New year, new flat, new job

And so begins year two of life in Edinburgh. All settled into my new flat in the lovely neighbourhood of Stockbridge, just north of the New Town. One of these days I want to do a photo tour of the neighbourhood, so I'll save that for another post. Here's a teaser: the view out of my living room windows:


Without gushing too much, I really love our new place. Big windows, big open living/dining room, newly redone kitchen... as much as I loved Mylne's Court, it felt institutional and temporary rather than homey. Now I feel like I live in the whole flat, not just my room. Plus, I don't have to face the daily tourist swarm, nor endure bagpipes blaring for most hours of the day.

I spent most of September frantically handing out CVs and sending off job applications, and finally, following a two week stint temping at a property management company, landed a job doing pretty much exactly what I wanted - working as a fundraiser at a small charity. Take that, recession! So far so good, although I'm still learning the ropes.

My assessment of working life in the UK? Pro: tons of paid holiday - (I think) I get twenty days annual leave plus eleven public holidays. They actually accept that people work more efficiently if they are working towards time off. Con: pay day is once a month, at the end of the month. Which means that even though I've been working for just over two weeks, I won't see a dime (10p coin? is there British slang for coins?) until the 28th. Boo.

So, the upshot is that I really should be blogging more often - at the moment, my bank balance doesn't allow me to do much after work other than surf the web and watch Don't Tell the Bride. Luckily Stockbridge has several well-stocked charity shops, so I've been able to minimally satisfy my shopping urges with some office wear and random housewares. Until I have another chance to hit up Ikea, however, the house-tour-via-blog will have to wait!

Festive Edinburgh

It was fitting that while I spent August working on my dissertation, a task that had been looming over me since September, the city of Edinburgh spent the month engulfed by the festival, an event which had also loomed since my arrival almost one year ago. When Edinburghers refer to "the" festival, they actually mean the variety of festivals which overlap during the month - all centered around the original Edinburgh International Festival (a classical arts fest, including orchestras, ballets, theatre, etc.). The Fringe is the biggest, lasting this year from the 5th to the 31st, but there is also a Book Festival, an Art Festival, and many more smaller fests.

This year, there was also a pre-festival event at the end of July - a Gathering of the Clans held in Edinburgh as part of the 2009 Homecoming celebrations (2009 being Robbie Burns's 250th birthday). Basically, I got the impression that the whole Homecoming thing is just a tourism marketing strategy to get North Americans to come to Scotland (an interest in family history/tracing your roots seems to be considered somewhat of a strange North American preoccupation by the Brits). That being said, it was kind of neat to watch the Clan Parade up the Royal Mile - mainly because I really love pipe bands and parades:

That's St Giles Cathedral in the background.

Lots of Canadians representing - even my neighbour from Guelph. We cheered at the flags.

I don't know that I have ever seen so many kilts at once.

It was also kind of cool to see my family clans (both are traced back to my maternal grandmother's grandmothers):

The McNaughtons.

And the McTavishes.

My love of pipe bands and parading was more than satisfied by the Military Tattoo. The Tattoo also happens throughout August, on the Castle esplanade (which serves as the Castle parking lot for most of the year). It's a really impressive production - they have bands from all over the world, and they do all sorts of neat light projections on the castle. We went for a preview night (and therefore half price tickets) at the beginning of the month.

The Chinese band.

The best performers of the night couldn't really be captured on film - not from where we were sitting, at least. Called the Swiss Top Secret Drum Corps, this band did all sorts of ridiculous tricks with their drumsticks, including lighting them on fire at one point. The video below is from 2006, but it gives you an idea of how awesome they were:

Since we went on a preview night, there were photographers running around snapping pics. This made for some funny moments: either photogs getting trapped inside marching patterns, or being charged at by marchers. In the photo below, some performers from Tonga are jabbing at them with spears.

And of course, it wouldn't really be an Edinburgh celebration without fireworks. The evening ended very patriotically (as you can see by the picture), with the massed bands playing Auld Lang Syne and (one of my faves) Scotland the Brave.


The fireworks to end all fireworks will take place next Sunday, on the last night of the International Festival. Apparently they're set to music and will last around half an hour. Luckily for me, I have a friend with a flat on Rose Street (in the New Town), with a rooftop patio that has an excellent view of the castle!

Despite being locked up in the library for most of the month, I have done some other festivalling, too. Last weekend we spent a day going to free Fringe comedy shows - getting mostly what you would expect from free comedy shows, although some were decent. At least if you didn't pay anything and the show is bad, you don't feel that you've been ripped off. There are also lots of new bars and patios that have sprung up around the city to support the population influx, so it's been neat to check those out. The only downsides are the crowds, whose leisurely wandering in the city centre makes it difficult to get anywhere, and the show promoters, who are trying to shove flyers in your hand at every step. That being said, it is neat to think that thousands of people from all over the world come to Edinburgh for the festival, and I get to act like a local!

A student no more

As of last Friday, I am a free woman - I handed in my 15,000 word Masters dissertation!

Definitely a relief, as it had been hanging over me for so long. But also strange that it's all over so quickly... and that (pending my results) I will soon have a Masters degree (!!). Weird also to be ending in August - this will be the first September (since I was 4) that I will not be heading back to school.

For anyone who actually cares, I wrote about two novels (Saturday by Ian McEwan, and Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer. Basically, I was talking about 9/11, trauma, and the role of narrative in the grieving process. Following in the footsteps of Dissertation Haiku, I'll try and provide a poetic summary, because, as the writers of the blog explain:

"Dissertations are long and boring. By contrast, everybody likes haiku. So why not write your dissertation as a haiku?"

So, here goes:

Images no help
For understanding terror
Use stories instead

Not especially amusing but... 9/11 isn't such an amusing topic (another reason I'm happy not to be reading about it everyday).

Now what, you ask? My job search has yet to pan out so far, so I am still applying to various jobs, and hopefully going to do temp work in the meantime. Tomorrow, however, I'll be heading to Oban on the west coast, where my friends have rented a cottage for the week (I am joining them two days late since I had to work). Should be relaxing, and as long as we don't get torrential downpours the whole time, we're hoping to do some island hopping (Mull and Iona, for example). Then back to Edinburgh for one last weekend of the Fringe Festival! (More on the August festivals to come)

From the New Yorker Book Bench: Haggis Noblius

I've found a way to frantically finish my dissertation AND update my blog - for your reading pleasure, a post from The Book Bench, the New Yorker's book blog:

"From the Daily Mail, a wee bit o’ drama over the “great chieftain o the puddin’-race”—Robert Burns’s name for the dish made from mutton stomach, mutton liver, mutton heart, mutton tongue, suet, onions, and oats. That’s right: people are fighting over haggis! Specifically, over who invented what has long been thought of as a quintessentially Scottish delicacy. The food historian Catherine Brown has claimed that the first printed reference to haggis is in a 1615 book called “The English Hus-Wife.” The first Scottish reference dates to 1747. But Scots are crying foul, claiming that haggis is a Scottish invention introduced to England. One Edinburghian haggis-maker summed up his feelings: “I didn’t hear of Shakespeare writing a poem about haggis.”

The true feelings of the people can be found, as always, in the comments.

From English readers:

• The Haggis (haggi noblius) was introduced to Britain in A.D. 123 by the Emperor Hadrian to control the heather and gorse on the Scots side of his wall, thus denying the barbarian Picts and Scots any cover for attack and ambush. History records that there were few, if any, successful incursions across the wall after the introduction of the haggis. In A.D. 171 the Emperor, Marcus Aurelius, is believed to have said about the haggis, “Truly the knobbliest Roman of then all”.


• As an Englishman I say let the Scots keep it. It’s a horrible, horrible dish and they’re welcome to it!

From Scottish readers:

• It’s not that nice to be honest … But we scots are the only ones who really actually know what it is and really the only ones who eat it. Therefore it is ours.


• Who cares, it is not very nice. Now Scotch pies, they are delicious if made properly.

(Photograph: Walking Haggis, by Spodzone.)"

Click here to see the original post.

Maybe something's wrong with me but... I quite like haggis! Not as something to eat everyday, mind you, but every once in awhile, when it's chilly and dark outside. Maybe it would lose it's charm outside of Scotland.

Gotta love that photo, though. Makes me think of the rather amusing tall tale of the wild haggis, which claims that a haggis is actually a woodland creature. The best part is that, according to a 2003 survey, 1/3 of US visitors to Scotland actually believe that a haggis is a real animal. Sadly, no - just mangled bits and pieces of a real animal. My sister bought a stuffed toy 'haggis' on her visit here - wish I had a picture to post (hint, hint, nudge, nudge, if you're reading this, mum).

Now I'm wondering if I've already blogged about the wild haggis in my Burns Day post. Dissertation-induced mental-mushing strikes again - which means it's back to editing for me...

Exploring the Royal Mile's Closes

Took a walk down the Royal Mile this evening and brought my camera with me. There are so many closes - that's what they call the alleyways which branch off from the Mile - that I feel like I'm always discovering ones that I've never been down before. Some have restaurants, pubs and shops, while others are crumbling and graffiti covered. Either way, they're one of the reasons I love Edinburgh so much - this city has so many layers.

Wardrop's Court dragon.

David Hume statue on the Mile.

My section of the Mile, the Lawnmarket.

The Balmoral Hotel.

The Walter Scott Monument and a tour group.

Typical close.

Gift shop tartan scarves.

Former Bishop's lodgings - note the matching window grate pattern.

Tucked away church garden.

It reads: "Heave away chaps, I'm no' dead yet."

John Knox's house.

Calton cemetery silhouette.

Halfway House pub, tucked (appropriately) halfway down a close.

Scott Monument again, sans tour group.

Writers' Museum.

Gladstone's Land, a restored 17th Century tenement.

My window looks out over this court - Dr Johnson and Boswell stayed here before heading out to the Hebrides.

"Caroline, Caroline, where have you been? I've been to Scotland to visit the Queen."

My mother and grandmother are part of what I would imagine is a dying breed in modern day Canada: both are loyal fans (or at least enthusiastic observers) of the British Monarchy. For as long as I can remember, bits and pieces of Royal gossip could be found around our house: a paperback beach-read about Diana, or a documentary on the Princes William and Harry. The Queen, starring the queen of graceful aging Helen Mirren, was eagerly watched and loved by all.

So it really came as no surprise, then, that as soon as I voiced thoughts of moving to the UK, my mother began sending me links to job vacancies at Buckingham Palace and not-so-subtle hinting that I follow in McGill alum Autumn Kelly's footsteps and bag a prince. Granny kindly advised me as to how to act should I ever be invited to one of the Queen's garden parties (among the tips: "she must speak first and you address her as 'Ma'am', not Madam"). We spent our family trip to London on perpetual royal watch - my mum swears she glimpsed Camilla and Charles in a car stopped at an intersection near St Paul's.

Only a few months later, and I've really one-upped my mother. Three weeks ago, my friend Robin had just arrived for a short visit. On Sunday morning I decided to show her around. As we walked down the Royal Mile, we noticed a crowd assembled outside Canongate church. My family trip to the Royal Mews in London had trained me well: I noticed the Royal insignia and flag on the Rolls Royce parked outside, and surmised that the Queen was inside attending a service. It helped that I had read in the paper that the Queen had been in the area the day before to attend the Royal Highland Show. Robin and I had no plans, and decided to wait around and try to catch a glimpse of Her Majesty.

Our patience paid off. After about 45 minutes, the congregation began exiting the church. Two ladies in fancy hats headed towards the car, followed by HRH Queen Elizabeth II herself. She stopped to talk to some people who had attended the service, before heading over to our section of the crowd. I had guessed earlier that this might happen, as the older ladies standing in front of us had brought bouquets to give to the Queen. One woman also gave the Queen a framed picture of the Queen, which was a little too meta (and bizarre) for me. Also a little bizarre was the decision of the Spanish tourist behind me to bellow "YOUR MAJESTY" at the Queen when she walked over (obviously he hadn't read my granny's etiquette tips). Her reaction was priceless, though: a slow glance upwards, followed by one of the most cooly dismissive looks I have ever seen. Sorry mate, but this is not the red carpet at a movie premiere - no matter how loud you shout, you won't get an autograph.


At any rate, the fact that these women had flowers meant that the Queen only came over to our section of the crowd... and Robin got some uber close up pictures!



(Ok, so she wasn't that close - this is zoomed in, as Robin didn't think we'd get as close as we did!)

(This more accurately depicts our distance from the Queen. Still pretty impressive, I'd say!)

It also meant that the AP photographer chose that moment as his photo op - meaning that Robin and I (well, the top of my forehead) were featured on the BBC website!

Before I had time to register what had just happened, the Queen motored down the street to Holyroodhouse.


According to my mother, I can now move home from the UK whenever I want to, as I have experienced what is, according to her, the ultimate British experience - I have seen the Queen, Her Majesty Elizabeth the Second, in the flesh. In a way, it suppose should also be the ultimate Canadian experience - though it may seem archaic to many, the Queen is still our Head of State. It may be because of my family bias, but I kind of like the fact that we still have a monarch - it's one of the things that gives us a slightly different flavour from the Americans. That, and Tim Hortons, federally legal gay marriage, poutine, saying "sorry" to anything and everything... don't get me started - I'm still high on Canadiana after watching One Week last night. I want to share my rave reviews with you but alas, it's dinner time - so I'll save it for the next post.

(And for those who, like my family, are keen on royal-stalking, behold: TheBritishMonarchy is now on Twitter. Sadly, I don't think the Queen does the tweeting herself.)

A Day at the Seaside

Though Scottish winters are, in my opinion, far more bearable than Canadian ones (aside from the lack of daylight hours - having the sun set at 3:30pm for three months is highly depressing), Scottish summers have nothing on Canadian ones. I currently have two weather eye programs set up on my desktop - one for Guelph, and one for Edinburgh. Though I was quite gleeful to see Guelph's -21 sitting next to Edinburgh 9 or 12, to now be faced with a reminder that while today - a beautiful, sunny day - it is 18 in Edinburgh, it is 8 degrees warmer in SW Ontario. I miss hot (not warm) summer days, days which require shorts and tank tops and flip flops, even if you are no where near a beach. But alas, Edinburgh is maritime and temperate and has only had plan old scorching days two or three times this summer - one during an apparent UK "heat wave."

All this is to say that this afternoon, I headed to the seaside with high expectations - visions of a lazy afternoon spent sun tanning in minimal clothing. Our destination: Portobello Beach, a stretch of sandy beach along the Firth of Forth east of the city centre. Once a hotspot for working class holidaymakers (as they say here), Portobello is long past its prime. Back in the glory days of seaside resorts (i.e. the Victorian Age), the beach also featured a fun fair and outdoor pool heated by the spare heat of a local power station. Walking along the promenade today, we only came across a few chippies and a medieval themed arcade/casino - which was, sadly, filled with people, in spite of the clear skies outside.


I can't entirely blame them for seeking refuge indoors. What I had envisioned as a balmy day at the shore ended up being a windy day on the North Sea. A cool breeze coming off the water kept me swaddled in my hoodie, for warmth, and for protection from the blowing sand, which managed to get in my mouth within minutes. Despite the deflation of my unrealistic expectations, the afternoon was actually rather nice in the end. I nostalgically watched a windsurfer get his sail up, and ate a surprisingly satisfying ice cream cone from a somewhat dodgy fish and chip counter.


Plus, it's always nice to get out of the central Edinburgh bubble - and even nicer to be reminded that Edinburgh is, in fact, a coastal city. (Although this point was also brought home by the invasion of the eerie haar a few weeks ago.)



The weather for the rest of the week is supposed to be more typically Scottish - rain, variably cloudy, rain, rain - but I'm still hoping for another scorcher before the summer is through, so that I can have my stereotypical day by the sea.

The Return of the Blog

After a long lapse, I've decided to give this blogging thing a go again. If I am to stick with it, I think a few changes are in order - if the other blogs I've been reading are any indication, I think the keywill be writing shorter posts, more often. When it comes to photos, I will probably link to my facebook albums instead of embedding the pictures throughout the post. All in all, I'm aiming for something that's easier to write - i.e. less time-and-energy consuming - and, as a result, easier to read. Let's see how it goes - hopefully some people out there still have an interest in hearing about my life over here in Och Aye land (to steal a phrase from the teenage Bridget Jones-eque heroine of Angus, Thongs, and Full Frontal Snogging).

I won't get into all the recapping of the last five unblogged months of my life just yet - baby steps, ok? For now, a State of the Union is in order:

• Officially, I am at the beginning of the third month of working on my dissertation. Actually, I took most of May off, spent June reading a researching, and have about 250 words written - out of 15,000. But - BUT! - my supervisor likes my ideas (upon which I will elaborate at a later date) and thinks I am on track. July is writing month - in other words, a perfect time to start writing my blog again....
  
  
• As I write this, thunder cracks outside my window amidst a sudden downpour. This past week we have had strangely Southwestern Ontario weather - warm, sometimes even hot, days, high humidity, sudden downpours, and even thunder - apparently quite rare in this neck of the woods. I suddenly realize that I am only on bullet point no. 2, and already I am talking about the weather. This is a bad sign.
  
  
• Yesterday, I said goodbye to my aunt, uncle, and cousins who had swung by Edinburgh as part of a larger Euro vacation (more on their visit to come). Now that they have come and gone, I am faced with a strange situation: no pending visitors! Though a few parties have expressed interest in coming to see me eventually, I currently have no booked-and-paid-for visits, for the first time since October. I also have no trips of my own on the horizon. Far from being depressing, I find both states of affairs strangely calming - what with my dissertation to write, and the fall to sort out, it's kind of nice to know I'll be in the same place for an uninterrupted while. And while I love having visitors, it is nice to have a bit of a break before I have to wear my tour guide hat again - especially since that break falls during a time in which the city becomes swamped with tourists.
  
  
• And lastly, speaking of the fall, it looks like I will be staying here after I finish up my Masters, as long as I can find a decent paying job and a decently priced apartment. Though I miss Canada terribly, I feel like I have yet to make the most of my time here - there are still many places in the UK and elsewhere which I would like to visit, and I'm interested to see what it's like to live in Edinburgh while earning some sort of significant income.

So that's my life-right-now in a nutshell - keep your fingers crossed that I follow through on my promises of more to come.

A Scottish start to 2009

One of the best things about living in Edinburgh is that it's hard to have post-trip let down. Usually, you get back from a vacation feeling worn out, jet-lagged, and a bit depressed that you have to go back to life-as-usual. Upon our return from Paris, however, we dropped off our bags and immediately joined in with the Up Helly Aa torchlight procession happening on the Royal Mile as part of the Hogmanay (Scottish New Year's) celebrations. Like other Edinburgh events, it involves fire, and lots of it. Apparently there were about 20,000 torch-bearing people being led by Vikings and bagpipers through the streets of Edinburgh...



...to Calton Hill, where we watched a Lion Rampart effigy burn...



...and then stood in awe of a beautiful fireworks display.


However, the Up Helly Aa fireworks were soon to be outmatched. Two nights later was the Hogmanay New Year's Eve street party, attended by 100,000 people. Here's a shot down Princes Street, which doesn't even do the crowd justice:

Note the Saltire (Scottish flag) beanie in the foreground. I want one.

Then, at the stroke of midnight came Auld Lang Syne (although we didn't really hear it, they were apparently trying to break a world record for biggest crowd singing the song, in honour of Robbie Burns' 250th birthday), and one of the longest and most beautiful fireworks displays I have ever seen. Taking place over the castle, no less:


After Hogmanay and the partying that accompanied it, the rest of my holiday was spent lounging around the house. Classes started on the 12th, and so far I'm enjoying them - both are in postmodernist literature and theory, which is right up my alley. A wee bit of dissertation-induced stress was allayed when I finally picked my topic (I turned in my abstract two days ago, so hopefully whoever they assign as my supervisor will deem it feasible). However, I have still yet to feel the real crunch of schoolwork - and therefore a few weekends ago it was deemed necessary to take advantage of our free time with another daytrip, this time to Durham, England, which fulfills the necessary daytrip criteria of housing both a castle and a cathedral.


Durham Cathedral, built in 1093, is massive and absolutely gorgeous - though apparently also crumbling (as the sandstone wears away) and sinking. The Cathedral houses the remains of St Cuthbert, and the Venerable Bede, whose tomb is shown below:


Though photos inside the church weren't allowed, some friends on the trip get some shots before they were informed of the rule. The photo below only hints at the majesty of the interior:




We came to Durham on a trip organized (poorly) by the International Students Centre, so we were only given a limited time to take a Cathedral tour, as we were told we had to meet across the way at Durham Castle. Upon arrival, however, we were told that the tour was full, and we were to come back in an hour. So, of course, we headed to the pub. Not just any pub, however, but the Shakespeare, apparently the most haunted pub in Britain:


We didn't see any ghosts, though the bartender told us some pretty spooky stories. After a pint, it was time to head back to the Castle for our tour. The Castle is actually part of Durham University - the Castle Keep is a student residence now.




One of the highlights is the Norman Chapel, found in the basement of the castle, and featuring these gorgeous Norman-carved sandstone pillars:


Despite the incompetence of the trip leaders, it was a really nice day - beautiful weather and a good group of Mylne's Court friends. Hopefully we'll get to go back and spend a bit more time there in the future.

The next January highlight was Obama's Inauguration, which we watched at a bar packed full of Americans, and then celebrated later that night with a box of Kraft Dinner, courtesy of Christopher Clark.

As amazing as it was to watch that moment, I think it's been even more exciting to see Obama get down to business in his first week in office, reversing so many of Bush's bad decisions. Obama has a lot of pressure to live up to, but so far so good, I'd say. Plus his daughters are absolutely adorable - wasn't it so cute to see them in the background taking pictures while their dad took the oath?

And speaking of North America, I also got a little (ok, miniscule) taste of Canadian weather this month, as we finally had snow that stayed on the ground:


Ok, so it really only stayed on the ground in the hills (this picture is of Arthur's Seat). Temperatures here rarely go below freezing - apparently it's been a mild winter so far. Fine by me!

And last but not least, the month was rounded out by not one but three Robbie Burns suppers. The first (and most traditional) was held by the International Office:


They went the whole nine yards tradition-wise. Here, they're piping in the haggis:


We also got to hear the Address to the Haggis, and a Toast to the Lassies, followed by the Lassies' reply. Dinner was the standard haggis, neeps (turnips), and tatties (potatoes). This was my first time eating more than a bite of haggis, and I have to admit that it was pretty delicious. I think the key is not to think too much about what's in it or how it's cooked.

A ceilidh followed - fun, especially because no one knew what they were doing.

The next night, Mylne's Court held a Burns Night potluck, and two nights later a friend in residence held his own potluck. So not only have I cooked a lot of mashed potatoes recently, but I've consumed enough haggis to last me until the Rev-O's visit and I make them try it for themselves...

So, overall, 2009 has been good to me so far! February holds more good times in store - Guelph friend Michelle is coming to visit at the end of the month - but also more work, as my dissertation proposal is due at the end of the month. Happy (very) Belated New Year to everyone - I'll keep my fingers crossed that Wiarton Willie doesn't see his shadow tomorrow!