Happy Thanksgiving! or: stuck in a tiny room with a lot of Americans

Last night we had a big Thanksgiving potluck, which was about 2 months late in Canadian terms and a week-and-a-half late in American terms, but fun nonetheless. There was a heap of us, so we convinced Ben to let us use his flat (very easily done - we can mould Ben like putty). Of course, this introduced its own difficulties. The guests were: all our flat (meaning me, Carrie, Geeta and Anita), Arnaud (Carrie's french lover) and Michiel (Carrie's Dutch friend, and as of this weekend also Geeta's Dutch lover), Anna, Maya and Helen, Caroline and her boyfriend Mark, Ben and his flatmates, and a group of 5 Texans, all friends of Geeta's, who are temporarily sleeping on our living-room floor. So, tons of people. The four of us chez Fraser Court plus the European boy-toys brought food, as did Maya and Anna. That is all. Everyone brought booze. So booze outnumbered food. Plus the 5 Americans were an unexpected last-minute addition, who arrived empty-handed and extremely hungry. In addition to the numbers-problem, we also had to figure out a way to transport six people and about twenty dishes across the city in one teeny-tiny car, without getting arrested. And then there was the kitchen-cleaning, which was epic in and of itself.
Yet despite all these various and sundry technicalities, it was a blast. We spent all yesterday afternoon cooking in a kitchen far too tiny to allow six people to cook simultaneously, having to constantly wash and reuse dishes because we have so few, scrambling around each other for room and generally making a giant mess. I made amazing vegan pumpkin pies, one of which we left here and Carrie and I devoured greedily for breakfast (at noon). Also, one of the 5 Texans (I don't know their names which is why I'm not naming any of them) is on exchange in Prague, and so brought us a bottle of Absinthe, and we convinced Michiel to set it on fire in his mouth. That was kind of the highlight. After dinner we went out to a Czech-themed bar (called Pivo, which is Czech for Beer) and formed a giant dance circle in which people (both our friends and total strangers) systematically made idiots out of themselves. Good times.
Speaking of times: the time is fast approaching when I'm not going to know most of these people anymore! I'm actually really depressed about Carrie and Geeta going away, though I have high hopes for my new flatmates. As it is, we're having a goodbye flat dinner this coming weekend, and then it's all over. I'll see Carrie again, but not Geeta, and never again will we sit around in our tiny livingroom drinking red wine instead of writing essays, or sit around our tiny dinner table drinking red wine and discussing the precise location of the clitoris, or stand around in our tiny kitchen making equally pathetic student meals usually consisting of inexpensive carbs and something in a bottle. My heart, she is breaking.
My real hope is that at least one of my new flatmates is NOT American, which would be very cool. Not that there's anything wrong with Americans, but it would be fun to meet some more Europeans. Also, any day now I swear I'll meet an actually Scottish person - I've heard rumours they exist, but I think they've all migrated North and just let Edinburgh be taken over by English people, and supposedly Scottish people with suspiciously English accents.
As for me, I have one exam (one!) then I am free as a bird and heading for Germany. Good thing I speak so much Germany... hey Lexi, little help here?

Bikes, Brothels and Boogy-Men (but not all at the same time)

Hey, you'll never guess what I did this weekend... wait, I already told everyone. Fuck. Okay, I was in Amsterdam. But it was aMAZing, and not at all what I'd expected. So here, for your scintillation, I offer my Amsterdonian Top Ten.

#10: Outdoor Urinals

Because this way the city doesn't smell like pee. Downside: there's no way for them to wash their hands, so there's always this question in the back of your mind... Tragically, I never saw one of these being used.

#9: The Canals

I know, I live in a city with a big canal, I've been to Venice, I should no longer be impressed by man-made tunnels of water, but they were really beautiful. Very wide, tree-lined, much bluer than they were in Venice, and they didn't smell at all. I really loved the fact that no matter where you walk, you're always near water. Plus I love bridges; don't ask me why, I just do. Also note: the presence of outdoor urinals makes it much less likely that people are peeing in the canals. Anyway, we spent most of Saturday just wandering around the canals, drinking coffee in little waterside cafes and checking out little local markets; Maya, who is a film student, took a lot of videos of the city, which I'm trying to convince her to edit and put on a disc for me

#8: Michiel's Flat (and Michiel)

It was really great having somewhere to stay, and to prepare food (which totally cuts down on food budget, may I just say) and a cool local guy to hang out with. That was, of course the best aspect of it: his localness. I mean, he spoke Dutch for us and convinced taxi drivers to cram unrealistic numbers of us into their back seats and took us to local clubs and also to the best Dutch event ever... which you'll see later on because it's much higher in the top ten. This is in numerical order, by the by. Anyway, Carrie and Arnaud (her french lover), Maya and I stayed at Michiel's flat, while the other four (Geeta, Ben, Helen and Carolyn) stayed at a hotel, and we split the hotel eight ways so it was super cheap. Or relatively so. In the evenings we all gathered at Michiel's and Arnaud cooked elaborate french food - he's a chef, and really loves to cook, and absolutely refuses to let anyone help him. I was admittedly a little irritated that he constantly made dairy-and-egg-intensive foods and then made me a separate little dish of something - I hate being really pointedly singled out like that - but other than that I have no complaints about someone cooking for me. Michiel is an old friend of Carrie's (he was on exchange in New Zealand with her); he's a graphic design student, so his walls are covered in cool graphic art, and his bathroom comes equipped with a sharpie and an invitation in three different languages to write or draw anything you want. Very cool.

#7: Traveling with Large Groups

This way if you get really tired of one person, there are six others you can talk to instead. Also, we got to count off and have a buddy system like in kindergarten. And if different people wanted to do different things, it was really easy to split up. For example, on Saturday, Arnaud, Carrie, Maya and I did a cheap wandering day, where we just walked around the city, going into little shops and markets and stuff, getting our bearings and enjoying the sunlight (a scottish rarety), whereas Geeta, Ben, Carolyn and Helen, who have a little more money, went to various museums and then went out for dinner. We, on the other hand were saving our money up for #6 and 7.

#6: Coffeeshops

Now, you all know me, and know I'm not a big drug-user, but these were actually really fun. The nice ones are run like good wine stores, where they let you smell the various vintages and tell you the history of them. I was encouraged to detect the citrusy scent of one as opposed to the woodsy smell of another... in the end we selected Willie Nelson, last year's winner of the Cannabis Cup, which provided a "mellow high with creative impulses." After we got back outside I almost wet myself laughing. But I didn't laugh AT the guy, because he was providing the drugs.

#5: the Food

Remember when Anneke used to bring us weird Dutch candies and make us eat them, like salty licorice and crap? It was just like that, but moreso. Stroopwafels (honey cakes) were in abundance, though I tragically could not eat them as they are action-packed with honey, eggs, and butter. However, I could eat the many varieties of gingerbread, licorice and peanut-buttery things that my fellow travelers were constantly buying. Also, I was very pushy on the few occassions that we eated out, and managed to score both a visit to a healthfood restaurant called Bolhoed (fun fact: vegetarian in Dutch is "vegetarische") where we had these amazing pastries stuffed with leeks, mushrooms and tofu, that were SOOOO good; also, there was a Wagamama's, and I made them go there as well. That soup is like my crack. I also bought you all an ingestible (and vegan friendly!) present that will be arriving along with your Christmas package. Expect great things. Prepare to be disappointed.

#4: Dutch Clubbing

We went to a club called Bitterzoet (bittersweet) on Friday night, and it was a blast. There were a whole bunch of actual DJs, who were actually mixing really well, playing a combination of oldschool r&b, something they called "50 cent" which is actually all hiphop that sounds anything like 50 Cent, and Dutch rap. Dutch rap rules, by the way. At one point they played Scrubs mixed with some incomprehensible Dutch thing and it was really funny. I've never been in a club so packed before, you were just crammed up against total strangers and it was impossible to drink on the dance floor, so I just didn't drink. Also, in the punkrock spirit of the Amsterdonian lifestyle, the clubs don't close until 4am that the earliest, which means hours and hours of fun. I am seriously getting spoiled for the clubbing over here: there's always somewhere to go, the music is always good and there are always plenty of people, but this club was all of these things only moreso. One of the best nights out in memory.

#3: Art

The museums in Amsterdam are really expensive, but to make up for it they're really great as well. We went to two, the Rijksmuseum (which is old Dutchy art, like Rembrandt and a lot of blue-and-white ceramics) and the Van Gogh museum, which is relatively self-explanatory. The latter was really incredible, well worth the ten euros. There was an entire floor of Van Gogh - about 200 paintings - plus a permanent collection of his predecessors, contemporaries, and those whom he inspired. It was a really well setup museum, with just enough information and, most importantly, some stunning paintings. Thankfully I managed to dodge going through any museums with Ben, who is a typical American, run-through-and-see-everything-famous-in-15-minutes kind of guy; I was able to take my time on Monday to see all the Van Gogh carefully, and it was really rainy and dreadful outside so I didn't feel like I was missing anything great out there.

#2: This Photo

There was a canon. Where was there a canon? There was a canon at...

#1: The Sinter Klaus Parade!


It just so happened that when we woke up Sunday morning, Michiel was reading the paper, and told us that we were in luck because Sinter Klaus was arriving that very day! Apparently he arrived by steamboat from Spain (?) and procedes through the city, then every day from November 19th through to December 5th, the children can leave their shoes near the chimney and, if they're good, Black Pete will leave them a handful of nasty licorice-flavoured cookies. Other cultures as weird. So yeah, we went to the parade, and it was the best thing ever. Mainly it consisted of tons and tons of people (men and women) dressed up as Black Pete, Santa's very sketchy helper; to dress up as Black Pete you need to paint your face with boot polish, draw on a big red mouth, put on a velvet doublet and a cap with a feather, and eat some watermelon and fried chicken. Sorry, what? Forget that last part. There was even a marching band made up entirely of Black Petes. Also, there were like three really crappy floats, one with an ostrich. The highlight was the fact that all the Black Petes had canvas bags full of cookies, and we were surrounding by adorable little Dutch children equipped with plastic bags, and the Black Petes would shove fistfuls of ginger snaps and stuff into their bags. Only ginger snaps and those nasty licorice cookies. No normal candy. The kids were REALLY excited about these cookies, it was so cute. Also, they (as in the Petes) kept giving us cookies as well, so we made ourselves sick on ginger snaps, which is always fun. At the end Sinter Klaus rode by on a big white horse; he has a real beard and a very stylish red velvet cloak, and was not at all jolly. In fact, he was very solemn and had a big cross on his chest; he's pretty much the actual Saint Nicholas, meaning stern and Catholic. Good thing he has a wacky black sidekick to liven things up.

So, that was my weekend in Amsterdam. There are some bits I didn't mention, like when we walked through the Red-Light District and I was thoroughly demoralized, but I think I've covered all the important bits. Chronology is for losers. Oh, and the Boogey-Men reference? Last Wednesday I went on a Haunted Edinburgh tour that took us into the Black Crypt, home of a notoriously mysoginistic poltergeist. Afterward we went into a little pub, a friend of mine found what she swears is a poltergeist scratch on her arm, and we were hit on by an old Scotsman in a kilt. Good times all around.

(I'm pointing at her scratch, not just making a stupid face.)

moral lethargy or in defense of caring

In the past months I have become increasingly overwhelmed by two things: the shocking moral lethargy of the majority of people, and my overwhelming pride in those who I know who are doing something to change the world. In regards to the former, as I'm sure I've mentioned to several of you, I keep encountering women who don't care about women's rights or think feminism has "done its job" and supposed animal lovers who eat meat anyway because vegetarianism is too much work. In regards to the latter, I'm thinking of people like Anneke, who sees injustice in her own backyard, is outraged, and tries to mend it; and Jessie, who feels grateful for how much life has given her and expresses it through helping others. People like this give me hope that our generation is not full of morally lethargic nihilists who can't be bothered to care.
To this end, I have set up a new blog... of sorts. It isn't for me to write on, though I did put in the first submission. It's basically a forum for people who care about things to post what they care about. I want to prove, to myself and to anyone who's interested to see, that our generation is full of activists and agitators who see that the world is going to hell in a handbasket and try to make it better. The site is called "what are you doing" and basically anyone can email me whatever they want - art, photography, a quote they like, or something more elaborate, like a written description of the causes they believe in, really absolutely anything, and I'll post it. I guess it's supposed to be a collage of caring-about-anything. It's mostly for my peace of mind. I hope it works out.

Happy Bonfire Night!

Also known as Guy Fawkes Night... you know, "remember remember the fifth of November." Anyway, Scotland is not so much with the effigies (which is good because that sounds creepy) but very much with the amateur fireworks displays! As soon as it gets dark (ie 5pm) everyone across the cities starts setting off fireworks like crazy. To appreciation this singular spectacle we (a brave troop of about eight international students) climbed up Arthur's Seat (in the dark with no flashlight - very punkrock) and sat and ate delicious vegan cookies (courtesy of yours truly) and drank various forms of alcoholic beverages (I love parentheses!)out of various forms of water bottles, and watched all the fireworks go off across the city, including a big beautiful one put on by the city itself. So fun, so beautiful, and we were home by nine! Now that's what I call a wholesome evening.

Emily in Edinburgh

...also known as a Parisian girl in Scotland. Or a Canadian werewolf in Britain? I'm not quite sure.
Anyway, Emily came and visited me this past weekend, which was excellent because 1) we had a rockin' good time and 2) it was a really good excuse to go and visit some tourist attractions from the city I'm actually living in.
I went and met her Thursday evening in Glasgow (her plane was late arriving, and she ended up getting a ride from the airport from a lovely Scottish couple, which I think set the tone for the weekend pretty well). We had 1:30am dinner (very greasy, very Scottish, included deep-fried mushrooms) and then talked into the wee hours of the morning, thus waking up just in time for checkout. Spent much of Friday in Glasgow, saw the cathedral (again) and shopped a bit, then headed back to Edinburgh in time to have dinner and a couple of drinks with a big group of international students. I got the distinct impression Emily was relieved to be speaking her native tongue again.
On Saturday we did Edinburgh castle, which actually took us about four hours. I've been before, but it was definitely worth going again; I mean, it's pretty much what you'd expect in a castle, very big and very old and very castle-y, but it's gorgeous and really fun, and there's tons to explore. Also, it was really funny watching Emily have to duck to get through every single doorway, because I'm pretty much medieval-height and she's really really not.
Saturday we went to a Halloween flat-party (like a house party but with a lot less space) where we played drinking-jenga, I've Never, bobbed for apples, and then a drunk guy stole half our bottle of Malibu and started breaking stuff and that was the end of the party. But that didn't happen until around 3:30am, so it was okay. Emily dressed as a black cat (all in black with some cat ears and a really cute tail) and I dressed as snow (all in white with a lot of glitter and a snowflake ornament around my neck), and Carrie dressed as a tomboy (a cultural reference that our French companions didn't get, as they kept asking her if she was a "dirty boy") and he french lover Arnaud dressed as a french-man. He had suspenders. It was really cute.
So. Sunday we slept in, ate a giant vegan brunch (courtesy of yours truly) and then, at my brutal insistence, climbed Arthur's Seat. It took us a couple of hours, mostly because we were taking it pretty slow, and stopping for pictures a lot, but it was really beautiful. Lot of great view of autumnal-ness, and around the back we found this little loch and the ruin of some old abbey and lots and lots of swans. Also, apparently there's this whole other half of Edinburgh BEHIND Arthur's Seat that I didn't even know was there. Huh.
Anyway, that's really it for news from me; I'm working on essays pretty much constantly and doing nothing of interest. I've posted pictures again at http://www.flickr.com/photos/91173227@N00/ so you can go check those out if you want more.

Chapter 8: in which our intrepid adventuress lames out and just posts an email instead of rewriting her adventures in London and Ireland

That's right, I'm too lazy to re-narrate what I have already narrated. So behold, something everyone has already read! Just here for posterity, so that years from now when I'm remembering the salad days, I have something to look back on... *sigh*

I can't seem to remember if I emailed you guys about London... Wait, I
think I sent out a general notification about the pictures and that
was it. Well, I had an excellent time there, I really nerded it up
with Luc and because we only had 2 1/2 days there we did the balls-out
tourist thing and saw as much famous stuff as we could in our limited
time. To that end we went to the National Gallery, the British Museum,
the Cutty Sark, Greenwhich Village (home of the prime meridian),
Westminster Abbey, Trafalgar Square, Buckingham Palace, and walked
THROUGH a lot of famous areas, like Soho and Covent Gardens. It really
is an amazing city, and Luc and I agreed we've got to go back - we're
planning to meet there again in May when the Globe Theatre opens again
(the season was over when we were there) so we can take in some
Shakespeare. The tickets are super cheap, just a few pounds. One of
the best parts of that trip was my walk from Waterloo Station, where
Luc left, to Baker St, where I was to catch my bus. It took me about 3
hours in total, basically spanning the entire city, and it was really
nice to just walk around and see it without any sense of direction or
urgency. Also, as you can see from the pictures, my award for arriving
was a flock of Canadian geese. So exotic.

Anyway, I got home Monday at midnight, spent 2 1/2 days going to
classes and frantically doing my readings, because we were leaving for
Ireland Thursday afternoon. I was a little nervous about the Ireland
trip, to be honest, just because a lot of things were up in the air,
and three people were coming along who I'd never met before, plus we
were supposed to hook up with this Irish guy named Damian who Carrie
met in New Zealand, which sounded like it could potentially be pretty
sketch.

HowEVER, it turned out to be one of the most amazing weekends of my
life. By the time we got through airport-everything and arrived at our
hostel it was about 9:30. On the way there we got a call from two of
the three other people supposedly travelling with us, saying that
surprise! they weren't coming after all, and could we just cancel all
those hostel beds we had booked for them. Boo. I don't know these
people but I hate them anyway. However, the other guy, Ben, who is
also a student at the uni here, arrived safely and met us at the
hostel. We ate a quick dinner at some burger place (which had the
cutest security guard I have ever seen, even if Geeta does say he was
way too old for me... whatever...) then met up with Damian. He, as it
turns out, is the cutest (and littlest) Irish boy in the land, with a
tiny little faux-hawk. You'll see pictures of him when I eventually
post them, but for now I've used up all my bandwidth on flickr and I'm
apparently cut off. Anyway, he took us to Temple Bar to have our first
guiness, which was very touristy and silly, and Geeta (who is from
Texas and has an uncanny knack for attracting all Americans in the
immediate vicinity) met a bunch of Americans... however, Damian's
older brother Dave showed up shortly, and they decided that place was
too touristy and instead took us to a local-er place a few blocks
over, where there was some trad being played in the basement and no
other tourists. I switch from guiness to whiskey (because everyone
insisted I drink something local but guiness is just too much man for
me) and we sat around getting to know each other and listening to the
trad. Damian and Dave turned out to be the nicest guys, and they told
us all about their various travels; Damian is a sound
engineer/musician and Dave is currently a computer programmer, though
he used to be an acupuncture therapist which I think is uber cool.
Anyway, Thursday night was a relatively early night as that pub closed
at midnight, and they both had to work the next morning.

SO, the next morning we went BACK to the airport and rented a car
(Carrie knows how to drive standard and drove on the left side of the
road in New Zealand, making her the most useful girl in the world) and
set about with our wacky Irish roadtrip.
This was the best part, because, since we were in a car, we could get
off the major bus/rail/plan tourist routes and see some little tiny
towns that were perhaps a bit more "authentically" Irish. We drove
from Dublin (east coast) to Galway (west coast) in about four hours,
and that was with a length lunch stop in the middle. Galway is a sweet
little town but still quite touristy, lots of the same shops as Dublin
and lots of kitschy Irish restaurants. I was getting really tired of
eating Irish food, since the vegan options tend to be potatoe with a
side of more potatoe, so I put my foot down for pan-asian, which made
me very very happy.

I had also been responsible for booking our hostel that night (since
everyone else was strangely afraid of making phonecalls, I did all of
the bookings and cancellations the entire weekend), and had chosen a
cheap place in this little town called Oughterard, apparently 25
minutes outside of Galway. It actually turned out to be more like 45
minutes, down very dark unlit windy roads, and the hostel itself was
in the middle of this big unlit field, which was at the same time
beautiful and creepy. It was actually mostly beautiful, though,
because we could see all the stars out there.

Once we had checked in (an easy process, because he required no ID, no
deposit, handed us a key and went back to bed) we went into the centre
of town, which was basically a bar/restaurant/hotel (all one
building), a grocery store, and a hardware store. Oh, and a church. I
mean, we were in Ireland after all. So we went to the bar, which was
advertising - what else? - live music, expecting some more trad...
turned out to be this Irish singer songwriter who'd just gotten back
from a tour of the States, but was from Oughterard, and when he's home
he performs at this little local bar every Friday. He was very good,
and a lot of people from the other little towns around Oughterard had
come in especially to see him; the place was crowded, and everyone was
up jiving and swining (couples dancing only, because everyone was over
50). We were the only tourists there, as well as the only young people
there, and we had an absolute blast, swing-dancing with the old Irish
men at their wives' insistence and singing along to all the american
covers he was playing especially for us (I complained that I wasn't
american so he sang a Neil Young song for me - yay!). It was an
amazing night - the Irish are so generous and welcoming and FRIENDLY,
everyone seemed to love us just on account of our being guests in
their country, and we weren't allowed to buy our own drinks all night.

After a very good night's sleep in the hostel (four people in a 12-bed
dorm room means lots of pillows for all!) and a very good shower, we
headed out for some adventures on the Irish coast. We ate a quick
traditional Irish breakfast at the bar/restaurant (where we saw some
old Irish men drinking guiness at 10 in the morning - I'm still not
sure how I feel about this). As you can imagine, vegan options were
not plentiful, so I ordered the vegetarian breakfast hold the eggs,
and got 1) the weirdest look from the server ever and 2) a big plate
of beans and toast. Aw, well. It was cheap.

We spent most of Saturday driving around the coast of Western Ireland
(if anyone is consulting a map while reading this email, we drove from
Oughterard to Clifden, which is a coastal down, then south along the
coast until we got back to Galway). I have never seen a landscape more
beautiful than western Ireland. You all have to see it; it literally
took my breath away. I took about a thousand pictures, which you'll
see once flickr stops being such a douche. Anyway, these were all tiny
towns, no tourist-attractions or interest in tourists at all, because
they're so far off the main transit routes. At one point we stopped in
a little town to get lunch, and they were speaking Gaelic to each
other in the grocery store. Apparently in most of these little towns
gaelic is the first language, though everyone of course spoke english
as well. Once again, everyone was very friendly, though also really
surprised to see this carload of university students unloading into
their sleep irish town. I'll let the pictures do most of the
describing for me, but it really was incredible; the landscape is
rough and rocky, and full of incredible blue lakes; the inlets to the
ocean (Atlantic, of course) are all silver and full of these long
fingers of rock. There are tiny white houses dotting the hills, and
sheep and cows everywhere, wandering without fences or regard for cars
(as we learned). The highway is just a winding single-road street
where you have to full off to let another car pass, with all these
tiny stone bridges going over various streams and rivers. You all have
to promise me right now that you will go to Western Ireland at some
point in your lives - it was amazing.

Unfortunately, we eventually had back to Dublin because Damian and
Dave were expecting us. We crashed at Damian's place that night
because his housemates were away and because he didn't have to work
the next day; so we dropped our stuff off at his place, changed and
tidied up, and then hit the town. It was about ten this time when we
ate dinner (at this place called Abrakebabra, which sold a lot of
donair - I had a veggie burger, possibly the grossest thing I've ever
eaten). After that we went to a bar called Toast, which was an old
converted firestation (I asked if the name was a clever pun but Dave
said no, just coincidence - I'm unconvinced). Something I have learned
about the Irish: they really like buying drinks for their guests. I
managed to buy one round through a combination of sneakery and
physical force, but it was no easy feat. Dave and Damian must have
spent a fortune that night, because every time I finished a drink,
there was another one miraculously sitting in front of me. We stayed
at Toast until about midnight, then went to this nightclub (I can't
remember exactly where it was) and drank some more, and danced, and
met a whole bunch of Damian's drunk-out-of-their-minds Irish friends.
After the club closed we went to Damian's friends' house, where there
was a DJ table and (gulp) more alcohol. I promise I was good - I
practiced my best nursing-my-drink skills, and a new houseparty
technique I call "oh I have a drink I just left it in the other room).
I also went outside every time someone wanted a smoke break, which
bought me a lot more time. There's no way in hell I could keep up with
these Irish boys, they were drinking at a completely alarming rate;
however, the drunker they got, the more jovial and hilarious they
became; no one was a sad, mean or weird drunk, they were just really
happy and friendly. Eventually, maybe around 5ish, the party moved
back to Damians, where a couple of guys pulled out guitars and we all
started singing songs that nobody could remember the words to, because
everyone was drunk out of their minds. Carrie drunk-texted her new
crush, Geeta intensely made out with an Irish boy, and I met another
Irish boy with an almost-creepy interest in Canada. It was probably
just drunken-intensity speaking, but he was SO sure that Canada held
all the secrets to his happiness, he just needed to get there first. I
feel very bad for his inevitable disappointment. Anyway, we all
crashed around 7:30 or 8 (after watching the sun come up, which was
pretty cool because we were in a warm house instead of a cold bus
stop, with the prospect of bed coming up soon) - there were plenty of
beds to go around, thankfully, and I actually didn't end up having to
share with anyone. Yay me!
So, that was my night of drunken revelling with Irish men, and brought
home the brutal truth that I am just not much of a drinker. Meh,
whatcha gonna do? I still had a lot of fun, and decided that I need to
make more Irish friends (Jessie, you're clearly not satisfying all my
Irish-related needs).

We woke up around 3 that afternoon, and after much showering and
eating of bread to settle stomachs, we (meaning me, Carrie, Geeta,
Ben, Damian and Dave) went for breakfast/lunch/dinner (first meal of
the day, 5:30 pm?), at my insistence, at Wagamama's. Ladies, it is
every bit as good as you remember and then some. I was SOOOO happy. I
ate the biggest bowl of soup in the whole world. We spent the evening
at this pub in the hills south of Dublin called Johnny Fox's. It was a
beautiful drive up, and from the top of the hills you could see all of
Dublin, which was lovely. We made an early night of it because we were
all pretty exhausted, and also because we had to wake up at 4am to
catch out 6:30 plane back to Edinburgh. Before leaving, though, we
made Dave and Damian promise to come visit us in Edinburgh, both
because they were so awesome, but also because, between the four of
us, we owe them about 30 drinks a piece and maybe 4 or 5 packs of
cigarettes.

So what is the moral of this little tale? I like coastlines more than
alcohol and Irish boys more than no Irish boys. Yeah, that sounds
about right.

My next adventure will be next weekend, Halloween weekend to be
specific; Emily is coming up to visit me and we're going to party it
up Scottish-style. Maybe I'll finally see some of the sights of this
town I'm living in, once I have someone to show around.

The Highlander

Today Geeta, Carrie and I went on an organized bus tour called the Highlander. It was put on by this tour group called Haggis Tours, which is a semi-youth-oriented company that prides itself on its fantastic tour guides. True to form, our tour guide was amazing - his name was Fergus, and he was hilarious. He kept playing completely random music off his ipod across the entire bus, telling really inappropriate jokes, and getting me to answer his cellphone. The tour started off in Edinburg, then went to Doune Castle (where the french scenes from Monty Python's Holy Grail were filmed - you know, the fechez la vache part). Doune is just north of Stirling, and thus not quite in the highlands themselves yet. Before entering the Trossachs (which are traditional McGregor land, and the entrance to the highlands) we stopped at the Hamish Cafe, which is this little coffeeshop opened on a farm in honour of their famous, prize-winning highland bull. As you can see for yourselves, he was an exceptionally handsome cow. After that we went to Callendar (Anneke, remember we stayed there for a couple of nights?) to pick up lunch and hear some of Fergus' incredibly gruesome stories about William Wallace and Rob Roy (most of his stories involved evisceration of some sort), then onto this tiny highland town called Killin to eat our lunches and enjoy the scenic waterfalls. After Killin we went further north into the Highlands and drove along this windy little road between Loch Tay and Ben Lawers (which is apparently the second highest mountain in Scotland) where everything was dotted with these fat little sheep and kept making me want to say "och aye." Actually, Fergus gave us a little lesson on correct useage of the word "aye" in Scottish conversation, which is apparently always and for everything. Depends on intonation, I think. Anway, we stopped briefly in a town on the edge of Loch Tay called Kenmore for some more photo ops, then went to Glen Turruch to tour the oldest functioning whisky distillery in Scotland (opened 1775) and find out how single malt whisky is made. The tour included free whisky, and thus was inherently awesome. Also, Fergus bought himself a Glen Turruch commemorative rugby ball and we played catch beside the bus for a while after the tour was over. It was really great to get out of the city and just see a little bit more of the country - it made me realize how much I would like to go further north into the proper deep highlands - obviously we couldn't get that far in eight hours. I'm dead tired this evening, so for the first time in a very long time I am not going out... instead I'm going to do my readings, do some laundry, and get an early night. I'll save my partying, and my money, for my wild and crazy trip to London this weekend. My god, could my life BE any more exciting? I think not.
For pics of the trip (which are abundant) check out http://www.flickr.com/photos/91173227@N00/
Really I should add a link for this site to my blog but I am barely computer literate and have no idea how to add a link in when it isn't already conveniently set up for me. Aw well. Or should I say, och aye.

The Sleepiest Girl in the Room

It is currently 5:30 in the afternoon (evening?) and I have been awake for about an hour and half. Which is possibly (or completely) because I went to bed at 9:30 this morning. See, the International Student Centre runs fun daytrips every weekend. This weekend it was over to Glasgow, which is like a larger, more industrial, more city-ish version of Edinburgh. With, according to all the Scottish people we talked to, a much better clubbing scene than Edinburgh. So Carrie and I figured that instead of going during the day, we would head over in the afternoon, catch a couple of sites, have some dinner, and then spend the night absorbing the Glasgow nightlife. Originally we were going to get a hostel, but all the cheap ones were booked... so instead we got return bus tickets for 7:30am (the earliest Sunday-morning bus) and opted for an all-nighter. Which was hilarious on all sorts of levels.
It was actually an awesome day. We got into Glasgow around 2:30 and spent the daylight hours wandering around, taking in the various Glaswegian sites (I've posted the pictures on flickr if'n you're interested). By asking various young-and-hip-looking people around the city, we found out that this street called Sauchiehall is apparently the place to be on a Saturday night, so we went there. We had dinner at a cheap bar/diner kind of place, where we ended up getting sort of absorbed into this party this guy was having to celebrate the recent birth of his first sons. Note: apparently having a North American accent automatically makes you cool around these parts, because all sorts of strangers are always interested in talking to me. Anyway, this guy was already beyond drunk, and showed us a whole bunch of pictures of his son, and then bought us some drinks. We tried to have conversations with his (very cute) friends but, as it turns out, the Glaswegian accent is completely incomprehensible. We kept having to get them to repeat themselves three or four times. Somehow I only seemed to understand them when they were saying something really inappropriate... the rest of the time, nothing.
After that we found a bar that had all drinks for £1.50, and drank a lot of malibu and pineapple juice and got manhandled in the line for the bar while waiting for a club to open. We ended up going to this great place called The Crib, which is Glasgow's top urban club. Edinburgh has demonstrated a sad lack of hiphop and r&b. There are lots of other great places around here (which I will get to shortly, as this is clearly a non-chronological post) but nothing particularly "street." So we were pretty excited about the prospect of some more traditional clubbing music. Cover was a little pricey (£4) and we were a little underdressed (jeans and t-shirts and sneakers - okay, really under-dressed, not that that stopped the super-drunk Scottish guys from manhandling us some more) but the music and the crowd were really fantastic. We danced there from midnight until 3am, which is when clubs close here. Seriously, toward the end of the night things got really grabby (I've never been molested in clubs so much as I have in the last three weeks of my life) but it was still awesome. Carrie is a total blast to club with - very Cosette-like (though I still love you more, Cosy!) in her approach, if you know what I mean.
Okay, so at 3 every shut down, and we ran across the street (along with, apparently the entire student population of Glasgow) to this noodle bar open until 4:30. It was terrifying, like a drunk, hungry, incomprehensible mob. After about 20 minutes of restaurant-moshing (there was literally no system in this place, you just grabbed a chair as soon as someone left it, shoved their discarded food to the side, and started eating out of your fun styrofoam container) we did manage to get seats and food at the same time, and then refused to relinquish them until 4:30, when we were literally kicked out by the management. Okay, so three hours to go until our bus arrives. Next we went to this 24-hour convenience store (the only 24-hour things in Scotland are convenience stores - they don't do the all-night cafe or diner thing at ALL) where we met these two old men who were cab drivers and thus also up all night, and chain-smoked with them in the doorway of this convenience store until 5:30. They were both really nice, and much closer to comprehensible than anyone else we'd met all night (or morning), and one of them offered to drive us back to Edinburgh himself, but we figured that was probably not the best way to live through the night, and told him we already had bus tickets. At 5:30 we bought ourselves some bottles of water and a magazine and hoofed it back to the bus station (which provided shelter from the ever-present rain, if not the cold) where we became hysterical with exhaustion and read various tourist pamphlets aloud to one another for another two hours. Our bus left promptly at 7:30, meaning we got back to Edinburgh at 8:30, and it was a halfhour walk back to our flat (in the sad, cold drizzle that is Scottish autumnal weather) and finally, finally, bed. I have never been so excited to go to bed in my life.
So that is the saga of my Glasgow all-nighter, which was hilariously fun and which I will not be repeating any time soon. I'm going to have to spend this week being very very responsible, because I have lots of readings to get done and I'm going to London next weekend, and Dublin the weekend after... stupid school, getting in the way of all my debauchery.

So, as I was saying, the Edinburgh scene is sadly lacking in urban clubs, but there are lots of other great places. Every Tuesday night this bar called Bannerman's has an international student night, where drinks are 3-for-2, and you can pretty confidently walk up to anyone and strike up a conversation based on the common ground of not-from-here. This past Tuesday I met a girl from Ottawa (though she's on exchange from U of T) who also went to Canterbury (drama, two years behind us). Strangely, I also ran into her in the club in Glasgow... Speaking of small worlds, that same night at Bannerman's, Carrie ran into these two guys she met when she was travelling around New Zealand this summer. One, Sam, is a local guy (with bright red dreadlocks, and a big scruffy beard); the other, JD, is also from Canada, and has been travelling around the world for five years; he met Sam in New Zealand, and just decided to follow him back to Scotland. We ended up going out with them on Thursday night to this bar called The World Famous Frankensteins, which is this amazing three-story place that looks like something out of a George Orwell novel, with Frankenstein movies playing on giant TV screens and all sorts of weird blue static-electricity things built into the walls - very eery. Along with Sam and JD, we met a whole bunch of their local friends, including this awesome half-spanish guy named Roberto (spanish man with scottish accent = totally hot) and this tiny and totally adorable girl named Emily. The following night (being Friday) we convinced Sam, JD, and Emily to join us at Misfits, which is sort of like the Lee's Palace of Scotland. The club is actually called Subway, but every Friday they have a indie=alternative-rock night called Misfits, where the drinks and cover are super-cheap and the crowd is massive. We've gone two fridays running now, and had a fantastic time each night. It's the hottest club I've ever been in, and you sweat to death - everyone comes out of there dripping, which is kind of the best, and grossest, part. We've had a good group both times - last Friday it was me, Carrie, Geeta, Anna-from-Carleton and her awesome Swedish flatmate Maya, and our Danish friend Matt... and some incredibly drunk girl he'd brought along... and Helen, our beautiful Estonian friend. This Friday it was me, Carrie, Geeta and her gay Japanese friend Ben, Helen, JD, Sam and Emily, plus a smattering of miscellaneous guys hitting on various members of the group. I danced briefly with this barrel-chested scottish boy named Murray, who got an erection, got embarrassed, and ran away (teenagers are so cute) and then after 3, when the club had closed and everyone was standing around outside cooling off, came up to apologize me on the insistence of his adorable Irish friend Stephen, who thought he had been abominably rude. I may or may not have briefly made out with a sweaty 18-year-old. Is that so wrong?
Other than Misfits, we've also been to this place called El Barrio's, which is a lot like Calientas. An older crowd, lots of salsa music, 2-for-1 mojitos. Geeta is absolutely nuts about salsa music, so last Saturday we went there with her, and it was pretty good. No Misfits, but a nice change of pace.
So, yeah, in brief that's been my social life of late; read: much more active than it ever was in Ottawa, mostly due to the predominance of places to go. Which is why you guys have to visit me here, because there is ALWAYS something to do. You could literally go clubbing every single night of the week.

Okay, onto the academic front. School is going well. I have three classes right now: Feminist Theology, Tragedy & Modernity, and Music in Social Contexts.
Feminist Theology is taught by this fanastic, eloquent, hyper-intelligent Argentinian woman named Marcella. The readings are intensive but really interested, and there's a lot of diversity in the class - about five other exchange students, a couple of actual local undergrads, and then a bunch of older students working on dissertations or just taking the class out of personal interest, in the case of the ordained minister from Myanmar. Guess who I've decided is going to be my new best friend? Unfortunately, for the second-ever class the prof was sick, so about eight hours of readings were for naught - but that's okay, because instead I spent that morning hunting down the largest health food store in Edinburgh, where I found, among other things, vegan pesto, tofutti, nutritional yeast flakes, Canadian maple syrup, vegan hot chocolate mix, and quinoa-pasta. So much health food! Also that day, I found a store that sells bras in my incredibly-unlikely size, and instead of being $100 like they are in stupid, stupid Canada, they're about £20 a piece. Guess who's stocking up?
Tragedy and Modernity is a lot better than I expected, though we haven't gotten to Brecht yet, so I'll keep you updated. Like Feminist Theology, it's a very small class - about 12 people, I think - and it's run very much like a seminar. By which I mean it IS a seminar. The prof, who is a very easy-going and unintimidating german woman named Olga, lectures a little bit on our readings, but the class is mostly discussions, and so far very lacking in idiots. There's also a mandatory weekly studying group, called an Autonomous Learning Group, but thankfully the other three girls in my group are both lovely and intelligent, so that's actually more-fun-than-painful. Altogether it adds up to absolutely having to do my readings, because she makes sure that everyone in the class talks at some point, and she will question you on your opinions, and it will be painfully obvious if you haven't actually read the plays. I'm thinking the super-smart prof will make up for all the german-ness and the presence of Brecht. Like I said, I'll let you know.
Music in Social Contexts is a little lame. It is a first year class, so a little self-evident, but there's minimal work so at least I don't have to think about it very often. I have made friends with these two adorably Italian exchange students (who I'm going to convince to speak to me in Italian so that I don't completely forget the language) who are having trouble keeping up with the lectures, so I've been lending them my notes and just helping them out a bit. It also turns out that they've made friends with Bruno, the hot Italian guy with whom I shared a cab to Fraser Court when I first arrived. I actually hadn't seen him again since that first day, despite the fact that he lives in the flat directly below me. However, when I was walking home from the bar on Thursday night I ran into the Italian girls, Claudia and Maria, and Bruno was with them, along with apparently every other Italian exchange student at the university. They've formed, like, a cool Italians-only club, that I am absolutely determined to infiltrate.

So that's a basic update. I'm going to try to be better about updating so that I don't have to write these great big novel-like posts, and you don't have to read them. Future activities include a daytrip to the Highlands on Wednesday with this youth-oriented tour group called Haggis Tours (they have a branch in Ireland called the Shamrocker), a weekend in London from the 6th to the 9th, and then another in Dublin from the 12th to the 16th.
Here's hoping I've made at least some of you suitably jealous to convince you to come visit me. I miss you all!

laziest blogger in the world

Hello ladies!
I seriously have been too lazy to post this week. And guess what? I still am! I just wanted to put up a few photos, and give you the link to my flickr account, where (when I'm not feeling too lazy/busy) I'll post the majority of my photos.
A better post will follow within the next few days, I swear it will.
The first picture is of New College, the building where I take my divinity/theology classes. The other is of the building right across from our flat where we do our laundry. I think it looks like a tiny castle.






Here's the link to the rest of my photos: http://www.flickr.com/photos/91173227@N00/with/253391690/

Greetings from a Fluorescent-Lighted Room

All right, time for my first official post from Edinburgh proper. I arrived... lets see... five days ago? That sounds about right. I arrived not-so-promptly around 6pm on Sunday, with most of the city already shutting down, and had a temporary lapse of ennui when I couldn't for the life of me find a flatmate and nobody answered the various collect calls I patched through from an extremely sketchy phone booth. However, things took a turn for the better when I returned to my flat and met one of my flatmates, Carrie-from-Boston, who I promptly (remembering Jessie's advice) asked if she'd eaten.

Since then things have passed in a bit of a how-much-can-I-cram-in-one-day blur, though I've been trying to slow things down a bit I remind myself that I have an entire schoolyear here and don't have to fit everything into the first week. Sunday we went drinking; Monday Carrie and I got lost several times, figured out the lay of the city a bit better, found cheap grocery & household supply stores, and she got her very-bad-news. Tuesday, more getting lost, the purchasing of a cellphone, and of course international students' night at Bannmerans (on the way there we - you guessed it! - got lost). Wednesday... oh lord, when was Wednesday again?... Oh yes, Carrie left for Bath and Geeta was spending the day with her aunt and uncle, so I registered with the doctor, sorted out some more of the nasty details of opening a bank account, found my first vegan store, an adorable little market-type thing called Jordan Valley that had vegan pasties and fair trade chocolate bars.

Yesterday, being Thursday, was very full. In the morning I went to the societies fair where I put my name down on the mailing list of anything that sounded even remotely interesting: Indie Music, independent journalism, classics, english literature, film, chococolate, canoeing, yoga, traditional scottish country dance... you name it, I've signed up for it. We'll wait and see, of course, how many I actually sign up for. After that I had my appointment with my director of studies (everyone calls them a dos), which is basically an academic advisor. He was more than an hour behind on his appointments, but while waiting outside I met a lovely Danish girl name Stina who had the most amazing dreadlocks. Despite the lateness, still managed to make it to the free tour of the Museum of Scotland, which was delivered by this adorably doddering old Scotsman who told hilariously rambling anecdotes that all seemed to sort of flow organically into one another. Also, the museum has a viking exhibit. (Also, non-chronological sidenote, today I passed by the museum of surgery or something, which has a terrifying exhibit on the history of surgery, which I clearly have to check out.) Anyway, the tour was specially for international students so I met a whole lot of eastern european girls who I cannot for the life of me remember today. (Another side note, this one on weather: Sunday through Wednesday were beautiful and sunny and warm. Thursday was miserable. Is was cold and pissing rain all day. I was soaked to the knees and completely horrified. I kept asking people if this was what it was normally like, and they just kept giving me these pitying looks... need more antifrizz...) Anyway, Thursday evening I'd been planning to go to various possible events, but the rain scared me a lot. Eventually, however, it did let up, and Geeta and I went to a party in this building called Teviot. Very cool venue, it's got about six bars and generally each one has a different theme. Last night that basement-bar was having this thing called Revolucion! which was basically a salsa party with a token poster of Che Guevera and some bowls of salsa set out. It started with a relatively lame salsa lesson, but after that turned into an awesome open dance, with salsa/mambo/etc music mixed with regular club music. Sort of like Calentias with a much younger crowd. The boys here are at once much more forward and much more polite. I mean, they ask if you want to dance before just grabbing you, but they certainly don't hesitate to ask. Danced for quite a while with a short postgraduate named Paul, who despite having the beeriest breath in the world thoroughly charmed me with his thick Scottish accent. Geeta, as it turns out, is an excellent salsa dancer, and in the manner of beautiful petite girls who clearly know how to dance, was continually swept up by beautiful latino men who spun her around the dance floor. So hot. Met a stunning Nigerian girl named Issie who danced with us all night and gave me her cell number. Yay friends! We headed out when I was just so hot I though I would die or melt, and then walked home through the cold (though thankfully no longer wet) night trying to drip-dry. As we returned to our flats, we saw that a whole bunch of kids from the other blocks (Fraser Court is divided into three blocks - we're in block 3) had gathered outside and were drinking and smoking. Geeta (whose sociably makes her an excellent person to hang out with) insisted we go over and introduce ourselves, so we sat out with them for about half an hour, just chatting. Met various drunk-out-of-their-minds first years, and picked up my first bit of hilarious scottish slang. Apparently "gay" here is used in the actually context of terrifically happy or good, like as a qualifier. So if something is great you call it "gay-good." I died. Also met some lovely girls from the same block as us, though i can't remember their names. There was a party starting at 2am in block 1, but I was too sweaty and tired and had no interest in drinking (three days of drinking in a row killed me, I felt SO sick on Wednesday, and have vowed that I have nothing to prove and will return to my days of teetotalling) so Geeta and I retired. Excellent night, though. Everybody loves salsa.

Today I had this vague notion of going to the canoe society's beach bbq to ask if they did exclusively white-water canoeing or if they supported something a touch milder, but I missed the bus (no salt n peppa reference intended). I actually hadn't realized there would BE a bus - I though beach bbq was, like, metaphorical or something. Once I realized that, I was kind of glad I hadn't gone, because I didn't want to be trapped outside the city all day with a whole lot of grilling meat. Instead I finished up the necessary preparations for opening a bank account, then went to the Classics Society Symposium. There's this lovely open meadow (called, creatively, The Meadows) out behind George Square, which is the central-most part of the otherwise-very-scattered uni. Basically they all met out there, with wine and cheese and the organizers wearing bedsheet togas, hung out on blankets and chatted. I met three very friendly 2nd-years - Julia, Heather and Lauren - upon whom I imposed myself shamelessly, and just sort of sat around chatting for the afternoon. Very nice, very relaxing. We parted ways around 5ish (though I got Lauren's cell and an invite out on Sunday - yay more friends!)then I bought something to read and some school supplies, phoned my grandfather, who has been leaving me befuddling messages all day, and headed back to my flat. There are a whole lot of events going on tonight, in which I could quite easily participate, but I'm feeling a little off crowds tonight so I figured instead I would read and chill, and finally post something on my much-neglected blog. As soon as I have internet in my actual room, I will also post some pictures of the city and my flat.

So, that's it for my update. I'm still feeling happy I've come and excited. So much so, in fact, that I'm reconsidering the idea of getting a job here (though don't tell my Dad, he'd have a fit) just because I don't want it to interfere with all the other stuff I want to do (yes Jessie, you were right, you're always right, whatever). Having little spurts of loneliness for my girls, because meeting new people is always exhausting for me, and I miss being around people who know me so completely, but all in all I'm happy and healthy, and exciting about the start of classes next week.

There's no place like home...

...and my new home will apparently be somewhere called Fraser Court. It's about a 5-10 minute walk from campus, which is why it's also the cheapest res available, which is of course exactly how I like it. I know it's divided into flats of usually four people with a shared bathroom and kitchen - possible a central living area as well? I'm not certain. Also, according to one site I found, it has "two squash courts, a shop, a cash machine, extensive computing facilities in the Microlab and a small library. The Moon Bar, includes pool tables, video games and a large screen satellite TV." Yeah, Moon Bar. So there you have it. Besides working out banking and OSAP finicky details, everything is set and the official countdown begins. Leaving for Edinburgh in 28 days.

We have lift-off

Or at least a good spurt of energy. Yesterday I got a very discouraging email saying that five of my six courses selected had been brutally rejected. So I sat down, looked back through all of the courses offered and what credits I needed to get while I was there, and found myself (almost) all new courses. And lo and behold, with shocking promptitude they have responded to me with a completed and confirmed schedule. Huzzah! I have courses! And they're INTERESTING. I mean, I actually really do want to take ALL of these courses.
Here's the email I was sent today (okay, I asked someone the other day why whenever people forget my name they call me Heather, and she said it's because I look like a Heather... but then explain to me why in correspondence the same thing happens!)

***

Dear Heather,

Thank you for your email. You are now registered for a full course load
of 120 credits as follows:

Semester 1:

U00757 Music 1A: Music in Social Contexts
U01284 Tragedy & Modernity
TH9990 Feminist Theology

Semester 2:

U02764 Her Own Life?
U01595 History of Art 1B (VS2)
DV0163 Christ in Late Medieval & Renaissance Art

Unfortunately Ideology and Literature no longer has spaces available for
Exchange students. I have enrolled you for the semester 2 only variant
of History of Art as this fits in to your schedule better. I hope you
are satisfied with the above allocation. If you have any queries please
do not hesitate to contact me. You should receive joining instructions
shortly if you have not already.

I look forward to meeting you in September.

With best wishes,
Karen

***

So there you go. Both Heather and I have an excellent course load. I'm particularly excited about the Christ in Art course, because apparently gallery visits are a key part of the course. Yay gallery visits! This year is gonna RULE.

The Countdown Continues

Things are starting to feel really... real.
I have my passport (with a surprisingly good picture considering that it's a mugshot), I have my plane tickets and my travellers insurnace, my student visa application appointment is August 3 which is fast-approaching, and on Thursday my Dad bought me a digital camera (5.1 MP baby, more than I could ever need) which in my mind is all I'll ever need. Though I think I need to go back to futureshop and kick up a fuss about the fact that the camera is advertised as coming with rechargeable batteries, and it totally doesn't. There goes what I thought was my first positive consumer experience at futureshop. Shoulda known better.
Okay, so left to do? Clean out my room of any non-essential possessions to make packing easier. I need to get my confirmation of residence and of courses because as of right now I have no clue what I'm going to be taking over there. Then I need to make sure my courses are okay with my registrar specialist, whom I emailed about a month ago and who has never responded to me, making me not trust her at all. That's okay, I really like my academic advisor and I have a vague impression that he has omnipotent power over my degree. Is the phrase "omnipotent power" redundant? Possibly. Let's see... incidentally I have my G-test in August as well, because I wanted to go my license before I sell my car and (hopefully) never have to drive again. Why do I want a license then? Oh, you know. ID. Hmm. There's also the financial stuff, namely finding out how my bursaries are going to be applied, and figuring out how I'm going to get my second semester of OSAP, because apparently they've changed the rules on power of attorney and now nobody else is allowed to pick up my OSAP for me; I think they're going to mail it to me in Scotland, I sign everything, then I freakin' fedex it back to them. So stupid. If the canadian government wasn't giving me all this money, I would call it a lot of names right now. The only other thing I can think of is insuring my laptop, because I'm definitely taking it with me... oh yeah, and I also need to buy an adaptor for it from the apple website so it'll work over there. It comes in this international adaptor package so I'll technically be able to take my laptop anywhere in Europe with me, but I have every intention of shipping it back home to my father's safe-keeping as soon as school is done. As if I'm backpacking through Slovenia with a $2000 ibook on my back.
I have to contact that health card people and my credit card people and my bank to let everyone know where I'm going to be - and I have to consult with the bank about drafts and electronic money transfers and how to get my moolah over to the UK without being broke and miserable for my first week there. (I've heard a lot of horror stories about this.) Oh yeah, I also wanted to email the college do-everythinger Andrea and ask her to send an email out to all the exchange students so we can network while we're over there. You know, if anyone wants to see Edinburgh they can just drop me a line, I'll put them up and show them the town in exchange for a trip back to wherever they are. Though of course the majority of my free time will be spent in Paris harrassing Luke. Lucky boy.
I'm pretty sure that's everything, but it seems like a really daunting list. That's okay, I have the rest of the summer, a really lame job, and nothing to do with my free time but work out and fantasize about living in Edinburgh. To that end, cannot wait for Edinburgh's Hogmanay festival, which is (apparently) the largest New Year's street party in the world.
And that's saying something.

Confirmation!!!

One down, about a thousand to go. Just got an email from Edinburgh:

***

Dear Hannah,

Thank you for your application to study at the University of Edinburgh.
I am very pleased to inform you that we are able to make you a general
unconditional offer of admission as a Visiting Undergraduate in the
College of Humanities and Social Science for academic session 2006/07.

I am writing with this initial confirmation as it may assist with your
planning for your time abroad.

In addition to this email we will send you a written offer letter
detailing the courses on which you have been enrolled. This letter will
also include information about applying online for University
accommodation. This offer letter can be used for visa purposes (although
this email offer can be considered as a formal and binding offer from
the University of Edinburgh).

***

So there you have it. A formal and binding offer from the university. I'm on my way.

Future Perfect

Where: Edinburgh, Scotland
When: September 9, 2006 until May 25, 2007
Why: to study abroad for one year
How: excited am I? Here's a hint: I'm starting my travel blog about 4 months early.
What: do I have left to do? well, get a passport, a student visa, plane tickets, confirmation of my acceptance, confirmation of a spot in residence, luggage, travel insurance, apply for OSAP and a bursary and a loan, find out how to open a bank account in Scotland, make travel plans for June 2007 and convince my friends to come along, get contact information for the people I plan to visit, and try to convince myself that I'm not going die being on my own for an entire year. Eek.