Three Scots, Two Americans, Two Kiwis & an Englishman

Thankful Thursday

As I wrote two Travel Tuesdays ago, Chris and I were recently in Scotland again for Fringe. Looking back over that post, I realize it might've been nice if I'd included my opinions of the shows we saw, but no time for revisions at the moment. I can say that we enjoyed everything we saw this year, which is an improvement from last year (though last year was great, too). Anyway, although I talked about all the fun we had going to so many shows, I did not mention the friends we saw while there. That's what this post is for.

Fresh into Edinburgh, we hopped a train to Glasgow to meet up with two sets of friends. After a leisurely stroll around central Glasgow, which included a frenzied run through TKMaxx (TJMaxx in Europe), we walked to Jamie's Italian in George Square, one of British Chef Jamie Oliver's restaurant ventures.

It's Bernie!

We were meeting up with Bernie and Sarah again. It would be our fourth time seeing Bernie (the first being the infamous rescue of 2010), our third time seeing his wife, Sarah, (still dreaming of her wonderful cooking since our first meeting at their home) and our first time meeting their 10 month old son, Jacob.  

Has he got you in his crazy cute baby laser? I mean, look at this child.

Bernie and Sarah looked well and so happy to have this little bundle of adorableness along. Since the last time we'd seen them (for drinks in Edinburgh last year during Fringe), Bernie had gotten a promotion at work, and things had worked out just right for Sarah so she could leave her job to be the stay-at-home mom she so wanted to be. The food was amazing, the company even better, and we learned that Jacob likes an American accent. I was instantly in love with him the moment his face crinkled into a smile at my funny way of talking.

Sarah, Bernie, Jacob, me & Chris

After lunch we walked over into the park that makes up the center of George Square to snap a few pictures by the Olympic Ring sculpture. It took a couple tries to get all five of us in there, but we did it. Aren't they a beautiful family?

The rain started to sprinkle down and Jacob was nearing his capacity for patience for adult socializing, so off they went to head home for a nap. For a baby who hasn't been out much yet, he was amazingly well behaved. Not a whine, not a tear, not even a morsel of food thrown. He even let me hold him and seemed perfectly at ease, which made me happy. Everyone hugged 'till next time, and it was time to meet up with more friends.


Meet Tony & Paul

We met Tony and Paul last year during Fringe at a David Sedaris reading, and what turned out to be the funniest event we attended that year. I was sitting next to a then-nameless man, and got nosey about what the author had written in his book. David Sedaris held a book-signing before the reading and lots of people showed up early for it. This guy and I were two of those early birds. So I read what was scribbled inside the book he was holding, smiled to myself, and the show began.

I can't remember for the life of me what prompted our conversation, but I made some comment to the guy next to me in reference to something David had said, and his response, though I can't recall it now, did two things: It made me laugh, and it convinced me I liked this man already. I think it had to do with his partner's snoring? After the reading concluded and everyone meandered out to the lobby area of the venue, we kind of gravitated back toward one another, this guy and me, and kept talking. Tony was an American (still is) living in Glasgow with his English husband, Paul, who at the time was a councillor for the City of Glasgow. Tony, as it turned out, is not just an American, but one from Gainesville, Florida.

"That's funny, I went to the University of Florida in Gainesville. That's where I met Chris," I said.

To which he responded, "My father was a professor there for a while."

When we talked about where our parents were now, and that mine had retired to a tiny town in western North Carolina called Murphy, Tony's face lit up. Because he's been to that town and his parents live in another small town very close by. At this point, both of us (and our husbands) had another show to get to, so we said hesitant goodbyes and set off - in the same direction. We ended up walking across Edinburgh together, and quite frankly, I was surprised we weren't going to the same show. Along the way Tony and I walked side-by-side stacking up the coincidences and laughing loudly, while Chris and Paul walked behind us talking about, I don't know, boring stuff like politics and finances. I learned that Tony was not just familiar with the small town of Murphy, he'd looked at buying mountain property there, which was crazy enough until I told him my parents had done the same thing back in 1999.

"Do you know Wolf Knob?" I asked. Wolf Knob is the name of one of the mountains outside the town. You can look it up, it's on the map.

"Of course - that's where I almost bot the lot," he replied.

"Then I guess you met my dad because my parents ended up buying that whole property," I went on, though I was trying to keep from falling over, envisioning my parents showing Tony property they were developing.

It turned out Tony had not met my parents, but only because he'd beat them there by a year. But he knew the same realtor who sold the land to my parents and we giggled over the very nice man's very unfortunate name - Raper.

Paul was certain that had we had a little longer, Tony and I would figure out that we were cousins. But sadly, it was time to part and continue our Fringe experiences separately.

Chris, me, Tony & Paul

Fast forward to this last August, and there we were again, hugging Tony and Paul hello. We'd stayed in touch over the last year and brought a bag from Edinburgh to stay the night so we could catch up. After a short but informative drive through Glasgow, wherein we learned about some of the more significant buildings, we were at their lovely home on the edge of the city. There was wine, there was cheese, and lots and lots of talk and laughter. I felt like I'd known these guys forever, not as if we'd only met once before a year prior. Tony cooked a fabulous meal and Paul kept us entertained with his digital piano. They asked me to summarize the novel I'm working on, and after I stumbled through some semblance of one, they gave me some pretty fantastic feedback, which I scribbled down immediately and have since applied to said manuscript. Chris and I both felt totally at ease, between Tony's supreme hosting skills and Paul's very professoresque lessons about the history of whatever we happened to be talking about (which makes sense, as he was a professor). It was an evening of great conversation and to be honest, I was sad when it was time for bed.

In the morning, we were happy to provide Tony with justification for making an all-American breakfast, and I didn't want to leave when it was time to head back to the train station and on to Edinburgh. Chris and I felt truly at home with these guys, and made them promise to travel to Germany sometime and come by to see us.


Dinner with Jo

Once back in Edinburgh, we made sure to meet up with a few friends who live there, too. On Wednesday after some super jazzy renditions of '80s classics, we met up with Johanna for dinner at Seadogs, a fantastic seafood restaurant up the street from the Lost Fingers show. We met Jo while living in Italy, as her sister, Elise, was a friend. Jo was living in Georgia (the country) at the time, working to educate the local women about their health, which I admire greatly. When her two years were up there, she moved to Edinburgh, where she now works at the university. I love talking to Jo because her accent is a strange mix of Scottish and North Dakota, and it's adorable. We missed each other last time we were in town, so it was lovely to catch up over good food.


Amanda & David

When Friday rolled around, it was time to meet up with Amanda and David, a couple of Kiwis we met while in New Zealand in May of 2011. A friend from my high school days, Kristin, married Amanda's baby brother, Matt, and we'd kept in touch with Amanda and David when we found out they lived in Edinburgh. Last year during Fringe we met up for drinks, and here we were again!  

Neither Chris nor I have ever been much for whisky, but upon David and Amanda's invitation, we gave it another try. I believe we had the 10 year Jura, and it wasn't bad! We were instructed to savor the flavor and let it burn all the way down, and we did. I was hoping having a dram or two of the stuff would help my terribly sore throat. (Unfortunately, the congestion just jumped from my chest to my sinuses the next morning.) We walked across town in search of a jazz bar, but found it closed, so would up in another rather gorgeous bar for another drink before calling it a night, though it was orange juice for me and my pain in the neck throat. It was great having the opportunity to catch up all around and see a couple more friendly faces in a foreign place. Given the chance, I think I'd move to Edinburgh.


A New Friend?

On our final day in Scotland (for this year), we made time to swing back by the Gilded Balloon (Fringe venue) in hopes of running one fantastic comedian we'd seen the day before. Diane Spencer's stand-up show, entitled Exquisite Bad Taste was one of the shows we didn't know we had to see until we heard about it about an hour before it was to start, and it was hilarious. Diane is a foul-mouthed Ginger who kept us laughing, but she did have a bit of a headache to deal with the day we saw her. Sitting a couple rows behind us were a few guys who were already drunk and adamant about adding their own comments to Diane's act. Like the lady she is, she thanked them for their enthusiasm but asked that they cut it out so she could continue on with the show. After more obnoxious commentary from the back row, Diane finally called for the front of house guy to come escort the idiots out, but she did so with such grace and a smile, you wouldn't have known she was kicking anybody out. The rest of us got to enjoy the rest of her show without further interruption, and Diane even threw in a little tidbit about how things were currently going for her at this year's Fringe as a sort of prize for sticking it out with those jackasses. We left quite happy, but also feeling a little badly for the poor comedian who had to deal with jerks. 

As part of Diane's bit talked about self-pleasure and we're nice people, Chris and I bought a pack of batteries that evening to bring back to Diane the next day. It was our way of saying "Sorry those jerks muddled things up a bit!" and "Great job handling yourself," but most importantly, "For once you're back home from Fringe and need a little TLC." So before our evening show, we hung around outside the venue where her show would be happening again soon and looked for her. As I said in the post about Fringe, the performers are the ones handing out the flyers and pulling people in for the shows, so we felt sure we'd run into Diane again.

We did.

And she loved the batteries.

And now we're all super best friends.

The reason for recounting all of this for today is to say thank you to the people who added a personal touch to our trip this August. I already love Scotland, it doesn't need the help, but when you get to spend time with people you know (and like) while away, it adds a whole new level to the trip. Whether it's the intimacy friends provide, adding a little bit of familiar to the foreign mix, or knowing that if we got kidnapped by ninjas we'd have someone local to call for ransom help, it's nice having friends in different places.

Dear Sarah, Bernie, Jacob, Tony, Paul, Jo, Amanda, David and Diane, you were willing to meet up with a couple of weirdos like us, eat and drink with us, and made us feel at home while away from home, making a great trip even better.

And for that, we thank you.

PS - Oh, and I just looked it up, and Diane's English, too. So the name of this post should be Three Scots, Two Americans, Two Kiwis, and TWO English people. I don't think it has the same ring to it, though.

Stillness

Wordless Wednesday

Road Trip Scandinavia (Kiel to Ålesund)

Travel Tuesday

This past summer we took our first trip to Scandinavia, to include the southwestern area of Norway and Copenhagen, Denmark. As Scandinavia is infamously expensive and we like stopping where and when we like, this turned out to be a very long road trip. We loaded the trunk with nonrefrigerated food to cut food costs, and wine and beer to cut alcohol costs, and hit the road. 

The last time we road tripped like this was May of 2011 when we spent a couple weeks driving across New Zealand, so it makes some sort of strange sense that we should do the same across a part of Norway. Our focus in Norway was seeing the fjords, after all, the very thing that many compare between Norway and New Zealand. Which country has the most breath-taking fjords? We're lucky enough to have the chance to see.

We drove up to Kiel on Germany's northern coast and caught an overnight ferry to Oslo. Being forced to sit back and relax while we were carried over the Kattegat to Norway was tough, but we somehow made it through.

Not bad for a ferry. The ship we took was a small cruise ship with the capacity to carry vehicles, so there was a promenade with shops and a few places to eat, as well as a movie theatre and lounge with live music show. We've never been on a real cruise before, so this was the closest we've been and it was good for a night.

The ship left Kiel Saturday afternoon and we had a few hours at sea before the rain bullied us back inside. This bridge connects bits of Denmark together. Big bridge.

Passing by Denmark - our first glimpse of this country.

We arrived into Oslo Sunday morning and immediately hit the road, the coastal town of Ålesund being our destination by the end of the first day. 

The first stave church of the trip was Ringebu Stave Church, built 1225-1250. Stave churches are medieval wooden structures named for their beam and post construction, and Norway has the all but one of the remaining Stave Churches in the world. Walking around inside of Ringebu was a completely different experience from being inside one of her Catholic sisters in Italy, where most of our church/cathedral viewing has taken place. Clearly this place is a fraction of the size of Italy's more famous cathedrals, but the difference in our reaction to it had more to do with its wooden interior. There was a warmth here that I've never felt even in the coziest churches elsewhere; it was nice.  

The drive took about 8 hours, so it wasn't until evening that we arrived in Ålesund on Norway's southwestern coast. Ålesund is a seaport town known for its Art Nouveau architecture, and a pretty and laid back kind of place to stroll around.

Monday we were up early to walk the streets and take our first stop on this Norwegian road trip. I love being near the sea, so I felt right at home in this little city. 

It's funny, no matter where I am in the world, Florida, Istanbul, or Ålesund, Norway, the sound of a seagull laughing makes me feel at home.

Ålesund's original church was damaged by the Town Fire of 1904, and rebuilt on the same spot, opening in 1909. Again, we were lulled by the wooden ceiling and beams, but what I love the most about all of the churches we visited were the miniature Viking ships hung in each one. When I asked about the significance of the ships, I was told that they are to remind us that we're on the same journey to Heaven.

In the afternoon we hiked up 10,000 steps (about 400) for the best view of the town and surrounding mountains.

This was at about halfway up...

And this is from the top. Even with the angry looking clouds rolling in, it was a beautiful sight. We got an ice cream and hung around awhile, tempting fate and rain. In the end, we made it back all 50,000 steps and back to the hotel before the sky completely unzipped. We ducked into our room for a bit to freshen up and figure out where we'd be having our first real dinner in Norway. (We were too tired and gross feeling from the long day in the car the first night to venture out, so we ate from the trunk.)

THIS beautiful example of fine cuisine was what I ended up with...reindeer fillet with fresh steamed veggies and a redcurrant sauce. 

It was good.

Chris tried that which the region is known for, bacalao, a local fish dish that I actually tried (I'm not a huge fish fan), and it was delicious, too. And even though we were full of fabulous food and wine, we couldn't resist this dessert - the chef's choice - consisting of, starting at 12:00 on the plate, warm berry compote, mini-crème brûlée, some kind of chocolate fantasy brownie over strawberry goo, and raspberry sorbet.

Oh yeah, you know your mouth's watering.

It was the perfect way to end our day in Ålesund, and we waddled back to our room to pass out. There may not have been a lot to do in this town, but it was a nice way to start the trip. Up ahead, the Troll Road, waterfalls, ferry rides on fjords, hiking and whale for lunch!

Mazel Tov, Jadi!

Mazel Tov Monday

This past Saturday I learned that a talented writer and friend of mine has just published her first work of fiction. It's a big first step and I'm incredibly excited for her. 

Broken In is a novel made up of interconnected short stories, and one I can't wait to read. It's available on Amazon.com in paperback and for Kindle. You should go out and buy it. Today. 

Go ahead, I'll wait.  

And when you're done, be a doll and write a review on Amazon?

Jadi Campbell has previously worked in non-fiction, and was Massage Magazine's freelance European Correspondent for a decade. Her work has appeared in Massage & Bodywork Magazine. She has since redirected some of her writing focus toward fiction and is exploring the possibilities therein. Jadi is as insightful a writer as she is neat and clean in her style. 

Jadi has also recently launched her own personal blog, which is another exciting first step into the world of authorship. In order to succeed as a writer in today's world, one must have an online presence, and I'm confident that I'm not alone in extending a hearty handshake, a warm hug, and a crazy loud WELCOME TO THE BLOGOSPHERE! 

I have personal reasons for wanting to point my good job stick at Jadi. She has been a supportive force over the past year for other writers around her, including me, and exudes confidence in us even when we lack it for ourselves. Consider this small celebratory contribution Karma winding its way back around.    

Mazel Tov, Jadi, on the publication of your debut novel.

Stick with Cows

Something Learned Sunday

Ha! I did come up with a little bit of alliteration fun for the day after all. Hurray for nerdiness!

As this is the first Sunday of the 30 day commitment, I'm not quite sure how I want to go about it. The format will likely change, as all of these posts will, as I figure things out and find what works and what doesn't, for me as well as for my imagined readers.

So. This week...what did I learn?

With regards to writing:

- writing for these daily posts has been made easier by the categories with which I've associated them, but the amount of time required to come up with something I like enough to write about, and then actually write something I'm happy enough with to post far exceeds what I anticipated. 

- I have a more difficult time writing love with the same intensity with which I depict pain. This was something I never realized before a friend pointed it out over coffee Saturday morning, and it's true. I do tend to push through the happier parts of a story for fear of coming across too cheesy or saccharine sweet, whereas I spend real time exploring the sadder moments. Interesting. Thanks, Travis.

- my work with children with special needs has given me insight that isn't incredibly common, and might be a unique source of inspiration for writing short stories from an unexpected point of view. Must give this some serious consideration and make sure to write sensitively, but honestly.

- a bunch of online resources for everything from query letter help to connecting with agents and publishers in a more casual setting in order to establish professional relationships. 

With regards to cooking/food:

- because of another cooking class with the amazing Claudia, I now know that I do not hate Pfifferlinge mushrooms (because I'm not generally a fan of fungi). This is good news for my mushroom loving husband who never gets to eat them at home, since I do most of the cooking.

- almond milk does not delicious instant pudding make.

In summation, I've got to work a little faster on the blog posts to make more time for writing otherwise, explore what it is to describe love through words, start networking more online with future publication in mind, cook with mushrooms every once in a while, and stick with regular old cow's milk when I've got a craving for pudding.

Lessons learned.

Don't Judge

Secret Saturday

So it's Saturday, which means I'm divulging some sort of secret for your amusement, and who am I kidding, also to kind of bribe you into reading.



Ready?



It's a little embarrassing, but we cannot move on from things about which we are too afraid to talk, right?
































Just between you and me, I am terrified of people on bicycles.

It's true. When I see them flying toward me with abandon it's like they know and they try to get as close to me as possible so I can actually feel their wind. And it's even worse when they come up from behind because it happens so fast...one moment I'm walking along, minding my own business and enjoying the beautiful day, and the next there's someone whizzing past me, startling me out of my skin. Chris laughs at me when that happens because I usually emit a rather embarrassing squeal of surprise, then recoil in fear. He doesn't laugh when I see them coming and try to squeeze between him and the rail/wall/fence to place him between myself and the cyclist - then he just gets annoyed, like I choose to be this way. Let me be clear, I do not enjoy fearing for my safety when someone's out just trying to enjoy the day. I get that it's a little weird, but what can I do?

Now it's fine when a person is walking their bike near me; they're going slowly. And children on tricycles, that's okay, too. (I'm practically in love with parked bicycles.) It's the fast riders, the ones who whiz through crowds and yell at people in their way, that I can't deal with. And kids on bikes are even worse, because they're less experienced, naturally, and more reckless.

It's kind of like the time we found a shrew in our house. I love animals and we even tend to catch bugs we find indoors and set them free outside, but when it's scurrying, I'm screaming. I was sorting laundry in the front hall of our house (because the washer and dryer are located in the front hall bathroom) and when I grabbed a handful of reds to move, something small and dark scurried out from the pile and under a table. I reacted appropriately. When Chris came running in from the living room, he said it sounded like I was being stabbed and asked what was going on. I explained and we set to trying to figure out what this tiny intruder was.

Anything that scurries scares the crap out of me because I don't know what it is or where it's going. Like when a ginormous spider runs AT YOU, how do you not scream?! It's like it's going to kill you.

But once this little guy was cornered, he stayed still and we were able to investigate. Let me tell you, he was the cutest little mousey looking thing, just with a long nose, heaving all terrified in the corner. At that point I could have held him with no problem, so we wished him well and gently ushered him out the front door (which means we opened the door and blocked all other routes until he was out).

So maybe there's a connection between bicyclists and things that scurry. When someone on a bike is barreling toward me, I'm suddenly panic-struck and don't know which way to go, so I generally move as far away as possible, which sometimes means huddling into the bushes. I know it's sad, but I'm that scared they'll hit me. I must ask for credit, however, for not screaming when said bike is closing in on me because I could, I really could. Usually, however, I'm able to stifle the scream into what Chris sees as a dramatic gasp and scared humming until the danger passes. It's difficult to hide when I'm with someone who doesn't know about this fear.

The only incident I can recall that might have contributed to this phobia happened my first year of college. I was walking to class and some guy on a bike was coming toward me on the sidewalk, and after doing a quick little which-way-you-gonna-go dance, we crashed into each other. It was embarrassing and scary. So maybe that's it? I'm just not sure why it's stuck around for so long.

So that's my secret for today. If you know me in real life, I would appreciate it if you didn't attack me on your bicycle, because at this point, that would just be mean.

Bicycles in Italy

Whatever I Feel Like Friday

I had big plans for the first WIFLF but I’m running short on time. The first week of this 30 day commitment has required a lot more time than I anticipated, and likely more than it’ll require in the future once this schedule becomes routine. And I’m loving it, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve been putting so much time trying to make each day’s post something worthwhile I’ve not been putting much into writing anything else. And I’ve got assigned writing and a manuscript to work on.

This, of course, isn't your problem, but a necessary explanation for today's short and sweet (and frankly, quite random) blurb. I've actually been working today on something I wanted to post, but it isn't ready, and whereas I really am the type who needs to just write it and post it, this one requires a little more care. It'll have to wait for another day, because honestly, I'm exhausted and my brain is slightly fried.

So what do I feel like writing about today? Well you read the title, right?

I love photographing bicycles, but only in Italy. We lived just outside of Pisa, Italy for about five years and although I rather enjoy the reasonable and relatively safe way Germans drive, I do miss bits of the chaos that is Italia. People ride bikes in Germany all the time, but there's something about an old, slightly rusted bicycle left leaning against a weathered door or stone wall that's just poetic to me. You see in Germany most people ride nice, modern bicycles that just don't have the same romantic rusticity to them. No, Italian bicycles are one of those things I always loved coming across while we were there, and still when we visit. 

These photos are the only three on my current computer (the rest are hiding on a separate hard drive somewhere), and these I took two springs ago on a weekend trip to Bella Italia with a couple friends. 

I have no idea why I love them so much, the rusted chariots that take on a whole new and terrible meaning once peopled (this will make more sense after tomorrow's post goes up). For whatever reason, these bicycles symbolize to me the rustic charm that characterizes my first real home away from home, left unchained in a hall or in the street, because people look out for one another in general. It should be said that these particular bicycles live in small villages along the Mediterranean Sea, and though quite popular in the tourist season, they still maintain their small town feel. Meaning, everyone knows whose bike that is and that you're not from here, so it's best you keep moving. Unless you're some weird American girl taking pictures of our neighbor's old bicycle, in which case, have at it.

As a writer, you might assume that I look at them and wonder about who rides them or where they're going next, but I don't. I'm drawn only to the simple object that is the old and loved bicycle in a country where there may be graffiti on thousand year-old relics, trash in the street, and gypsy children forever eying your pockets, but also where your neighbors will pull you in off the street to force feed you and show you photographs of their new grandchild. She lives in America because her daughter married an American man; her name is Tina, she lives in Washington - do you know her?