Life

International Women’s Day in Edinburgh

Edinburgh Expeditions

For the last three years, I’ve been in Europe for International Women’s Day. The first one, I had no idea what was going on. There were women carrying flowers through the streets of Florence, lovely bright yellow ones. I found out what the meaning was (indeed, what the day was) after asking one of my professors.

The second was also spent in Florence, this time whilst my family visited my sister. We didn’t realise it until going to one of the local museums, and it was free entry for myself, my mother and Holmes. My father was a bit surprised when he had to pay! I translated the handwritten sign for him and we went on our merry way, enjoying the museums and the fact that we’d each saved about 12 euro (to be spent on gorgeous handbound journals in my case).

This year, I attended a lecture given by University of Edinburgh* alum and best-selling author Dr Philippa Gregory. I’ve only read one of Dr Gregory’s books–Earthly Joys–and while I didn’t love it, I couldn’t turn down the opportunity to attend her lecture! I love listening to authors speak.

I found Dr Gregory to be a wonderful speaker. She was funny, engaging, intelligent and goes on the list of people I’d love to invite for a dinner party. It would be a very interesting discussion, I’m sure.

Now, below is the lecture. I invite you to watch it–its very good (if long, just over an hour). And yours truly asks a question, because I cannot resist asking questions in lectures!

*My uni. Also the uni that both authors I’ve seen speak are attached to in some way.

The Improbability of University Life

Edinburgh Expeditions

Sometimes, I feel as though my life ought to be a movie. There are moments that are so improbable, so scripted, that if I didn’t partake or witness them myself, I would scarcely believe that they had happened.

One of those days happened Monday. My swing dance group was tapped to perform in a flashmob (we do this a lot) to advertise for an upcoming jazz club night. It was only supposed to be a few minutes, to get some photographs for our society and for the club night. My friends and I grinned and danced, wearing t shirts and cardigans despite the cold. We had the soft sounds of an iPod to dance to, only enough to catch the rhythm and make up the rest from there.

My friend and I started dancing, rock-step-triple-stepping, lindy-turn, rock-step-triple-step-step-step-triple-step. We laughed at the ridiculousness of dancing to the music we could hear (sort of), but the rest of the world could not.

We were ready to stop after a few minutes. Our silly group attracted a few bystanders.

The sound of a solo saxophone cut through the chilly night.

Our little group looked up, surprised. What was this sound? Were we to continue?

“Great!” said one. “Music!”

All we could do was continue dancing. We couldn’t resist live music, even if it were just one saxophonist.

I switched dance partners. As I spun, I noticed someone wheeling a double bass case. I thought nothing of it as I continued to dance, focusing on not twisting my ankle on the concrete. The thump-thump of the bass strings joined the saxophone.

An entire jazz band sprouted from the pavement. A trumpeter materialized, another saxophonist joined the throng. Finishing off this spontaneous band was a percussionist on cymbals.

Through it all, as we twirled around the main university square, more and more people stopped to watch, intrigued by the musicians and the dancers, two crazy groups out on a cold, early March night.

If it were to be filmed or presented in a novel, it would be considered a contrivance, a plot device, something to initiate the ‘meet cute’ between the hero and heroine, or the climax of the (undeniably cheesy happy) story. No one would believe something like that could really happen.

A Girl Who Reads…

The Twirl and Swirl of Letters

A poem by Mark Grist.

I had to share this. Because girls who read are brilliant (if I do say so myself).

I do feel like a bit of a fraud. I’ve only finished one book since January, Barry Miles’s London Calling: A Countercultural History of London Since 1945. In my defense, it was several hundred pages long (and I’m working hard on my degree).

But I am a girl who reads. A reader of fiction both literary and pulp (and where the two crossover), of histories (mostly pop), of biographies, of critical theory, of academic articles. And you know what? I wouldn’t have it any other way. As much as I love television, movies, even the internet, I wouldn’t trade reading for it.

Not reading for myself hurts. It aches as my brain grows weak, my attention span dwindling, when all I want is to read and find I can’t.

I still wander through libraries and bookstores, my eyes lusting over the beautiful book covers, the words on the pages…I long for the day where I can read for myself again (I may end up cheating a bit and reading before going to bed. All PHP and no books makes Beth a dull girl). Just today, I found myself at both Blackwell’s and the Edinburgh Central Library, perusing the shelves, holding books in my hands.

And yes, I gave in to temptation. I couldn’t resist. I never can. The printed word entices me, it draws me in, it is irresistible. I picked up a couple at the library, and am considering buying one for myself from Blackwell’s (Catriona Child’s Trackman). Perhaps as a reward for surviving this first round of submissions.

And, as a girl who reads, I have to say there’s nothing sexier than a guy who reads.

Maybe I’ll write a follow up poem.

Further Adventures in Lindy Hop

Edinburgh Expeditions

Yesterday, I took my first flying lesson. Me, the happily grounded, afraid of heights individual, decided to take an aerials workshop.

This is what aerials look like:

Given that my programme leaves me little to no time to travel, I decided to take the ten pounds I would have spent on a RyanAir flight or in a disgusting hostel and put it to a more productive use–learning to fly.

In my first aerials lesson, I learned four–a basic frog jump (I think), a frog jump rotating 180 degrees (I jump and my leader turns, so that when I land I’m 180 degrees away from where I started), a tandem Charleston jump, and…the backwards somersault. Or backsault, as they called it. Needless to say, I’m rather stiff and sore from using muscles that I usually neglect.

I’m looking forward to next Saturday’s follow up lesson. It’s going to be a lot of fun.

In which Beth eats unusual foods (for her)

Edinburgh Expeditions

Whenever I’m travelling, I try to eat a new thing every day. Living in a new country, this doesn’t happen daily, particularly as living somewhere entails me making my own food.

Today, however, I managed to eat a meal filled with foods I never had consumed before. I went with a few of my friends to Saigon Saigon, which is one of the tasiest Chinese restaurants in Edinburgh.

We looked over the menu and then ordered, my friends (two from China, one from Taiwan) suggesting and selecting some of their favourite dishes. I just had one request: whatever we ate, there had to be at least one dish that wasn’t too spicy.

We ended up with five dishes. One, my favourite, I can’t recall what it was called. But what else did I eat? Let me preface by saying yes, I knew what I was eating. And it was all delicious.

Shredded chicken–my choice. Not too spicy at all.

Roasted duck tongue–a favourite of one of my friends. A bit spicy for my taste, but I did eat three tongues. As well as the bones of two, I didn’t realize there were bones in it…the crunchiness should have tipped me off.

Cow stomach–I’ve had stomach before, when I was in Italy (lamprodotto). I wasn’t a fan then, I’m really not a fan now either.

Pig’s feet–Um, these were delicious. Succulent and tasty, with a lovely sauce.

Sadly, the duck gizzards were unavailable. My friends said that they’re delicious, and I wanted to try them!

For desert, I had coconut milk with soga and tapioca. Wonderful!

 

And no, I still haven’t tried haggis.

 

A Windy Day at Rosslyn Chapel

Edinburgh Expeditions

Yesterday, a few friends and I ventured through the wind and rain to visit Rosslyn Chapel. After missing the bus (and noting that the 15A wouldn’t drop us off at the Chapel), we were off to a late start. Killing time with a cappuccino, we caught the later bus and were off, an hour after we had meant to.

But that was okay. We drove about a half hour outside of Edinburgh to Roslin, and a quick walk up to the chapel’s visitor center. Then through the sliding glass doors to see the chapel itself.

No internal photography is permitted, but we took full advantage of there still being daylight to shoot the exterior. There’s some lovely stonework, which I find beautiful, even in its decay.

Stonework, Rosslyn Chapel

(C) Beth 2012

I loved wandering around the building, looking at the statues of saints and angels. Living in Italy, if only for four months, instilled a fascination with these images. At Rosslyn, my favourites were on a memorial stone.

Love Conquers Death

(C) Beth 2012

I think I photographed all of the angels on this stone…there were so many! This one was my favourite photograph, though.

Hope

(C) Beth 2012

The interior of Rosslyn was stunning. Not being allowed to take photographs, I sketched instead (but none of my sketches were quite up to par, so sadly I shan’t share).

The carvings were beautiful. I can’t even begin to describe them without falling into cliche. A place that must be seen by one’s own eyes!