Lancaster

This photo is the such-and-such hotel in Edinburgh. It is completely unrelated to this post, but it's good, I think. Fun fact: Because of the hotel's proximity to Waverly Train Station, its clock is always set 3 minutes fast (except on new year's eve) so that people make their trains.

Very briefly...

It takes three hours to get to Lancaster from Edinburgh. About two hours in, one of our cars broke down on the highway in the middle of nowhere. So, we all convened on the side of the road to decide how to proceed. Since we didn't have the space to take everybody the rest of the way, we had to leave 2 players, including our only goalie, on the highway in the freezing, windy Scotland (almost certainly England by this point) weather.

We won the game by a score of about 14-1. I was able to contribute offensively and defensively, but the highlight was the opportunity to play goalkeeper for the 2nd half. I allowed zero goals in my University of Edinburgh goaltender debut, and of that I am very proud. The other team had a strategy and they executed it efficiently and consistently. Apparently, their offensive plan was to hold the ball on the perimeter, look to the side of the pool pointedly (so as to deceive the goalie into ignoring them), and then throw it at medium speed right at the keeper's face. They were very good at this, and it took some serious self-defense to keep the ball out of the cage.

Alright, forget the "very briefly" thing from earlier. I can't stop now.

Water polo here is very physical. The referees have no idea what water polo is, apparently, so they call it like you might call a pro wrestling match. as in, not at all really. This surprised me at first. But, once I got put into my third consecutive headlock at 2-meters without the referee taking noticed, I began to catch on. So, I made good use of the patented Joel McKown "double foot blast" on many occasions (every possession change) to the apparent dismay of the crowd.

The Lancaster pool is 25 m long, 6 lanes wide, and 1m deep at the shallow end. I'm not used to playing in a shallow end. The water literally did not reach the top of my suit when i stood up. You're not supposed to stand on the bottom, but it can't be avoided, so refs are apparently fairly relaxed about it. Except for 2 times. The first time, I was still playing in the field, and I turned a guy from the low wing standing up. I didn't mean for it to be an effective offensive play. I just wanted to embarrass him because he kept pulling my suit WAY up. So that was called an offensive. The second time, I went for an assist from the goal. Antonio, a big italian man from malawi, had swum his way all the way in front of their goal, so I hit him with a pass. Unfortunately, he went for the emphatic finish by leaping off the bottom to catch the pass and slam it home. He ended up looking a tad like free willy and was called for his offense.


Well, thanks for all the advice about getting out there and making the best of doing things by myself. Jennie, my aunt Amy actually gave me a book propper-upper and page holder-opener for my b-day or x-mas a couple of years back. At the time, she made it seem as though it was meant for studying purposes. Now, I realize that it was intended to allow me to eat all the ribs I want when I'm out by myself in Edinburgh. Amy really does think ahead, I guess. Hello! so do YOU. Al paca socks!

Robbie

As ordered, by the doctor

I had a really enjoyable night. Two phd students from my polo team, kirk and antonio, and antonio's girlfriend, Alex, and I went out to a pub for some drinks and some lively conversation. It was the perfect solution to my worries about not having people to do things with. We had lots of fun and lots of laughs.

We went to a place called Jekyll and Hyde's. It's just north of Princes St. The coolest part is that the bathrooms are hidden like a secret hideout. You seriously have to push your way through a faux bookcase to get in there. My friends knew that I wouldn't be able to find it, so Alex escorted me to the shelf. Very kind.

I told everyone about extreme ping pong. I think they enjoyed it.

We talked a great deal about water polo, as my tomorrow is my "debut" against Lancaster. We've never played them before, but the team is very confident that we will handle our business down there. We'll hope for the best.

Wish me luck.

Robbie

Giles Cathedral

I went to Giles Cathedral today. It's on the royal mile. Sadly, I did not have my camera with me, as this was an unplanned visit. The cathedral was a real beaut. I was struck, however, by the number of war memorial "tablets" on the walls. It seemed as though the entire north wall was covered with them, and much of the stained glass depicted battle scenes that commemorated particularly dead individuals and groups. Seeing all of these images made me consider the extent of British involvement in international (and domestic, for that matter) fighting. There were tablets commemorating fallen soldiers from the Boer Wars in S. Africa, the Great War, India, the "international occupation of Crete", and many others. What a list.

One problem that I've been having is that almost everything I do outside of my flat I do by myself. It doesn't bother me to do certain things alone. I enjoyed being in the Cathedral very much, despite my lack of companionship. But, it does become a problem when I am walking around and see a nice place to stop for a drink, perhaps some carrot cake, not a panini, and I find that I don't always have the will to go it alone. This is really too bad because I think one of Edinburgh's strengths is its pub and cafe-type places.

My flatmates, who I like very much (probably the most out of the people I've met here), are not interested in going out for lunch or coffee. Maybe I should make friends with some old ladies who have a consistent schedule for tea or some old men who go out to the pub regularly. Or maybe I should always have a crossword puzzle with me so that I can look studious if I go into a place solo.

I bought two books from the oxfam store yesterday. "Twelve Modern Scottish Poets" and a gruesome mystery called "Quite Ugly one Morning". I don't think I'll continue the mystery. It's too gross for me. Plus, I've got relevant, quality literature from the Christmas season that I can turn to. The poetry is really nice, from what I can tell. It seems more real than a lot of poetry I've seen (and disliked).

Last night, I was feeling like I had wasted the day. So, mindful of Uncle Jack's enjoyment of "just walking around", I decided to go for a walk. I started down the royal mile and stopped at the Oxfam there. Once I had my books, I kept going west until I ran into some street that curved north and then west again. Then, since I had no idea where that was going, I went up an alley of stairs that must have constituted a 2,000-ft elevation gain and was back on the royal mile. I kept going that way until I found Victoria St. This street contains many restaurants that I had noticed in my guidebooks and so I went by to check them out. Sure enough, the Indian place that had sounded really good HAD burned down in December of 2008. I had read something to that effect, but was hoping that it wasn't true. Anyway, I went by the cheesemonger shop right at 6:00 PM as the woman was shutting the place down for the night. I could smell it from about 4 shops down. A return trip is imminent. But who will go with me? perhaps... JIM.

At this point, I continued along Victoria St. until I hit the grassmarket. It was cool, but then I got all turned around and didn't know which way I wanted to go, exactly. So, I just followed the biggest flow of pedestrians wherever they went. It was mostly business people getting off work, and I figured they would be going somewhere central. It's impossible to use landmarks as reference points on some streets because the buildings are high on either side. Otherwise I could have just found the castle and gone from there. So, I walked and walked with the flow of pedestrians until the castle and princes st. came into view. In the end, I had walked all the way around the west end of the castle. Then, I got to walk ALL the way down Princes St. In fact, I passed 3 Carphone Warehouses and 2 Gap stores along that street. I went into stores and looked at stuff along the way. Mostly, I was thinking about gifts that I could get people back home. You'll all be pleased to know that I bought nothing. I am crippled sometimes by an inability to make decisions. So, I'll keep thinking about who should get what. Maybe I'll make a list to ensure that I don't make any mistakes. Everyone's getting plaid.

Wait. I did buy myself a t-shirt and a scottish flag. I put the flag on my wall to add some flavor to the room. It's pretty bland otherwise.

Jim and I went to the store last night. We both got every flavor of instant noodles (top ramen) so that we can eat them together and decide which are the best. So far, curry is my favorite, but beef and shrimp haven't had their chance yet.

Planes, Trains, and Iceland

Iceland is just as I thought it would be: flat, dark, and riddled with airport equipment.

My flight to Frankfurt was interrupted due to a medical emergency. Someone (apparently in first class) had to be evacuated from the aircraft. Unfortunately, the Atlantic is made of water. But Iceland is not. It is a land mass. So we stopped there. I think this was about 8 hours into what should have been a 10 hour flight.

I had chosen my flight based on the fact that I would have plenty of time to catch my connecting flight to Edinburgh. I didn't want to have to rush at the Frankfurt Airport since that's in Germany, where they speak an unintelligible form of English called German. I don't speak it.

The Iceland detour caused basically everybody to miss their connections. The scene at Frankfurt was hectic. Eventually, however, I was put on a Lufthansa flight to Heathrow and a BMI flight to Edinburgh. Woohoo Star Alliance. In the end, my trip took about 24 hours instead of 14. But it was definitely worth it. After all, I got to see the famous Icelandic airport night shift workers in action.

Planes, Trains, and the German Woman in Seat 54C

The highlight of international travel is the flying. This is especially true if you are lucky enough to find yourself in economy class, and even more true if your flight features "complications" of any sort. During my flight from SFO to Frankfurt, I took notes in a moleskine in order to keep my mind sharp so I wouldn't miss a single round of drink service.

The flight attendant wrapped up her English version of the pre-flight announcements. "...and congregating near the cockpit lavatory will not be permitted. We will do our best to make this a pleasant flight to Frankfurt," she says, only half-heartedly. It's a bad sign when the flight attendants give up on the "pleasant flight" idea even before takeoff. We hadn't even had a chance to experience any complications at that point. All I'm saying is that I would have appreciated some false enthusiasm.

Soon after takeoff, I began to wonder what sort of "Code of Economy Class Air Travel" Larry David would come up with. But, since he certainly doesn't fly economy, I decided that I get to devise the Code. Over the next hour or so (we'll call it Hour 1), I was surprised at how little I was able to come up with. I think I was caught up in what I have determined to be the single most significant part of the Code. Of course, I am referring to the rules and regulations surrounding the use of the seat's reclining function.

This is a complicated subject. At first, I was determined that reclining should be entirely prohibited. In fact, my notes contain very explicit thoughts on this subject. "Though the function exists," I wrote, "it should NEVER be exercised."

At this point, I realized that the concocting of an economy class code of conduct could wait. The more pressing question was whether or not I was at risk of being victimized by the woman in front of me (we'll call her 54C). After all, my fate was entirely in her hands. So, I took to analyzing 54C to try to get a sense of how likely she was to recline during the flight.

"2:45 PM Pacific Standard Time: 30 minutes into the flight, the woman to my front and left has leaned her seat back. My neighbor, 55B, is clearly defeated." At that moment, I knew that the Code must define a minimum length of time after takeoff before one may recline.

For flights under 2.5 hours, no reclining shall be allowed under any circumstances.

For flights between 2.5 and 6 hours, a passenger must wait at leat 1.5 hours before reclining.

For flights in excess of 6 hours, a passenger must wait 2 hours before reclining.

I think that's about right.

"3:55 PM PST: 54C stands to adjust the direction of the air nozzle. She wears glasses. About 60 years old. Again, she stands up to put small jacket into overhead bin. Is thwarted by flight attendant, who was walking backwards with the hospitality cart and bumped into 54C. Undeterred, 54C stands again and completes her task. German accent detected. Seems very pleasant. She has seen me, and we have made eye contact. Thus, she knows that I am 6'4", 280 lbs. The eye contact quadruples reclining guilt in normal humans. Maybe triples it for Germans."

"3:07 PM PST: She spurns the beef and orders the pasta. In solidarity, I do the same."

At this point, it occurred to me that the new TSA regulations benefit those who tend to recline.

"Perhaps most importantly, 54C must know that I have no liquids in excess of 3 oz. This works against me, as it allows her the comfort of knowing that, should she recline and anger me, I can dump no more than 3 oz. of toothpaste on her head in retaliation." I have been stripped of my defenses, and it is not a good feeling.

That was my last note. After that, I implemented the David Puddy technique for air travel. It worked for a while. Eventually, however, 54C DID recline. This was probably about 3 hours into the flight. I guess she isn't affected by moral guilt the same way I am.

Bowie's in Space

Well, I have finally gotten around to creating this blog. It only took me about three weeks to get it done.

Overview:

This blog examines my everyday life as I inhabit Edinburgh (pronounced "eden" [like the garden of biblical fame] "burger" [as in 'do chili cheese fries come with the blue cheese bacon burger?']), Scotland, for the duration of the Spring semester. The range of topics covered will be vast, though a few recurring trends are sure to emerge. For example, "bad things that happened to me" will take a front-row seat next to "things I have eaten" and regular installments of "Accent-Related Mixup-of-the-Week", in which I recount the week's worst situation that began with a thick Scottish accent and ended with an even thicker blank stare from me. On occassion, this segment will feature my inappropriate responses to misunderstood phrases, which in turn elicit bewildered looks from the natives. That is how I turn the tables.

Objectives:

The main purpose of this blog will be to consolidate the many thoughts I have been sending out via email so that your inboxes get a rest and that you can choose if and when you want to hear from me. Secondarily, this will nullify the risk that you, the reader, would accidentally delete one of my emails from your inbox, and in trying to recover it, also accidentally delete it from your "deleted emails" or "trash can" folder. This way, the information will always be online, blunders like that will be impossible, and you will have constant access to my words.