This weekend, I FINALLY, for the first time ever, convinced a boy to go dancing with me. I've been trying to since we got here, but a wrentched back and very busy schedules had prevented this event until now. I've been looking for some places to go dancing; they offer tango lessons through the Uni (very expensive, especially with the exchange rate); there's a place up by the Docks which has Latin night on Wednesdays (again, very expensive, and a little bit more exclusive); there's a place close to us that offers salsa lessons on Mondays, but for some reason We haven't been able to get moving Monday nights; and there is a little bar Uptown (if I may use to colloquialism from Athens) called El Barrio that focuses on Latin stuff. Latin food, music, drinks, and dancing. So we headed up that way, to New Town and Rose Street, covered in bars.
There were supposed to be lessons that night, but we got there a bit late, so I think we missed them. But we settled in all right, got a couple of drinks (more for Jonmikel's sake, as he was a bit nervous), and found a spot from which we could watch the crowd. Before 11, there weren't too many people there, which was fine because we also didn't have to pay the 5 pounds per person cover charge. There was a bachelorette party going on: a bunch of fairy-costumed women, old and young, hitting on one of the DJs and resident dance instructor. There was also a group of mostly Spanish women, one of whom was dating a very nerdy British guy, who most of the time refused to dance and just looked on longingly. The only woman who got up the courage was the one dating the nerdy guy, and they both seemed to have a great time despite his utter lack of skill. :-)
There was also an older couple (I say older only because of how SHE acted, though I would probably put them in their mid- to late-40s) who came in later and stood at the top of the stairs (prime people-watching spot). They were interesting because he obviously wanted to dance and spent 45 minutes trying to dance around his wife, trying to encourage her, and she stood there looking stern and upset. Jonmikel and I got the impression that dancing was something they used to go together, but not anymore. I felt sorry for the guy, but last time I saw them he was buying more drinks for her. A good strategy. ;-)
There was also a group of women that included a woman of about 70 who was a really excellent dancer and was teaching all the rest how to dance. I was pretty impressed at her skill.
Last of all worth mentioning, there was a prostitue. Seriously. I'm not sure I've ever seen one work before. But she was probably about Jonmikel's age, thin, and alone. Dancing all alone in a very provacative manner. She was, however, a decent dancer. She was dressed nicely, if a little skimpily, and looked healthy and happy. I don't know what Scotland's prostitution laws are, but I would wager they are a little more progressive than the US'. This girl was not at all like the prostitutes one thinks of, tired-looking, haggared, standing on the street. She was outgoing, talking to all kinds of people and laughing and smiling; she eventually closed the deal with a lonely-looking, homely-looking older man who looked pleased, if a little embarrassed. But it was an interesting cultural moment for me, at least, as I have never come into any contact with prostitutes.
At any rate, the night was a lot of fun; it was good to get out, and the weather warmed up enough for us to not even need out coats for a while after we left the bar. It was less salsa dancing than Latin Pop and Reggaeton dancing, the reggaeton part was fine with me. It's one of my favorite genres of music. After 11, the place was hoppin', crowded and about 100 degrees. It was nice to feel like we were in the tropics. We did some dancing, practiced some steps. I'd like to practice a little more at home sometime, seeing as I have a modest collection of Latin tunes. But we've agreed to go out and dance there again soon!
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Ah the World Series. Never has their been an event of such enduring American Pride. Baseball is one of the most profound and misunderstood symbols of the United States. To us, baseball is hot dogs and beer and cheering and booing and sunny summer days and singing "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" and cheering for Japanese pitchers with funny names. To Al-e Ahmad, an secular Iranian intellectual and revolutionary writer from the 1950s and 60s, baseball is an orgy of thighs and groins which represents all that is evil about Western imperialism. And the fact that we eat roasted dogs just adds to the shame.
To each his own.
But the fact remains that the first game of the World Series was on Wednesday night, or Thursday morning for those of us Across the Pond. Boston Red Sox and the Colorado Rockies. I, personally, was rotting for the Rockies as an underdog team. Never did they think they would make it to the World Series in such a short amount of time (as they are a fairly new extension team). Regardless, Jonmikel and I vowed to watch the first game, which started at 8:30ish EST, which is about 1:30am Torry Time. We went out hat afternoon and searched high and low for typical baseball food: hot dogs, buns, and cheap beer. We found the cheap beer easy enough (Grolsch, for about 50 pence a pop), but figured we'd have to settle for sausages instead of hot dogs. Not that that would be a great compromise; polish sausages at baseball games are about as an American of a tradition as hot dogs. So we loaded up with sausages and were looking for anything akin to buns. In Germany, I can remember getting hotdog type things in round crusty rolls, which made the sausage stick out awkwardly from either end. But the taste was the same. Compromise. But instead, we found packages of real "hotdog" buns! Excited and encourages, we figured that where there are hotdog buns, there MUST be hotdogs. Searching high and low, we found (drum roll please) hotdogs IN A CAN. Seriously. 6 little dogs in a can of liquid goo. Oh, we just had to try. And we bought sausages as well, just in case.
Turns out, the hotdogs-in-a-can are less than stellar. Try horrid. The taste was ok, but the texture was that of soggy McDonald's chicken nuggets, which I found less than palatable. It didn't help that I'm not sure we cooked them well enough. But whatever might have been lurking in the depths of the uncooked meat was not enough to compete with our giarddia (from our famous river-water-in-beer let's-drink-it-anyway canoeing incident this summer) so we feel all the better for it. Builds character. But the beer was perfect. So were the buns. And that's saying something. Oh, and before I get off topic, English mustard burns your sinuses to a crisp.
At any rate, I take a nap before hand and wake up at 1ish to prepare food. I have class the next day, but they are all forewarned of my possible state. We stay up to watch most of the game (much to our neighbors' chagrin, I'm sure), but the Rockies were playing so much like a minor-league team (not that there's anything wrong with that, but this was the World Series, after all) that we cut out early when we realized that 13-1 wasn't looking good. They did end up loosing, but it was the show of patriotism (ahem) that counted, right? Actually, it was just an excuse for hotdogs and beer. And the tradition we started last year of watching the World Series (seeing as we actually WENT to it last year, though doing so this time around was even less practical this year as it was last year). But it was actually a lot of fun, and many of the disenchanted American in my program got a kick out of it. We can still like baseball, even if we think America has gone down hill.
To each his own.
But the fact remains that the first game of the World Series was on Wednesday night, or Thursday morning for those of us Across the Pond. Boston Red Sox and the Colorado Rockies. I, personally, was rotting for the Rockies as an underdog team. Never did they think they would make it to the World Series in such a short amount of time (as they are a fairly new extension team). Regardless, Jonmikel and I vowed to watch the first game, which started at 8:30ish EST, which is about 1:30am Torry Time. We went out hat afternoon and searched high and low for typical baseball food: hot dogs, buns, and cheap beer. We found the cheap beer easy enough (Grolsch, for about 50 pence a pop), but figured we'd have to settle for sausages instead of hot dogs. Not that that would be a great compromise; polish sausages at baseball games are about as an American of a tradition as hot dogs. So we loaded up with sausages and were looking for anything akin to buns. In Germany, I can remember getting hotdog type things in round crusty rolls, which made the sausage stick out awkwardly from either end. But the taste was the same. Compromise. But instead, we found packages of real "hotdog" buns! Excited and encourages, we figured that where there are hotdog buns, there MUST be hotdogs. Searching high and low, we found (drum roll please) hotdogs IN A CAN. Seriously. 6 little dogs in a can of liquid goo. Oh, we just had to try. And we bought sausages as well, just in case.
Turns out, the hotdogs-in-a-can are less than stellar. Try horrid. The taste was ok, but the texture was that of soggy McDonald's chicken nuggets, which I found less than palatable. It didn't help that I'm not sure we cooked them well enough. But whatever might have been lurking in the depths of the uncooked meat was not enough to compete with our giarddia (from our famous river-water-in-beer let's-drink-it-anyway canoeing incident this summer) so we feel all the better for it. Builds character. But the beer was perfect. So were the buns. And that's saying something. Oh, and before I get off topic, English mustard burns your sinuses to a crisp.
At any rate, I take a nap before hand and wake up at 1ish to prepare food. I have class the next day, but they are all forewarned of my possible state. We stay up to watch most of the game (much to our neighbors' chagrin, I'm sure), but the Rockies were playing so much like a minor-league team (not that there's anything wrong with that, but this was the World Series, after all) that we cut out early when we realized that 13-1 wasn't looking good. They did end up loosing, but it was the show of patriotism (ahem) that counted, right? Actually, it was just an excuse for hotdogs and beer. And the tradition we started last year of watching the World Series (seeing as we actually WENT to it last year, though doing so this time around was even less practical this year as it was last year). But it was actually a lot of fun, and many of the disenchanted American in my program got a kick out of it. We can still like baseball, even if we think America has gone down hill.
Monday, October 22, 2007
After being here in Edinburgh a little over a month, we decided that a trip to the Edinburgh was in order. It was a cool, cloudy day, which from experience in the US meant that it was going to be wonderfully uncrowded. So we hopped a bus (now that we are bus experts of the highest degree) and made the relatively short trip to the other side of town.
I went ahead and bought a student membership to the zoo, because 1) I feel th eneed to give to conservation programs like zoos, and 2) because it was cheap for me anyway, being half the price of an adult membership and being able to pay for itself in about 3 visits. Also, it includes admission to the Highland Wildlife Park, which we plan to go soon anyway. And they breed tapirs, which have long been one of my favorite animals, not to mention one of the rarest and hardest to breed mammals.
I have to admit, some of the exhibits at the Edinburgh Zoo were quite impressive. The penguin tank is huge, and their collection of penguins to match. Their large African Plains exhibit, containing a number of herbavores (notably zebras, kudus, and various antelopes, spread across and entire hillside. The Asiatic Lion exhibit, too, was relatively large. Some other exhibits, especially the tiger and polar bear pens, were disappointingly (if not disturbingly) small and insufficient for the wildlife contained therein, the polar bear exhibit nearly devoid of any water. I do suppose, however, that you have to prioritize your space when you have a city zoo in a crowded country.
In addition, this zoo felt particularly... "Old World." Much of the exhibits were enclosed by cages or ugly fencing. This isn't a comment on the suitability of the facilities for the animals, just on the old style of viewing enclosures. It reminded me of some of the older zoos I have been to in the states, one that have not been updated since the 50s. Much of the zoo is patently unattractive. Though I suppose one should keep in mind that the purpose of modern zoos is not necesssarily to entertain people, but to conserve and study wildlife. If you have only certain funds, you have to choose in which sector you put it: entertainment or conservation. Fair enough.
The zoo was also nice in that it had a Red Panda, which Jonmikel had never seen, and I had never seen close up. And a very close encounter it was, as the trees in the enclosure dangle precariously over the sidewalk on the other side of the wall, as did the red panda, at once point. Also, the zoo had a nice display for African wild dogs, or painted hunting dogs (depending on who you're talking to), which I have never seen in real life before. Granted, they were sleeping most of the day, (which I don't blame them for; it was mighty cold for Africa); but we stopped by at the end of the trip in time to catch an afternoon romp before returning to the warmth of their indoor retreat. These animals are amazing. When they look you in the eye, you see a normal dog. Fido, Fluffy, or Koani. With huge ears. But then then run, a long, loping run that looks incredibly lithe and dangerous, and it hits you that these things could rip you apart. These are hunters. Not to sound too ineloquent, but they are way cool. There was also a panther there, all black, but with amazing spots! I have seen a panther at the Cincinnati Zoo, but never where his spots as visible and as striking as the one at the Edinburgh Zoo. And this guy was very interactive with his audience, looking at them, posing for them, keeping people interested.
One really upsetting aspect of this trip was the lack of respect people have. First of all, there are screaming children everywhere, and nobody is telling them otherwise. Running and pushing and yelling. And parents who are tolerant of it all. Which is awfully annoying, and another thing I appreciate more and more in American culture: Americans are more tolerant than most whenit comes to children's bad behavior, but I have not as of yet heard any parents reprimand any children for doing anything. In addition, the fact that knocking on the class or making noises at the animals is rude is not something that has penetrated the minds of the Scottish (and I would assume through association, though perhaps I should not, the British, as well). After trying to ignore it for a while, I ended up having to yell at two people. One was an adult with a small child who insisted on knocking on the glass of the leopard display to try and get a better picture with her cell phone. I said loudly and angrily, though I stood some distance away from her, "Don't knock on the glass." A woman next to me heard me and looked over, surprised, but the woman to whom it was directed made no direct aknowledgement of my comment, though she did stop. The second person I had to reprimand was a couple of obnoxious teenagers at the wild dog enclosure. I was enjoying these animals so much that I was extremely put off when these two kids (I hate teenagers) came in and were trying to stomp to wake the dogs up and get them moving. This time, it was a yell when I said, "Hey! Don't do that!" The kids looked almost terrified, as my voice did a very impressive echo in the observation room, and quickly hurried out (as a side note, they ended up on our bus on the way home, and avoided us as much as possible). But it is just so irritating that people don't have any respect. There are signs everywhere, also, asking people not to do that, which makes it even worse. In the States, you have people do it every once in a while, but here it seems common to bother the animals. Another thing to appreciate about US culture.
I went ahead and bought a student membership to the zoo, because 1) I feel th eneed to give to conservation programs like zoos, and 2) because it was cheap for me anyway, being half the price of an adult membership and being able to pay for itself in about 3 visits. Also, it includes admission to the Highland Wildlife Park, which we plan to go soon anyway. And they breed tapirs, which have long been one of my favorite animals, not to mention one of the rarest and hardest to breed mammals.
I have to admit, some of the exhibits at the Edinburgh Zoo were quite impressive. The penguin tank is huge, and their collection of penguins to match. Their large African Plains exhibit, containing a number of herbavores (notably zebras, kudus, and various antelopes, spread across and entire hillside. The Asiatic Lion exhibit, too, was relatively large. Some other exhibits, especially the tiger and polar bear pens, were disappointingly (if not disturbingly) small and insufficient for the wildlife contained therein, the polar bear exhibit nearly devoid of any water. I do suppose, however, that you have to prioritize your space when you have a city zoo in a crowded country.
In addition, this zoo felt particularly... "Old World." Much of the exhibits were enclosed by cages or ugly fencing. This isn't a comment on the suitability of the facilities for the animals, just on the old style of viewing enclosures. It reminded me of some of the older zoos I have been to in the states, one that have not been updated since the 50s. Much of the zoo is patently unattractive. Though I suppose one should keep in mind that the purpose of modern zoos is not necesssarily to entertain people, but to conserve and study wildlife. If you have only certain funds, you have to choose in which sector you put it: entertainment or conservation. Fair enough.
The zoo was also nice in that it had a Red Panda, which Jonmikel had never seen, and I had never seen close up. And a very close encounter it was, as the trees in the enclosure dangle precariously over the sidewalk on the other side of the wall, as did the red panda, at once point. Also, the zoo had a nice display for African wild dogs, or painted hunting dogs (depending on who you're talking to), which I have never seen in real life before. Granted, they were sleeping most of the day, (which I don't blame them for; it was mighty cold for Africa); but we stopped by at the end of the trip in time to catch an afternoon romp before returning to the warmth of their indoor retreat. These animals are amazing. When they look you in the eye, you see a normal dog. Fido, Fluffy, or Koani. With huge ears. But then then run, a long, loping run that looks incredibly lithe and dangerous, and it hits you that these things could rip you apart. These are hunters. Not to sound too ineloquent, but they are way cool. There was also a panther there, all black, but with amazing spots! I have seen a panther at the Cincinnati Zoo, but never where his spots as visible and as striking as the one at the Edinburgh Zoo. And this guy was very interactive with his audience, looking at them, posing for them, keeping people interested.
One really upsetting aspect of this trip was the lack of respect people have. First of all, there are screaming children everywhere, and nobody is telling them otherwise. Running and pushing and yelling. And parents who are tolerant of it all. Which is awfully annoying, and another thing I appreciate more and more in American culture: Americans are more tolerant than most whenit comes to children's bad behavior, but I have not as of yet heard any parents reprimand any children for doing anything. In addition, the fact that knocking on the class or making noises at the animals is rude is not something that has penetrated the minds of the Scottish (and I would assume through association, though perhaps I should not, the British, as well). After trying to ignore it for a while, I ended up having to yell at two people. One was an adult with a small child who insisted on knocking on the glass of the leopard display to try and get a better picture with her cell phone. I said loudly and angrily, though I stood some distance away from her, "Don't knock on the glass." A woman next to me heard me and looked over, surprised, but the woman to whom it was directed made no direct aknowledgement of my comment, though she did stop. The second person I had to reprimand was a couple of obnoxious teenagers at the wild dog enclosure. I was enjoying these animals so much that I was extremely put off when these two kids (I hate teenagers) came in and were trying to stomp to wake the dogs up and get them moving. This time, it was a yell when I said, "Hey! Don't do that!" The kids looked almost terrified, as my voice did a very impressive echo in the observation room, and quickly hurried out (as a side note, they ended up on our bus on the way home, and avoided us as much as possible). But it is just so irritating that people don't have any respect. There are signs everywhere, also, asking people not to do that, which makes it even worse. In the States, you have people do it every once in a while, but here it seems common to bother the animals. Another thing to appreciate about US culture.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
The banking experience of a country, I think, can be an interesting window into the culture of a people. Banking is a very real and very normal part of everyday life, and everybody at some point has to do it, so I feel that banking, as such, can be used as an ethnographic metaphor. In Scotland, for example (I will not go so far as to say the UK, because I have no banking experience there), setting up a bank account gives insight into the love of the Scottish for bureaucracy and queuing up.
From what I hear from every non-EU student I have ever talked to or overheard, setting up a bank account here has been Hell. For me, it has been no exception. Upon arriving in Edinburgh and receiving a letter from the University entitling me to a bank account, I went to the Bank of Scotland branch at the University. After waiting in line for 20 minutes, they tell me they are out of applications for the kind of bank account I need, so I have to go to another branch. The second branch says the same thing. OK, fine. I wait a while. I go to a branch close my to new flat in Abbeyhill, and the woman there says I can’t get a student account because I have no credit in the UK or EU, so I can only get a very basic savings account. OK, fine, just give me an account, I say.
So she signs me up for an appointment the next morning. I come in, hand her my passport and letter from the Uni, and she sets it all up right there. So the first thing I can’t figure out, is why they can set me up without an application at this bank but not at the other two branches I visited before. So it’s all set up, with some money being deposited in it, and they say they have to mail me my card and pin number. Sigh. What if I need money before then? Well, too bad. They look confused at the question.
So about a week later (a week of paying wonderful 4% conversion fees through my bank at home), I receive notice in the post giving me my pin number (which involves lateral thinking skills and puzzle solving, because it can’t just be simple). My card will come in a different posting. Great. A couple days later, I receive my card. Finally. But I can’t use it because it takes 10 days for traveler’s cheques (even in Sterling) to clear when you deposit them (at the time, apparently cashing them and depositing the cash was way more than they could handle).
But all seems well, until I try to register for online banking. With 5/3, as soon as you get an account, you have automatic access to online banking. Pretty simple. You log in, you do online banking. But of course, here, it’s a 12-step process, just like the program I’m going to have to take when this system makes me resort to shooting smack to cope. First I have to register. I click on the “how to register” button and it takes me to a page explaining how to do so. Fair enough. At the bottom is a button saying, “Register Now.” I assume that means I can register now, so I click on it and wait! I made a snap judgment! It takes me to a log-in page. I can’t for the life of me remember clicking on a “log-in” now button. So after a couple more clicks I finally get to a registration page. So I put in my account details, and then it takes me to an address page, where I put in my address, and then it takes me to a page where I can select my address (which I thought I had just put in) from a long list. So I select my correct address, and then the next page shows me a summary of all that I just input, and (surprise!) it has an incorrect address on it! So I hit the back button (despite the fact that the page says “hit ‘continue’ of anything is incorrect, or ‘back’ if you need to change anything”, which in itself I find terribly unhelpful) and do it all again, and the same thing happens again! So I hit continue, hoping that something will come of this. And I get a wonderful message stating that they are glad I registered with them–they give me a wonderful user name–and to complete the registration, I need to return to the log-in page and put in my user name and password which THEY WILL POST TO ME IN THE NEXT FEW DAYS. Oh, and due to the Royal Mail bullshit, I may not get it for 6 weeks or something equally ridiculous, if not equally long. And of course, they came up with my incorrect post address, which I typed in and selected correctly twice, so who knows where they will actually send my fun little password (even though they have sent correspondence to me correctly in the past). They then send me an email confirming that I have registered with them. Of course, they can’t send me my password in the email; that would make way too much sense.
So that is my tale of woe, even if it, as of yet, remains incomplete. I may run up to RBS to see what they can give me by way of a bank account that actually works. But so far, I am not alone. Maybe there is a support group here at the Uni for all of us who want to burn down all of the banks here and establish simple, working American banks like 5/3 and US Bank, or Citibank. I have never appreciated anything culturally American so much before.
From what I hear from every non-EU student I have ever talked to or overheard, setting up a bank account here has been Hell. For me, it has been no exception. Upon arriving in Edinburgh and receiving a letter from the University entitling me to a bank account, I went to the Bank of Scotland branch at the University. After waiting in line for 20 minutes, they tell me they are out of applications for the kind of bank account I need, so I have to go to another branch. The second branch says the same thing. OK, fine. I wait a while. I go to a branch close my to new flat in Abbeyhill, and the woman there says I can’t get a student account because I have no credit in the UK or EU, so I can only get a very basic savings account. OK, fine, just give me an account, I say.
So she signs me up for an appointment the next morning. I come in, hand her my passport and letter from the Uni, and she sets it all up right there. So the first thing I can’t figure out, is why they can set me up without an application at this bank but not at the other two branches I visited before. So it’s all set up, with some money being deposited in it, and they say they have to mail me my card and pin number. Sigh. What if I need money before then? Well, too bad. They look confused at the question.
So about a week later (a week of paying wonderful 4% conversion fees through my bank at home), I receive notice in the post giving me my pin number (which involves lateral thinking skills and puzzle solving, because it can’t just be simple). My card will come in a different posting. Great. A couple days later, I receive my card. Finally. But I can’t use it because it takes 10 days for traveler’s cheques (even in Sterling) to clear when you deposit them (at the time, apparently cashing them and depositing the cash was way more than they could handle).
But all seems well, until I try to register for online banking. With 5/3, as soon as you get an account, you have automatic access to online banking. Pretty simple. You log in, you do online banking. But of course, here, it’s a 12-step process, just like the program I’m going to have to take when this system makes me resort to shooting smack to cope. First I have to register. I click on the “how to register” button and it takes me to a page explaining how to do so. Fair enough. At the bottom is a button saying, “Register Now.” I assume that means I can register now, so I click on it and wait! I made a snap judgment! It takes me to a log-in page. I can’t for the life of me remember clicking on a “log-in” now button. So after a couple more clicks I finally get to a registration page. So I put in my account details, and then it takes me to an address page, where I put in my address, and then it takes me to a page where I can select my address (which I thought I had just put in) from a long list. So I select my correct address, and then the next page shows me a summary of all that I just input, and (surprise!) it has an incorrect address on it! So I hit the back button (despite the fact that the page says “hit ‘continue’ of anything is incorrect, or ‘back’ if you need to change anything”, which in itself I find terribly unhelpful) and do it all again, and the same thing happens again! So I hit continue, hoping that something will come of this. And I get a wonderful message stating that they are glad I registered with them–they give me a wonderful user name–and to complete the registration, I need to return to the log-in page and put in my user name and password which THEY WILL POST TO ME IN THE NEXT FEW DAYS. Oh, and due to the Royal Mail bullshit, I may not get it for 6 weeks or something equally ridiculous, if not equally long. And of course, they came up with my incorrect post address, which I typed in and selected correctly twice, so who knows where they will actually send my fun little password (even though they have sent correspondence to me correctly in the past). They then send me an email confirming that I have registered with them. Of course, they can’t send me my password in the email; that would make way too much sense.
So that is my tale of woe, even if it, as of yet, remains incomplete. I may run up to RBS to see what they can give me by way of a bank account that actually works. But so far, I am not alone. Maybe there is a support group here at the Uni for all of us who want to burn down all of the banks here and establish simple, working American banks like 5/3 and US Bank, or Citibank. I have never appreciated anything culturally American so much before.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Today was the first day it really started to feel like fall. When I headed out the door at noon, it was about 49 degrees (or less than 10, if you want to go the fancy European route) outside and windy. And damp, as per usual, which made it feel that much colder. But the sun was out, which was awfully deceitful, because it looked so warm and nice. Only it wasn’t. The weather has been so nice here, in fact warmer than it has been all summer so I hear, that I forgot that winter is approaching. And approaching fast! I had no idea it was the middle of October. Hopefully, our dryer will get itself fixed before it gets too cold to dry out clothes on the line.
But today, a fantastic thing happened. Seriously. I had spent most of the afternoon at the library doing some research on Bedouin, to perhaps find a thesis topic, and was walking home carrying a 10-pound load of books. I was feeling a bit grumpy, when I look up, and there is a beautiful rainbow stretching over Arthur’s Seat. I couldn’t see the whole thing, but it was one of those rainbows that’s so clear, you just know it goes all the way across the sky. If we could tear down the :::interesting::: parliament building, I could have seen it. Ahem. At any rate, I’m feeling better, when I hit the front of the parliament building, and I see the whole thing, from Arthur’s Seat on my right all the way to behind the tenements on my left, across the entire cloudy sky. The sun was behind me and the clouds in front, creating the perfect arena for such spectacles. And with this incredibly distinct rainbow was another one, paralleling it across the entire sky. A double rainbow. I’m not sure I had ever seen two rainbows like that across the entire sky, both so clear and complete. So I fumble with my phone (of yes! I got a mobile! I feel like a real resident, now) trying to call Jonmikel to get him to come out and take a picture. Of course, I can’t figure out how to turn it on. Apparently, my brain can’t grasp these crazy British mobiles. And just as I get it on, I see the bottom of the two rainbows (the original) turn into a layered rainbow, 2 (or maybe even 3) ROY-G-BIVs all smushed together, something a I have seen only once before in Gardiner, Montana. All right there. So bright I swear I can see where it touches the ground (no leprechauns, though, most a pity). By the time I manage to figure out the buttons on the phone and tell Jonmikel to get his lazy butt outta the flat and see this, it’s already starting to fade. He DID get some nice pictures though, which can be seen at www.flickr.com/photos/ysnp/.
But a great afternoon pick-me-up, followed by Star Trek and hummus when I got home. ☺
But today, a fantastic thing happened. Seriously. I had spent most of the afternoon at the library doing some research on Bedouin, to perhaps find a thesis topic, and was walking home carrying a 10-pound load of books. I was feeling a bit grumpy, when I look up, and there is a beautiful rainbow stretching over Arthur’s Seat. I couldn’t see the whole thing, but it was one of those rainbows that’s so clear, you just know it goes all the way across the sky. If we could tear down the :::interesting::: parliament building, I could have seen it. Ahem. At any rate, I’m feeling better, when I hit the front of the parliament building, and I see the whole thing, from Arthur’s Seat on my right all the way to behind the tenements on my left, across the entire cloudy sky. The sun was behind me and the clouds in front, creating the perfect arena for such spectacles. And with this incredibly distinct rainbow was another one, paralleling it across the entire sky. A double rainbow. I’m not sure I had ever seen two rainbows like that across the entire sky, both so clear and complete. So I fumble with my phone (of yes! I got a mobile! I feel like a real resident, now) trying to call Jonmikel to get him to come out and take a picture. Of course, I can’t figure out how to turn it on. Apparently, my brain can’t grasp these crazy British mobiles. And just as I get it on, I see the bottom of the two rainbows (the original) turn into a layered rainbow, 2 (or maybe even 3) ROY-G-BIVs all smushed together, something a I have seen only once before in Gardiner, Montana. All right there. So bright I swear I can see where it touches the ground (no leprechauns, though, most a pity). By the time I manage to figure out the buttons on the phone and tell Jonmikel to get his lazy butt outta the flat and see this, it’s already starting to fade. He DID get some nice pictures though, which can be seen at www.flickr.com/photos/ysnp/.
But a great afternoon pick-me-up, followed by Star Trek and hummus when I got home. ☺
Monday, October 15, 2007
This weekend, while we HAD planned to go up to the Highlands for a nice break from the city rush, we instead hung out in town and took it easy. Jonmikel threw out his back and it was bothering him pretty bad, so we decided not to do anything strenuous. Instead, we headed out to Rosslyn Chapel, of The Da Vinci Code fame, which is about 7 miles southish of Edinburgh. To do this, we first had to brave the Scottish public transportation system. In reality, this was quite easy. The bus system here is actually very nice, and the buses run more or less on time. There are a number of stops right close to our place here in Abbeyhill. So it was just a matter of braving some light rain to get there. And a simple question to the bus driver, "Is this the stop for the Chapel?" (actually not asked by us but by another tourist couple) let us know that, in fact, the chapel was one stop down from where we were at that moment. We could have walked it, seeing as Roslin (the town in which Rosslyn Chapel resides) is awfully small. But it WAS nice to see some of the countryside. It was interesting how the city of Edinburgh suddenly just... stops. In a quick flash, you cross the bypass and suddenly there are no more homes. Just farms and fields. It's rather peaceful, really. Not to see houses right on top of each other and peope everywhere.
The chapel itself was not as crowded as I though it would be, either. Partially due to the rain, and partially due to the oncoming autumn weather we've had as of late. It's just not tourist season anymore. The big dissapointment of the day was, however, that the entire chapel is covered in scaffolding. This actually serves a practical purpose, as we found out. A number of years ago, people noticed that it was damp inside the chapel, so they sealed it up with concrete, you know, like you do. More recently, they realized that by sealing up the ceiling with concrete, they, in fact, sealed in all the water, and the whole place started to decay. Wonderful archaeologists they are. So they put up all this scaffolding to try to dry it out, and it will be up for the next few years. Best save any trips until then. Not that it isn't cool in its own right, it's just covered in metal piping. Not worth it if you're not already in the area. BUT, the inside is pretty cool. It's a big mix of Christian and Pagan symbols, which I always find fascinating in these old churches, especially those in the UK and Ireland. The Celts seemed particularly keen on mixing religions in interesting and heretical ways. For example, here at Rosslyn, there are figures of The Green Man everywhere, over 100 of them. This guy, carved as a face witrh vines growing from his mouth and ears, represents tha pagan idea of man as being tied intimately with nature. And on the Apprentice Pillar, there are 8 dragons surrounding its base, seen to represent the dragons that knaw on the tree that binds the heavens, hell and earth together in Norse mythology. This next to all the symbology of the Knights Templar and, of course, Jesus. He tends to be important in Christian tradition, also.
The cripts, too, were interesting, if only because they have a tomb of one of the Knights Templar there. One of the actual guys. I mean, how cool is that? They relocated him from a nearby cemetery, where rests another of his kin. The symbolism and history surrounding this place is just amazing. To think that in the 15th century, people lived and died there, and that there are still services there every Sunday. People worshipping as they have worshipped there for over 500 years. That's something Americans can hardly comprehend. We think things are old once they hit 30-Jonmikel, of course, being no exception :-).
After seeing the chapel, we were able to explore the grounds. The area surroudning it is motsly privately owned, but they owners have given permission for people to explore it using these well-marked foot paths. One goes down to Rosslyn Castle, which is privately owned by the descendants of the people who built Rosslyn Chapel (the St. Clairs) and is rented out for (expensive, I would imagine) holidays. It is intersting to see the castle, the top couple of floors renovated to be living spaces, while the rest of the castle (actually built into part of a small canyon created by the "river" below) remains as it was a couple hundred years ago. And you can meander the property, go down to the river, and explore the surrounding cemeteries. Of course, we had to visit the cemeteries, for Jonmikel's sake :-) before heading back toward town for a snack and to make sure we didn't miss the last bus back to town.
The chapel itself was not as crowded as I though it would be, either. Partially due to the rain, and partially due to the oncoming autumn weather we've had as of late. It's just not tourist season anymore. The big dissapointment of the day was, however, that the entire chapel is covered in scaffolding. This actually serves a practical purpose, as we found out. A number of years ago, people noticed that it was damp inside the chapel, so they sealed it up with concrete, you know, like you do. More recently, they realized that by sealing up the ceiling with concrete, they, in fact, sealed in all the water, and the whole place started to decay. Wonderful archaeologists they are. So they put up all this scaffolding to try to dry it out, and it will be up for the next few years. Best save any trips until then. Not that it isn't cool in its own right, it's just covered in metal piping. Not worth it if you're not already in the area. BUT, the inside is pretty cool. It's a big mix of Christian and Pagan symbols, which I always find fascinating in these old churches, especially those in the UK and Ireland. The Celts seemed particularly keen on mixing religions in interesting and heretical ways. For example, here at Rosslyn, there are figures of The Green Man everywhere, over 100 of them. This guy, carved as a face witrh vines growing from his mouth and ears, represents tha pagan idea of man as being tied intimately with nature. And on the Apprentice Pillar, there are 8 dragons surrounding its base, seen to represent the dragons that knaw on the tree that binds the heavens, hell and earth together in Norse mythology. This next to all the symbology of the Knights Templar and, of course, Jesus. He tends to be important in Christian tradition, also.
The cripts, too, were interesting, if only because they have a tomb of one of the Knights Templar there. One of the actual guys. I mean, how cool is that? They relocated him from a nearby cemetery, where rests another of his kin. The symbolism and history surrounding this place is just amazing. To think that in the 15th century, people lived and died there, and that there are still services there every Sunday. People worshipping as they have worshipped there for over 500 years. That's something Americans can hardly comprehend. We think things are old once they hit 30-Jonmikel, of course, being no exception :-).
After seeing the chapel, we were able to explore the grounds. The area surroudning it is motsly privately owned, but they owners have given permission for people to explore it using these well-marked foot paths. One goes down to Rosslyn Castle, which is privately owned by the descendants of the people who built Rosslyn Chapel (the St. Clairs) and is rented out for (expensive, I would imagine) holidays. It is intersting to see the castle, the top couple of floors renovated to be living spaces, while the rest of the castle (actually built into part of a small canyon created by the "river" below) remains as it was a couple hundred years ago. And you can meander the property, go down to the river, and explore the surrounding cemeteries. Of course, we had to visit the cemeteries, for Jonmikel's sake :-) before heading back toward town for a snack and to make sure we didn't miss the last bus back to town.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
I should have warned you before that this blog may get political from time to time. I mean, I'm getting a degree in Middle Eastern studies; how could it not? So this is one of those times.
An article in the paper the other day discussed the rising number of Muslim med students who are refusing to study the body of the opposite sex, take tests on reproductive health (including STDs and birth control), and do certain other things, claiming that such activities are against their religion (Islam). And in grocery stores, Muslim workers are refusing to seel alcohol to people, which means the entire flow of traffic in incredibly busy supermarkets is stopped because such a person must call for a manager to do the sale. And in pharmacies, Muslim workers refuse to dispense birth control or morning after pills. Because their religion dictates them to do so.
I would like to point out that this should be a complete non-Issue. If I refused to take a class that was required for me to gain a medical degree, I would fail the course. I would never get my degree. If I refuse to take a test in a class, and a failing mark would mean I fail the class, then I fail the class. It's very simple. If a student (any student, regardless of any kind of religious background) can't (or won't) do the work, then that student doesn't get the degree. To even think about allowing students to get off on taking required classes in a degree program is ridiculous. For any reason. If their religious background maintains that they do not learn about reproductive health, but the requirements of the degree program says they must, then they either abandon their hopes of being a doctor, or they find a religious or other school with different requirements. I, like most students here, attend Edinburgh University because it is a top-rate graduate school. I want the prestige that will go with my degree, and therefore I must live up to the standards of this school. I can't refuse to take a class because at a school in the States, I wouldn't have to take it. If it were a problem, I should go to a school in the States. If a Muslim finds a problem with the curriculum of this university but he or she desires to have the prestige of the school attached to his or her degree, then they suck it up and do it. Or they go to one of the many universities in Muslim countries that will allow him or her to make such amendments to the degree program but without the coveted Edinburgh name. Going to this school is a privilege, not a right, which should mean that if you can't hack it, you get that privilege revoked.
The same goes with Muslim workers in supermarkets or pharmacies. If I worked at a supermarket and refused to do any part of my job, I would be fired. The same should go for any other worker, Muslim or not. If any worker refuses to do his or her job, then that person can find another job. If not selling alcohol is so important to these Muslim employees, 1) why do they work at supermarkets much of whose business comes from alcohol sales (can you believe such a thing, in Scotland?) and 2) why do they work in a store that sells alcohol to Muslims? There are plenty of Muslim in this city that do not abide by the strict alcohol laws of the Qur'an. That person can and should find employment elsewhere in a place that doesn't compromise his or her religious beliefs. Same goes for pharmacists. A pharmacist should dispense any drug sold by the pharmacy. If that person will not, then he or she can find another job. It's all very simple. There are pharmacies out there that will not dispense the morning after pill (at the very least), and those pharmacists who find that medication to be against their religion need to find a job with them.
The whole thing seems ridiculous. All the liberals are up in arms when Sam Walton refuses to sell the morning after pill in his pharmacies or when a Christian teacher refuses to teach evolution in his classroom (as they should be, but that's another point entirely), but these same liberals are quiet when a Muslim refuses to learn the intended curriculum in medical school (a profession in which knowing reproductive health will save lives vis-a-vis the hippocratic oath). Does allowing Muslim to do such things qualify as "cultural relativism," while allowing Christians to do the same thing qualify as allowing the religious right and the crazy conservatives to take over the West? Christianity is not the only religion to have a "religious right," as such, and many liberals in North American and Western Europe forget that. But this is just an example of how religion can go too far.
Important Note: I have a policy of religious tolerance in my life. I believe that everybody has a right to worship who or whatever they want, as long as they keep it to themselves. I do not, however, believe that standards of internationally ranked schools should be lowered in order to accomodate those who cannot compete in certain degree programs. The same goes for Ohio University, which lowered its standards in order to allow more black students to attend. I am all for racial, ethnic, and religious diversity, but lowering standards is not the way to encourage such interactions. Anywhere and for any reason.
An article in the paper the other day discussed the rising number of Muslim med students who are refusing to study the body of the opposite sex, take tests on reproductive health (including STDs and birth control), and do certain other things, claiming that such activities are against their religion (Islam). And in grocery stores, Muslim workers are refusing to seel alcohol to people, which means the entire flow of traffic in incredibly busy supermarkets is stopped because such a person must call for a manager to do the sale. And in pharmacies, Muslim workers refuse to dispense birth control or morning after pills. Because their religion dictates them to do so.
I would like to point out that this should be a complete non-Issue. If I refused to take a class that was required for me to gain a medical degree, I would fail the course. I would never get my degree. If I refuse to take a test in a class, and a failing mark would mean I fail the class, then I fail the class. It's very simple. If a student (any student, regardless of any kind of religious background) can't (or won't) do the work, then that student doesn't get the degree. To even think about allowing students to get off on taking required classes in a degree program is ridiculous. For any reason. If their religious background maintains that they do not learn about reproductive health, but the requirements of the degree program says they must, then they either abandon their hopes of being a doctor, or they find a religious or other school with different requirements. I, like most students here, attend Edinburgh University because it is a top-rate graduate school. I want the prestige that will go with my degree, and therefore I must live up to the standards of this school. I can't refuse to take a class because at a school in the States, I wouldn't have to take it. If it were a problem, I should go to a school in the States. If a Muslim finds a problem with the curriculum of this university but he or she desires to have the prestige of the school attached to his or her degree, then they suck it up and do it. Or they go to one of the many universities in Muslim countries that will allow him or her to make such amendments to the degree program but without the coveted Edinburgh name. Going to this school is a privilege, not a right, which should mean that if you can't hack it, you get that privilege revoked.
The same goes with Muslim workers in supermarkets or pharmacies. If I worked at a supermarket and refused to do any part of my job, I would be fired. The same should go for any other worker, Muslim or not. If any worker refuses to do his or her job, then that person can find another job. If not selling alcohol is so important to these Muslim employees, 1) why do they work at supermarkets much of whose business comes from alcohol sales (can you believe such a thing, in Scotland?) and 2) why do they work in a store that sells alcohol to Muslims? There are plenty of Muslim in this city that do not abide by the strict alcohol laws of the Qur'an. That person can and should find employment elsewhere in a place that doesn't compromise his or her religious beliefs. Same goes for pharmacists. A pharmacist should dispense any drug sold by the pharmacy. If that person will not, then he or she can find another job. It's all very simple. There are pharmacies out there that will not dispense the morning after pill (at the very least), and those pharmacists who find that medication to be against their religion need to find a job with them.
The whole thing seems ridiculous. All the liberals are up in arms when Sam Walton refuses to sell the morning after pill in his pharmacies or when a Christian teacher refuses to teach evolution in his classroom (as they should be, but that's another point entirely), but these same liberals are quiet when a Muslim refuses to learn the intended curriculum in medical school (a profession in which knowing reproductive health will save lives vis-a-vis the hippocratic oath). Does allowing Muslim to do such things qualify as "cultural relativism," while allowing Christians to do the same thing qualify as allowing the religious right and the crazy conservatives to take over the West? Christianity is not the only religion to have a "religious right," as such, and many liberals in North American and Western Europe forget that. But this is just an example of how religion can go too far.
Important Note: I have a policy of religious tolerance in my life. I believe that everybody has a right to worship who or whatever they want, as long as they keep it to themselves. I do not, however, believe that standards of internationally ranked schools should be lowered in order to accomodate those who cannot compete in certain degree programs. The same goes for Ohio University, which lowered its standards in order to allow more black students to attend. I am all for racial, ethnic, and religious diversity, but lowering standards is not the way to encourage such interactions. Anywhere and for any reason.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Last night, we made our first trek out to a real club. Up until now, we had been frequenting pubs and smaller hang-out type of bars. One of the neatest ones is called Brass Monkey, a Bo-Ho bar off the main drag (and across the street from where my family will be staying for Christmas). It has a very hippy, kind of beet, false-intellectual kind of feel to it, but it's got a giant bed in the back to lounge on. You have to climb up onto it (with your drink balanced precariously in one hand and a purse in the other), but once you're on, they have nicely placed small, carved wooden tables up there with small cup holders for your drinks. No more spillage. Very creative and useful, I think. The entire room with the bed in it (I know you're thinking something small, but the bed itself is the size of a decent dance floor) is covered with vintage movie posters, and the giant screen on one wall plays vintage/foreign/artsy movies all day. So kinda cool, if you don't mind faux intellectuals. The second bar we've come to love is called the Grassmarket, conveniently located (if it suprises you) in the Grassmarket area of town, where we stayed when we first arrived. The bar is more of a local place, with a couple of unemployed guys drinking their woes away. But the bartender knows Jonmikel now, and the food is decent, and they offer students discounts. Actually, the food is good, with the best bangers and mash I've found so far in town. Not the cheapest, but the best value, for sure. And they have wireless internet, which is how we found it in the first place.
Also, we found a place with pool tables. Who knew they had pool tables in Scotland? It's a little Aussie bar, where the bartender has some kind of obsession with the Simpsons and was ubr impressed when I knew how to use the coin thing on the pool table (something every self-respected American should know). But the whole pool experience is quite different here: the tables are way smaller, as are the balls, and there are no numbers or stripes and solids; it's just red or yellow. It took us a while to get used to the lighter balls; in fact, we still struggle with it: when Jonmmikel goes to make a shot, he hits it so hard, I'm surprised it doesn't shatter. But it is still pool, so we play.
Oh yeah, back to the whole club thing. We went out to a place right around the Uni called The Jazz Bar. They showcase at least 2 jazz-ish bands a night, though genre's are often traversed to include jazzy-rock, jazzy-hiphop, and (as was the case last night) jazzy-Latin. We went specifically to go see Alba Flamenco, a troup that does flamenco singing, dancing and clapping, and all that goes with it. It was Jonmikel's first time seeing flamenco, and it was impressed at how "energetic" it was (his exactly wording). I think he was thinking something way more mellow. But Latin music is never mellow, always passionate and sexy. That's why I like it, I think. The troup was very good, though I think their entourage forgot that this was a college area, and so things aren't going to be as classy as they would be at a larger, more expensive venue. They kept yelling at everybody, even the poor guy who's job it was to pick up the empty glasses. But it was a lot of fun, and the bar turned out to be this wonderfully stereotypical jezz cellar, dark with lots of deep red highlights, a piano, brick walls, intimate tables (that weren't so intimate last night, as the place should have been standing room only). I can see Audrey Hepburn in her skinny jeans hanging out at this place. I hope we can return to see some more jazz, perhaps some nice crooners or something.
Also, we found a place with pool tables. Who knew they had pool tables in Scotland? It's a little Aussie bar, where the bartender has some kind of obsession with the Simpsons and was ubr impressed when I knew how to use the coin thing on the pool table (something every self-respected American should know). But the whole pool experience is quite different here: the tables are way smaller, as are the balls, and there are no numbers or stripes and solids; it's just red or yellow. It took us a while to get used to the lighter balls; in fact, we still struggle with it: when Jonmmikel goes to make a shot, he hits it so hard, I'm surprised it doesn't shatter. But it is still pool, so we play.
Oh yeah, back to the whole club thing. We went out to a place right around the Uni called The Jazz Bar. They showcase at least 2 jazz-ish bands a night, though genre's are often traversed to include jazzy-rock, jazzy-hiphop, and (as was the case last night) jazzy-Latin. We went specifically to go see Alba Flamenco, a troup that does flamenco singing, dancing and clapping, and all that goes with it. It was Jonmikel's first time seeing flamenco, and it was impressed at how "energetic" it was (his exactly wording). I think he was thinking something way more mellow. But Latin music is never mellow, always passionate and sexy. That's why I like it, I think. The troup was very good, though I think their entourage forgot that this was a college area, and so things aren't going to be as classy as they would be at a larger, more expensive venue. They kept yelling at everybody, even the poor guy who's job it was to pick up the empty glasses. But it was a lot of fun, and the bar turned out to be this wonderfully stereotypical jezz cellar, dark with lots of deep red highlights, a piano, brick walls, intimate tables (that weren't so intimate last night, as the place should have been standing room only). I can see Audrey Hepburn in her skinny jeans hanging out at this place. I hope we can return to see some more jazz, perhaps some nice crooners or something.
Saturday, October 6, 2007
What's with the sun?!?!?!? I was told by many a long-term Scot (some, Americans and Canadians in hiding) that it was supposed to be rainy and cool, in the low 10s (low to mid 50s for us Yanks). "Sun, what is this sun?" They would joke. Dr. Newman (my Mid. East advisor and prof) used to make jokes about summer, mostly how they don't exist; now, he seems utterly confused, saying things like, "Wow, I think October is going to be the new summer." And he's right. The last week or so, it's been sunny and warm (low to mid 60s). Its rained maybe one day. My umbrella, bought especially for the awful weather here for approximately 1 pound), is sitting under a pile of unreturned library books (so early in the semester, I know!), feeling lonely and neglected. I haven't even opened it yet. Where did this weather come from? If global warming finally looking my way?
We took advantage of the weather and climbed another arm of Arthur's Seat; actually THE Arthur's Seat, as opposed to the wonderful Craigs surrounding it. It seems the rest of the city was taking advantage of the weather, too, so I suppose we were in good company.
Which brings me to another topic which has left me perplexed ever since I got here. In the States, its easy to glance out your window and look at what people are wearing in order to determine the temperature. If everybody is wearing winter coats, its cold. If people are out in tank tops, its hot. Pretty simple, I think. Here however, I have run into a quandry (aside from the fact that my windows look out into private gardens and not the street). Upon looking at the clothing of those walking outside, at first I see a woman bundled up in her thickest winter coat. OK, so it's going to be chilly. But wait! About 20 feet behind her is a guy in a t-shirt. OK, so he's a guy; we all now how stubborn they can be. But then a group of girls, all in spaghetti straps and skirts. And walking in the opposite direction, a group of girls wearing furry winter coatsand looking cold. Really cold. The fact of the matter is, you cannot tell how cold it really is outside by looking at what people are wearing. There are the girls who will sacrifice warmth for fashion, a trend found on any college campus in the States, for sure. But these girls don't look COLD. They look fine. And then the girls who incorporate winter clothing into their fashionable wardrobe; but if it's really warm, why not go for the skimpier fashion? And then, what are adults doing not dressing practically? SOMEbody is not dressing practically, and I can't figure out who.
Another fashion trend: layering. On a chilly day, girls will come to class in winter coats and will promtly begin to disgard all of teh layers: the coat, the sweater, the long-sleeved shirt, the scarf (sometimes, if it doesn't fit with the outfit exactly). Underneath it all will be a fantastically skimpy shirt, acessorized with dangly necklaces and bangles. And that all fits perfectly with their skinny jeans and knee-high boots and the fancy belt. Its amazing. And actually, not such a bad idea. I've taken to wearing coats over tank tops, because in a lot of pubs and the like, and when I'm moving around a lot, it's too hot for winter (or even fall-ish) stuff. They may have something going for them here...
We took advantage of the weather and climbed another arm of Arthur's Seat; actually THE Arthur's Seat, as opposed to the wonderful Craigs surrounding it. It seems the rest of the city was taking advantage of the weather, too, so I suppose we were in good company.
Which brings me to another topic which has left me perplexed ever since I got here. In the States, its easy to glance out your window and look at what people are wearing in order to determine the temperature. If everybody is wearing winter coats, its cold. If people are out in tank tops, its hot. Pretty simple, I think. Here however, I have run into a quandry (aside from the fact that my windows look out into private gardens and not the street). Upon looking at the clothing of those walking outside, at first I see a woman bundled up in her thickest winter coat. OK, so it's going to be chilly. But wait! About 20 feet behind her is a guy in a t-shirt. OK, so he's a guy; we all now how stubborn they can be. But then a group of girls, all in spaghetti straps and skirts. And walking in the opposite direction, a group of girls wearing furry winter coatsand looking cold. Really cold. The fact of the matter is, you cannot tell how cold it really is outside by looking at what people are wearing. There are the girls who will sacrifice warmth for fashion, a trend found on any college campus in the States, for sure. But these girls don't look COLD. They look fine. And then the girls who incorporate winter clothing into their fashionable wardrobe; but if it's really warm, why not go for the skimpier fashion? And then, what are adults doing not dressing practically? SOMEbody is not dressing practically, and I can't figure out who.
Another fashion trend: layering. On a chilly day, girls will come to class in winter coats and will promtly begin to disgard all of teh layers: the coat, the sweater, the long-sleeved shirt, the scarf (sometimes, if it doesn't fit with the outfit exactly). Underneath it all will be a fantastically skimpy shirt, acessorized with dangly necklaces and bangles. And that all fits perfectly with their skinny jeans and knee-high boots and the fancy belt. Its amazing. And actually, not such a bad idea. I've taken to wearing coats over tank tops, because in a lot of pubs and the like, and when I'm moving around a lot, it's too hot for winter (or even fall-ish) stuff. They may have something going for them here...
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