THE KINDNESS OF STRANGERS

Hola! I arrived back in Cambridge from Granada, Spain last night - and what a voyage back it turned out to be. I'll tell you all about Granada itself later; the journey home warrants its own blog entry.

Let's start at the beginning, shall we? I was up pretty early yesterday morning (6:30am Spanish time, 5:30am English time) in order to book a spot to visit La Alhambra, a moorish palace poised over the city at the base of the Sierra Nevada mountains. After standing in line for two hours, I finally got into the palace (it was worth the wait). I spent several hours wandering around the grounds before giving into tired feet and hunger, met Ray and Kendal for lunch, and then continued on one final jaunt around the city before packing for home. Sounds pretty standard, but this is where things started to get interesting.

I got myself packed and caught the bus to Granada airport - no mean feat considering the concierge at our hotel didn't speak much english and it took some pretty major convincing on my part to get him to realize that he did indeed have a bus schedule - arrived on time, got checked in and figured all was well. I know I shouldn't have made this assumption, given my luck with travelling (see one of my very first blog entries in September 2004 for an account of another misadventure), but I was scheduled for a short, direct flight from Granada to Stansted (about 30 minutes south of Cambridge). Easy, right?

Our flight boards as usual, I snooze a bit, and before I know it we're landing at Stansted. Except - as we taxied in towards the airport, I see the destination sign and it says "Birmingham". Hmmm. The plane parks out in the middle of the tarmac, far from the building, cuts the engines and then the pilot's voice comes over the speaker system. He's very sorry; apparently dense fog and non-functioning runway lighting at Stansted has made it necessary to divert to Birmingham. This is no small problem, as Birmingham is two hours north of Stansted - and now it is late at night, so there are no buses or trains to take people where they need to go.

As you can imagine, things only went downhill from there. It took them forever to offload the plane, because they had to call in airport staff and immigration officials to handle all the planes that were being diverted. No one from the airline was available to answer questions or offer assistance in getting people to the promised destination. There were only four rental cars available (for ten planes, each carrying 150+ passengers) and taxis had smelled fresh blood and were charging £250 to take people to Stansted.

I had just got myself used to the idea of spending the night at the airport - with a bunch of crazy people who were starting to get REALLY upset, necessitating the arrival of police in riot gear - when the people I'd been sitting next to on the plane offered to try to work out a solution together. They and another extremely kind couple managed to rent the very last car and absolutely refused to leave me behind. They bundled me and my luggage off with them, and dropped me on my doorstep at 3:30 this morning. The whole process was rather surreal and still feels like a dream to me - except that I luckily awoke to find myself home, just like Dorothy - and you have to admit that us renting the very last car speaks poorly-written movie plot. But it was my movie plot!

While it sucked the big one to find myself stranded in Birmingham in the wee hours of the morning (hello, Armpit of Britain), my evening was saved by the kindness of four strangers - people who noted my look of despair ("I have to be at work in six hours!!") and really went out of their way to help out. It's situations like this that reaffirm my belief that humans really are kind and wonderful beings.

More kindness directed towards me in the last week: the birthday messages that have continued to come in (thank-you!), Claire taking good care of me at work today when I was obviously a tired wreck, Claire's mom Gillian tailoring my ballgown for me, and the unending thoughtfulness of Tim and Cassandra. They drove all the way to Stansted to pick me up last night, and then, upon learning that I was in Birmingham, offered to come up there to get me if I needed it. Tim also made sure I got to work on time this morning (impressive, considering I only had 3 hours of sleep last night) and will be escorting me to Heathrow to pick up Joan and Alan, who arrive tomorrow afternoon. They beat Ray to Cambridge by about 10 hours.

All in all, things worked out rather well although I'm glad that I won't be flying again in the near future. The only catch is that Ray is still in Spain for another day, finishing up at his conference. He is flying home on the same airline, to the same airport, that gave me such trouble. I'm just keeping my fingers crossed that it's not foggy on Wednesday night...

THANK-YOU!!!

Thank-you to everyone who made my birthday such a special and wonderful day! Thank-you for all the phone calls, emails, e-cards and come-through-the-post cards...each is treasured.

Thank-you to Biology Claire for organizing a surprise lunch outing for me, and to my co-workers and friends who took time out to celebrate with me.

Thank-you to Mom, Dad and Kim for calling, while hurrying across Vancouver, from a cellphone, to send their love and good wishes.

Thank-you to Kendal for a fun and delicious dinner, and for being in Cambridge to celebrate with me.

Thank-you to Tim and Cassandra, who cycled all the way across town to slide a terrific card through my letter slot.

And most of all, thank-you to Ray - for a terrific homemade cake, an incredibly thoughtful card, a truly stunning birthday gift, and for putting in all the little caring touches that made my birthday a delightful day. (And as I've just seen, a blog entry that is so kind that it makes me cry).

A SPECIAL DAY

Today is a special day, as concerns the usual author of blog entries, so I'm taking over Life without a gogglebox for a minute! Amanda has a habit of writing a bit about family members on here when their birthdays roll around, so I'm going to write a bit about Amanda.

Taking a look back through the blog archives to April of last year, we had just moved recently, Amanda had started a new job, and the daffodils were in full bloom. A year on, the daffodils are out again, Amanda is still working at Madingly, and we're still living in the same house, so in many ways things are much the same. There are significant differences though, especially that this year we're comfortably settled into life here and it no longer feels like a transient situation. The reason we're settled and comfortable is simple: Amanda has built herself (and me) a life here. Although we're thousands of miles from 'home', she has somehow managed to make this a home too. This one of the many things about Amanda that made me fall in love with her some years ago: her ability to make anywhere feel like home was demonstrated to me on our first camping trips. While I was more inclined to set the tent up, chuck stuff inside and call it done, Amanda would miraculously transform a musty tent into a home away from home! She has done the same here in England, and for that I'm truly grateful.

Amanda's a pretty incredible person all around; I suppose if you're reading this blog you really don't need me to tell you that! Her warmth and compassion make her a truly delightful person to talk to, and her sharp intellect makes her interesting to talk to too. I wonder sometimes, how much nicer place this world is for having Amanda in it. I then starting musing along the lines of trying to estimate how many hours a day she is out and about, how many people per hour she might encounter, how many people per hour those people might encounter having been put in a more cheerful mood from interacting with Amanda, and by then I'm so confused am trying to carry around numbers in my head that are so big that I just come back to the starting point, which for me is that the world is immeasurably better with Amanda around!

I could go on at great length, but seeing as you all know Amanda and hence how great she is, let me just say:
Happy Birthday Amanda! I hope you have a terrific day and a wonderful year to come!

MATH, AMANDA-STYLE

(Frantically busy days) + (Zonked evenings) + (Trying to follow parents' and spouse's advice to GET SOME SLEEP) = Not Much Blogging.

Sorry about that - I'm not sure when I'll have time to be back before the middle of May. We're about to leave for a trip to Spain, and then Joan and Alan will be in Cambridge for two weeks. I'll try to keep you updated over the next little while, and post Amsterdam and Spain photos, but no promises...see you eventually!

JUST LIKE CAMPING (ALMOST)

One of the things about Canada that I miss the most is the availability of plentiful camping opportunities. England does have some caravan (read: motorhome) parks here and there, and even a tent site or two, but nothing compared to what we are so lucky to have back home. (Heck, we've gotta do something with all that "empty" space!) It's one of the aspects of my Canadian childhood that I often use to highlight a common and major differences between the way many Canadian and European children are raised - my family holidays revolved around campfires and hiking, not city breaks and museums. Not that one experience is better than the other - just different.

But I digress. As the weather (slowly!!!) improves, my thoughts turn to the great outdoors and accessing huge chunks of land without sight or evidence of human beings. This sort of land is scarce in the UK, with perhaps the exception of the northern reaches of Scotland. I noticed this same yearning last year, so at least this time around I'm prepared for it. Not so sure what to do about it, but aware that these feelings are lurking.

Despite the lack of true camping prospects in my immediate future, I've had two experiences in the past 24 hours that would qualify as camping-worthy. The first involves, oddly enough, my work: Claire and I worked overnight yesterday and our catnaps were continuously disturbed but a cricket hiding in a cleaning cupboard. We were able to locate his cupboard but didn't have a key to get in and, ahem, "silence" him. Given the season, we shouldn't be surprised with his amorous intentions, but I have to say that it's amazing just how much noise can be generated by one cricket on the make. I eventually drifted off to sleep thinking happy thoughts of "at least it sounds a bit like sleeping in the bush"!

Our current lack of hot water is a somewhat less pleasant distraction of the camping nature. Our boiler kicked it on the weekend and by Monday morning the last vestiges of hot water had vacated the Grout premises. We've been making do, at least on the personal hygiene front, by showering at work or the gym. Washing dishes, however, presents a special problem, as I am just not convinced that cold soapy water is as effective in cleaning oily plates as warm/hot soapy water. Therefore, each night I boil BOTH my kettles and fill the sink with warm water to wash, and then rinse, my dishes. I employ the same technique as I do when camping - although I find the whole process oddly stress-relieving in those environs - but at least these days I can boil my water in a kettle instead of on top of a kerosene stove or campfire.

The plumber is due for his third visit tomorrow, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed that we can shower during the Easter break...and as for Mr Cricket, his days, I'm sorry to say, are numbered.

TOPIC OF THE DAY

Electric Hand Dryers: Let's discuss.

Am I the only person who finds electric hand dryers - you know what I'm talking about, those plastic or metal boxes in public bathrooms (a.k.a. loos) - completely inefficient at getting the job done? Someone tell me that it's not just me who has this problem.

I either find that the dryer cuts out about five seconds too early, or that it only blows freezing cold air (sometimes, when I'm feeling particularly unlucky, I'll come across a dryer with both these attributes). In either case, I'm always left with slightly damp, slightly chilled hands and end up rubbing them on my jeans to get rid of the last of the moisture. I know I could just stick my hands under the dryer for another go-round, but then I feel guilty about wasting the energy to run an entire drying cycle, when I only need those final but critical five seconds.

These dryers annoy me enough that I would happily bypass them in favour of the much less environmentally friendly paper towel. I may follow Ray around the house shutting off lights to save electricity, recycle religiously, and generally cycle instead of driving the car, but give me wasteful towels over ineffective dryers any day of the week.

Maybe it's just my technique. Maybe I don't rub my hands fast enough, or in the correct position to get optimal heated air flow. Maybe I wash my hands too thoroughly in the first place, so they are soaked when I stick them under the dryer, and the machines are calibrated for the rinse-and-go person. All I know is that they don't work properly, and I find this annoying.

Rant over.

SLEEPY!

No posts for several days, and tonight's will be a short one, only to explain where I've been. The answer: sleeping! I seem to be being sensible these days and am going to bed before 11pm, which is a good hour before my usual time. More sleep = less time for blogging, although I must admit that I find myself pleased with how much easier it is to get up in the morning!

LOST IN TRANSLATION

Two separate instances today:

One, on the occasion of working overnight and letting security know about it:

"Please let your staff know that there will be two cars in the lot tonight".

Silence, then aggrieved:

"We call that a car park ma'am. NOT a 'lot'. I shall tell the night staff about the cars in the CAR PARK."

And two, me trying to figure out football teams:

"Arsenal vs. who? U. Eventus? U. of Ventus? Where the hell is (E)Ventus, and how does a university have a team that can take on Arsenal?"

Sigh. Roll eyes.

"That's JUVENTUS, dear, and they are an Italian football team. The 'J' is silent. I'm going to pretend that you didn't just ask me that."

SO MANY PHOTOS, SO LITTLE TIME

I'm about half-way through putting our Amsterdam photos online, and am finding myself Plumb Tuckered Out. (I ask my British friends: do ya'll have the saying "plum tuckered out"? If not, you should - it's a good one). So...photos tomorrow, hopefully!

Totally unrelated, but I'm happy to report that Spring has finally arrived in Cambridge. The weather is warm, most days have at least a spot of sunshine, and the flowers are blooming. Best of all, the birds are singing - in the morning and all evening. We sit in our front room after dinner and listen to the beautiful chorus outside. Welcome Spring!

AS MUCH FUN AS YOU'VE HEARD

We're back! Ray, Tim, Cassandra and I had a great time exploring the water-bound city and I think we managed to log more miles on our tired feet than on any previous holiday - even more than in Rome. Aside from the calorie-burning benefits of walking everywhere (had to work off those chocolate-covered waffles somehow!), this mode of transportation really allowed us to absorb Amsterdam and take in most of its sights. So many sights, in fact, that we took over a hundred photos in three short days!

I just spent an hour organizing our photos and have run out of energy to actually post them in any sort of a coherent fashion, but here's a couple of shots to give you an idea of what I'm planning to post more of tomorrow:


On one of Amsterdam's hundreds - if not thousands - of canal bridges (Photo courtesy of Tim)


A typical canal view


The amazing blooms of the floating flower market