In surveying our kitchen today, I was pretty impressed with the international nature of our kitchen. I’m not talking about just treats and processed food from various places, but actual ingredients that we can cook with. Among our vituals, we have andouille sausage and chipotle sausage from NOLA (courtesy of R and M), jerk sauce from Jamaica (courtesy of P), black sugar from Taiwan, fideuà from Spain, and we’re getting plusgras butter soon from France (courtesy of R). Being able to cook with ingredients from lots of places is a real joy. There aren’t really places to get these ingredients around here, so getting friends to bring them over the border and traveling with them ourselves is one of the few ways to get what we want. Despite our love of cooking food from all over the world, I do also try to buy local. I go to our local farmer’s market (1st and 3rd Saturday of each month) and the last time I shopped there, I cooked the best lamb I have ever had in my life. It was probably also the freshest lamb I’ve ever had; that lamb was likely live a few days before I ate it. Leeks, potatoes, and parsnips are a regular part of our meals. I’m working on adapting a beef stew recipe for the crockpot. Once I get all the kinks worked out, I’ll post it up. What are some ingredients in your kitchen that you usually cook with?
I saw a job opportunity today that made me giggle. In Cardigan, a
Cardigan's call for town crier
similar-sized town to Aber south of here, is hosting a Victorian night with authentic Christmas activities like caroling and tree lighting. To add to the authenticity of the event, they have put out a call to fill the position of town crier. Oh yes. If I put my mind to it, I could become a town crier. I can project my voice, and I have good diction. I am also willing to dress up in official costume. I even satisfy the “can speak Welsh and English” condition (more or less). In these difficult economic times, we should look for whatever opportunities to line our pockets!
We lost a couple of things this week. On Tuesday, as Dan was driving from the parking lot on campus to come get me from my office, he and a car had a small collision as they drove toward each other on a narrow road. Nobody was hurt, you’ll be happy to hear. Even though the cars were going probably no faster than 5 mph, the damage was impressive. We are now back in a courtesy car while the garage sorts out the appraisal. We suspect the car is completely lost, but we’ll hear the final verdict next week.
How does this slow accident cause so much damage?
As if being pickpocketed in Barcelona wasn’t enough adventure for it, my wallet decided to go on a field trip on Thursday. Siena and I took a walk and bumped into a friend when we picked up some lemons at the store. I had the wallet when I paid for the lemons and I didn’t notice that it was missing until Friday morning as we left for work. I suspected it fell out of my pocket during the walk, so I retraced my steps, went all along the road, went back to the store, and couldn’t find anything. It was odd that I had everything else (keys, cell phone, etc.) but just not the wallet. Everyone suggested that we phone the police about it which is something that we learned about in our Welsh lessons. In the exercise, one of the characters in our Welsh books, Ffred, had lost his wallet and there was a conversation between him and the policeman regarding the wallet. The policeman’s side of the conversation was missing, so we had to fill in what he would say (in Welsh of course). I thought this whole notion of going to the police for a missing wallet was totally ridiculous. What were they going to do, send out dogs and a swat team for a wallet? So when I completed the conversation, my policeman had pretty sarcastic questions and answers for Ffred, such as “Why don’t you go look for it yourself? I can’t help you!” or “It’s hopeless! You must buy a new one!” But after several people suggested calling the police, I thought when in Rome… I phoned them up, gave them a description of the wallet (no, they didn’t have anything matching that description) and my phone number, and proceeded to put our credit cards on hold. In the middle of the afternoon, I get a phone call. It was the police!
The policeman said “Are you the one who rang this morning about a missing wallet?”
“Yes!” I said excitedly.
“Well, I just wanted to let you know that we haven’t found it yet.”
(long pause) “Um, okay. Thanks for letting me know.”
I didn’t really understand the purpose of the phone call. I went into an interview panel for the afternoon, and when I came out, I had a voicemail, and this time, the police were phoning to say that my wallet had been turned in and was waiting for me at the police station!! I was so relieved! Not to mention, surprised! Dan and I went to retrieve it. The wallet must have fallen out of my crammed pockets and was found near the store where I was at. The policeman told me that Mr. and Mrs. E, an elderly couple, found it in front of their house and walked all the way down to the police station to turn it in. I got their contact info. so that I could thank them properly and send them some flowers. When they turned it in, there was a form that was filled out, and I had to sign the bottom saying that I had claimed the wallet. While I signed the form, Dan was looking over my shoulder and snickering, barely containing his laughter. At the top of the report detailing what happened, in big capital letters it said “LOSER CONTACTED.”
The first fishy activity I partook in recently was going swimming. As many of you know, I was morally against swimming for a long time. I’m against any activity where the result of not exerting enough effort is death. But then I met Zora, and she changed my life. Recommended to me by my friend, J, who took classes with her at Stanford, Zora made swimming go from life-threatening to bearable to manageable to fun. She also turned my friend, K, into a tri-athlete after he took swimming classes with her, so she is truly an amazing teacher. With the whole dissertation and moving out of the country thing, I haven’t actually been swimming in a couple of years. I signed myself and K up for Adult SwimFit once a week for 8 weeks, and the first class was last Tuesday. I was expecting a butt-kicking and I got it! I probably should have gone once before the class just to get my swim legs/arms back but I recklessly went in without any practice. I was the first one to take off from my lane, and I was in for a big shock when I realized that I was not supposed to be swimming on the right side of the line! Sure, I know they drive on the left here, but swim on the left??? I was unprepared, but it made sense. But it gets more complicated: each lane actually has its own traffic regulations so sometimes it is swim on the right only, others it is on the left only, and the fast lane uses both sides. Something to do with the current of the pool and the speed of the swimmers. The other thing I noticed was that British chlorine is really strong and burns my nose. It may be a good time to invest in nose plugs like the ones I recently saw in the world championships. Lastly, all the cultural scripts I have for swimming (lane etiquette, locker room conventions, communal showers) are called into question here. On the one hand, they are Europeans so surely stripping down in the locker room isn’t a big deal. On the other hand, they are British and privacy is a big deal, so surely that is what the dressing rooms are for. And how am I supposed to observe the norms in a locker room? I haven’t quite figured out yet but maybe by the end of the 8 weeks I will.
The second fish activity recently was actually going fly fishing! I fell in love with fly fishing while reading Norman Maclean’s “A River Runs Through It”. I also saw the movie, but the book’s descriptions were what really convinced me that I had to try it. I got my first chance on Sunday when R offered to take us to Llyn Berwyn and show us the ropes. He has been fishing for a long time and at that lake twice before. It was a beautiful spot, although the weather was cool and windy. I didn’t catch anything but R did! A beautiful brown trout. I hadn’t quite prepared myself for the eventuality of the fish’s death, but R made himself a nice dinner out of it. I’m hoping that I’ll continue fly fishing without ever catching anything!
Every place in America has its own local history, so I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me that there are little places all about Wales including some right in our own backyard. About a week ago, I took IAC out to Capel Bangor to celebrate the passing of her Postgraduate Certificate in Teaching in Higher Education (PGCTHE). Go IAC! We were joined by K and had dinner at The Tynllidart Arms. What is special about The Tynllidart Arms is not the food (although it is pretty good) or even the beer, it is special for its outhouse. Yes, the outhouse, or should I say, what used to be the outhouse. The Tynllidart Arms’s ourhouse has been converted into a brewery, the world’s smallest brewery. Unfortunately, they only produce a keg of beer once every two weeks so we didn’t get to sample the wares.
Mayors wear bling to remind everyone that they are the mayor
Remember our mayor? Aber had a big night out last Saturday when several members of Monty Python came for a charity fundraiser. Sue Jones-Davies finally got the ban on “The Life of Brian” lifted and invited Terry Jones and Michael Palin to come for the screening. The evening included champagne reception, screening, and the Q&A afterwards (including the inane question, “Is there still a place for comedy today’s society?”). We sneaked some photos with the celebs.
"It's symbolic of his struggle against reality" (the reality that he has no idea I'm in the picture)
It was a fun evening, lots of press around, snapping our pictures. We were very glad not to miss it.
Notice Dan with champagne in each hand.
It was definitely the most exciting night that Aber had seen in a long time! It also happened to be our friend, S’s, birthday. After the Pythons went to bed, we were up celebrating with a delicious cake that she baked.
Happy Birthday S!
Just before, we also had another set of visitors. K and his parents came from the Midwest and had a grand tour of the UK with a few days with us in Aber. Dan was very excited to talk about Midwest stuff, including the UI basketball team, with people who actually knew what he was talking about. We saw the starlings at dusk, the Aber Castle, and red kites.
K, Dan, Aber
Luckily, the weather was beautiful, which will hopefully lure our visitors back in the future!
I am very excited about our visitors who are coming to Aber soon! S and G will be our first US visitors followed by K and his parents. I’m crossing our fingers that it will be good weather although the weather has been very fickle lately. It was -2 this morning and I had to scrape ice off the car but then it was a bright sunny beautiful day with a high of 10! Nutty.
I had a few more observations about little things I’ve noticed here and thought I’d post them up before I forget.
-I have had to relearn how to write a check (or cheque in British English or siec in Welsh). You would think it would be the same but there are little things like writing a dash instead of the decimal point that is different.
-I miss girl scout cookie season.
-I still don’t have any idea what to listen for when I dial a phone number. I can’t tell when it’s busy (or engaged as they say here) or ringing or disconnected or if I’ve done something stupid in dialing. I also still don’t understand the phone number differences and why every number is a different cost to call.
-Even though part of why I moved here is to live in a society that isn’t so work-focused, I still find it hard to not be. Sometimes I get up at 5, go into work (or go downstairs) and work for a few hours before Dan and Siena get up. I’d rather do that then stay late and cut into our evening/weekend time together. It doesn’t really bother me, I just feel like I should do it because I want to get my work done. You can take the girl out of America but not the American work ethic out of the girl I guess. (Don’t worry, there are plenty of times when I only work from 9-5.30 or wake up at 7am instead of 5am.)
-I just saw my first newborn lamb of the season and they are freakin’ cute. I wish I had gotten a picture, but it was riding in the passenger seat of a car, in somebody’s arms. I wish I were that somebody.
-It is very strange that there is only 1 tailor in town. Do people only get clothes that fit perfectly here? I’m certainly not any of the store sizes.
That’s about it for now. I’ll pull a M & J and ask who is still reading this blog, anyone?
Next stop: London! We go there in one week for 3 nights!
…when you are in UK (or Canada, Jamaica, Australia, South Africa, New Zealand, Zimbabwe(!), Ireland, Gibraltar and Malta according to wikipedia). I think that list includes every English speaking country in the world except for the US. In December, I had heard several people talking about seeing a pantomime. IAC asked if I wanted to go see a pantomime. Picturing a guy in black suspenders and a striped shirt and face paint pretending to learn on a mop or be trapped in a box.
IAC's BFF, S, when he played a mime on Conan O'Brien
We continued in blissful ignorance about pantomime (panto for short) until last weekend. We were convinced by one of our friends R to go to the Aber panto of Sinbad the Sailor (not sure how long link will work) to see his wife M perform. When discussing the evening’s plans with others at work, IAC was asked:
“Have you learned your lines?”
What!? Lines!? At a pantomime!? Brushing this confusing comment off, we host R for dinner before heading to the evening’s event. After relaying the funny comment to our guest, he finally enlightened us about what British pantomime is all about. I found out about 15 minutes before showtime what it actually was I was heading to see. Nothing at all like a man in an invisible box.
For our American friends, a pantomime is a musical play based upon a well known story (usually a childhood story) that involves audience participation. These performances are usually put on near the Christmas/New Year season. There was an audience sing-a-long, a man in drag, and lots of ABBA forced into the story whether it fit or not. On a side note, I am able to understand a few more Monty Python jokes now (oh yes I can!).
The performance was very well done (the best panto I have seen yet!). The voices were good, the dancing was abundant especially if you like lifts, and the sets were elaborate (most elaborate panto sets I have seen yet!). I am sure that I missed a number of the local jokes but then again, I got a number of the sexual jokes that went over the children’s head. I guess the beauty of the pantomime is that it can be for everyone without anyone getting everything.
Another aspect of the performance worth commenting on is the audience itself. The target audience of a panto is often children. It allows entertainment for young kids in the aftermath of the Holiday season. The players encourage the vocal participation of the youngsters in the seats. There is a sing-along (although I am not sure that the word “paraphernalia” should be used in a children’s sing-along), small tasks demanded (warn the characters when someone tries to take something on stage), and acknowledgment of the overly-eager helpers in the audience. That said, the older crowd (e.g. us), was also a treat. Besides the obligatory parents, there were people celebrating their 70th birthday, and this guy:
A fellow audience member at the panto
I don’t know what is the most disturbing about the picture. Apparently, the Welsh take their sheep seriously here. I think the most sad part about this is that I have seen this guy around town elsewhere. Now, if only I could get one of the tunes out of my head…
I couldn’t resist one more. All I have to do is show you skillz.
I finished my second week of Welsh lessons and am finally getting a grip on how to pronounce seemingly random strings of letters that is Welsh. It is a very musical language and challenges all of my intuitions about how letters and words should sound. For example, the letter “u” is actually another way of writing the letter “i” and both are always pronounced “ee.” To get a “oo” sound, use “w” as in “bws” (which means bus). I’m also learning that grammar and spelling rules in Welsh are really only suggestions. Many Welsh speakers don’t know them or follow them. And there is a big difference between North Wales and South Wales. Not only are the cultures quite different but there are a lot of linguistic differences between the two types of Welsh. Gogs (that is what South Waleans call North Waleans) stick more to the rules and pronounce certain vowels differently. I’ll probably mention the Welsh lessons a few more times, so expect to learn some Welsh while you read! My favorite word since I have started learning Welsh is the word for microwave. ”Popty ping” translates to “the oven that goes ping.” Cute, fitting, fantastic. I try to work it into as many conversations as I can which is not as hard as it may seem. My friend (who shall remain unidentified as the following information may challenge his perceived masculinity) who is also a fan of the Welsh language told me of another fantastic word. Butterfly is “pili-pala”, named after the sounds the wings make. I think that only caught on because the other name for butterfly “cyw iar fach yr haf” is long and translates to “little chicken of the summer.” Readers may have noticed that my handle is farfalle, which is Italian for butterfly. Butterflies seem to translate well across languages! I’m not the only one who thinks these are the two best words in Welsh.
This picture doesn't do it justice, but my mother-in-law designed AND hand-stitched this fantastic quilt (only a small section of which is shown here) for me knowing how much I love pili-pala. My favorite is the one that is flying away.
Other fantastic news for today:
1) I got a travel grant from the University which will pay for my airfare to the conference in Chicago in November
2) Adding Dan onto our car insurance policy actually reduces the premium by £66
3) After many days of stagnation, we finally got word today that things are moving along on the house buying process, and we should (knock on wood, or as the Brits say, touch wood) be moving in next week
4) I finished writing a draft of my paper and will submit it tomorrow after I format it
5) I performed some new analyses on my data and got some really good results which will hopefully turn into a good paper, and at the very least, a good conference presentation! (see #1)
6) I got my provisional UK driving license in the mail
7) I found out that they sell tortillas and other Mexican food fixins at the grocery store in town
Yes, all of these fantastic things happened to me today which also marks one week before Dan and Siena move here! My cup runneth over with fantasticness. I am very happy!
I had my first truly unpleasant experience yesterday since arriving in Wales, and it was something that I was completely unprepared for. Our stuff arriving by ship is apparently 3 weeks early. Instead of arriving mid-October, it’s now going to be here at the end of September. I started looking into how to get my stuff from Liverpool (where the ship docks) to Aber and M suggested that I rent a van/truck/lorry and store everything in her garage until the house is ready (any day now!). She recommended a local garage just outside of town that has trucks, so I called them to inquire about the prices and such. I did see on their website that to drive their trucks, one has to have a full UK license, which I don’t have yet, but M offered to drive the truck if it was a problem. The man that I talked to seemed confused when I asked him about the truck, so I tried to speak slower and clearer to make sure he understood. He then paused and asked “by your accent, where are you from?” and I replied “I’m an American.” ”Oh,” he said “we don’t hire vans out to Americans.” Thinking he was talking about the UK license issue, I said “Is that because of the UK license?” and was about to explain that my friend had one and would be driving. ”No,” he said “we don’t let Americans drive our cars because they tend to be quick to make claims about injuries and that isn’t good for the insurance.” Flabbergasted, I asked him “Are you discriminating against me?” and he said “No, that’s just our policy.” I was in complete shock and didn’t really know what to say, but I did explain that I wouldn’t be the one driving the van. All of a sudden, he changed his tune and was willing to answer any questions I had. I was absolutely floored and told him that I didn’t think I could do business with them if they had these policies against Americans.
Of course, the first thing I do is call my lawyers and the ACLU to sue the pants off this guy and have Dateline come and do an investigative report (that’s what Americans do, right?). Even after thinking about it for 24 hours, I am still stunned that this happened. The call ruined my day, and I could think of nothing else. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before. I have encountered very subtle discrimination, but this garage essentially said “we don’t serve your kind,” and it was because of my accent and nationality. My whole life, I have been prepared to defend my female, racial minority identity, but I was completely unprepared to defend my nationality in this way. I didn’t even know there was a stereotype that Americans are quick to file insurance claims! I’m embarrassed for all of us that this still happens, but my first encounter with Welsh prejudice plunged me into exploring a whole new part of my identity that I had never considered before, which may not be a bad thing. And if nothing else, I can spread the word to boycott Davmor Garage in Talybont!
