HAPPY HALLOWEEN

Not a particularly original title, given the date, but I'm sleepy today and couldn't come up with anything more creative.

Yesterday was very hectic; in the morning Ray and I had to cycle madly across town for my appointment with the National Insurance people (sort of like Social Insurance combined with EI in Canada) so that I could be assigned a National Insurance Number. Everyone who works in the UK needs a NIN, but one doesn't get assigned until you can prove that you are actively looking for work (i.e., you have letters from prospective employers acknowledging that you have applied for a position with their company) or until you are actually employed. As I now meet both of those requirements, I had my interview (mainly to ascertain my identity and right to work in the UK) and was told that my number would be assigned in "about 10 weeks". It does appear that our brief brush with the health care system may be our only glimpse of efficiency in this country. At least when we come back home to Canada I'll no longer complain about waiting a couple of weeks for the wheels of beauracracy (did I spell that correctly?) to turn.

After my appointment, Ray gamely went shopping with me for a more comfortable pair of shoes (shopping in Cambridge on a Saturday is not for the faint of heart) and then it was time for me to go to work. Fast foward to early evening when I returned home to a Halloween party at our flat, featuring lots of candy and pumpkins - just the stuff that all good Halloween parties are made of. We wimped out on costumes but have vowed to be more enthusiastic next year. In any case, I think everyone enjoyed themselves and it was fun to teach our European guests how to carve pumpkins and toast the seeds. As a group, we have decided to hold another party soon and since our new friends come from so many different countries it is relatively easy to come up with a holiday that one or the other of us is celebrating; this coming week is of course the US presidential election and while not a holiday it is definitely an occassion to get together with like-minded folk and either toast or rant about the results.

LEARNING TO SAIL MY SHIP

The past month has been full of ups and downs, which I imagine is to be expected when a couple of naive folk like Ray and I leave our comfy life behind and move halfway around the world. What I find most difficult these days is that we are starting to feel settled in, which lulls me into a false sense of complacency. Just when I think I know my way around, or how to do something, I find out that I DON'T, and this throws me off balance.

The good side of this situation is that I recently came across an old copy of "Little Women" by Louisa May Alcott - remember, books are my "comfort food" - and I found a passage particularly suited to this point in my life: "I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning to sail my ship". I like that. I have to admit that I was saying it to myself under my breath today when I felt the urge to TAKE OUT a particularly annoying Gap customer who was pulling down (and unfolding, and mixing up in the process) an entire wall of jeans that I had just spent over an hour folding and sorting. "Sailing my ship, sailing my ship...."

What I am getting around to saying, in a most roundabout way, is that while a daily diet of this blog may make it sound like we are having loads of trouble getting into our new life here, we really are having a great time overall. Besides, it's more interesting to read about the silly stuff that happens to us rather than "we got up, felt like smiling, went to bed at a decent hour". You have to admit that you got a giggle out of how my bike broke down on me (I know I did) or even, dare I suggest it, the overly aggressive swan.

So that's about it for today's ramble; you'll have to wait two days for my next installment because we are hosting a Halloween party tomorrow night and I won't have time to post. Let me take this chance to wish you all a most spooky and fun Halloween!

Addendum: As Joan kindly pointed out in a comment on yesterday's entry (where are the rest of my loyal readers, hrrrmmm???), I failed to set up the link to the MULLET website in my original entry; I compounded this error but again mentioning the MULLET and still not having explained myself. Ask and ye shall receive...check out The Mullet and all your questions (and then some) will be answered.

SORE FEET, SORE FEET!!

Oy.

I am actually enjoying working at the Gap because I like helping people and it is rewarding when they walk out of the store happy with their purchases. It reminds me of how great it feels when I am the shopper and I end up with clothes that I love.

The bad part of working at the Gap is that I am on my feet all day, which I know isn't exactly a hardship but I have spent so much of the past months/years sitting in front of a computer on my BUTT that I fear that my derrier has the callouses that I really need to have on my feet. Not that you needed that unsavoury visual, but there you go. However, I am working a lot of shifts over the next few weeks and I harbour great hopes that my feet will soon toughen up. That, and I may get a more comfy pair of shoes.

Since we're on the subject of clothes (by way of the Gap), now would be a good time to mention the prevalence of scarves in Cambridge. EVERYONE wears scarves here, including men, and they tend to be fashion items rather than for cutting the cold. Although, when it gets windy out on the Backs, a good scarf is a great comfort. Since I love all things cozy and snuggly, I am loving the scarf scene and am pleased that I can participate in British fashion without having to get my hair cut in a MULLET.

THOUGHTS ON KEEPING A JOURNAL

It's interesting: I've just picked up a new book called "Any Human Heart" by Willaim Boyd (a highly regarded British writer) and the novel is set up as one man's journal entries throughout his life. As the fictional main character was born in 1912, the book chronicles the 20th century through the boy/man's eyes and is also a reflection of how a person changes throughout their life. What I find most interesting is how reading this fictional journal has made me think a lot more thoroughly about keeping this online journal myself.

I have never been a consistent journal writer, except for a year when I was 10 years old (and had been given a Garfield diary to fill out, which I did religiously) so technically the writing required for this blog is a new experience for me. Given that, I should warn you that I may ramble all over the place - as I am doing now - and that when you log on each day you'll never really know what you're going to get. Forrest Gump would approve, don't you agree?

Enough rambling and back to the matter at hand: today was my first day of work at the Gap and it went as expected - that is, nothing too exciting but not terribly boring either. The store being a madhouse is actually a blessing because I didn't have time to be bored, which was my main concern with a retail position. So while the store is open I run around fixing displays (never will I understand how such a tidy store can look hurricane-hit within such a short period of time) and assisting customers; I have till training to look forward to next week as well. After the store closes, we unload new shipments of clothes and distribute them on the shelves, all the while continuing to tidy up. I can see why Kate mentioned last year that working at the Gap involves a lot of folding! But the main thing is that all the coworkers that I have met seem very friendly and a good bunch to work with; the same can be said of the management team. Overall, I'm pleased to be there and am looking forward to greeting customers with a smile tomorrow (and the next day and the next...seems I've made a good impression and have managed to get 40 hours/week straight away).

Today's other big development was that broadband internet was FINALLY installed in our flat and I can set up links to photos from this blog; however, now that I'm working I don't have the time to fiddle with it. I promise to get on that soon; in the meantime if you'd like the photos please just drop me an email and I will send the link to you directly.

(And for Joan, who was wondering where the Gap is in relation to our flat: it is directly in the middle of downtown Cambridge, making it 6 minutes by bike or 15 minutes away on foot).

LEMME HEAR YOUR COMMENTS!

Couple of big news items for today:

(1) I am now the proud employee of Gap Cambridge and start work tomorrow. Will be great to have some $$ coming in to finance all our crazy adventures, and of course our trip home at Christmas.

(2) I figured out how to open this blog so ya'll can post comments on what you read. I know you're out there, so come out and play!

Still working on getting the picture links up and running, and the broadband internet guy is supposed to come tomorrow, but don't hold your breath. Recall from the entry two weeks ago that they have to DIG UP OUR ROAD to install the broadband cable. So it may still be a while before the picture-referring entries make any sense at all.

Now that I actually have eight of tomorrow's precious hours taken up by Gapping, I'll have to keep this entry short. I still have several applications for "real" jobs (i.e. something in research) to finish and mail off, and, of course, now would be a good time for me to review Kate's blog entries from when she worked in the Edinburgh Gap last year. Never hurts to be prepared!

THE WINDS OF CAMBRIDGE

Cambridge is one windy city, let me tell you.

The entire county of Cambridgeshire (in which, unsurprisingly, Cambridge is located) is in a very flat region of England known as the fens. Ages ago the fens were actually boggy marshes and the neighbouring town Ely (pronounced "eel - lee") even derived its name from the eels that used to swim in the low lying areas around it. No joke. After the water table dropped, the flat fens proved handy during WWII for the building of plane runways and as a staging point for many of the troops pre D-Day. But in current times, the most notable feature of the region's flatness is that it provides an ideal geographical framework for wind.

When we first arrived in Cambridge, I was delighted to see that it is basically flat; I anticipated all the cycling we would be (and are) doing and hills are not your friend when one is riding an old three-speeder. But the wind proves a foil to the lack of hills, because it is windy almost every day, and - this I swear - the wind is always a headwind. It doesn't appear to be so simple as riding against the wind in the morning and with it in the evening; I could work with that. But today I noticed as I was riding along the edge of town (through some open fields which did nothing to cut the wind's blasts) that even though my journey took me West, then South, and then East, I constantly had to peddle like mad into the wind. Just as I anticipated turning a corner and taking advantage of a tailwind, my hopes would be dashed. Tell me, fellow cyclers, is this a common phenomenon in Vancouver and other parts of the world?

At least I can console myself with the thought that I will have some kickin' calves when I come back home.

BIKE TROUBLES

I meant to include this in Friday’s entry, as this is when my bike betrayed me, but I got side-tracked by employment worries.

As I’m sure I’ve written about ad nauseum before, our main mode of transportation in Cambridge is by bicycle. At least, Ray and I cycle, and other people sit in their cars on the packed roads. It seems that it truly is more efficient to get about on bike than on four wheels, but I imagine once it starts to snow, or even get rainy and windy with any sort of conviction, I’ll envy those drivers in their heated cars.

In any case, my trusty steed of a bicycle failed me on Friday. I was walking with Ray and leading my bike when I heard an unmistakable “Pop!” followed by an even more unmistakable “fzzzzzzz….” and thus I had a flat tire. Wheeled my bike into the nearest shop (they are everywhere in Cambridge, due to the prevalence of bikes) and was told “That’ll be nine quid” for a new, inflated tire. Considering that my bike only cost £40, this is nearly ¼ of it’s value – I look at the investment as similar to installing a new transmission in a car. It could be worse…I could still HAVE a car in need of a new transmission.

So that you are reassured, my bike is once again back on its tires and I’m cycling madly all over the town. Until the next blowout, that is!

TO GAP OR NOT TO GAP

So the mighty Gap interview took place today; I think it didn’t fare too badly. Since my sound rejection for a couple of receptionist positions, I am no longer confident in my abilities to speak to the public or hawk clothing. But, bravely recalling the pub manager’s “you’ll do” – so perhaps I have at least passed some sort of minimum bar in the looks department, all that seems to be required at many clothing/retail locations – I dressed cutely, fixed my hair and presented myself to the manager.

I think I mentioned a few weeks ago that shopping seems to be the British national sport, and that the stores are crammed full of shoppers all practicing their craft. The Gap is no different – if anything, because of the chain’s well-known name, it is even busier than many similar clothing stores. Add that to the facts that 1. it was raining and windy today (so not much else to do; your two options were to stay home or shop, most people choosing the latter) and 2. Christmas decorations have started appearing in stores (reminding frenzied shoppers that there are only – count ‘em – 61 ½ shopping days until the big day), and the store was literally my version of Shopping Madness.

But! Recalling that I am a resourceful lass that has handled horses, cows, fowl (excluding swans) and many rowdy children – and has survived multiple years of Circle Craft feeding frenzies – it would take more than crazed Gap shoppers to intimidate me. The interview was of a different sort than any I have had before in that I spent the hour on the sales floor, helping run the dressing rooms, greeting customers, and generally showing the manager how well I fit into the whole Gappy scene. It was a bit dicey when it came down to a test of how well I could put together an outfit of all Gap clothes, on my own, in under 10 minutes, but I didn’t let the pressure get to me and I think I passed all the tests with flying colours. I’ll find out for sure if I have the job sometime within the next week, but it looks like I will at last be bringing home some income, even if it’s only minimum wage. Whew!

Funny blog thought today (as I am finally getting my journal online into a proper blog!): my profile has the Blogger.com-supplied question “If you were a cannibal, what would you wear to dinner?” I’ve decided that I would wear BBQ sauce and a truly fabulous hat, which I don’t have the courage to wear now, but would if I were about to become dinner. Because really, at that point, who cares??

FOLLOWING IN THE STEPS OF KATE THE GREAT

Desperation has driven me to accept that a desirable job is not going to materialize within the next oh, few hours, so I’m following in the steps of intrepid Canadians who have come before me – I’m looking for work in retail. Sigh. So NOW I know what a Master’s degree gets me!

I actually considered a pub job (tips and all that) but was turned off the experience after visiting the first hopeful establishment. The manager looked me up and down (wasn’t sneaky about it either) and said “you’ll do” and gave me an application. Wow. It was an interesting lesson in the world of work where you are judged not on your accomplishments or intellect, but how you would look in a tight shirt.

Not being too interested in being a tasty side dish, I ventured into clothing retail. There are many posh shops in Cambridge, but unfortunately I don’t possess the wardrobe to look the part in those stores. Since new clothes would probably eat all of any wages I could make, Ray suggested I stay unemployed and we would come out ahead financially. Still wanting to make some money while I look for “real” work, I found myself standing in front of the Gap.

What this all boils down to is that I have an interview tomorrow and I hope that I don’t get rejected from retail. But stranger things have certainly happened to me before.

FINDING FOOD

Not nearly so simple as it sounds.

The only true grocery store near Ray and I is smack in the middle of downtown Cambridge, which is oh-so conveniently closed to vehicle and bicycle traffic. When combined with the reality of our teeny tiny fridge, this means that we have to make trips to the store every couple of days, walk through downtown with our bags, carry home the food in my bike basket (which makes it awfully hard to get the eggs home intact, let me tell you) and then hurry and eat it all before it goes bad.

What I struggle with the most, though, is that this relatively large grocery store caters to such an urban population that it is full of pre-made meals and it is relatively difficult to find ingredients with which to make your own dinners from scratch. Take such common ingredients as flour and baking soda – when I asked the store person where I might find those (meaning: “within your store”), they suggested a larger market outside of town. Since Ray and I are pretty much tied to going to places within easy cycling distance – public transit is almost non-existent here, and what is available is more geared to tourists than functional errands – this significantly limits my baking potential.

Oh well, I keep telling myself “I shall adapt, I shall adapt” – I will keep you updated on how that’s working for me.

FAMOUS NEIGHBOURS

Upon casual conversation with some fellow students the other day it came to my attention that Stephen Hawking lives “just around the corner” from us. Actually, his lovely home is a few blocks away from our row housing flat, but that still makes us neighbours in my book. I guess it shouldn’t come as a surprise that, being Cambridge, there are a lot of famous academics around, but I still think that’s pretty neat. It’s funny – there are very few “celebrities” (actors, musicians and the like) that I would like to have coffee with, but I can think of a long list of scholars. What can I say, I’m a dork.

HOBNOBBING WITH FAMOUS ART

Another day with Warren in town, so we took advantage of the rainy weather to visit the Fitzwilliam Museum. The Fitz houses an impressive range of artifacts as well as artwork by masters such as Pablo Picasso. We just missed an exhibition of French Impressionists but did see a fabulous gallery of etchings by Lucian Freud. The building itself is a stunning piece of architecture, particularly the frescoed ceilings with skylights, and would be a wonderful place to visit even if it were empty of all the art.

The British approach to art seems to be a lot more up close and personal than what I’ve experienced in North America (albeit I have very limited exposure to the art world). The most valuable paintings were just hanging on the walls with nothing to shield them from the public (although there were security staff in each room) and the museum regularly gives tours to running, shouting children without too much worry. I liked the feeling that so much work was so accessible.

As a horsey nut, I was most pleased to see two original oils by George Stubbs, a celebrated anatomical and horse artist. It was fun to see the paintings from across the gallery, and think “gee, those look familiar…”

OF KINGS AND A VISITOR FROM GIBSONS

Warren from Gibsons came down to stay with us this week; he is on holiday from his teaching position up in Scotland. Poor Warren; it took two different buses, four trains and a taxi to get from his doorstep to ours last night, so he was pretty tired by the time he arrived in Cambridge. Ray and I immediately decided to revive him with in the most British of manners – a visit to the pub! Reading over my entries for the past few weeks you might think that we’re turning into alcoholics but rest assured we indulge sparingly.

Having a guest makes it easier to justify taking the day off to gallivant around town and do some of the touristy things that we haven’t yet got around to seeing ourselves. Today we focused on King’s College Chapel, which is the most famous building in Cambridge. If you look in any tour book and there is only one picture of Cambridge, it will be of this chapel. After today’s visit, I can see why.

In a nutshell, the chapel is this huge gothic structure about the length and 2/3 the width of a football field, with ornate stained glass windows from one end to the other. It was built in the 1500s by four kings starting with Edward (I forget which one) and was completed over 90 years later by Henry VIII. The huge organ inside the chapel was commissioned by Henry VIII for his wife Anne Boylen, who he had executed a few years later (a very fickle king). The vaulted ceiling of the chapel is particularly impressive and it would be impossible to describe with any justice here – so I urge you to see it one day for yourself.

I am still having trouble getting my head around the fact that the near-mythical kings and queens that I’ve heard about since being a child actually had an active presence in this very town. We just don’t have anything that compares with this back home.

STARTING TO FEEL AT HOME

It seems hard to believe, but I am starting to really get settled in here and enjoy the fact of being in Cambridge. A big hurdle for me has been getting used to the crowds of people – which I still don’t especially like – and now that I know more of what to expect it’s not so bad. I am finally starting to find my way around enough to know where I am without constantly consulting my map!

I figure that I must be feeling at home too if I am already starting to curse the tourists who gather in huge bunches along bike paths and everywhere else in the town, making it difficult to get places. After living in touristy places like Gibsons, Vancouver and now Cambridge, I’m starting to appreciate that tourists are both a positive and negative attribute: on the plus, their presence means that wherever you are living is a pretty nice place; on the negative, they get in the way of daily life. On balance, I'm glad they're here.

AND SO WE FIND OURSELVES AT THE PUB (AGAIN)

Today was a big outing for us – we spent the day shopping for more household items with Beide and Sultan. This in itself is not so big of a deal, but the fact that Sultan has a car, and that we actually drove to the “far” side of Cambridge, is. This is the farthest we’ve been since our arrival, because while the bike paths near us are fairly good, going further east of the city requires cycling amongst fast traffic and I prefer to avoid that.

After having dinner at the Grafton Centre (the only real shopping mall in Cambridge), we returned home to veg out for a bit and then convinced Steve to come out to the Darwin pub with us. We ended up sitting with some folks at the pub who had just returned from a play featuring Sophocles – in ancient greek. Only in Cambridge are you able to attend a play spoken in a language that has been dead for thousands of years!

AMERICAN POLITICS ARE OMNIPRESENT

Tonight we had a lovely potluck dinner with the students below, beside and below-beside us. We had planned a BBQ but it rained so we were forced inside – I think this is pretty common here! In any case, it was nice to have a social but relaxing night out and I really enjoyed chatting with other students from around the world.

The funny thing is that I was sort of hoping that our move to the UK would remove us from the daily influx of US media and America-centric thought. As it turns out, other countries are just as obsessed with American politics and foreign policy as we Canadians are, and so much of this evening’s discussion revolved around that topic. I found it interesting, but not entirely surprising given that we are in an academic hotbed, that all eight of us – from Canada, Germany, Pakistan, Lithuania and even the States itself – had similar views on the foreign policy and the upcoming election.

One of the things I enjoy most about academia is the opportunity to meet with other people from a variety of backgrounds just as we did tonight, and learn their perspectives on various issues. I think this is one of the biggest benefits of higher education and/or travel and I am looking forward to gaining a lot more international perspective while we are over here.

1 ½ FORTNIGHTS SINCE OUR ARRIVAL

When I was a little girl of about 7 or 8 years old I was introduced to the Anne of Green Gables series (now there’s a classical piece of Canadiana for you). I recall being confused when Anne (with an “e”) went somewhere or other for a “fortnight” – what the heck was a fortnight? I forget when I finally discovered that “fortnight” was derived from “fourteen nights”, but folks over here tend to use this term and I am glad that I eventually figured it out. Getting slowly around to my point, it has been 21 days since we stepped off the plane in London (making it 1 ½ fortnights) and it feels like much longer (in a good way). The days are flying by so quickly that I’m sure at the end of three years we’ll be wondering where the time went.

CONNECTED TO THE WORLD – AT LEAST PARTIALLY

The phone man came today! He was actually supposed to be the phone and internet man, but as usual my special brand of luck kicked in when it came to getting high speed internet installed in our flat. Apparently no one from our flat has ever had high-speed internet before, so they need to wire the house. Wiring the house means drilling large holes in the walls – for which we got the college’s reluctant approval – and connecting the house to the existing wire base in the street. The only real trouble? The existing tube carrying the existing wires is too narrow to fit another cable, so the phone company needs to install a second pipe. This means the road needs to be dug up…you can see where this is going. Considering that our street is very narrow (not enough room for two cars to pass as it is), having a portion dug up is not going to impress the neighbours. Will nothing be simple to set up over here??!!

Ray is invited to a formal welcoming dinner at the college tonight (spouses not welcome) so he’s getting all spiffed up and I’m happily sitting at home in my comfy clothes. I plan to spend the evening working on yet more job applications, reading the local paper and if there’s time left over, starting a new novel. When you don’t have TV, it’s amazing how quickly you can fly through a book! I’ve finished four since we’ve arrived in Cambridge (Small Island, The DaVinci Code, The Kite Runner, and The God of Small Things) and am eyeing up a new John Irving for its escapism potential. Perhaps that’s why I’m such a string bean – books are my “comfort food".

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD!

It’s my dad’s birthday today and I wish we could be home to celebrate with him and the rest of the family, but I suppose that will have to wait until Christmas. Boy will we do a lot of celebrating then! Dad, when you read this, know that we are thinking of you and hoping that you are having a fabulous time in Las Vegas right now.

It was pretty drizzly here today; sort of like being inside a cloud but not actually foggy. It wasn’t raining but you got wet when you went outside. I suspect this is stereotypical British weather, but not to worry – Vancouver has us well-prepared for the climate. I’m actually surprised at how few people here have discovered the fabulous fabric Gortex, given the amount of rain they get. My trusty Eddie Bauer jacket (with hood!) was just the thing for today.

After dinner we went back to the college, which just happens to be the headquarters of the Cambridge Canadian Club. They were throwing a Thanksgiving party complete with pumpkin pie and, of course, lots of alcohol. It was really nice to meet more people still, including our upstairs next-door neighbours Brodie and Melissa – from Canada (Ontario). We also managed to get ourselves invited to two parties on Friday night, so are double-booked but it’s a nice feeling. My big social goal for the weekend is to get past the “Where are you from, what are you studying?” depth of conversation.

A VISITOR FROM YE OLDE COUNTRY (AND HAPPY THANKSGIVING!)

A visitor! A familiar face! O happy day!

As mentioned yesterday, Clive came up from London to visit us today, and we had a very nice visit. It is such a fantastic feeling to see someone from home, and even better for it to be someone we enjoy spending time with.

Clive arrived off the train just before lunch, and we headed into town to get some yummy Indian food (ubiquitous here, like sushi in Vancouver) and then spent the afternoon exploring. Clive actually did a degree here back in his student days, so he played tour guide and showed us all his old haunts. Highlights included a walk through his old college (Clare; lots of historic stuff associated with that college) and the best new and used bookstores in town. We stopped for coffee at a funky shop downtown when the rainclouds threatened and then continued on our way. We actually walked so far that we ended up back at the train station – no need to take a taxi! Clive hopped back on the train to London, and Ray and I wandered home to relax and get a good night’s sleep after our busy weekend.

Also got a care package from home sent with Clive: lots of pottery, a blanket, kitchen stuff and all sorts of goodies. It was like a mini-Christmas! And, the more stuff from Canada we have in our new home, the more settled we feel. It is really nice to walk into our bathroom and kitchen and see pottery made by the people we love. We’re starting to get some personal touches in here!

Happy Thanksgiving to all the folks at home who are probably stuffed full of turkey right now and lazing around after dinner. The English don’t celebrate anything similar in the autumn and they sure are missing out. Who would want to give up an extra turkey and all the pies and sweets that go along with it? I was tempted to try a turkey for ourselves, but given our limited cooking success so far here, a bird seemed awfully ambitious. And come to think of it, I don’t think a turkey would actually fit in our mini-sized oven. Thank goodness we will probably be home at Christmas!

ROCKIN' OUT AT THE FRESHER’S BOP

Am I the only person who thinks that a “bop” sounds like something that happened when young people gathered about half a century ago?

It turned out that as expected, the bop was a dance (or “disco”, as they are called over here when not referred to as “bops”) and it was a lot of fun. We met a lot of the other Darwin students and got introduced to more of our neighbours (forgot to ask where they are from though, so will have to report back on that later). Staggered home sometime later in the evening and headed straight to sleep – didn’t get up until fairly late this morning. We were actually feeling pretty good so fixed ourselves up a yummy breakfast of bacon, eggs and toast. The bacon here is very different from that at home: sort of a bacon-ham hybrid. Much less fat than the bacon I am used to, but far, far more salty…thus proving that no matter how it is prepared, bacon is bad for you. But oh so tasty!

We spent some more time today wandering around downtown and trying to get our bearings. Took lots of pictures, including this one of the chicken/duck critters I mentioned yesterday. We are also still picking up the odd thing for our flat, as it still feels very empty. We aren’t supposed to make holes in the walls, making it difficult to put up pictures etc., but we are hoping to get around that rule somehow. We’re finding ourselves faced with the desire to accumulate “stuff” so that we feel at home, but also know that whatever we buy now, we will have to get rid of when we leave. I think we’ll be having one heck of a boot sale. (Not the type of boots you wear – the “boot” over here is the trunk of a car and a “boot sale” is what we would call a yard sale. Have yet to attend a boot sale, and must admit that I am curious whether the goods will be displayed from the boot of a car!).

Ray’s uncle Clive will be in London this week on business and is coming up to Cambridge via train tomorrow, so we are really looking forward to that. A familiar face and care packages from home – it doesn’t get much better than that!

(Just realized I used "hybrid" twice in one post...weird)

EXPLORING CAMBRIDGE BY DOUBLE-DECKER COACH

Well, in Canada, we would call that a bus, but you know what I mean.

Another beautiful day in Cambridge and Ray and I are trying to take full advantage of this weather because who knows how long it will last. I’m worried that as in Vancouver, any day now the clouds will permanently roll in and we won’t see the sun until, say, April. So we are staying away from indoor activities such as the museums and focusing our exploring on the great outdoors.

Mid-morning saw us on our bikes and heading towards the train station, which is also where the tourist bus tours start. The train station is about 1 ½ miles from downtown Cambridge, apparently because when passenger train transport was established between London and Cambridge the university did not approve – the powers that be were concerned that students would be drawn to the sights and activities of the big city and they would neglect their studies. Hence, the train station ended up away from the hub of student activity, but it’s actually not a bad ride on our bikes. There is only one really tricky intersection to navigate, but we are quickly learning how to get our bikes through the city without running into cars, pedestrians or ducks. Pedestrians can be tricky, because they may be tourists in disguise that have no compunction about stepping directly in front of a bike to take a picture of the latest church etc., but ducks are one of the worst hazards. You see, we ride along a section of the River Cam on our way to downtown, and the river is home to a motley crew of ducks. Lots of mallards, the odd generic white duck, and some particularly cool fowl that look like chickens – and run like them when on land – but also swim like ducks. (And swans. But we won’t go there). Must remember to find out what these birds are and get back to you all, or take a picture tomorrow and get you all to guess. Yes, I think that’s what I’ll do.

In any case, the ducks are not afraid of people because they know that Cambridge is filled with tourists who love to feed them bread. They are not in the least bit concerned about jumping out of the river and waddling over to people, and often do just that. Trouble is, evolution did not equip ducks with the necessary shoulder-checking skill that is required of animals that commonly venture across human pathways. Watch a squirrel on the side of the road next time you pass by and you’ll see what I mean. So the ducks will spy an eager (or even unsuspecting, but food-bearing) tourist and hop over the riverbank and onto the path, which is directly beside the river. If you happen to be cycling along that particular spot, it requires deft steering and sharp brakes – often a bit of both – to avoid a feather-flying collision. And the whole time you are swerving and cursing, the duck looks neither right nor left but happily carries on towards the tourist. Being the animal welfare nut that I am, I have no doubt that one of these times I’ll get into a tight spot and my only options will be to ride directly over the duck or bail into the river; being the animal welfare nut that I am, I am sure that it will be I who ends up in the water, with the duck not even noticing the splash.

Incidentally, my great-aunt Iris and great-uncle Jos’ daughter Julie’s husband, Ian, told us recently about the time he was driving home late at night and had the unfortunate luck to run into a flock of sheep that was moving across a roadway. I am sorry to report that 12 sheep lost their lives that night, and Ian gained 3 demerits on his driver’s license for that little fiasco (remember a few weeks ago when I talked about the number of drivers with many points on their licenses?). I have to admit that the other day, as I narrowly avoided an intrepid mallard, I wondered how many demerits he would net me.

You’re probably wondering how we went from our bus tour to talking about ducks, squirrels and sheep, but truthfully I don’t feel like going back and figuring it out myself, so I’ll just clumsily segue back onto the bus tour. We found our way to the train station, locked up our bikes, hopped onto a tour bus and ascended to the open deck up top. The tour was about an hour long and took us around a big chunk of Cambridge, including outlying areas such as the university farm and the American war cemetery. It was nice to have some narration about the buildings we were looking at, and great to “explore” without having to push our way through the crowds below. Turns out that there weren’t too many opportunities to take pictures (because the bus was always moving) but now that Ray and I know what we are looking at, we plan to walk around ourselves and take pictures while remaining stationery. This way, you can see clear pictures and we can even label them so you’ll know what you are looking at. Aren’t we clever?

After the bus tour we joined the throngs in the street and explored some more of the “far” side of Cambridge – i.e. east of downtown – and then even managed to make it back home before the rain clouds really started to get threatening. Tonight we’re heading out to the “Fresher’s Bop” (otherwise known as a dance) at the college; will report back on how that goes tomorrow.

I HAVE FOUND MY PUB DRINK – THE LAGER SHANDY

Those of you who know me (which should be about everyone reading this blog!!), probably know that I don’t drink a lot of beer. Following in my mom’s tastebuds, I tend to be more of a Kahlua girl. But I have come to accept that when in Britain, one must drink as the British do. In the months leading up to our arrival here, I had been training myself to drink beer without grimacing, but it was definitely a battle. I must admit that the Canadian gal in me felt ashamed of my progress. By the way, it appears that Canadians have a reputation abroad for being great drinkers; I stopped a couple of Bobbies (the British Police, the ones with the funny hats) the other day to ask directions and the place I wanted happened to be across from a pub. Upon hearing that I was from Canada, they saw fit to joke that they were surprised I didn’t know the location of all the pubs in Cambridge yet. Give me time, dear Bobbies, for I have been in the country but a fortnight and Cambridge probably has over a hundred pubs. But I digress – I started today’s narration with a tale of one particular pub.

After dinner, Ray and I thought we’d head over to the college pub, which is noted to be the best student pub on campus. And you all thought it was a coincidence that we ended up at Darwin College. We thought we’d ask our neighbours, Steve and Geirdre, along and they suggested a pub closer by that they had been to earlier in the week. So, we walked just around the block from our flat and found The Red Bull. The Red Bull is a typical British pub, replete with a low beamed ceiling, smoky interior, and jukebox playing music from the 80s and 90s. We had a nice time chatting about our different areas of research, where we were from, and in general getting to know each other. It’s nice to know people over here and particularly helpful to know people who have lots of extra kitchen and bedding stuff, who have offered to lend it to us if we ever need it!

While chatting, of course, we had to drink something so I ordered my first lager shandy. To you uninitiated, “lager” is what they call beer over here, and a “shandy” is 50/50 beer and lemonade. It sounds nasty but actually tastes quite good – apologies of course to those beer aficionados whose hearts break at the thought of beer being desecrated by lemonade. So it appears that I can drink with my head held high at future pubbings, of which I expect there will be a few in the coming months.

WE LIVE IN OUR OWN INTERNATIONAL VILLAGE

We are starting to meet more people around here, and they all seem really friendly. I already mentioned Biede, who lives below us with her boyfriend. Steve and his wife Geirdre live next to Biede. Have yet to meet the folks next door on the upper floor, but I’m sure it won’t be long before we ambush them. The neat thing about our little block of students is that we come from all over the place – us (Canada), Steve (United States), Geirdre (Lithuania), Biede (Germany/Belgium) and Sultan (Pakistan). The unknown neighbours have a lot to live up to: they had better be from somewhere interesting as well!

WEIRD BRITISH FOOD

And I’m not talking about the type you (well, you non-Brits) are all thinking of – like the love affair Britain seems to have with boiling the crap out of everything, and deep frying the rest, but the junk food over here is particularly peculiar. Sorry, Frances, but I will never understand potato chips flavoured as “lamb and mint”. Ketchup, understandable, meat and associated sauces, no. Must remember to bring some of these offending edibles home to Canada to share with the non-believers.

Another interesting point to note about British food is that we are developing a theory that this island bears a culinary curse. Ray and I are not fantastic chefs but we like to think of ourselves as moderately capable in the kitchen. Interestingly enough, though, since we’ve been cooking in our flat we have managed to completely mangle two separate meals, rendering them basically inedible, and many of our tried-and-true recipes seem to fall flat. Perhaps British people are great chefs, but there is something in the air here that does bad things to good food. For those of you planning on visiting us at some point, fear not, we will keep working to cook edible food over here and by the time you get here we promise you will be well-fed. If not by us, as least by the local restaurants!

THE MULLET MAKES AN APPEARANCE

So I forgot to write about the punting so more – here’s the rest of the story.

After what shall now be known as the “Cambridge Swan Incident”, Ray proceeded to safely punt us up (or down? Hard to tell with the lack of current) the river along the Backs. It was neat to see all the ancient colleges from the backside, across lawns extending from the buildings to the river. It’s a bit much to describe, so I encourage you all to whip out your guidebooks (or the ever-handy Google) to look at some pictures yourselves. We will take pictures during our next outing, but wisely decided to leave the camera at home for our inaugural punt in case we ended up in the water. Luckily we stayed dry!

Punting is relaxing for the puntee but I think less so for the punter. I got to relax in the punt (they sort of have little seats) while Ray was in charge of propulsion and steering. Well, he is an engineer! I contributed to the navigational effort, as in “Oh no, we’re about to hit the side of that bridge!” or “Careful, we’re about to tip that other punt!”. It appears that I am a backseat punter. I have promised to try it myself next time though, so Ray will get his turn to boss me around.

Despite several near collisions, and a few actual hits (reminded me of “You sank my battleship!!”), we did actually make it a ways up the river and safely back to the Darwin punt house within the allotted time. The important thing to note about the collisions, a few of which I’m sure we'll have whenever we have ya’ll over here and take you out, is that punts move awfully slow so there is none of the spectacle and flying bodies that one might anticipate. Just disconcerted looks on the faces of those in the punt you are about to strike, and a volley of “Watch it, mate”, “Brace yourself, mate”, and finally, “Sorry mate, cheers!”.

After punting the skies returned to looking ominous (see previous comment about the weather here) and we scurried home to cook a tasty meal and tuck in. So that was Sunday!

I know you have been eagerly reading to figure out where THE MULLET fits into all this. Well, it doesn’t – remember, I’ve been talking about Sunday, and it’s actually Tuesday, when THE MULLET-sighting occurred. For those of you blissfully unaware of THE MULLET, let me refer you to this website. What else can I say?

Now the British seem to pride themselves on being fashion-savvy. For the most part, they do look great and as a dowdy Canadian West Coaster, I am taking careful notes (i.e., be prepared for me to return to Canada a babe, or at least a babe-in-training). But amongst all the finery I have spotted the occasional fashion victim, and I have decreed that being the owner of A MULLET puts you right at the top of the list. Sorry, Elvis Stoiko, I just had to get that off my chest.

In any case, my resolve is holding firm, and I have not yet been struck by a desire to run to a salon, plunk my hard-earned cash down, and beg to be MULLETED, as Frances predicted, nor have I got my hair in curlers with a fag hanging from my droopy lower lip, as predicted by Marion. It’s still early in our sojourn here, though.

FIRST OFFICIAL DAY OF SCHOOL

Well, today is the first official day of the Michaelmas Term, and Cambridge is filled with undergrads scurrying about, trying to distinguish their classrooms from the rest of the buildings (everything is jumbled together here). Come to think of it, Ray is also scurrying about, trying to distinguish his classrooms from the rest of the buildings. Never mind, we are learning quickly.

While Ray is off getting started on his PhD, I’m poring over the job ads looking for administrative type work. There’s nothing much happening on the animal front here, and we don’t have a car, so I’m left with finding something directly within Cambridge (and within easy cycling distance, at that). I think this is the first time I’ve actually really had to look for a job, and I keep thinking that the position descriptions sound so intimidating that I could never do that. And then I meet some of the people doing whatever job it is, and am reassured – I am not so far down the heap after all. Just keeping my fingers crossed that some future employer out there will recognize my stunning brilliance. (Or is that stunted brilliance – not sure which it is yet).

Did meet the downstairs neighbours – a German girl and her Pakistani boyfriend. They seem very nice and it sounds like they have had the same sorts of problems we have had so far. We have decided to join forces and keep our bikes inside, no matter what the college has to say about it, and Biede has even decided to take it one step further and install a showerhead in her flat. I am not that brave but perhaps shower-lust and her chutzpah will inspire me this winter when I can’t stand a single more bath. In any case, it’s nice to start expanding the social circle. We miss our friends and family back home!

Nothing else too spectacular to report, which is a pleasure as that means we are starting to settle into a normal life. It’s been a while coming!

P.S. “Mad as a hatter” comes from way back when hatters used mercury in the hat-making process. Over time, the mercury would build up in their systems. Now for those of you who were sleeping during physiology/toxicology, it might be helpful to point out that mercury is a neurotoxin, the effect of which is to make affected folks seem a bit kooky. So hatters usually ended up in the loony bin, and a saying was born.

SWAN ATTACK! OR, PUNTING IN CAMBRIDGE

You know those beautiful, graceful creatures known as swans? That glide serenely across ponds? Well, if you are in a punt (placing you low in the water) and holding your lunch, the peaceful swan becomes an avenger of fowl, swooping in to take what they please and they will fight you for it if you’re not willing to share. Let me explain…

Sunday morning dawned murky, but Ray and I are quickly learning that if you don’t like the weather in Cambridge, just wait a few minutes and it’s sure to change (at least in Autumn). So, luckily, by the time we were loaded up with appropriate punt food (i.e. bunches and bunches of baked goods from Fitzbillies – more on the baking to come) and Ray had figured out how to get us moving, the weather was perfect for leisurely punt up the River Cam and along the Backs (behind all the old, famous colleges like Kings and St. Johns). As we were setting off, I noticed that one of the many ducks that inhabit the Cam appeared to have fishing wire around its beak. (Unbelievably, there are fish in the river, which people actually fish for; given the murkiness of the river, these must be awfully hardy fish!). Being the good animal welfare-ist that I am, I insisted on trying to capture the duck, or at least restrain it for a moment, while I pulled the wire from around its beak. Enter me trying to entice it close to our punt with my Fitzbillies pretzel, and enter the hungry swan.

The duck did come over, but Mr. (or Mrs? With swans, who can really tell?) Swan had also noticed the food and moved in to have a bite. Now the problem with swans is that they have those long, graceful necks which are just the right length for reaching over the side of your punt to steal your food right from your lap. The graceful neck is handily accessorized by a big beak with sharp inner ridges that aid the swan in persuading reluctant humans to hand over the grub – or else. Our caper ended with the swan getting most of my pretzel and the duck taking off…at least the wire turned out to be seaweed (riverweed??) upon closer inspection.

So, for trying to help animals, my tally is now this:

- charged by 1 cow, squished against wall
- bitten by 1 hamster, drew blood
- chased by numerous dogs, nipped several times
- scratched by countless cats, most notably the indomitable Muffin
- kicked by more horses than I care to remember
AND, - squarely defeated by 1 swan, pride severely damaged.

More on the actual punting trip tomorrow as I’ve regressed into swan-attack memories…

STILL GETTING ORGANIZED

Today starts our first weekend with just Ray and I in over a month. Ah, the joys of sleeping in and not feeling guilty about not spending enough time visiting, or doing something else. Funny thing is, now that I could finally doze around in the morning, I was wide awake! Murphy’s Law.

We had a pretty quiet day today, after the frenzy of getting everything done during the week. Plus, we have seen how busy downtown Cambridge is on a weekday and were not too anxious to be down there on a Saturday when every female in town is shopping. Apparently shopping is THE national sport here, no matter what football fans have to say about it, and there is a very high rate of participation. We did venture out to a couple of shops to look at getting a mobile (cell) phone for Ray, and I wandered into one clothing store, but the estrogen content quickly became too great for both of us. It was a bit of a relief to get back to our quiet flat; an even greater relief to realize that we are starting to refer to our flat as “home”.

WHITE RABBIT

Don’t ask me, just passing on the message from Joan. Where did the “white rabbit” tradition on the first of every month come from, anyway?

This morning I finally managed to get a hold of the animal welfare professor here at Cambridge, who invited me to meet him and his researchers. This was good news, except that I had just gotten out of bed when I called him, and he wanted me there in half an hour. The vet college is a 15 minute cycle from our flat – so I got to practice my speed bathing technique and was actually out the door in a relatively short amount of time.

Our meeting went very well and the entire research team here is friendly and working on some really interesting projects. Unfortunately though, their funding works similar to that at UBC (and most academic institutions) in that they get funding for specific projects and part of each project budget is salary for researchers. What this means for me is that there is no hope of working with them until a new grant comes up – so in the meantime I’ve decided to look for administrative type work and go from there. I will keep in touch with the research group here though, and hope to attend their weekly animal welfare lunch discussion lectures.
Other than the frenzied bike ride this morning, it was a pretty quiet day. We had planned on making our first visit to the college pub tonight (rumoured to be the best on campus) but are too tired to drag our butts back to the main campus/town area. I am looking forward to sleeping in tomorrow morning!