The pics finally worked! Actual post coming soon!

All right. The pics are working. These are from the last several days and are sort of all over the place. I'll give some quick captions and hope to flesh this post out later.

Peeps

Here's Rania, our tutor. She's Greek, posh, and about to get her PhD. She prefers long vowels and is very interested in 'the pohleeteeks of the bohdee.' We love her and hope she grades us generously.Here's Paul with Chrissy, the nice person who has broken into our clique, on our way to St. Andrews and Fife on that bus tour.Unfortunately, this crappy shot is my best picture of Chrissy that actually shows what she looks like. She's on the left grinning at Alex.Alex is hugging Simone (pronounced si-MO-nee), a lovable Italian who is one of our 'student hosts.' He likes football, jazz, and pulling Paul's arm hairs.Peter is one of the directors. He has amazing hair--it's impossible to catch the full glory on film, but I tried. He's the most English person I've ever seen. Clare, his co-director and girlfriend, is a super-cute Glaswegian. I'll have to get a picture of her tonight at the farewell party.

Parliament

Two quick shots of the new parliament building, which we got to tour on Friday afternoon. There's grass on the roofs of some of the buildings (bottom right of the first one). Originally budgeted for 80 million dollars, it ended up costing a billion. I thought it was all right. The Scots are pissed about it but they also make fun of themselves for complaining about everything constantly. Oh, and a postscript: it's going to fall down in 200 years.


Highland Games at Inverness

This dude is picking up that tree! [They call it a 'caber.'] Seriously! And then he throws it! I couldn't get a good shot of it, but the goal is to throw it end-over-end so that it falls away from you, ideally perfectly straight.This dude just threw that huge hammer (it's sort of hard to see against the green fence in the background--sorry)!This dude just threw that huge rock!Pipers, and drummers doing cool twirly things that are hard to photograph:

The dark side of the Highland Games--military recruiting. They work the young 'uns by letting them pretend to mow down the crowds with machine guns.Paul and Alex in their natural habitat.Awww.

Bus Tour to the Kingdom of Fife and St. Andrews

A couple of bridges over the Firth of Forth.Fishing stuff from the coast of Fife. These were taken right before we had the ambrosial / hellishly mouth-burning Fish And Chips.
St. Andrews as seen from the top of a ruined cathedral.

Rosslyn Chapel.

Okay, so I forgot my camera. Paul and Alex took pictures and I'll get theirs tonight.

Stirling Castle.

We toured this yesterday--it was pretty neat. We saw the various battle stuff, including holes in the stones made by muskets in the 1600s, and also watched some weavers making copies of the Hunt of the Unicorn tapestries. But what you really need to see is a picture that makes fun of how tall Paul is! Cause those jokes never get old! Paul is really tall though.

After we got back from Stirling, we stopped at a place called Kebab Mahal and picked up some food. We couldn't eat it right away because we were almost late for a cool lecture on modern Scottish art (the lecturer was dreamy, brilliant, and had a cute accent). The food was too hot to eat anyway--but when the lecture was over, we and the food were ready for each other. Oh my--that was some good eating. Maybe it's just because I haven't eaten any, you know, flavors, since I got here. But it was just so damn good. We went a little crazy after we got into the vindaloo. I think I did some kind of dance that I don't remember.

Tonight's the farewell party. Supposedly we're going to perform '...Baby One More Time' with re-written lyrics... witty SUISS inside jokes. None of this has actually been written, though.

My next post will be a retrospective with more pictures... and it will be published from the states! Hard to believe. Love to all of you.

Due to technical idiocy (slash I think it's the network's fault, but how can one be sure?), the pictures, which I just painstakingly loaded onto this library machine, cannot be shown to you. You'll have to keep imagining the dudes in kilts throwing trees, what Chrissy looks like, etc. It's a bummer, but there it is.

A quick update, since I wasted so much time on the vain pursuit of photos...:

We checked out Rosslyn chapel yesterday afternoon. It's somehow related to The Da Vinci Code, which I still haven't read, and while they've apparently tripled the entry fee since the book exploded, I still thought it was worth seeing. The four of us shared a cab to get there, and while it's not far from Edinburgh, it was peaceful to the point of being otherworldly. It's surrounded by trees--what they claim are among the last of the old growth. The building itself is so ornately carved that you almost can't believe it. Just imagine a gothic cathedral (though somewhat smaller) with every single architectural element just decorated out the wazoo... and no two details alike. There's tons of pagan stuff, which I was predictably fascinated by, including a guy called the 'Green Man,' a sort of male version of Mother Earth, who was neat-looking and all over the place. There were also lots of connections to the Freemasons and Knights Templar which I gather the book makes a big deal out of. We hoisted a pint while waiting for the bus to go back, and I think I can say a pleasant afternoon was had by all.

We were early for our date with the Heweses and so hoisted yet another pint and began telling embarrassing stories. This is becoming an unfortunate habit. We managed to behave ourselves at the fancy restaurant, though, as we enjoyed both 'full-blown' and vegetarian haggis. We got home fairly early and so did a bit of singing before I started 'working on my presentation.'

Paul and I have to go to a function tonight--the ESU, the nice people who paid for us to come out here, are hosting us. I have no idea what they will do to us, but we're hoping to beat a pretty hasty retreat since Rania has organized another of her gatherings.

I'll try again with the pictures tomorrow. Love to all of you.

I loaned my camera cable to Troy the robot (who talks about poetry while you're trying to run up a hill), so this update too will be image-free, at least for now. Sorry about that.

Here's the weekend update:

Friday afternoon was laundry time. I had managed to get along pretty well thanks to Abbie's packing skillz, but the others were in dire straits. Alex was wearing, as I recall, a bathing suit, scuba flippers, and an overcoat... and Paul was wearing several artfully-folded towels. Alex took the lead on this project and, in a moment of extreme generosity of spirit, let me continue to nap instead of sending me down to switch the machines when it was my turn. Even several days later I continue to remember that nap with great tenderness.

We managed (barely!) to get the laundry finished in time to go out that evening wearing 'normal' clothes. Rania, our tutor, had invited us out to a spanky place. It was too hot, and the chairs were big and tall and made you wobble around because of their strange design. It was difficult to avoid spilling your drink... you had the feeling that you were in a windy treetop. Anyway, we entertained ourselves with Paul's riddles and made it an early evening.

Saturday. We got up early and caught a bus to Inverness, about four hours to the north in the midst of the highlands. We ate Indian food for lunch and walked down the Ness to a fairground where highland games were being played. There were huge dudes in kilts, and they threw trees, stones, and hammers around. More on this later when I put the pictures up--but suffice it to say we had a very good time. We got in around eleven, picked up a pizza, and called it a night.

Sunday. The trio / clique of Paul, Alex, and Sam underwent an expansion! We were joined by Chrissy, who's a very nice, sharp, thoughtful person from our seminar who wants to be an English teacher when she grows up. Poor thing. We hiked up the Castlehill to start a bus tour of Fife and St. Andrews, and were joined by Paul's mom and stepdad, who've flown over to visit him. They are patient, kind, good-humored people. Our bus driver was a bit wacky--freely sharing his opinions on whether women should play rugby and whether Tiger is a team-player--and we got special enjoyment from defying his orders: he had said that this was a twenty-minute 'photographic and comfort stop' and certainly not a lunch stop. But we were on the coast of Fife, where Fish And Chips deserve to be capitalized... and Paul and I knew that it was a moment that must be seized. We burned our mouths, and I'm sure we looked like hyenas swirling around their prey, but it was all worth it. St. Andrews was very cool--much more to see than just the golf stuff, and the weather continues to be beautiful. We taught Chrissy to play euchre in a pub that afternoon while Mr. and Mrs. Hewes watched golf with all the locals. On the whole, a good day--though maybe not as spectacular as the highland games. And we actually got a decent night's sleep for once.

Today we're planning to head to Rosslyn Chapel (of Da Vinci Code fame) which we hope will be cool and not lame. Then the four of us are going to eat with the Heweses somewhere on the Royal Mile before I have to go home and work on my presentation... a course requirement and something of a source of dread, I must admit. I'm supposed to talk about The Waste Land for fifteen minutes, with no clear idea of what I'm supposed to accomplish. Oh well--this too shall pass.

I continue to love and miss all of you and, as much fun as this has been, I'm excited to be heading in your direction in less than a week. Leave a comment if you can.

This'll have to be image-free until tomorrow--I didn't take my camera with me last night and Paul doesn't have the thingamajig that allows him to upload pictures.

Not only did the reception last night feature mad kilt action, we also enjoyed the stylings of the Director of the English Speaking Union (the group that paid the way for Paul and me), a crazy Glaswegian who, among other things, recited several Burns poems and smashed his wine glass while telling this joke:

Four blondes walk into a bar and ask for shots. The barman sets them up, and as they knock them back, they yell 'forty-two weeks!' They set up and knock down a second round in the same way. As the barman is setting up round number three, he says he just can't stand the curiosity. One blonde explains [insert sound of breaking wine glass here, but don't pause the joke delivery in the slightest] that 'the puzzle box said "2-5 years" but it only took us forty-two weeks!'

Ahem. Speaking of jokes, I've been meaning to share one of Paul's that has given me much to ponder:

A guy walks into a bar, and the bartender immediately notices that he has a mailbox for a head. After he pours the guy's drink, he says 'I'm sure you must get this all the time, so I'm sorry, but I have to ask about your head.'

The guy says it's no problem and explains. 'I accidentally rubbed up against this old lamp and a genie popped out. I couldn't believe it--but this stuff really happens. The genie gave me three wishes. So, first I wished to be really rich. BOOM--all of a sudden I'm loaded... I'm in a huge house with a collection of antique cars and art and a pool... you get the idea. Then, I wished that every woman that I'd ever been attracted to would be in love with me. BOOM--the house was full of beautiful women. It was awesome. And then--and here's where I think I might have gone wrong--I wished to have a mailbox for a head.'

Thus Paul. I had nothing to quyte him with except Abbie's joke about the grasshopper--ask her to tell it if you haven't heard it before.

Anyway, we survived the crazy Director and the boring speeches and eventually retired to the pub next to Greyfriar's. Many embarrassing stories came out, the crown of which was certainly--and I still have no idea how this came up--my performance in Mud, in all the gory details. We managed to have a good time despite this--Rania, our tutor, came along and helped make the evening even more surreal and entertaining by her mere presence.

Today we are sleepy, but still pretty psyched to tour the new Parliament building this afternoon. More pics soon. Love to all of you.

The haar is here. It rolled in last night as we were walking back from the train station. When we got to the classroom this morning for seminar, our normally pretty spectacular view had taken on a more definite Scottish quality:
Alex and Paul were nonplussed:
I wanted to throw in a couple of older pictures, not only because (as usual) Paul and Alex are amusing, but because they convey a little of the strange sense of spaces here. You really do get the feeling that you're surrounded by secret passageways:
while at the same time, you're continually surprised by huge vistas that combat the sense of claustrophobia:
We got over to Glasgow yesterday (Wednesday)--a great trip that made us realize how small Edinburgh really is. Glasgow is bigger, more populous, more industrial, and more friendly. I think I'd want to live there if I moved to Scotland, although I'm not sure we got to know it much at all since the trip was so short. One of our directors is a Glaswegian, and she recommended we go up the Lighthouse first. I think the views did give us a sense of the town, somehow. It's much less picturesque than Edinburgh.
Paul is psyched for Glasgow. Or, maybe he just heard that a Wicker Man remake (starring Nicolas Cage) is being released September first.
Here are a couple of portraits from the Kelvingrove Museum that I liked. This lady has haunting eyes. French painter whose name starts with a 'C' (best I can do).
This guy, called 'Old Willie,' was painted by one of the 'Glasgow Boys.' There's either something very Scottish about the painting, or there's something very Scottish about the fact that the Scots like to think there's something Scottish about the painting. Or both.
We went from the museum to a cathedral on the east end of town and checked out its necropolis. I find it difficult to explain our somewhat slap-happy mood in retrospect.
We made it out of the city of the dead and down to a wacky restaurant courtesy of the guidebook. We celebrated with a strong beer called 'Leffe' that, as Paul noted, came in 'man wine glasses.'


And now, it's time for me to fail to resist the cheesy-shot-of-the-sunset-taken-through-the-train-window-
indicating-a-peaceful-end-of-the-journey.
We're nearing the end, here. But there's still some crazy stuff coming up--including a formal reception tonight which promises to be stuffed to the gills with dudes wearing skirts. Paul's got some family coming to visit this weekend, and we're thinking about checking out the Highland Games near Inverness (dudes in skirts throwing trees and hammers around).

Love to all of you. Thanks for the comments and for taking care of each other.

Just wanted to add a quick update since we figured out how to access Paul's pics. Here's a shot of my triumphant (and somehow angelic?) grill after I managed to locate the cheesemonger. I hate to say this, but some in our party had nearly lost heart towards the end.
This, as you can probably tell, was taken towards the end of the Ceilidh, right before Paul's cells disassociated and he collapsed into a puddle, which immediately dissolved. Troy (l), on the other hand, is the military man/cyborg who talks about poetry while people are trying not to die on the way up a hill and who, as you can see, does not sweat at all.

Monday has been just fine so far. We stayed up rather late shooting the bull and procrastinating, but Paul managed to pull off his presentation on Heart of Darkness. Our lecture this morning featured the madcap antics of Peter the Director--definitely the best hair of all the lecturers so far. We're about to go eat some sort of lunch and then get into trouble somehow or other--maybe checking out a museum that describes the history of surgery... to help us digest our lunch. Further updates as events warrant. Love to all of you. Don't forget to leave comments if you want.