11 down, 72 papers to go

Listening to Damien Rice, Tammy Wynette and Bette Midler, I am busy grading papers for my portion of Spring 2005 WIS program. After reading almost 1800 pages of journals—unfortunately many of them were just filler to meet the quantity standard—it is the last thing I want to be doing.

Suddenly I miss the Amsterdam of last week, the sights, the relaxation, the freedom. Alas, I must put in my time to. I will write out those experiences and post a few pics soon enough.

Bumper Stickers or Buckets

“You can only be young once. But you can always be immature."
--Dave Barry,Author, humorist

I would love for this to be on my ass as my permanent bumper sticker, but that is probably not going to happen. There are just so many people I have encountered very recently that should just take a step back and realize the impact that their choices and behaviour have on others.

On my plane trip back to the Scotland from the US, I finished a book that my friend Melissa gave to me. It was called, How Full Is Your Bucket, by Roth and Clifton. It was a great little book that essentially sent the message that we are all buckets and ladles. With every interaction we can fill people’s buckets or take from them. It is the synthesis of many years of research boiled down into a simple idea. It is one that I believe I have tried to do, very often, and the “refresh” that the book gave me will inspire me to fill buckets in my personal interactions with people.

Taking steps to be more cognizant of the impact that words you use, body language and or not truly listening to others is important. I certainly do want to encourage collective passivism or liberal applications of apathy all future social interactions, but how we say what we want to say is 90% of the message, and the solution to just as much of the conflict that occurs on a daily basis. It surely beats the hell out of my ass bumper sticker idea.

The Wedding of the Year

Well my little sister’s wedding was FANTASTIC. That woman deserved every bit of it. She was poised, beautiful and utterly relaxed on her special day. Her husband Cory will be a very nice addition to the family.

The rehearsal led to the groom’s dinner at the Cold Spring golf course club house. The Friday evening provided a nice opportunity to get to meet the wedding party and the groom’s family. Cory’s dad snapped a great picture of the family which will definitely make the web site.

On clear day, I am reminded of the expression, ‘the sun shines on the righteous’, from a favorite English tour guide of ours. The expression couldn’t have spoken more truth on that gorgeous, bright sunny April day. One of the most decent and respectable people I know, my ever-giving sister Lori, was to wed. The ceremony was very pleasant; everyone was all smiles and seemed to float up and down the stairs of the traditional Catholic mass. We ‘stole’ the bride and groom—because we could—for one quick drink at the Legion. The reception, and literally, the reception of the bride and groom to the wedding hall, was a joyous and tear-jerking moment. The light from the sun on their backs provided an amazing silhouette, and I think I am happy that I didn’t get a picture, as they never do justice, because I’ll remember that image forever. It’s mine to reflect on whenever I want. The wedding party, in all their grandeur, sat at the head table. I, along with Dion, Lexy, Jordan and the flower girl and “extras”—read spouses of wedding party, sat in front of the head tables. The conversation had at, what we dubbed the ‘kids table’ was so very much adult, it scared us. When I say adult, it was the sophistication and intelligence that Lori’s children possess at such a young age, that truly left a grin on the so-called adults at the table—Dion, Eric, Jodi, Adam and myself! I love those kids.

The dance promptly started after dinner, and, once I started (which was essentially after most of the early typical wedding tunes), you couldn’t drag me off that floor. I danced for many reasons. I danced because it was fun. I danced to keep from crying (because I was so happy for Lori)! But mostly I danced to celebrate the great event. Gosh, could I gush anymore? Special Thanks Autumn and Laurie for the laughs and ‘Footloose’ good times on the dance floor, and to the apparently headless DJ: I’m GAY, so the never ending references to the “ladies snatching up Lori’s unmarried brother” were pointless, but did give us a good laugh!

05/05/05

I am interested to follow the upcoming elections in the UK. Tony Blair spoke to the Queen and asked her to dissolve parliament, and boom, 4 weeks of campaiging, and election over. I can't believe we didn't take this play out of their book.

American's would LOVE for an election to last a month!!


This is the timetable for the election campaign after Tony Blair set polling day for 5 May Check it out!

TUESDAY 5 APRIL
Tony Blair announces he has asked the Queen to dissolve Parliament ready for 5 May election.

WEDNESDAY 6 APRIL - FRIDAY 8 APRIL

These are expected to be the last days the current Parliament will sit - with MPs and peers deciding which bills will be rushed through and which are lost. Parliament is likely to stop sitting before the weekend but continues to exist until it is formally dissolved.

MONDAY 11 APRIL
Parliament is dissolved. It means there are no longer any MPs, although ministers keep their jobs during the poll campaign. The election writs which formally set the poll date are issued.

THURSDAY 5 MAY
Election day, with polling stations open between 700am and 1000pm.

(from www.bbc.com)

Name that Holiday

Spring break in the Highlands was extraordinary! Tim and I started the 6 day tour in Glasgow. A night out in the largest city in Scotland proved to show us a livelier night scene and cheaper pints than Edinburgh. We departed Glasgow early the next morning, but not early enough to catch the 10:00am ferry leaving Oban for the Isle of Mull, Iona and Staffa. The Create-Your-Holiday’s-Name game begins. First one: “All Scots are Damn Liars”. Several people told us that Oban was just a little over an hour from Glasgow. However, even departing earlier than were told we needed to, the 2 ½ hour trip landed us to the wee coastal tourist trap town of Oban at 10:25am. When we explained to the ferry tour salesperson that we had been quoted by several locals that it would only be about 90 minutes to Oban from Glagow, with the most deadpan expression, she responded, “How, by helicopter?”. We chuckled, made the most of it, and then took an alternate ferry, at the suggestion of the ferry ticket sales desk operator, to the Isle of Mull. It afforded us enough time to take a train to Toranus Castle, tour the castle and gardens, and return to Oban so we could make it to our evening accommodations before dark. And, I use the term train loosely here. It basically amounted to child’s toy, went about 3 miles an hour, and wheeled along this wee little track for about less than a mile. I would have paid money to capture Tim’s facial expression when he saw the “train”. It depicted emotion that combined rage and lunacy. Naturally, this just fed into the trip’s inaugural title (of the name game), but, also spurred a new one: “THIS is a Railway?”

However, the car ride on the A82 to Oban from Glasgow brings us to our next entry in the title contest, “‘A’ Road My Ass!” A is the letter for major roads, what Americans might call highways. ‘B’ roads are less travelled and less maintained, and so on. Well, go carts and horse drawn buggies would have had a hell of a time negotiating the A82 from Dumbarton to Crianlarich let alone automobiles, lorries and coaches! It was a wee curvy narrow, some times ONE lane road that set on the western edge of Loch Linhe. Yeah, it was a slower drive in our no-suspension ’94 Ford Fiesta than we anticipated.

The drive north, past the remote islet-based Stalker Castle, to Fort William was romantic and serene. In the Highlands, the mountains are greater, the lochs possess more grandeur and the postcard picture-moments are far more frequent that I imagined they would be! Words and pictures (being developed as I type) won’t do it justice. We stayed at the Kismet Villa in Fort William. Our evening brought us to the several pubs. Our favourite of the three, the Ben Nevis Pub, named after Ben Nevis, the highest peak in Scotland, was a quaint little place. We met merged with another table after some room shuffling of patrons was required, and added to a very international setting for our evening. Hinnie from Finland, Catherine from Switzerland, Sylvester from Poland, and oddly enough, I cannot remember the names of the 2 Scots, and Tim and I shared a pint and a laugh or two about living in Scotland.

Thursday morning was as clear as they ever come in Scotland. More than one local said to us that few people see the top of Ben Nevis because of the clouds and fog, and we were fortunate to be able to see it in its glory. Tim and I drove to the Nevis Park and walked to Steel Falls, which ran through Glen Nevis. The 2 hour hike was on the edge of a wooded hilly glen at the base of Ben Nevis. A wee bit of wine and cheese and crackers for the end of the hike picnic, and that’s us off to Ullapool.

The drive to Ullapol was the longest single stretch of driving for us yet, so we stopped for a coffee and cake in Fort Augustus, a gorgeous little town nestled at the southern most tip of Loch Ness—No, no sightings of the mythical beast. However, we would definitely make it one of our places to stay for an overnight in the future!

Our friends and colleagues at the Dalkeith House, the Hoods, rented a cottage 3 miles north of Ullapol, in a village called Ardmair, and invited us to stay with them for an evening, as they had an extra room! The village is on the north western coast of Scotland—it again, was other worldly. Before you arrive to magnificent coasts and beautiful beaches over looking small islands and deep blue water, we had to drive through taiga-like region (with less trees) for miles, almost as if you were on another planet. It possessed an eerie quality; one of mystery and solitude. We shared some good conversation and a few bottles of wine. We tasted Skye beer and combed the beach for the best stones. I took six.

After touring Ullapol on Friday morning, and buying a cute little picture frame to remember our time there, we sat at the Seaforth Pub and wrote out about 15 post cards (YOU, yes you reading this, might be one of the few---question: do we have your address?) and followed “Pope Watch 2005” unravel. I’m sure there’s a special in hell for me for that one… In case you are curious, I predicted the Pope was going to die in April WAY before the last ill-health spell. Not sure what I get for that, or why I predicted that, but, I did call it.

Now that the pope topic has been broached, here’s one side story. Mary and John have an article cut out and hung on their door with a picture of the Pope grasping a child’s face with the large caption: “When Popes Attack”. I think it’s from a tabloid, not sure. Anyway, when it was announced that the pope may pass, and last rites were given, the Hood’s 8 year old son, who had seen this from the house, apparently asked, “Dad, how often DO popes attack?”, and was relieved to hear that the pope had passed away, thinking small children were safer for it. Okay, a classic case of ‘you had to be there’, but there was some serious LOL going on after that comment!

Next up, the Isle of Skye: Heading south now, to our final “new” destination, and enjoying our third morning in our wee car, whom we’ve named Ferdinand, our latest entry into Name That Holiday is born: “Hmmm, I LOVE the Smell of Petrol in the Morning!” For whatever reason, the car just reeked of petrol until we’d drive it a bit. I think I’m happy that our little green Ferdie made it, but I now I am thinking it may have been the fumes that made the trip seem so magical! We toured Eileen Donan Castle—a 13th century castle rebuilt many times in each subsequent century except the 19th century; a coastal castle that defended the island from Vikings at one time! It’s since been turned into a museum and honours the clan that resided there most recently—I’m going to go with the McLeods, and is worth a visit. It is apparently the most photographed castle in all of Scotland.

We arrive in Kyle of Lochalsh around 5pm and checked into our hostel. The SkyeBackpackers hostel was a wee bit dank, but it did the job. That evening brought us the King Haakon pub for some pints and then to Saucy Mary’s for some more pints and live music. We needed A LOT of pints to help us sleep in the room we were in!

Portree, Skye, was our Saturday destination. The largest town on the island, it has only ONE secondary school. I can’t imagine what the school bus system is like! It took us about 50 minutes—through mountains, curves, up and down and spinning around, to get from Kyleakin, where our hostel was, to get to Portree, and there are 6 or 7 other cities people (and their kids) live in!. Anyway, we walked around the perfect little village, enjoyed a coffee, and then did the Old Man of Storr hike—One of the steepest hikes I’ll ever do, it was the highest we had ever been on our trip, and the vista over the Atlantic ocean and Hebrides Islands were wonderful. A cute Scottish couple snapped a photo of us on one of the summits, so hopefully it turns out. Seven miles north of Potree, our last virgin Spring Break destination, we headed for home.

The evening brought us back to Glasgow. We decided to kill the bulk of the drive on Saturday afternoon so we could have a leisurely Sunday. There is nothing worse than ruining a long, restful break by getting all hot and bothered by a long car ride of traffic and restricted physical activity. We stayed at the Euro Hostel, enjoyed some great gay bars—Delmonica’s is our new favourite, and I can’t wait to take friends to the newly-discovered city (at least for Ryan and Tim who spend too much time in uber-posh Edinburgh that is) of Glasgow for fun nights out. It was for us, at least, a terrific last night out for our “Scottish Spring Break”.


Now that’s a good name for the holiday.