And the era ends...

Just tomorrow morning and I will be away to America. The packing is as finished as it can be until it is time to catch the Airlink to the Edinburgh airport. As we loaded a couple of suitcases, Matt and I couldn't help but realize how amazing that this year is leaving us with less than we started. It is turning out to be remarkably easy to fit what we have left. Thanks to the merciless exchange rate, we really have acquired very little (teapot, vase, book, pair of wellies and two magnets) to show as mementos for our time here. So many clothes are ending up "binned" or being given to a charity shop as they are showing significant signs that they were always worn under a backpack or rained on constantly. In some ways we are limping home a bit but what better way to show a well carpe diemed year than wearing out just about everything you own?

This last week has certainly been filled some of my favourite things and people to help me feel ready to "get on" with things. This included a BBQ on Portobello beach with the Adams and Mr. Campbell-Cobb.

And would you believe those housekeepers got me outfitted with a box of those delightful Tunnock's Teacakes and my very own Tunnock's Teacake apron! How well do they know me?!

To be sure, a true highlight had to be my adventure up to Arthur's Seat with my dear friend Aneta. We picnicked on Polish crisps, this gorgeous pineapple and almond cheese on oat crackers, olives, avocados and Hit biscuits. When getting to the top, we shared a very "Aneta moment" when she whipped out a bubble wand to celebrate a great year of friendship. "You know Cate, we celebrate your leaving Edinburgh with bubbles....not "bubbly" because you are Mormon. But bubbles!" When taking pictures of this whimsical event over the city Aneta laughed, "Cate you must post these pictures on facebook with song Forever Young".

If there was ever a song to describe this delightful Polish lass, it would for sure Forever Young. So grateful she shared all kinds of young-at-heart moments with me. How I will miss her calling me "Kashka", her (should have been) Polish sister. Seems like just last week she was chatting away at me on my second day at work, while lugging enormous linen bags with her wee frame. "You know Cate, when we work together it is like you have Polish radio". She is a one of a kind so I know there isn't going to be a thing like her wherever I go but how marvelous that this year gave me the surprise gift that is Aneta. Having much to miss means that there was much given.

So how to say goodbye to a place that gave us such a unique, brief but intense chapter to our lives? Closure seems to come in waves for me. Part of me has this frantic compulsion that I need to do everything "one last time" and make it more meaningful and memorable than ever before. Walk through all my favourite areas of town, run my running route, see every single person that has made my year here memorable, etc etc. But that is an overwhelming business to be in, especially when I feel like these last few years have been such a constant transition. Great relief comes in the realization that the memory of a place, person or event here is often enough to say farewell. That is to say, some things don't need to be done "one last time". The first or the routine experiences of it along the way were the significant parts to it. Nothing really needs to be added I think. And so I say goodbye to my year of living Scottishly. Much love and cheers.

Happy 4th from Scotland!

Though I am living in a land of great freedom and beauty, I did have a few waves of homesickness flood in yesterday. Not to worry though, it turns out that a couple of great friends and a bucket of fried chicken can cure anything that ails ya on the July 4th. A good thing too, because I am learning that you can find great friends and KFC pretty much anywhere in the world.

Going to miss that Edinburgh when she goes away...

So I just bought my ticket "home" from Edinburgh today. People have been asking Matt and I for awhile now when we plan to "head home" and we have had our "end of July or beginning of August" answer handy for the last few weeks. In other words, I knew about how fast the clock was ticking the whole time but there is something about having the flight that makes the thing committal and real. It is interesting because all the sudden, having that ticket, turns the routine into something kind of meaningful. It is the reverse of "feeling too much like a local". What became mundane from living here has taken on a new intensity with the thought that it is among the last times that I will do it. Running in Holyrood, volunteering with the Girlguides (last night was my last activity), meeting with my "IT Buddies" or doing read alouds, going to church, walking around town, spending time with ward members and the YW, doing my early morning swim, even my housekeeping shifts. It's a familiar feeling actually - being that Matt and I have moved 3 times in our 4 married years. Still, it hits just as hard every time and the smallest of things seem to get me emotional in the last couple of days (ie I cried pretty hard after my run today in Holyrood - it was that good of a run in spite of achy legs from a long housekeeping shift).

It is probably no surprise that the most intense thing to leave are the people I have met and the experiences I have shared with them. It never ceases to amaze me where I pick up a good friend - sometimes in the most unexpected of places (and the most unexpected of people).

Here's to the Girlguides! To those crazy-rambunctious Rainbows that modeled proper "etiquette" to me on our tea party activity and taught me how to take a cuppa in grace and style. Of course, there were lots of other good times besides that (ie teaching them how to line dance to "Boot Scootin' Boogie" and making homemade kites).

Here's to my mate Taff Powell - the chattiest, warmest Welshman friend I think I could have asked for. There is something so comforting about knowing every morning when I start a swim around 8am, there will be my friend Taff crawling in the lane next to me. 72 years old and still kicking every morning for 2K Mon-Sun. Loved his company, the Welsh and Gaelic he taught me ("Bori Dah Catie" - "Good Morning Catie") and how he always saved a story for me about his days at sea in the navy or had a Mormon/American question for me before I left the pool.

 (you know he is a good friend when he still takes a moment to talk to me with my post-swim puffy chlorine face and raccoon goggle eyes!)

Here's to the housekeeping team (the Polish dream cleaning team pictured here: Iwona, Justyna and Aneta) along with dear Alan, the soft spoken maintenance man who has just as much of a sweet tooth as me when he gets out his cuppa at the end of his lunch break. I know the lighting doesn't make this place look like much to have lunch but I have to say that it has had some memorable moments which include learning the difference between "tea" (a cuppa at the end of a meal) and "tea" (dinner) or hearing the phrase "scraggy wee bisum" from my boss who apparently breaks into old Scots when she gets angry thinking about a past employee.

Here is to Brother Burns! I met him on the temple trip back in October when he came and stood next to my seat on the bus ride back to help pass the time (and stretch out his aching legs). I knew from the moment he teased me like I imagined my grandfather would have that it was the beginning of something great. One of my favourite lines from him was when Matt gave me a wee kiss on the cheek after sacrament and he leaned over from the pew behind and put his hand on Matt's shoulder and said "Oh, now Matt...don't make me too jealous". Matt and I both agree that he ought to have a calling in the ward as "the ambassador of goodwill" as he is known to make rounds to just about every person in the ward to make them feel loved and appreciated.

And here is to my YW! What a great group of lasses to have shared my Sundays, Tuesday evenings and an eventful but memorable weekend at camp with this last year. Just look at all that personality!

Of course, that isn't an exhaustive list but I thought I would just get out a handful of them while I was thinking of it. I know there is more to miss about this place than I am even thinking of now and will only realize once I get back stateside. This is probably good since I can only handle so much goodbye at once. Feeling sad about leaving something just shows how much great I have been handed in this past year.

Happy Scottish Summer Solstice

Being this far north has its perks at this time of year (though Nov-Feb was rough when it got dark at 3:30 in the evening).

Matt and I like to celebrate the long days with late evening walks, like our 9:30-10:15pm walk last night for FHE. At the beginning of our stroll down Princes Street, we had a brief moment where we got annoyed that the shops "close so early here". Then we remembered that it was about 10pm at night, even if it felt like 5pm. It isn't just the evenings either. Probably what is most surreal is how early it gets light. When light started to pour through our bedroom window beginning at 4:30am, I would get up with a start sometimes thinking I had slept through my alarm. Afterall, I got very accustomed to waking up and walking to work in the 8am dark. It's pay back time though now. The only complaint is that this day had to be so rainy and dim - but I suppose that is part of the deal when you are talking about a Scottish summer...

The Whistle Stop on Dalry Road

A new cafe just went in where the French baguette sandwich place went out of business on Dalry Road. I run past it on my way to the Dalry Swimming Pool several times a week. It caught my eye initially because the window has a list of "American Foods" available on the menu. What luck! I thought. Finally a place where I can get some real BBQ, maybe TexMex, a great hamburger or a slice of apple pie. What American delicacies would they offer? Imagine my disappointment upon reading:

-Sloppy Joes (one of our lowest culinary moments)
-Hot Dogs (do Americans eat these more than the British?)
-"American Cookies"

American cookies? There was hope yet! I peered into the window to get a closer look of what that might be. Maybe some Mrs Field-esque melty chocolate chip monster cookie cakes? Better yet, would they get creative like this Ruby Snap place I hear of in Salt Lake or those long lost Texas wonders from Tiff's Treats? Oh what dismay filled my heart when I looked in and saw a crinkly bag with a stars and stripe flag (worthy of an Eagle Court of Honor clip-art invitation). Across the bag read "American Cookies".

Not even Oreos? Nor E.L. Fudge? Not even some waxy Mother's Cookies?!

I shouldn't complain. There truly is too many good sweets for me to take in here (thank goodness I have to walk to get everywhere!). Just last night I finally got my chance at the famous "Banoffee Pie".

That's right. Bananas and Toffee! With a substantially thick digestive biscuit crumb crust (a la Millionaire Shortcake). Brilliant really - a revelation to be sure. No, indeed there is no need to mourn the Whistle Stop on Dalry Road. But still, sloppy joes...really?

An Anniversary in Edinburgh...

Yesterday Matt and I celebrated 4 years of marital adventure! We commemorated the day with a feast at the ever-popular "Nando's" on Lothian Rd. Yeah, it is a chain restaurant rather than the fancy local places where we have celebrated in the past in Austin and SLC. Still, we decided that splurging our small luxuries fund on a restaurant are for the times when we don't have the novelty of living in Scotland. Indeed, we do have a several day holiday planned through Isle of Skye coming up in just one month time. Best save the wee fund for that this year! And to be sure, this year's celebration was the best I can remember really.

Can you see the excitement on Matt's face about to dig into his Peri Peri chicken, chips and mushy peas as he rolls up his sleeves?

As good as the meal was, I have to confess that the best thing about it was their BOTTOMLESS fountain drinks (with ice nonetheless!). It is a real rarity in these parts to have such free flowing soda fountains, as abundant as you would find in the ol' U.S. of A. I felt like singing The Big Rock Candy Mountain.

Would you believe our blustery, rainy spring Edinburgh lit up with sun for the hour after our dinner? Just long enough to get a picture of us in front of the Princes Street fountain that we pass so often on our walks to campus this year.

That was an event in and of itself as we happened upon three elderly Basque women on holiday to take the picture. We exchanged picture taking services with them since they hadn't gotten one of them altogether and explained with Spanglish and wild hand gestures (turns out that Basque and Argentine Spanish is not as comparable as one might think) our story of being in Edinburgh as they were interested in us being Americans. It was the perfect encounter for the occasion as it added yet one more memorable event in our year long stint here in Edinburgh.

I have to say, when I look back on my 4 married-to-Matt years, that in spite of the fact that they still haven't "hung the jerk who invented work", I have good reason to be singing "The Big Rock Candy Mountain". Truly, life has proven to be "a land that is fair and bright".

Feeling Like a Local...

#15 Having a certain way I "take my tea" and knowing the way Matt does as well. One sugar for me with my Polish raspberry or Chamomile tea and two sugars for Matt with his Twinnings Mint tea.

One great thing about spring and summer weather in Edinburgh: still cool enough in the evening to enjoy a good cuppa. The land of year-round tea drinking:)

Oklahoma folk drink tea too...

The Sweeneys have arrived! Well, Mama and Papa Sweeney that is and we are already partying this Caledonia pretty hard. We hit up Kleofas Cafe last night for some delish Polish cuisine. See previous post to get more of the details of what a place like this has to offer. And today was High Tea at The Caledonian (indeed, the 5* place where Sean Connery stays when visiting Edinburgh). True to Sweeney form, many of these parties have revolved around great food. What is better than great food and the best company afterall?

And great, high fa lootin' food it was! Check out this spread...

Lori was the most refined of us all, I think. She catches on quick to high class culture it seems. Check out that pinky action...I swear it was unintentional.

We all had different votes on the best delectable of the day. Mine went to the above pictured meringue. Billowy with a marvelous mix of sticky, chewy and crunchy. The bite with the raspberry and cream was absolute divinity - no pun intended:)


I have been pining to take tea at The Caledonian for a while now after walking past it on Lothian Road regularly for the last few months on our way into town. Lothian Road is normally such a roulette of foul smells (I'll spare you the details on the types we have encountered on our walks). But there is incredible moment that hits when you pass the one 10 metre stretch along The Caledonian. It is pastry pleasure for about two good inhales and it takes me to the kind of happy that I have only gotten in places like Great Harvest during a Christmas shift and the shortbread came out of the oven with pools of butter....you know the serene joy I mean.

So did it live up to all I hoped? In the words of Kurt, "I will remember this until the day I get dementia". I am in accord. So a big thanks to Kurt and Lori who sponsored such a marvelously fun and memorable afternoon tea!

Royal Tailgating...

...or Fancy a Blue, White and Red party?

It is the Royal Wedding Eve! It does seem that there is at least as much talk about it over on the Stateside of the pond as there is here in Scotland. Still, we have had a fair share of William and Kate's pic plastered all over mugs, postcards, and "Quiksilver" gambling houses.

I scored a bit of luck housekeeping one day when a tour group left behind a couple of mugs in their rooms after checking out. My boss let me keep the first one, as she was doing beds with me that day, but luckily she secured her free mug a few rooms later. Perfect for a royal cuppa tea!

On telly today, all of my "Bargain Hunters", "Save My Holiday" and "Homes Under the Hammer" programmes were replaced with LIVE footage of people camping out on the Thames and outside Westminster Abbey in Britain coloured hats (worthy of the Kentucky Derby). The Regis and Kathy Lee London equivalents speculated over tea, finger sandwiches and fairy cakes about what Kate's dress will look like and how Prince William will manage to carefully cover his bald spot (apparently something he is quite sensitive about...).

Though I had little interest up until this point about the whole thing, I have to say that I started to get a bit caught up in all the talk and paused a few moments between stripping beds and turning on the hoover to see what details they would share from what they knew. I think the same thing is happening with the Scots, in spite of themselves. If you ask whether or not they care the response tends to be something like "Ah...I didnae care really. It's just a silly English thing". Still, from what I gather, my boss is going to a hat party with her friends tomorrow to watch the coverage, the restaurant manager will have the telly going all day to keep tabs on the goings on and in the words of Matt's supervisor at the National Library of Scotland "I have mixed feelings about the monarchy but I won't argue with a day off".

I say cheers to William and Kate as I'll be enjoying that extra bank holiday while on the continent in Holland's tulip fields next week!  It seems fitting too as what is more British than enjoying a good and proper holiday?

Smacznego (or "Bon Appetit")

Before coming to Edinburgh, I would think about all the different, new experiences I expected to have.  I wondered whether haggis really would be as unappealing as everyone made it out to be (turns out it is actually quite nice). I wondered if I would be able to make friends with Scottish people or if there would be cultural barriers that would prevent it. Among the things I wondered about, there was also a fair amount I expected to experience. For example, I expected going to the supermarket would be even more loathsome than it is was with a car (this indeed turned out to be true). I anticipated that it would be hard to find a lot of the ingredients and foods that I am used to cooking with (this has been the case sometimes but not always*). Etc etc.

One of the great things though about exploring a new place though is that there are loads of things that are great which you don't even expect. One of the biggest ones for me in the Edinburgh chapter of my life is getting to know Polish people, culture and food. When I first interviewed for my housekeeping job, I was asked very matter-of-factly if I knew how to speak Polish. "What a random language to know", I said. "Why no, I don't know if I have even met a Polish person before." The duty manager, a kind but humourless fellow, followed up by telling me that there are a lot of Poles in the Edinburgh area and that half of the housekeeping team was Polish and a handful of the kitchen help were as well. At the time, it didn't matter to me one way or the other (I just cared about getting a job). I had no idea what a cultural adventure I was about to have.

My second day on the job I was paired up with this spunky, wee Polish lass who in spite of having learned English only a couple of years ago could chat it up more than anyone I had ever met. Ever. From the start, we "got on like a house on fire". I don't know how you couldn't with this girl Aneta. Within the first couple weeks of work, we were already swapping favourite cultural dishes with each other. I made her chile con carne and cornbread. She brought me potato dumplings, meat stuffed cabbage, and Polish herbal teas (she is fascinated with me not drinking leaf tea as a religious thing). Even today I have come home with a 15 bags of "Malina + Granat - Herbata Owocowa" (Raspberry and Pomegranat Herbal Tea judging by the pictures on the box) and a handful of Polish biscuits and wafer candies. Her teas and biscuits have yet to disappoint as they have an unrivaled grasp on how to best espouse the wonders of marshmallow.

Last night sealed the deal for me though. For a couple of weeks, Aneta and our Latvian co-worker/friend Agnese and I have been talking about going to Kleofas Cafe, a wee Polish restaurant over on Gorgie Road. It took some scheduling acrobatics to get us all there at the same time but oh was it worth it!

The wonders that the Poles can work with beets, potatoes, cabbage and the like. Never thought to saute pickled beets in butter to make a warm salad but it is one idea to remember.

Though the potato dumplings were unbelievably moist and soft and my pork medallion impeccably savoury with a mushroom sauce they made, the award of best dish would have to go to the dessert cake I got. "Sour Apple and Dark Chocolate Cake". What an inspired combination of  melty bittersweet and sour with the most stimulating texture. I have never eaten a cake that accomplished so much without any frosting. What a delight!

How had I never heard the raving reviews of Polish food before? Surely with the contributions they make to the culinary world, there would be more restaurants around and aisles in supermarkets with their ingredients. I will say though, that this experience is probably a template for something much bigger that I will encounter as I go new places, meet new people throughout my life. I imagine that there are a wealth of people and cultures (and food) I have never really thought about before but has something magnificent to offer.




*Foods I expected would be difficult to find but are not
-Cummin
-Mexican food (there is little variety and not as great/authentic quality but it is there)
-Cinnamon sticks (I didn't expected these to be difficult to find but they are so super cheap here compared to the States)

*Foods I expected would be easy to find but are not
-Ground pepper (they usually only have the peppercorns?)
-Diced green chilis
-Popcorn
-Chocolate chips
-Tofu
-Dried Beans (Black and Pinto beans are the most difficult to find; they can be found but they are quite expensive and only at the biggest supermarkets.)

Simple Pleasures in Portobello

These last few weeks Matt and I have been burying our heads in homework, the ol' church callings, work and volunteering. However, with the start of British Summertime (ie Daylight Savings for all you American folk) , our days have gotten luxuriously longer, quicker than we expected. This has led to all kinds of restlessness in trying to stay in, with work to be done. Since November we became used to a cozy hibernation with mugs of tea in our wee flat when the sun went down at 3:30pm for month after month. In the last couple weeks though it has become a bit torturous to try and be too productive when it is light (and often even balmy warmish!) until as late as nearly 8pm. Indeed, a day-adventure was calling our name. So we looked at how far the Lothian line buses would would take us in any direction (in spite of the 10pence increase) and chose a Saturday afternoon in Portobello.

We hopped onto #26 that took us out to Edinburgh's seaside resort of yore. Apparently, this place used to be quite the holiday seaside destination for 19th century folk but like most idiosyncratic resorts, like Saltair, it has been in slowly declined in popularity over the ages.

Portobello is only 4+ miles from our flat but it might as well be in a different city than Matt and I as we have no car and a maximum walking distance capacity of 5 miles round trip. That said, it was well worth the 5.20 it took to get us to this stretch of the Firth of Forth. The 19C (66F) weather was about as friendly as one can ask for from a Scottish coastline in the spring (or ever for all I know). Still, I am not sure I would have been as brave as these thick skinned wee lasses messing about in North Sea waves in nothing but swimming costumes. Perhaps Scots are bred a bit heartier for a holiday at the sea.

One of the Edinburgh historian-types in our ward was telling us just today that he once had a mate that would swim across the Forth, starting in Portobello, on New Years Eve every year! Unimagineable....

This is a coastline that doesn't call for the boogie boards and only those who are "having a laugh" would think to bring a umbrella for sun protection to this misty, cool beach. Still, there is something utterly serene about visiting a part of the sea that offers a boardwalk with nostalgic wonders like "Noble's Amusement's" (a la Pleasure Island scenes in Pinocchio) and stretches of beach that don't place you in uncomfortable proximity to overweight sunbathers.

I think one of my favourite nuances of the place was this mist that would rise up from close to the tide.

After walking about for a bit, Matt and I decided the outing called for Magnum bars and an Italian Ices along with a good sit and some people watching. When we finished up, we walked our way back along the boardwalk and caught the bus home. I think it felt a wee bit easier to whittle away at our papers and assignments with a hints of wind burn (or perhaps could it be from the sun?) on our skin.

Afternoon Cuppa at Loopy Lorna's

A social has been in order for us Girlguide leaders of the 166th unit for a while now. We decided on a meeting for High Tea yesterday afternoon at Loopy Lorna's. It was my first time having a proper afternoon tea and to be sure, it did not disappoint. Just look at this spread...

Highlights of this particular tea house are the delightfully mix-matched dishes and cooky knitted cozies of different animals. Mine was a duck...as you can see.

Louise and Signe shared a pot of "Blooming Amazing" which was a whimsical tea that budded open as it steeped to reveal a Lily inside. The wonders of British tea artistry!

My favourite were the scones with clotted cream (life changing it was!) and fresh raspberry preserve. Heaven. The preserve was stunningly tart and with just the right balance of sweet I couldn't help myself but shamelessly dish up rather unlady-like portions of it for nearly everything I ate. Luckily I was among friends so I don't think they judged me. Needless to say it was one of those cultural flavours I was glad to sample during my time here.

In other news....

My IT Buddy made news today for his epic plans to cycle across the Eastern coast of Italy for a charity group, just months before his 70th birthday. A local reporter came into the library today to learn more about his cause and ambitions and consequently got to learn a wee bit about the IT Buddy programme with the Edinburgh Public Library. Afterall, if you are going to have a cause big enough to cycle 250 miles for, you best get yourself a proper blog to tell your story. That's where I came in. Here's the article.

"Feeling (too much?) Like a Local"

13. Is "sidewalk rage" a thing? If it is, then I think I am prone to it when other pedestrians don't follow the walking traffic rules. Granted they aren't officially "laws" like on the road but if you need to stop and tie your shoe, read a sign, or the like - I suggest you step to the side mate. Don't mess the rush hour chi on the sidewalk. Otherwise the rest of us peds will resent you for it.
14. Getting this little number from my friend I do "IT Buddies" with. Isn't it terrific? He was so grateful to learn the basics of his new laptop and how to do basic internet searches that he custom-made one of his marvelous origami trees for me.

This list is growing too fast to even keep track of it very well. The thing is, I have noticed that I have found less and less of the daily life here unusual. It isn't just that taking a bus to supermarket then walking with my re-useable bags back to our flat from the bus stop is routine, though it is. It is beyond the wee fridge that seems like a normal size now, the cold, damp weather or the walking to church in my trainers and then changing into my Sunday shoes to avoid blisters. Those things are indeed normal feeling to me now and I suppose that I expected them to become that way at some point; however, while walking home from work along Queensferry Road, I looked up over Dean Bridge as I was crossing it. It is a lovely view, to say the least.

It was at that point though that I realized it had been several days of work since I had taken a moment to look over the bridge that had once been such a wonder to me. I walk along that road several times a week and it has become rare for my breath to catch in my chest when I see the waters of Leith.

Lately I have noticed that while talking to people, I forget they even have an "accent". On telly, Matt and I will be watching advert after advert and not even think twice about how people say their words differently than we do. People will use terms like "mum", "cheers", "didnae" or "couldnae" and it seems quite natural and less like a novelty.

I remember when Matt and I walked bleary-eyed out of the Edinburgh airport at 8am to take a taxi to our hostel and face a full day of jet lag. Worn out and disoriented, we waited on Argyle Street for our hostel to open. The distinctive Scottish and British accents came and went past us like a Doppler effect as locals walked past us. It was all we could do not to sit and smile at each other, as utterly tired and scared as we were, everything around us from the buildings and the sounds on the street to the smell of breweries and rain, we were somewhere new. We were somewhere that was far from home. We were in Scotland. It was an intoxicating feeling - a rush - that made all of the difficult logistics and pains of finding a life in a new place worth it.

I remember this feeling, on a smaller scale when moving to Texas. People actually wore cowboy boots! And grown men would pour themselves into tight wrangler jeans and use the word "y'all". We went to a Stake activity with Matt's grandparents, I remember feeling that rush of excitement that comes when you feel like you are a part of something worth writing about, worth documenting in your life, as I saw this guy cutting open watermelons on a card table with a Texas-sized knife. Afterall, this was "watermelon country" - close to Luling - home of the "Watermelon Thump". It was so Texas and so Mormon ward activity at the same time. It was unique and I had never seen anything quite like it. If you don't see the humor in that, it is probably because you have already had experiences like that in your life before.

There were plenty of things like that when I got here that I just couldn't get over. They were so perfect. So Scottish. So new. But there is this bittersweet thing that happens when a place becomes familiar. It becomes less anecdotal. It becomes normal. It is just life. It's a little sad when I think about it too much. I hope I am taking in enough. Noticing enough. Appreciating the unique flavour here enough. At the same time, I am liking this sub-chapter of our story here, where there is routine. There are friends. There is fitting in more than just gaping at how marvelously different people and places are here than people and places where we are from (though between Matt and I - I am not sure where that would be anymore).

Rugby v. American Football

As the 6 Nations Rugby matches have descended in the last couple weeks, I can't help but compare the culture that follows with the American football way of life. It isn't surprising probably as both games involve lots of pushing people around, rules that don't make sense to me, and very similar playing equipment.

Rugby ball

American Football

As with all beloved sporting events, there are the fiercely loyal fans painted in team colours that fill the streets on gameday. This livened up our Sunday walk back from church yesterday, as it is usually one of the sleepiest times to be out in the city. In lieu of the burnt orange "hook 'em horns" baseball caps and giant foam fingers we normally see on a UT game day, were Scots kilted up and wearing St. Andrew's flags as capes and rugby shirts to boot. Since they played Ireland, there were also a handful of green felt Irish caps with the fake red hair underneath. It had all the vibes of a proper Texas tailgating party. The pubs were full and overflowing fans into the streets with their pints and ribald cheering. Instead of hitting up pizza or cheap Mexican restaurants at the end, fans filled up the kebab and curry places all over town. The energy was marvelous! And true to Texas football season form, I maintained no interest in the game intself (or even its outcome) but just fed off the excitement of all the enthusiasts. It turns out it is just as fun to be in Edinburgh on a Rugby match day as it is in Austin on Longhorn game day! Thank goodness for the forgiving weather, that really does help me love a proper sporting day.

Can anyone explain to me though, what this swarming in a circle business is about? Matt and I watch a piece of a game on our walk through Inverleith Park this Saturday and this kept happening. Neither of us knew the significance on the rules.

One thing remains to be said though. Rugby is way more bad-A than football. These guys are totally exposed to the hits they get with their unpadded uniforms. And the hits are pretty crazy hard too.

And to think the Scots thought of it first...

While running up The Royal Mile in the last few weeks, I have noticed this sign outside of one of the touristy kilt gift shops...

It is a wonder that Deseret Book didn't think of it first. Such a reasonable price to clear the conscience of one who can't be bothered to fulfill their Mormon geneaology duty. If this marketing ploy leaks out though, I think that the post-General Conference adverts are going to be all over this as early as Spring session.

Scot's Poetry!

And just in Time for Burns Supper Season! Turns out that one of the quickest ways to shirk off a lonely, homesick bug is to get involved in a good volunteering programme....or 2...or 3... Of course, helping out with the Rainbow Girlguides has been great fun on Tuesday nights but I needed to get my fix of library work. So I am now a volunteer "IT Buddy" as well as a volunteer with the Read Aloud programme through the Edinburgh Public Library. The former position will pair me up with older folk who need a wee bit more help with their technology skills. I work one on one with them to help with anything from learning how one operates a mouse effectively to setting up and using an email account. I am told that "patience" is key but all the same I think that it sounds like a great chance to get to know these unique people that make up Edinburgh.

I just finished with the Read Aloud orientation tonight and I am excited. The programme is set up for a volunteer or two to go with a library staff member into care/nursing homes to read people with memory problems different poems. There is a theme for each visit, sometimes props and pictures as well as conversation prompts to get people responding to the poetry. We practiced tonight, and although I stuck with the trusty e.e. cummings poems I found, it was marvelous to hear some real authentic Scottish poetry from these different members of my current community.

One of the poems read tonight called "Kidsong/Bairnsong" by Liz Lochhead conjured up some interesting conversation about the old "Scot" language. Click here if you want the poetress herself to read it to you (the poem bit starts at about 2:10). This poem is "a wee bilingual poem" as it is first written in Scot and then in "English", with a stanza of reflection at the end about trying to write poetry in an unnatural forced language that is not your own (in this case, "English"). Many tonight pointed out that school children were beaten by their headmasters and poets frowned upon at one time for speaking or writing in Scot. I realized tonight, after some real good flavour of this rich language and culture, what a sad world it would be though if this unique way of expression had been lost through these oppressions. It indeed takes a Utahn/Texan like myself some time to get my mind around the descriptions and follow the narratives but no matter how little I understand, the ride is great fun.

And another favourite of mine from the evening was read by a dear older lady sitting next to me. She stood up and read this very animated poem, playing up her brogue quite a lot. Indeed, in some ways this poem is hard to follow but truly I think every parent can relate, even if they don't speak proper Scot.

A Dug! A Dug!

by Billy Keyes

Hey, Daddy, wid ye get us a dug ?
A big broon alsation ur a wee white pug ?
Ur a skinny wee terrier, ur a big fat collie?
Aw, daddy,get us a dug.  Will yi ?

Whit! An' whose dug'll it be when it durties the flerr,
An' wets the carpet and messes the sterr?
Its me ur yer mammy'll be tane furra mug.
Away oot'n play.  Yer no getting a dug.

But daddy thur gi'en them away
Down therr at the RSPCA.
Yu'll get wan fur nothin, so ye will.
Aw. Daddy, get us a dug, Will ye?

Dji hear um?  Oan aboot dugs again?
Ah think that yins goat dugs'n the brain.
Ah know whit yu'll get: a skite oan the lug
If ah hear ony merr aboot this bloomin dug.

Aw, Daddy, it widny be dear tae keep
An'ah'd make it a basket fur it tae sleep.
An'ah'd take it fur runs away ower the hull.
Aw, Daddy, get us a dug.  Will ye?

A doan't think thurs embdy like you:
Yi could wheedle the twist oot a flamin' corkscrew.
Noo! Get doon aff my neck.  Gies nane a yur hugs.
Aw right.  THAT'S ANUFF. Ah'll get yi a dug.


Aw Daddy.  A dug. A dug.

Happy Hogmanay Y'all!

I have never been a big fan of New Years in the past. It has also proved to be a worn out holiday that was like the post-Christmas let down when I was either sick or just plain didn't have anywhere fun to go in the past. But it turns out I am a big fan of Scotland's New Years, or Hogmanay. Tonight was the kick off on the Royal Mile with the torch procession. It was a parade of nearly 20,000 people that started with a group of Shetlanders dressed as vikings. They held up some hefty torches and periodically made loud grunting noises and shouted indecipherables.

Then came the bagpipers....

And after came throngs of people holding their torches. "They are lighting up the streets like a KKK rally." Matt remarked. Here's a picture of them waiting for their moment in front of St. Giles cathedral.



After taking in as many sites (and crowds) as we liked, Matt and I headed toward Calton Hill for the "burning of the viking ship" and fireworks. Indeed we found some shortcuts through town to beat the procession to Calton Hill. Yep. It was a "feel like locals" kinda moment for us.

And burn a viking ship they did! I am not sure why exactly but apparently it happens every year. I won't argue with their tradition either as it was pretty cool to watch those Shetlander vikings yell and and throw their torches to light up that boat.

Again, a bit KKK-looking out of context. But it really was super cool.

On our way back down Calton Hill, I was walking next to a bagpiper from the parade. His bagpipes were all lit up with Christmas lights and I had to ask.

"Is there any way that I could get a picture of you with those fantastically festive bagpipes of yours?" He was super friendly. "Of course!"

Him and his friend stopped at the bottom of the steps and put me in between them. They seemed to know the drill between the two of them and had a real system worked out. He even shoved his pipes over to me and helped me grab onto them for a good grip. "Really?!" I asked. "I get to hold them?" I couldn't believe my luck.

"Sure you do!" The other then promptly took off his cap and put it on top my mine. "You need a proper bagpiping hat too then. But don't be telling anyone I let you. They will all be asking to wear me bagpiping hat." Hopefully he will forgive me for letting you in on his secret...

So it turns out that New Years Eve Eve is pretty awesome in these parts. Can't wait until tomorrow's giant Auld Lang Syne sing-along. A Happy Hogmanay to all!