I’m charged with the task of catching up on two weeks of travel, compelled by my commitment to the two people who read my blog, and aware that, soon, I will have very little to share of consequence to them. I’m actually very pleased about that.
Let’s start at the end (that’s what she said) and I’ll tell you about our last 40-odd hours or so. It really doesn’t even count as a horror story, just a story of inconvenience, and the stumbling block to getting HOME.
I was not ready to say goodbye to Kate, John, Nico and Paul (I never will be, methinks.) We left on Tuesday afternoon and I cried. Me crying at goodbye can be counted on like GMT; it’s a trait I’ve carried over since I was a kiddo, leaving my Georgia family each summer. My family and Ben tolerate it well now, and, on good days, think it is sweet, but, like all my emotions, it feels a little too public for me sometimes. More on that later.
After a short dinner and another sad goodbye to the Tallahassee ladies, we slept hard, and all went to plan on the flight home. Compared to the fourteen-hour trek from Australia in early June, the nine hours from Milan is a cakewalk.
I felt that familiar rush of patriotism coming into the U.S., then the cringing-fear when I watched the customs officers interact with visitors to this country. I was glad to see that they seemed to be, if not warm, decent and reasonable. In hindsight, I think they were just grateful to see people coming to Newark.
Newark airport is disgusting. I thought so on the way out, and it was reinforced for me over the fifteen-hours I’ve spent there since. I tried to take a more conciliatory view about two hours into our layover yesterday, and then the kid across from me projectile vomited. I get it, kid, I get it. He had Newark poisoning. Why juxtapose a city so close to NYC, where beauty can be found quite easily, and then build such a crap town? Then, terminal B at Newark faces directly to the city to remind you that you are ALMOST in a redeemable place but not quite, probably because you did something bad.
As I write this I wonder if I’ll feel more generous about Newark in a few months. Probably not.
As a RPV (random projectile-vomiter) I felt empathy for the kid, but did feel compelled to move. Once we figured out that our flight was going to be delayed for several hours, we looked for a place to sit down and have a meal. We decided on TGI Friday’s (BAD CHOICE) and I psyched myself up for free refills and good customer service.
Then it went like this:
To myself: I just want a salad. Maybe just a grilled chicken salad. That will make up for the fourteen free refills I’m about to drink. Hmmm…here’s a salad with barbecue sauce for dressing…how American…how disgusting…why do I want it? Oh yes. It has onion rings on top. GOOD IDEA AMERICA. Here’s our waitress…she seems mean. Is she talking to us? I can’t tell because she is looking away. Check out that tat it’s huge…and it says JIHAD. Hmmm. Oh God what did she just say? I was distracted by the tattoo. Is she talking about a personal Jihad? I mean, am I prejudiced to assume Jihad is always a negative thing? Seriously, who in Newark thinks it is a good idea to get a Jihad tattoo after 9/11? She’s mumbling. Maybe I should order? “I’ll have the BBQ chicken salad, please.” Oh, God, Why did I order that? Don’t change it now. She just asked if we want to order Tuscan spinach dip. Hell no I don’t want any crap Tuscan spinach dip. Oh God she looks angry. I would be too if I was called to Jihad and ended up working at TGI Friday’s. Maybe she needs some Jihad flair, like, “I’ll put a Fatwah on Mondays.” NOT APPROPRIAT E ROBYN. Did I just say yes to the dip? Probably best. Otherwise she might kill me.
The portions were ginormous. The salad was gross. The Tuscan spinach dip was okay, but definitely not Tuscan. We made it out alive. Back in the U.S.A.; giant portions of nasty food at chain restaurants. The cynicism sets in on day one.
Eventually our flight got delayed twice more, then cancelled, and we witnessed the meltdowns of hundreds of travelers, and stood in lines for hours, eventually desperately racing to the hotels to get a place to stay for the night. I was grateful for the room. Ben is a good traveling companion because he shared his I-Pod with me while we stood in line, and that kept us smiling and mellow, probably to the annoyance of the other customers. At one point in the evening, I found a quiz on Facebook that I’d seen a few months ago, and laughed so hard I could hardly breathe. It was classic Robyn: glasses fogging over, inhaler-using, tearful laughter, that spread to the waiting area where we were all waiting for some new information. In the end the whole row across from us was laughing, they didn’t know why, laughter just does that somehow.
I’m on my plane home now, about twenty-four hours after our scheduled flight. Ben had an earlier flight, they split us up, and should be arriving as we speak. Tonight we see family and friends and start to move to our new place. No rest for the travel weary. We have a whirlwind five days at home, and then head to APA in Toronto for a week. Then I’m coming home to sleep for a week.
Love,
Robyn and Ben
Monday, August 3, 2009
Asked and Answered: How Much Salami is too Much Salami?
I’m reading “The Omnivore’s Dilemma” this month but had to take a break once our friends arrived from Florida because it was making me too angry. Basically it turns out that, since corn is the king crop, we are all made up of corn. Think you’re having a steak? That’s corn steak. Having some fruit? There’s corn in that. I was feeling overwhelmed by the fact that I was basically made of corn so I used Italy as a means to combat that, and tried to check my physical makeup to reflect a more balanced diet of gelato, salami, seafood, pesto, wine and cheese. They are probably all made of corn, but at least it is Italian corn. I am proud to say that I am at least 1% not corn now. My big toe is made entirely of salami.
The end of Edinburgh and the week in Italy were lovely and amazing, just as we’d hoped it would be. Of course, having several of your closest friends in a paradise should be a recipe for success. We had a lovely last few days in the U.K. showing our friends our favorite bits of Edinburgh, and taking the train down to York, one of my favorite cities, laden with good memories. We stood in the pouring rain for my THIRD literary pub tour and I still loved it, and said goodbye to Shan on Monday night. We toured Vicenza and got our fill of Palladian architecture, and I cuddled Paul and laughed at Nico, and we sunned at the Cinque Terre, and laid out at the porch of our agriturismo every night under the stars, and toured walled cities and bakeries and wineries, and ate gooey-cheesy pizza, and came up with ridiculous jokes and one very viable business scheme. We got too hot and too tired and a little coldy. We sang the Cornetto song way too much. We adopted the speech patterns of a two-year old (NO! JUICEY! MINE!) and fixed a flat tire at midnight. Katy and I regressed to our eighteen-year-old selves. There was a lot of grabass. Her baby fell asleep in my arms one night which may have been the best moment of the trip for me.
To quote Little Rick, it was “too much special.” To quote Little Rick again, “too much is never enough.”
The end of Edinburgh and the week in Italy were lovely and amazing, just as we’d hoped it would be. Of course, having several of your closest friends in a paradise should be a recipe for success. We had a lovely last few days in the U.K. showing our friends our favorite bits of Edinburgh, and taking the train down to York, one of my favorite cities, laden with good memories. We stood in the pouring rain for my THIRD literary pub tour and I still loved it, and said goodbye to Shan on Monday night. We toured Vicenza and got our fill of Palladian architecture, and I cuddled Paul and laughed at Nico, and we sunned at the Cinque Terre, and laid out at the porch of our agriturismo every night under the stars, and toured walled cities and bakeries and wineries, and ate gooey-cheesy pizza, and came up with ridiculous jokes and one very viable business scheme. We got too hot and too tired and a little coldy. We sang the Cornetto song way too much. We adopted the speech patterns of a two-year old (NO! JUICEY! MINE!) and fixed a flat tire at midnight. Katy and I regressed to our eighteen-year-old selves. There was a lot of grabass. Her baby fell asleep in my arms one night which may have been the best moment of the trip for me.
To quote Little Rick, it was “too much special.” To quote Little Rick again, “too much is never enough.”
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Glasgow Pics
We are back in Edinburgh, as you will see in Robyn's post, and she is making me post some more of my pictures in order to further exercise her power over me, now that the students are gone and she no longer has an excuse to call me "a kept man." So here are some of my pics from Glasgow and a great panorama from the Highlands which, Harry Potter fans may recognize as the background from the scene where Hagrid is holding a funeral for his friend the giant spider Arogog (I think that's his name). Enjoy!
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
"La Hoss" Gets Soppy About Goodbye
“La Hoss” is my new nickname. It stems from my regular use of “Hoss” in addressing the students these last couple of weeks, e.g. “I’m not sure why you think this excursion is optional, Hoss.” I’m living a fun continua; I have a few students who don’t feel comfortable calling me Robyn and persist with the Dr. Long, many who have adjusted to Robyn, and a few who call me “La Hoss” or something equally inappropriate to call one’s professor. I love it.
Thursday is goodbye students. While there have been a few moments in which I’ve looked forward to this day with enthusiasm, (“Do you have our papers graded yet”) I am feeling very sad about it. They have been a fun, enthusiastic group, and their excitement about returning home is being tempered by sadness about the end of the adventure; I know that feeling well. It invites a great deal of nostalgia on my part, and I wish them the full experience. I remember crying over Shannon’s “pig brownies” as I left Edinburgh in 2003, lying in my folks’ backyard in Wichita to try to keep my tan that summer and feeling like I didn’t belong anywhere in the world, and pulling over on a road trip in 1998 because I was crying so hard when Green Day’s “Time of your Life” came on the radio.
What has struck me with this trip has been the way I feel about going home this time; in 2003, I had to drag myself back. This time, (once I’ve had my fill of friends, pesto and white wine in Italy) I’m looking forward to going home. My once-held anti-American views, (I remember telling a classmate in my doctoral program that, “Basically everything in Scotland is better”) have tempered into a deep appreciation for BOTH worlds. I keep telling my students that they will appreciate home more as a result of this trip and it’s happening for me: Lawrence feels like home. Lawrence is home.
There is a lot of fun to go back to, admittedly. Baby girls Hadley and Carly will need holding. Wilcox and I have a big day of canning salsa and homemade spaghetti sauce planned, and I’m desperate for the magic that is the Lawrence Farmer’s Market. I miss our Lawrence friends, who have had their own adventures this summer. I get to host FOUR showers in the next three months and you know I love hosting showers. Nadine and Matt are getting hitched, and my Georgia family will be in town for said event, and I cannot wait to see them. I’m counting on a night when Dad and Matt will grill and Mom will make her potato salad. Andrea and David have moved into their new place, which reunites Dyngus. Ben and I have already decided that we are having our first meal back in Lawrence at Cielito Lindo. We move into a new place. We go back to school. Life marches on, and it is a good life. Mostly, I’m ready to see the people I love.
I will miss this, though, very much. I’ll miss Esme, Shan, Steve and Cals. I’ll miss all this free time to talk to Ben. I’ll miss the proximity of the art that I’ve been able to see. I’ll miss the BBC, the Scots, the students and teaching history. I’ll miss looking out my window towards a castle, and waking up in Edinburgh. I’ll miss the cool weather. A lot.
Will keep you posted when possible—the Tallahassee crew arrive in two days, and, after what will undoubtedly be a great five days in Edinburgh, we wing to Italy, to the Cinque Terre, to the pesto, wine and cheese, to the agriturismo, to hysterical laughter, to Kate, John, Nico and Paul. Woo hoo!
Love,
Robyn and Ben
Thursday is goodbye students. While there have been a few moments in which I’ve looked forward to this day with enthusiasm, (“Do you have our papers graded yet”) I am feeling very sad about it. They have been a fun, enthusiastic group, and their excitement about returning home is being tempered by sadness about the end of the adventure; I know that feeling well. It invites a great deal of nostalgia on my part, and I wish them the full experience. I remember crying over Shannon’s “pig brownies” as I left Edinburgh in 2003, lying in my folks’ backyard in Wichita to try to keep my tan that summer and feeling like I didn’t belong anywhere in the world, and pulling over on a road trip in 1998 because I was crying so hard when Green Day’s “Time of your Life” came on the radio.
What has struck me with this trip has been the way I feel about going home this time; in 2003, I had to drag myself back. This time, (once I’ve had my fill of friends, pesto and white wine in Italy) I’m looking forward to going home. My once-held anti-American views, (I remember telling a classmate in my doctoral program that, “Basically everything in Scotland is better”) have tempered into a deep appreciation for BOTH worlds. I keep telling my students that they will appreciate home more as a result of this trip and it’s happening for me: Lawrence feels like home. Lawrence is home.
There is a lot of fun to go back to, admittedly. Baby girls Hadley and Carly will need holding. Wilcox and I have a big day of canning salsa and homemade spaghetti sauce planned, and I’m desperate for the magic that is the Lawrence Farmer’s Market. I miss our Lawrence friends, who have had their own adventures this summer. I get to host FOUR showers in the next three months and you know I love hosting showers. Nadine and Matt are getting hitched, and my Georgia family will be in town for said event, and I cannot wait to see them. I’m counting on a night when Dad and Matt will grill and Mom will make her potato salad. Andrea and David have moved into their new place, which reunites Dyngus. Ben and I have already decided that we are having our first meal back in Lawrence at Cielito Lindo. We move into a new place. We go back to school. Life marches on, and it is a good life. Mostly, I’m ready to see the people I love.
I will miss this, though, very much. I’ll miss Esme, Shan, Steve and Cals. I’ll miss all this free time to talk to Ben. I’ll miss the proximity of the art that I’ve been able to see. I’ll miss the BBC, the Scots, the students and teaching history. I’ll miss looking out my window towards a castle, and waking up in Edinburgh. I’ll miss the cool weather. A lot.
Will keep you posted when possible—the Tallahassee crew arrive in two days, and, after what will undoubtedly be a great five days in Edinburgh, we wing to Italy, to the Cinque Terre, to the pesto, wine and cheese, to the agriturismo, to hysterical laughter, to Kate, John, Nico and Paul. Woo hoo!
Love,
Robyn and Ben
What's Going Down in Glasgow Town?
Wowzers. We have been busy. With what, you ask? Well, I’ll tell you. Since arriving in Glasgow we’ve been adjusting our attitudes about not being in Edinburgh and have come to love Glasgow anew. I’ve frog-marched eleven students to five museums and three dinners, and fought valiantly to keep them engaged in our morning classes. We’ve cooked a bit, and, exhausted, watched a lot of BBC. I’ve harassed Andrea and Autumn for the news at home. I’ve plied eight of the students with Vitamin C and juice since the plague has hit our camp (so far, Ben and I have given it a miss.) I’ve been teased about how fast I walk. I don’t get why they’re not in a hurry, though: We’re in Scotland! Here are the highlights, below:
Five museums, and the best one, hands down, was the Kelvingrove Art Gallery near the University of Glasgow. They’ve just completed a major re-haul and have organized it into “stories” mixing media, painting, sculpture and artifacts to make it more accessible and I say it worked. I opted for the nearly two-hour tour last Tuesday and didn’t regret it one bit; I especially loved the exhibit on Scotland: Fact and Fiction and the Glasgow Boys exhibit on Charles Rennie MacIntosh and his wife, Margaret; they displayed panels from his tea room that I fell in love with.
We’ve had some good dinners with and without the students: a yummy noodle bar, paella and tapas, and a visit to a bier house last night that I’d been to before with the crew when we lived in Edinburgh. Today we went to The Willow Tea Room, a MacIntosh design, and had afternoon tea, which was lovely. I love tea, I really, really do. It was the first tea experience for the students and they loved it. Moose, my lone male student, especially loves tea, and told me today that he’s been drinking, “like, eleven cups a day.” I don’t love tea that much.
Our Saturday was a highlight. We trained it back to Edinburgh to meet Shan, Steve, Cals, Esme and Tim for dinner, and had fun laughing and talking all night. Shan made her famous “pig brownies” and put together a cheese plate, further indenturing me to her fabulousness for eternity. We spent the night and reluctantly drug ourselves back to Glasgow on Sunday, but I pretended for the weekend that I could just train to my friends in Edinburgh anytime I wanted to.
Tonight we’re cooking in and prepping for our goodbyes to the students in two days time. Ben has taken some good photos that I’ll try to post sharpish.
Love,
Robyn and Ben
Five museums, and the best one, hands down, was the Kelvingrove Art Gallery near the University of Glasgow. They’ve just completed a major re-haul and have organized it into “stories” mixing media, painting, sculpture and artifacts to make it more accessible and I say it worked. I opted for the nearly two-hour tour last Tuesday and didn’t regret it one bit; I especially loved the exhibit on Scotland: Fact and Fiction and the Glasgow Boys exhibit on Charles Rennie MacIntosh and his wife, Margaret; they displayed panels from his tea room that I fell in love with.
We’ve had some good dinners with and without the students: a yummy noodle bar, paella and tapas, and a visit to a bier house last night that I’d been to before with the crew when we lived in Edinburgh. Today we went to The Willow Tea Room, a MacIntosh design, and had afternoon tea, which was lovely. I love tea, I really, really do. It was the first tea experience for the students and they loved it. Moose, my lone male student, especially loves tea, and told me today that he’s been drinking, “like, eleven cups a day.” I don’t love tea that much.
Our Saturday was a highlight. We trained it back to Edinburgh to meet Shan, Steve, Cals, Esme and Tim for dinner, and had fun laughing and talking all night. Shan made her famous “pig brownies” and put together a cheese plate, further indenturing me to her fabulousness for eternity. We spent the night and reluctantly drug ourselves back to Glasgow on Sunday, but I pretended for the weekend that I could just train to my friends in Edinburgh anytime I wanted to.
Tonight we’re cooking in and prepping for our goodbyes to the students in two days time. Ben has taken some good photos that I’ll try to post sharpish.
Love,
Robyn and Ben
Monday, July 6, 2009
Gettin' High on the Highlands....
The Three Sisters at Glencoe...
The canal locks at Fort Augustus...
Flowers at Culloden...
The heather that Pete picked for me since it was my birthday (he picked it for all the girls, really)....
Through the ruined walls of Ardvrek Castle...
Ardvreck Castle (haunted, Andrea...apparently the daughter married the Devil to keep the castle safe and SHE WAS NOT HAPPY ABOUT IT)...
Culloden...
Ben and I on my birthday at Corrieshalloch Gorge...
Corrieshalloch Gorge....
Flowers at Corrieshalloch Gorge...
Heather along the road....
A yummy cheese shop in Dunkeld....I had to say no, but it was fun to look....
We had a great weekend, seeing parts of Scotland that none of us had seen, enjoying our fun tour guide, feeling restored by the beauty of the Highlands, and appreciating the yummy breakfast and homemade oat cookies that Molly, the owner of the B&B that Ben and I stayed in, made for us. She was lovely and asked how we were getting on after losing Michael Jackson. On Saturday morning the students had a birthday muffin with a candle in it for me and sang Happy Birthday:) Ben sneaked in two pairs of pretty earrings that he'd had time to pick up during the last week at Rosslyn Chapel and at a store where he'd bought me earrings when we were dating. Sweet.
We're finishing our first full day in Glasgow now...took the open top bus tour and had a killer good group meal at Wagamama's Noodle Bar.
Love,
Robyn and Ben
For Dad: Edinburgh to Dunkeld, Dunkeld to Inverness (overnight stay), Inverness over the Murray Firth to Corrieshalloch Gorge, Corrieshalloch Gorge to Ullapool, Ullapool through Assynt Coigach (stopping at Ardvrek Castle) to the Falls of Shin, back to Inverness (overnight stay) Inverness to Culloden, Culloden along Loch Ness to Fort Augustus (watched the locks work here), Fort Augustus to Fort William and Glencoe, Glencoe to Loch Lomond, Loch Lomond to Glasgow.
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