounded like in Scotland.
By now, you may have guessed that my time in Soctland has come to a close. We swept and scrubbed and put everything back the way it goes, and packed up and moved out. Got the Hell out of Dodge, as it were. It feels strange, because now we’re officially homeless, living on the kind gestures of friends and family. We’ve exchanged our 300 sq. ft. flat for a 30 sq. ft. Pontiac Vibe, and we’ve seemed to downsize OK. Granted, I have no idea where my facewash is, or my vitamins or clean underwear, but the car’s only so big, they have to be around here somewhere, right?
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Monday, August 18, 2008
Festival Season
For those of you who may not get fun spam and don't know that the newest spam craze is to insert into the subject line fake and yet oddly eye-catching headlines. Here's one I saw today: Bush sells Louisiana back to the French. I'm trying to decided whether that would be a good idea or bad...
Regardless...
I meandered around town this morning, heading through the throngs of early morning tourists and construction workers running from the rain and down past Bobby the famous dog of Greyfriar's Kirk, and around twists of needle exchanges and turns of dodgy-looking night clubs and into the Grassmarket, my first home here in Scotland. It's impressive how much its changed, even in this last month. A month ago, the walls of stone and brick were laid bare and worn; a month ago, the streets were barred with unfriendly fences and glaringly unkind orange safety netting; a month ago, roads were ripped apart and crumbling, an open pit into 800 years of Edinburgh history; a month ago, it wasn't raining.
But now, every free inch of ancient mortar or brick of guillotine stand is plastered in a thick layer of glue and glossy paper, asking, begging, urging, screaming at you to go see a Yank comedian or a sing-a-long about divorces or a play about sex and sin and the Church of Scotland. Little paper mache tenements, deteriorating advertisements for the modern. "Be Edgy!" they declare boldly, assuming that, as tourists, we are all conservative and scared and filled to the brim with expendable income. Churches and mosques have been converted from the sacred to the alternative, housing plays and demonstrations and existential discussions about drugs and bisexuality and hard cider and Jesus' role in all three, leaving admonitions to their oft-ignored bookstores. Dark pubs built into the ruins of castle walls have been given over to 3 am, 5 am venues for the night owls and drunken brawls in the name of tolerance and acceptance and learning. Students are driven out and replaced by an uncouth crowd of Aussie backpackers and German tour buses and English superiors marveling at how quaint and uncivilized the Scottish are.
It's quite a leap from the haunted and abandoned streets that have kept us company all winter long. Gone are the restaurants that close at 8; gone are the quiet Edinburgh nights; gone are the days of being able to walk normally along the stone-lined streets. It almost feels like a genuine big city, transformed from quiet to rowdy, from early-to-bed to never-to-bed. Fireworks at the Castle at midnight, kettle drums from Calton hill echoing through the tenements at dawn.
Also gone are the days of blending in, being one of the crowd. Interesting story: since Festival Season started, we have been asked a dozen times how we are enjoying our holiday in Edinburgh. While the concern is touching, they are most often needlessly embarrassed when we reply sweetly that we do, in fact, live here. I have gone from student to tourist, and I didn't even have to change my clothes.
Regardless...
I meandered around town this morning, heading through the throngs of early morning tourists and construction workers running from the rain and down past Bobby the famous dog of Greyfriar's Kirk, and around twists of needle exchanges and turns of dodgy-looking night clubs and into the Grassmarket, my first home here in Scotland. It's impressive how much its changed, even in this last month. A month ago, the walls of stone and brick were laid bare and worn; a month ago, the streets were barred with unfriendly fences and glaringly unkind orange safety netting; a month ago, roads were ripped apart and crumbling, an open pit into 800 years of Edinburgh history; a month ago, it wasn't raining.
But now, every free inch of ancient mortar or brick of guillotine stand is plastered in a thick layer of glue and glossy paper, asking, begging, urging, screaming at you to go see a Yank comedian or a sing-a-long about divorces or a play about sex and sin and the Church of Scotland. Little paper mache tenements, deteriorating advertisements for the modern. "Be Edgy!" they declare boldly, assuming that, as tourists, we are all conservative and scared and filled to the brim with expendable income. Churches and mosques have been converted from the sacred to the alternative, housing plays and demonstrations and existential discussions about drugs and bisexuality and hard cider and Jesus' role in all three, leaving admonitions to their oft-ignored bookstores. Dark pubs built into the ruins of castle walls have been given over to 3 am, 5 am venues for the night owls and drunken brawls in the name of tolerance and acceptance and learning. Students are driven out and replaced by an uncouth crowd of Aussie backpackers and German tour buses and English superiors marveling at how quaint and uncivilized the Scottish are.
It's quite a leap from the haunted and abandoned streets that have kept us company all winter long. Gone are the restaurants that close at 8; gone are the quiet Edinburgh nights; gone are the days of being able to walk normally along the stone-lined streets. It almost feels like a genuine big city, transformed from quiet to rowdy, from early-to-bed to never-to-bed. Fireworks at the Castle at midnight, kettle drums from Calton hill echoing through the tenements at dawn.
Also gone are the days of blending in, being one of the crowd. Interesting story: since Festival Season started, we have been asked a dozen times how we are enjoying our holiday in Edinburgh. While the concern is touching, they are most often needlessly embarrassed when we reply sweetly that we do, in fact, live here. I have gone from student to tourist, and I didn't even have to change my clothes.
Zoo Antics
We took advantage of relatively nice day (i.e. not torrentially raining) and put on our kid faces and took a last trip to the zoo. It was pretty packed, as it should be a on decent summer Sunday, but luckily, we have these fancy membership cards that get us into the back entrance of the zoo! Yea, we're totally VIPs.
There was also a Fringe Festival "show" featuring an enclosure of dancers from Dance Base studios. They had a little tent set-up, and feeding time was at 1. The idea was that they couldn't communicate using words at all, and they followed an interesting set of choreography, explained by the zookeeper (a REAL zookeeper there to give education talks and answer questions!) as behavior patterns seen in wild humans that they are still studying for further interpretation. As all my shots were horrid all day, here's is one of Jonmikel's. I really think the little boy, who was so fascinated by the whole thing, really makes the shot work.
Otherwise, I had to get re-used to my polarizer, and my focus was off all day, so most of my own shots were washed out and blurry. I'm really feeling the limitations of my camera and lens, especially now that Jonmikel has started seriously using raw photos... :-(
But we did arrive at the zoo just in time for mating season on the African Plains and playtime for the baby ringtailed lemurs. The better shots can all be seen here: http://flickr.com/photos/ysnp/
I also wanted to share this fabulous little story of a delightful penguin named Nils Olav who, in fact, has just been knighted by the King of Norway. No kidding. The little guy had bestowed upon him one of the highest honors in the Norwegian kingdom, given a place on the King's Guard, who protect the king himself. Apparently, the Norwegian royalty has some strange obsession with penguins. I wonder if the other penguins are jealous?
There was also a Fringe Festival "show" featuring an enclosure of dancers from Dance Base studios. They had a little tent set-up, and feeding time was at 1. The idea was that they couldn't communicate using words at all, and they followed an interesting set of choreography, explained by the zookeeper (a REAL zookeeper there to give education talks and answer questions!) as behavior patterns seen in wild humans that they are still studying for further interpretation. As all my shots were horrid all day, here's is one of Jonmikel's. I really think the little boy, who was so fascinated by the whole thing, really makes the shot work.
Otherwise, I had to get re-used to my polarizer, and my focus was off all day, so most of my own shots were washed out and blurry. I'm really feeling the limitations of my camera and lens, especially now that Jonmikel has started seriously using raw photos... :-(
But we did arrive at the zoo just in time for mating season on the African Plains and playtime for the baby ringtailed lemurs. The better shots can all be seen here: http://flickr.com/photos/ysnp/
I also wanted to share this fabulous little story of a delightful penguin named Nils Olav who, in fact, has just been knighted by the King of Norway. No kidding. The little guy had bestowed upon him one of the highest honors in the Norwegian kingdom, given a place on the King's Guard, who protect the king himself. Apparently, the Norwegian royalty has some strange obsession with penguins. I wonder if the other penguins are jealous?
Sunday, August 17, 2008
The Old Man is Snoring...
So the outstanding weather that greeted us upon our return to Scotland has come and gone. Sunny and 70 has been replaced with 58 and rain. Nobody seems surprised or upset, except the tourists who must have naively though that August was summer, so I suppose it must be a regular thing. I knew summer was too good to last. The normal summer season that should, in theory, run from June to August, is apparently limited to 2 and a half weeks at the end of July here in Snotland.
They've even had flooding at the Dynamic Earth, causing some damage and closing the attraction for a few days. That didn't seem normal.
Here is a shot Jonmikel took of the pretty weather on Arthur's Seat:
They've even had flooding at the Dynamic Earth, causing some damage and closing the attraction for a few days. That didn't seem normal.
Here is a shot Jonmikel took of the pretty weather on Arthur's Seat:
As we were walking along Croft-an-Righ close to home, and stopped to watch water dropping into puddles in the bricks. I took these shots with Jonmikel's camera:
They came out OK, and if you look closely you can discern the plops, but I can't help but think that while the photos themselves have a better quality than mine or my small point-and-shoot, that the composition would have been better on the latter two. I can remember a photo we all took (there are several versions) at St. (Good King) Wencesslas' tomb in Prague. We were standing in line to catch a glimpse of the dead guy, and there was gargoyle dripping down on us (it was, as are many days in Europe, raining), and we all looked up and snatched a shot of the drops falling from the jagged teeth of some leper or whatever, and those shots, for the most part, came out really cool. And we only had point-and-shoots. And then I struggle to get a shot of splashing water with a nice camera and I can't. Why is technology making things harder to do?
Like this conversation Jonmikel and I had last night. In 1969, we could go to the moon. In 2008, we can't. Why? Because the technology has become so complicated, that we just can't. Or penicillin. When it was discovered in 1928, it could have cured everything. And now, because of "improved" technology, penicillin doesn't kill anything at all. How is it that we've managed to improve things to the point where they don't work anymore?
They came out OK, and if you look closely you can discern the plops, but I can't help but think that while the photos themselves have a better quality than mine or my small point-and-shoot, that the composition would have been better on the latter two. I can remember a photo we all took (there are several versions) at St. (Good King) Wencesslas' tomb in Prague. We were standing in line to catch a glimpse of the dead guy, and there was gargoyle dripping down on us (it was, as are many days in Europe, raining), and we all looked up and snatched a shot of the drops falling from the jagged teeth of some leper or whatever, and those shots, for the most part, came out really cool. And we only had point-and-shoots. And then I struggle to get a shot of splashing water with a nice camera and I can't. Why is technology making things harder to do?
Like this conversation Jonmikel and I had last night. In 1969, we could go to the moon. In 2008, we can't. Why? Because the technology has become so complicated, that we just can't. Or penicillin. When it was discovered in 1928, it could have cured everything. And now, because of "improved" technology, penicillin doesn't kill anything at all. How is it that we've managed to improve things to the point where they don't work anymore?
Vanity Fair and Letting Agencies
Actual Date: August 13
We made a deal with our letting company: if somebody rents out our place in the next couple of weeks, we don't have to pay September's rent, which is nigh on $1000, PLUS (and this is just a bonus) we don't have to pay council tax, which is approximately $500. So, all-in-all, it would be really nice to rent out our place. Excuse me, "let" out our place. They don't do rentals here.
So we had two people look at our place today. We had wanted to go out to the Leith Folk Club one last time last night, but we got a call that afternoon saying, oh, hey, people are coming to look at your place tomorrow at 10 am, so be ready. And, because we are not the cleanest people in the world, we decided to stay home and clean everything. Half packed and half clean is the way to go with less than a week left.
But today, while our flat was being modeled, we escaped to New Town and the Scottish National Portrait Gallery, which was housing a Vanity Fair Portraits exhibit. Everything from the first shot they took, to the first cover, to early 2008. It was a beautiful display, and we were able to see some of the images that have become cultural icons. Plus, because I'm getting more into photography, Jonmikel and had discussions about shadows and light and poses and lines and exposure and all those fun things you learn about when you pick up a real camera for the first time.
I also saw an interesting shot of President W and his cabinet as it stood right after 9/11. In it, Bush looks cocky and confident, but more like an oil executive who just bought out a competitor than a president. And also the placements of the figures was interesting. Bush was the one standing the tallest, but barely. And Condolezza Rice sits in the middle, her contrasting skin tone drawing the eyes to her, the lone woman among them. The men on either side of her, the president and (insert name of rich white conservative dude here), are standing but leaning slightly away, creating a kind of V-shape toward Rice (think: Jesus and Mary :::ahem::: in Leonardo's The last Supper). The effect of the placements is to give Rice a position of authority, as she is the most impressive of the bunch, the most in focus, the one in front and center and to whom your eyes are drawn. I wonder if that was the intended effect? Is there a hidden political statement? Vanity Fair photographers are certainly capable of such covert intentions...
The ceiling inside the portrait gallery
We made a deal with our letting company: if somebody rents out our place in the next couple of weeks, we don't have to pay September's rent, which is nigh on $1000, PLUS (and this is just a bonus) we don't have to pay council tax, which is approximately $500. So, all-in-all, it would be really nice to rent out our place. Excuse me, "let" out our place. They don't do rentals here.
So we had two people look at our place today. We had wanted to go out to the Leith Folk Club one last time last night, but we got a call that afternoon saying, oh, hey, people are coming to look at your place tomorrow at 10 am, so be ready. And, because we are not the cleanest people in the world, we decided to stay home and clean everything. Half packed and half clean is the way to go with less than a week left.
But today, while our flat was being modeled, we escaped to New Town and the Scottish National Portrait Gallery, which was housing a Vanity Fair Portraits exhibit. Everything from the first shot they took, to the first cover, to early 2008. It was a beautiful display, and we were able to see some of the images that have become cultural icons. Plus, because I'm getting more into photography, Jonmikel and had discussions about shadows and light and poses and lines and exposure and all those fun things you learn about when you pick up a real camera for the first time.
I also saw an interesting shot of President W and his cabinet as it stood right after 9/11. In it, Bush looks cocky and confident, but more like an oil executive who just bought out a competitor than a president. And also the placements of the figures was interesting. Bush was the one standing the tallest, but barely. And Condolezza Rice sits in the middle, her contrasting skin tone drawing the eyes to her, the lone woman among them. The men on either side of her, the president and (insert name of rich white conservative dude here), are standing but leaning slightly away, creating a kind of V-shape toward Rice (think: Jesus and Mary :::ahem::: in Leonardo's The last Supper). The effect of the placements is to give Rice a position of authority, as she is the most impressive of the bunch, the most in focus, the one in front and center and to whom your eyes are drawn. I wonder if that was the intended effect? Is there a hidden political statement? Vanity Fair photographers are certainly capable of such covert intentions...
The ceiling inside the portrait gallery
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Actual Date: 11 August 2008
I have managed to not leave the house for 2 days. How much fun is that? In my defense, I've been cleaning up everything to prepare for our departure in about a week. We weren't the cleanest people ever, so we had weeks of gunk build-up on our stove. So, you know, keeping busy.
I've also picked up doing yoga, thanks to these guys: http://yogaaid.com/. They developed an application for facebook, and it's been nice. Though, I can't be sure that I'm doing some of the poses correctly, but they certainly FEEL correct. I'm getting a nice used-muscle feeling in my shoulders and back, and the stretch in my legs feels great. Too bad I needed facebook to actually get me into something healthy. :-)
Finally... weddings! I've been thinking more and more about getting married, and driving Jonmikel crazy with my manic ups and downs. Sometimes I hate weddings, sometimes all I want to do is have one. Looking at some places in Key West, Orcas Island in the San Juan Islands off the coast of Washington state, and maybe some JEB Stuart or JS Mosby or civil war sites around Harpers Ferry or the Shenandoah Valley, to commemorate Jonmikel's lifelong love of Civil War history. I was thinking of something in the winter, giving us way more options for anniversary vacations: snow bunnies OR beach bums, both can occur in winter! And really in summer, there isn't a whole lot of snow-bunnying going around... But we can't seem to see eye-to-eye for dates...
I have managed to not leave the house for 2 days. How much fun is that? In my defense, I've been cleaning up everything to prepare for our departure in about a week. We weren't the cleanest people ever, so we had weeks of gunk build-up on our stove. So, you know, keeping busy.
I've also picked up doing yoga, thanks to these guys: http://yogaaid.com/. They developed an application for facebook, and it's been nice. Though, I can't be sure that I'm doing some of the poses correctly, but they certainly FEEL correct. I'm getting a nice used-muscle feeling in my shoulders and back, and the stretch in my legs feels great. Too bad I needed facebook to actually get me into something healthy. :-)
Finally... weddings! I've been thinking more and more about getting married, and driving Jonmikel crazy with my manic ups and downs. Sometimes I hate weddings, sometimes all I want to do is have one. Looking at some places in Key West, Orcas Island in the San Juan Islands off the coast of Washington state, and maybe some JEB Stuart or JS Mosby or civil war sites around Harpers Ferry or the Shenandoah Valley, to commemorate Jonmikel's lifelong love of Civil War history. I was thinking of something in the winter, giving us way more options for anniversary vacations: snow bunnies OR beach bums, both can occur in winter! And really in summer, there isn't a whole lot of snow-bunnying going around... But we can't seem to see eye-to-eye for dates...
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