Thursday, February 25, 2010

Unsensical Dreams Make the Most Sense of All

It was a lovely summer day. Not one of those hot, late-summer muggy days. Just warm enough so that the forest was one melting pot of sensory headiness; golden green sunlight filtering through the leaves, a warm breeze that lingered to cuddle me as I progress, fragrant earth and tree bark. Trails wind throughout the woods like a maze, close at some points so that you can high-five your fellow forest-dwellers, distant at others so that their laughter is all you can hear. Purple star shaped flowers blooming; baby's breath in its natural habitat.

Up ahead and to my right the tall trees widen, showing me another path of their own accord. Far along this path I spy lumpy gray lifeforms, laying desolate. I steer my purple bicycle their way. On closer inspection these lumps are sleeping jellyfish/octopi hybrids. Mildly disturbing. But just beyond the clearing continues; just beyond in the clearing is a multitude of white-tail deer! Bucks of all stages, docile does, and frolicking spotted fawns. The misplaced lumps are dismissed as I eagerly but quietly pedal my way amongst the deer.

The deer are most friendly; they patiently approach me, nuzzling and licking my outstretched palm. The fawns even cuddle in to my hugs just like my dog at home. Delighted! To my right is a brick abode; partially built into the ground with outdoor wooden staircases connecting all the levels. A bustle of activity. Hobbits water the multi-colored flowers in the window boxes while peasant folk set out crusty loaves of bread and pitchers of beer on picnic tables for industrial workers. A pleasant hum is created by the living.

Past the hostel I ride my bike, towards a tall, white stucco mansion built where the woods grow thicker. Noise of a different sort is coming from this place. I dismount, take a few steps. Hear a thundering, yet familiar voice from inside: "WHO'S BEEN PETTIN' MY DEER?!"
Uh oh.

I beat a retreat to the brick hostel, winding my way through all the various inhabitants, trying to find a place to hide. In my minds eye I accurately see the mansion-dweller hunting me, shotgun in the air. It's my step-father! I know he is harmless; a little off-his-rocker, certainly, but incapable of hurting anyone, much less me. Yet still I am compelled to flee. I reach the end of the hostel, and dart my eyes around trying to find a good spot to hide. "Stay there!" says a voice; I turn my head to my left to see the source. It's Matt Damon. In fully-armed Bourne mode. "I'll take care of this." He reassures me. "But! My bike! My purple bike!" I yell after him as he lopes past me towards the open ground in front of the brick building. I sit and wait. But not for long.

Yelling draws me into the open. Damon is running towards me, my bicycle hoisted in the air in one hand, his hand gun in the other. Effortlessly he tosses the bike to me, I take it and jump on it in one swift movement. Ray is hot on his heels, shotgun waving in the air. "NO ONE TOUCHES MY DEEERRRRRRRRRR!!" Matt Damon pivots; gun pointed at Ray. "She's your step-daughter Ray! You know that her weakness is cutesy wootsy animals!" Cut to Ray. He's laughing, good-naturedly. "I can't believe you bought this!" He says to Damon as he shoots a stream of water out of the neon-colored super soaker he's suddenly been holding the whole time in place of a shotgun. Enter my mom, dish towel in hand. She flings it over her shoulder, "Son, stop being so serious." (Matt Damon is my brother.) "Emily, go play with your pets." I'm already on my way back to the midst of the deer pack. "Ray, clean up for supper."

End on the busy brick hostel, still full of its incongruous inhabitants, now joined by my still more improbable family. Picnic tables are brought out, bedecked in red checkered cloths and full of heaping bowls of potato salad and cookies. Laughter and birdsong and sunshine.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

the journey ends. {scotland archives}

This was the coldest morning yet. Of course we didn't realize this in our castle suite, but once we loaded up the car to get ready to go we knew. Unfortunate, as this was the day we had slated for viewing two castles on the coast. Sea breezes? More like arctic gale winds! The two castles we saw were Dirleton and Tantallon. Dirleton had some intricate gardens, it was very pretty. I'd like to call it charming, but that seems wrong some how. Tantallon was formidable. This bad boy juts out right over the sea. Standing on the top felt like daring death; the winds were so strong it was not hard to imagine being blown off and dashed on the sea-battered rocks below...The worst the wind managed to do was steal the breath from my lungs and knock me around a bit, thankfully. I reckon that castle was a bit more cozy when all the walls were still up.

As we drove back to Edinburgh, warming up in our little rental car, I had an Irn-Bru soda to drink. It's "Scotland's own fizzy drink." Not bad, it kind of grows on you. It's orange, but tastes more like carbonated Hi-C than typical orange pop. We stopped in the town of Haddington for lunch and also to mail some post cards. Thankfully the postal employees were friendly and dealt with our ignorance to their postal system graciously:) As to lunch, I totally was digging the soup du jour with crusty bread combination. It's a restaurant staple, and oh-so-good. We ended up heading over the Firth to stay at a hotel in Dumferline (the peacock town) as most of Edinburgh's were booked for the night. We stayed at another Holiday Inn, situated across the street from an ASDA and a Homebase (think Home Depot) and I had to smile as it reminded me of our own mega-store match-ups back home. For dinner we ate at a Mexican restaurant, just to see their conception of it. It was actually realllllly delicious. I had tequila-shrimp fajitas. Yum. As per usual, we got lost trying to find our way back to the hotel.
* * *
We got on our hotel early today, our final full day in my ancestral land. We stayed at the Quality Inn right by the airport, which was a fantastic choice since we had to be at the airport by 7a.m. the next morning! This accommodation was secured at the Dumferline Holiday Inn before we even checked out. (I love how we get on top of the hotel thing by the last day only.)

We decided to spend the last day in my personal favorite place; the Edinburgh city centre. There was some sort of Easter food fest lining one of the major streets, which was a bit too crowded to explore much. We did get some nice things at the shops of the centre though, including, of course, Starbucks bevvies. We went to Subway for lunch, just to test the UK vs. USA version. USA came out on top. Though UK scored points for almost automatically putting lettuce, tomato, and cucumber on the sandwiches (what all restaurants refer to as "salad" by the way.) That saves time during ordering. We lunched in the Princes Street Gardens, where they were busily preparing for a BIG Easter play, including live animals. We actually overheard a woman asking a man if he'd seen her donkey. Thankfully, I suppose, he had. We went back to our hotel for the rest of the day, where we decided to have "tea time," including shortbread (Scotland's famous for it--and for good reason). We pretty much just chilled in the hotel for the rest of the afternoon and evening, watching TV, reading, taking advantage of free internet. We even ate dinner there (gross).

Afterwards, I went out for a smoke and a tall, skinny guy came out to bum one off of me. He was French. He asked if the hotel sold cigarettes. I said no. (Less than an hour later, Jordan pointed out a cigarette vending machine in the lobby...oops!) Awkward silence ensued...but he broke it nicely by saying thanks before returning to the hotel.The twilight was gorgeous that night; just one streak of light over a hill in the distance...so peaceful. Even with the airport so nearby. That night we watched a presumably popular British show "Ants and Decs Saturday Night Take Away" which is really, really funny. Then Jordan decided we should get some room service dessert. Now, I don't like waffles. I don't know why; I just am not a fan. UNLESS they are the Edinburgh Airport Quality Inn's "warm belgium waffles with vanilla ice cream and maple syrup." WOW...such a warm, cakey, syrupy, carmelized waffle, with a scoop of premium vanilla ice cream...garnished with a small tomato (because of it's gold, papery leaves) and a strawberry (perfect palate cleanser)...Literally delicious beyond any expectations. Yum. After finishing that bad boy, I pretty much passed out into a sugar coma/sleep for the night. Which was good anyway, since I'd have to get up early for the next day's flight.

(and thus ends the re-posting and archiving of my past Scotland excursion. thanks for revisiting with me!)

Thursday, February 18, 2010

meandering down memory lane {scotland archives}

It's Thursday by now. All of the historic sites are closed on Thursdays, so we have a "free" day of sorts. We drove down and admired the HolyRood part of town, and then headed up the street, which led us back to the Royal Mile.

Our Starbucks that morning brought us in contact with an American fellow, one of the baristas there. For some reason after finding out we were from Minnesota (Dad lives there) he was surprised we didn't have "Fargo" accents. Which I can do pretty well, which therefore meant I had to do so for him. Apparently it was delightfully funny (dontcha know) to all the 'bucks patrons that morning.

We found a pretty legit kilt shop, although the salesman must've seen my brother coming a "royal" mile away; the kid bought a COMPLETE highland ensemble in our famil
y plaid, which of course is stunning, but a bit costly in my eyes. (Though who am I kidding? If Scots women wore such traditional garb I would've bought every piece and then some!)

Next we went to an art gallery, which was smaller than some that I've been to, but rich in what it contained: including, but not limited to, works by Degas, Monet, Van Gogh, Cezanne, Raphael, Rembrandt...breathtaking!!

We lunched at this joint called The Wee Windaes. Not bad. Since things were mostly closed down, we decided to go to our hotel for the night; we'd booked the room the night before. Tonight's abode? The Hotel Castle Melville. That's right; Castle. It's situated in the country, down a long lane. Surrounded by some open ground, edged by deep woods. Melodious birdsong completes the magic. We got a suite for the night; and truly felt the royal treatment. The door opens and we see a hall, complete with chandelier. The bathroom featured a jacuzzi tub and bidet and also an assortment of herbal soaps and shampoos. Two spacious bedrooms. A giant living/dining area, with a large flat-screen TV. Ah, the good life! Not to mention the amazing views of nature and the large fountain on the back lawn.

We drove into town for dinner, and afterwards decided to step into a store called LiDL, as we'd seen them everywhere. It's just like our ALDI's stores (though they have those, too) except all the packaging is in German. Upon arriving back at our castle, I decided to have a cigarette while the guys went up to the room. There was a wedding party at the hotel, and one of the attendants was out smoking as well; a charming Scotswoman whom I chatted with. She told me all about her niece who is a med student at the University of Edinburgh, I guess her way of relating to me as I said I was a university student. The creepy part was that I had had a dream of the exact same scenario a few weeks before this actually occurred...not the first time I've dreamed realities, but incredibly eery nonetheless. After I affirmed that I loved Scotland, she told me that her favorite vacation had been to Florida, despite an annoying lay-over in Boston. The best part was how she matter-of-factly assumed I had been to both places, though of course I haven't.

The rest of the night was spent reading books, exploring the grounds, and watching Britain's version of Thursday night comedy night TV. Did you know they can drop the F-bomb on the telly? Because they can; and they DO.
(only a few days left to read about...coming soon! meanwhile: a hilariously lame video from the trip.)

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

in which even i grow weary of seeing .... everywhere. {scotland archives}

Waking up in Edinburgh again...heaven.

Dad and I enjoyed some coffee in the breakfast room at the hotel before Jordan decided to wake up. There was also an English family in the room. One of the little girls actually asked her dad for "beans and toast!" (A common breakfast food there; they REALLY like baked beans apparently. They also sell ready-to-eat, pre-packaged pancakes and waffles right next to their bread.)

After check-out, we all started to walk towards town; our destination: Edinburgh Castle. We hadn't gone far before Jordan realized he'd left his tourist pass in the car, so while he and I went back for it, Dad decided to "stay." Except he wandered off. Yet another significant portion of the day spent lost...oy vey. After grabbing some breakfast at (where else) Starbucks, we apparently decided to take the long way to the castle....(lost again)...

Once we got to the castle, we discovered that it's more "in use" than any of the others. There were a bunch of military offices and whatnot. And countless military type museums. Kinda boring to my tastes. This castle also has a lot of buildings all nestled inside of it's walls, probably because it's the best preserved. Including a building which holds ---the Crown Jewels!!!! Gorgeous. Seriously. Wow. Too bad no photos were allowed...

After leaving the castle (which was quite overrun w/ American tourists. Who do they think they are, anyway?! oh wait...) we went shopping on Princes Street. They have some Scots-only stores, but also Gap, H&M, and McDonalds. We then left Edinburgh again to go to Craigmillar castle...which, after 3 hours of driving around we finally found just before closing-time. It was very pretty; very picturesque! It had gorgeous, twisting trees growing in it's entry-hall, which added a lovely fairy-tale element to it all.

There were also attack pigeons here. We were in a darker part of the castle (no indoor lighting, of course) and I heard a man's yell...it didn't sound like either Jordan or Dad, and as I turned around I saw Jordan leaping backwards away from a dark corner. I honestly thought there was some creeper-man over there yelling at him! Quickly Jordan explained that something had flown violently at his face, and in a barely a second the guilty pigeon came towards my head like a fluttering missile!! It was intense. And hilarious. Other castle patrons were laughing with us even...or was it AT us? :)

After this misadventure, we headed back to Edinburgh for the night. We stayed at the Holiday Inn Express by the sea port. Located across the way a bit was a large building, which turned out to be a mall. It wasn't very busy, but was a noble attempt at recreating the quintessential shopping experience. Of course I bought clothes. But not too much.
We ate at a restaurant in the mall, one of many, and don't let their location fool you; these are high-class joints. Super swank. They had a movie theatre in the mall, too, which we didn't patronize, but did observe that their stunning new releases were "Juno"! And some other movie from months ago! That's a bit sad, actually. Back to the hotel for a night cap. I also must mention that genuine, single-malt Scotch whisky is strong. Sinus-clearing strong. Yet still undeniably superior. Jack Daniels? Never again. (well...not this week anyway.)

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

in which castles are visited {Scottish archiving continues.}

We made it to Glasgow; a city located on the other side of the country yet only 40 miles away. Sigh.

First impression: "WHAT is that smell?!" Stank. The city seems MUCH more modern, based on a drive-through look-see. It's a bit of a contrast to Edinburgh (the city that clearly has stolen my heart; the very air that one breathes there is just better, fresher; delicious, delightful...I love it). We stopped at a Woolworth's store to use the facilities...Disgusting. Gross. So, we left that part of town. Glasgow is also confusing to navigate. We ended up taking a driving tour of it, and decided that at least for the day we'd escape from it into the country instead. It seems to be a dirty city..."Trainspotting" anyone?

After much driving around (we're talking hours here), we finally found a Travelodge out in the country to stay at. It was next to a Burger King, so we went there for dinner. (Horrible, right?) The portions there are MUCH smaller. Shocking yet not really. Also, the Scottish Brogue is noticeably thicker in the country. Music to mine ears.

The next morning we set off for Sterling to see the sights. The castle is incredible!! Definitely a must-see. It was there that we got tourist passes so we could get into all the historic sights for one flat fee. This castle was truly magnificent. Straight out of a fairy tale. The chapel was truly sacred; clean golden wood, sunlight filtering in through the stained-glass windows. Tapestries hanging. The kitchens were enhanced by life-size figures acting out typical medieval kitchen duties. Actually quite creepy. One inner courtyard used to be the home to a long-ago resident's pet lion. Clothing was on display from ages gone by in another room. Walking the castle walls is a must. The view of the surrounding countryside is breathtaking; little white dots representing flocks of sheep; the Wallace Monument a short distance away. A modern elementary school. Oh, and most importantly, that castle was the favorite of the Stewart dynasty (you know, my blue-blood predecessors).



Next to the castle there was a spooky, OLD cemetery. Graves older than the United States itself, crammed in next to each other, stones almost black, overgrown with moss. Broken down statuary, haunting even in the bright light of midday. Scummy ponds and a partially burnt out cathedral.

We then went to Dunblane to see the cathedral, which is talked up a bit mor
e than it deserves...not to mention the extensive construction going on within the church, but that's pretty common for Scotland it seemed. Necessary to preserve the old buildings and all that. The only lunch place we found that day was McDonald's, but before you judge, let it be known that the UK McD's is far superior to our own. Different menu items even! (Cadbury Egg McFlurry?!) We headed over to a "superstore" so Jordan could score some British TV-on-DVD that isn't available state-side, and I bought a pair of black tights...which requires a confession/explanation...For some reason virtually 2/3 of all Scottish females that I saw on any given day were wearing denim mini-skirts over black tights. Pretty sure the denim mini/black legging trend was done over here, but it was too prevalent and too funny for me not to desire to repeat the trend for the sake of completing my Scottish experience.

After this consumerist break, we headed to Duone Castle, which is the site of the "French Siege" scene near the beginning of "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" !!It wasn't that much of a castle, in that most of it has fallen over the years. But that campy movie memorabilia made it totally worthwhile. Of COURSE my brother and I reenacted scenes for a too-good-to-be-passed up photo shoot.

Dollar Glen and Castle Campbell next. This one required a treacherous drive down a very narrow and long road, followed by a definitive trek to reach it. The curator at this place was extremely chatty..it took some mad skills to get away from him and actually view it. The journey was worth it; the views from this place were incredible! It was very ruinous, because the Campbells who owned it had been attacked. Many times. During the UK civil war following the regicide in which Oliver Cromwell took over, the Campbells kept switching their loyalties, and people got pissed. (That history lesson was free you're welcome).

I convinced the fam to head back to Edinburgh for the night, and we drove through Dumfrenlin (totally butchered the spelling). As we passed a parking lot in the middle of town we saw a peacock just strutting along. Photo opp! Then we drove over the Firth of Forth (a big bay-like body of water) and entered my beloved city once again. We got rooms at their Travelodge, which was just down the street from our first night's hotel. My room (thank goodness I had my own) was swank. Gorgeous, giant window with a fantastic view of the city in the distance and a green and blooming little park just below...sigh. We walked into the city centre for dinner that night and ate at this lovely little authentic mom-and-pop Italian place. SO good. Between that and the (indeed superior) Brit chocolate, I pretty much felt like I'd die from sensory overload. Thus ended the third day.

Monday, February 15, 2010

fear and sharing in des moines

Not so very long ago I declared myself a criminal for not sharing my works more often. I've taken steps towards rectification of that valid charge, and I'm glad.

A good friend invited me to join an online journal of sorts, which I did. On my first day as a member of this site I pulled a classic "you are a writer just DO this" move. I sat at my desk, staring at the blank "publish a story" screen. And then I let my fingers do the talking, and typed a story. I didn't edit it. I didn't re-read before posting. I just wrote. It was short, but from the heart. It felt good.

I've also been re-publishing (with a few minor edits) my travelogue from my trip to Scotland on this blog. These posts are dear to me, and I apologize to anyone who finds reminiscences of a 2 year old vacation tedious. You don't have to read them, of course. But for me, it's how I remember that amazing experience. I wrote those posts originally in a beat-up notebook. Sometimes in an airport or on-board a plane. Sometimes in the back of the rental car. Oftentimes in my hotel room before calling it a night. And I'm glad I did that. By reading those posts, imperfect as they may be, I can chuckle at what struck my 22-yr-old self as worth noting, and be reminded of other parts of the trip that I neglected to write down. I am transported back to my favorite city in the world; to my homeland. And as I'm distancing myself from facebook, I think they belong here now.

Skip back a paragraph and remember the website I referred to as having recently joined. I just--mere moments ago--posted the first couple of pages from my biggest work in progress; a child's story, a fairytale. I just emailed my best friend about it:
"i just shared part of the children's story i've been working on off & on for 3 years on fictionaut and now want to throw up."

She kindly replied:
"WHY?!?!?!"

To which I said this, which is basically what I am trying to say in this blog anyway:
"because it's like my secret. it's my work in progress. it's my baby; my masterpiece. not b/c it's going to amount to anything outside of my head and my heart, but b/c it means so much to me.
i wrote the story originally on church bulletins at Sioux City. weeks' worth. i lost those, but the storyline stuck with me.
and then i got the complete set of Hans Christian Andersen's works, and i was so MOVED by the way he wrote, i just knew i had to re-write that story again.
everything about it matters to me. aside from the main characters name, each character has a name that is some form of flora that's meaning fits their character description. i mean, i've got problems with it. the way the story has developed (it's like 20 pages long by now, which isn't THAT long, but stil) doesn't match up w/ the intro. but still. it's my baby...and by sharing it...i am VULNERABLE."

In summary... I'm taking action. I'm facing fears. I'm growing. Cheers!

Thursday, February 11, 2010

a day in the life of an edinbugger {from the archives}

Dad woke us up around 8 am, although the seagulls had done a pretty fair job at that already...why do they sound like dying?
We woke up and find that our room's shower was broken. Not good. So, I quickly pull on some jeans, throw a bit of mascara on and head up to breakfast. Continental breakfasts there aren't quite the same as here, but not too different. We sat in an dining room, which was nicer than your average "hotel" in that this establishment had once been a single-family home.
After breakfast, the hoteliers gave us another room to shower in, which I quickly claimed first rights to. I grabbed my stuff and headed down to it, only to find that in order to get the thing turned on I had to press a switch on the wall of the bedroom...{that only took 20 minutes to figure out...oh, European adventures!} Needless to say, we decided one night at the Piries Hotel was enough.
That settled, we set off on foot to explore the city. First stop, of course, being Starbucks (yes, they really are everywhere) to fuel up on coffee sweetened w/ unnatural aspartame--artificial sweeteners are hard to find, and these sensitive teeth of mine can't handle the real stuff. Starbucks became my American Embassy. Anyway, we made our way through the city, and seemingly intuitively wound up at Edinburgh Castle. A castle, situated in the center of your city, atop a high hill. One of the reasons Edinburgh is my favorite city.

We decided not to see the interior of the Castle just yet, and satisfied ourselves with the outer part; great views of the city, tons of monuments, and of course the iconic red phone booths. We stepped down the hill into a kilt manufacturing business, where I got a MacDonald of Clan Ranald tartan scarf (that's the clan my dad's descended from). Beautiful!

By this point it was lunchtime, so we headed across the Royal Mile (street name) to "The Scotch Whisky Experience" --come now, you know this girl would end up there straight away--and went to their Amber Cafe for some food. Once again, the food was phenomenal!! Out of this world. America; take note. Jordan got the haggis (Traditional food of Scotland; wiki definition: There are many recipes, most of which have in common the following ingredients: sheep's 'pluck' (heart, liver and lungs), minced with onion, oatmeal, suet, spices, and salt, mixed with stock, and traditionally boiled in the animal's stomach for approximately three hours.) I tried my fair share, and seriously, folks---it's REALLY good. Melt-in-your-mouth, savoury...don't knock it 'till you've tried it!
As we left the establishment, across the street we saw a man in "Braveheart" attire--blue face paint, swords, and all! He was delightfully friendly, posing for photos. Later we discovered he's a an authentic celeb, having done work as Mel Gibson's double, as well as in other films including "Pirates of the Caribbean 2." Nice!
We then walked back towards the hotel through Prince's Street Gardens, which line the main drag below the Castle. It was gorgeous, full of monuments--including Robert Louis Stevenson's grave (he wrote "Robinson Crusoe"), which is encircled by slender white birch trees, and reads "RLS, a man of letters." The park was also filled with hundreds of bright yellow daffodils in full bloom, their papery blossoms contrasting warmly with the bright green grass.

Although the sun had been filtering generously through the clouds overhead, it was cold enough to get the teeth chattering, so we hit up another 'Bucks before piling into our car for the next leg of the journey. Dad got a parking ticket--the first of 3 over the course of our week. Good job. We decided to head to Glasgow next, but Dad declared the need to make a toilet-stop (not called restrooms there. just toilet.) The first place we found is on the western edge of Edinburgh, and was a large store called ASDA, which on closer inspection, is in fact owned by Wal-Mart, and is indeed very similar to it, only nicer and w/ "nappies" instead of "diapers" on the aisle content board.
We wisely decided to stock up on some produce, water, and chocolate before hitting the road. Will British chocolate be superior to American? I've heard tell it is...Meanwhile, we entered into the countryside where the beauty of the landscape could only be hampered by the nausea-inducing driving of my dad. Though everyone drives crazy here. CRAZY. And not just b/c they're on the other side of the road; that I can handle. (Also; Edinburgh bus drivers are homicidal. Just take a journey there and try not to get hit by one; it's not easy.)

--more to come...one must finish what one starts, non?

Sunday, February 7, 2010

Beauty Before My Eyes

Leaving another seemingly pointless day at the office. 4:55pm. Winding through the office parking lot; turning right onto SE Convenience Blvd; inevitably pulling up to a red stoplight at the Orlabor intersection.

My windshield is dirty. Speckled with thrown-up slush from the roadways. A general dusty sheen inhibiting my view. My left hand automatically presses in on the turn signal wand, sending a smattering of blue fluid across the windshield. Some stubborn ice is blocking the left-side fluid spout. Press the wand in again to try and do a better job cleaning.

The light is still red.

One streak, directly in my line of sight, is eternally missed by the wiper. As usual, it is the one part of my windshield that is still wet.

One streak that my mind has long-since adjusted to seeing past.
One streak that wouldn’t be ignored this afternoon.

My eyes are focused straight ahead; will the light forever be red?

What’s this?

Before my very eyes, in the very center of the streak, the liquid fluid forms an icy flower. A perfect poinsettia, the size of a quarter.
In less than a breath, from either side of the bloom, shoot out arms of leaves; perfect intertwined feathery vines appear and grow where before was only wiper fluid.

I watch them grow; spellbound. The best CG in a modern movie often tries to capture the wonder of something beautiful being created; coming alive! But here was I witnessing it. Like a rainbow, this organic, frosty artwork spreads across my windshield.
The green arrow appears, I accelerate, but still cannot look beyond the masterpiece in my line of vision.

By the time I reach the next stoplight, the late-afternoon sun briefly illuminates the wondrous creation and then it fades away.

Friday, February 5, 2010

Scotland, Part Deux {from the archives}

First night in Edinburgh....Our hotel is on a street (Coates Garden) of older, bay-windowed buildings, all connected town-house style. (This is pretty much true of all streets of housing in the parts of the nation that I saw.) The houses vary between hotels, flats, and empty buildings. The street is cobble-stone, which adds to the charm of it all. Clearly the building is kind of old, but with modern additions, like the fire-escape right outside the bay window of our room--we're below street level, floor zero. Oh, yes--and the stack of empty kegs adds to the lovely view as well, of course! Once we'd freshened up a bit, we hit the streets in our rental car. It wasn't but a moment before the first sign I'd love Edinburgh arrived: we were on the first street we'd turned off to, waiting in que at the inevitable round-about. The building next to us was a "Youth Hostel." Two guys were dancing about in the window, with more people to be made out behind them. One of the gents waves, so naturally I, being full of holiday spirit, wave back. Next thing I know, both guys are engaged in waving, dancing, basically putting on a show for the city in general and myself in particular. The latter young man decides to drop trou and moon us, showing off a bright green shamrock freshly inked on his exposed arse! ((WHY didn't I snap a picture?!)) As traffic begins to move forward, the entertaining boy-men proceed to mime "call me," placing the international(?) hand-phone to their faces. Full of laughter, I blew them a kiss, which they abundantly returned--mutualizing our window-fling, and off our car went! We drove around the city a bit, Dad getting used to the whole right-side of the car driving in the left lane and myself snapping photos of any and everything around town. A different chap gives me the "naughty, naughty" finger-wave after I snap one of an old clock...?? Finally, we park the car nearer to the city centre to find a place to eat. We settle on "Old Fellows Pub." The food was insanely delicious; super rich smoked salmon on a bed of greens that still tasted refreshingly of earth...mmm:) The atmosphere was quite interesting, as music videos were playing loudly from a few telly screens; mostly American videos circa ten years or more ago...interesting. So many people walked by the window near our table, and as we strolled about the streets a bit after dinner, we met even more faces. There is a variety, but also my first glimpse of what the average Edinburgh citizen looks like. However, at that time of the first night I was so wiped out from travelling across countless time zones that we headed back to the hotel soon, where I promptly fell into a deep sleep...at 7:30 pm...:)

Thursday, February 4, 2010

from the archives: my scotland experience

Saturday the 15th was departure day.
The flight didn't leave until 10 pm, however--that is one long day of anticipation. A few hours pre-flight, Dad checked out the prices for leaving a car at the airport's car-park for 8 days; exorbitant! We decided to call a cab.

7 pm; the "taxi" arrives--it's a swanky, black Cadillac with tinted windows...the driver is dressed in a suit...he takes and loads our luggage, opens our doors; now that's luxury. Though the enchantment faded a bit when he began talking nothing but real estate on the drive there...but at least his Eastern European accent was quite musical.:) Starting the trip with such VIP treatment was great, and surely a good omen. Even my realizing, once through airport security, that I had forgotten to pack even one hair-tie couldn't ruin that. ((Thank goodness airports are now mall-riffic, selling any and everything in their stores! Hair crisis averted.))
After feasting on chocolate-flavored skittles (which are atrocious, by the by) and watching the clock tick-tock, came the boarding call. This early-to-bed broad was ready to pass out by that time. I'm sure my near-overdose of Dramamine was also partially to blame...

The flight itself went surprisingly well. As anybody who knows me knows, I was pretty much in a constant state of flight-anxiety in the weeks preceding. I slept for most of it, but woke up and enjoyed some airplane food and the movie "Juno" before landing in Amsterdam. After landing and navigating our way through the massive Schipol Airport, we landed in the lower level near our gate. The security checkpoint was manned by the most bored people I have ever seen. The waiting area (D6L) smelled like piss. Literally. The walls were small-tiled lime green, dingy gray floors, crappy black chairs...but still. It's Europe!! Hooray! My family and I were pretty much the only people in our area, but rushing through the upper level earlier, I could see so many faces, notice so many shoes, hear so many various tongues...
Jordan decided Europe has a lot less attractive people than he had expected. I affirmed that there were many sour-faced expressions, which didn't help the pretty-points, but I had to remind him that we *were* in an airport--not the happiest of places, and certainly not all of a continent's worth of people (attractive or otherwise).

The Second Flight: Amsterdam to Edinburgh.
We were shuttled out to our plane on a bus; quite a drive actually. Two Scotsmen sat to my immediate right (first contact with the destination!) and one of my pessimistic predictions was fulfilled--I was straining to understand their thick brogues probably 2/3rds of the time. Best to accept the fact that one's genetic heritage does not equal the ability to speak (or hear) like a local. *sigh*
We left the shuttle and were on the cold, wet, windy tarmac. We actually climbed stairs directly into the aircraft, salvaging some of the glamor of a European vacation by reminding me of plane-boarding in movies. We then proceeded to taxi along some maze of runways to the one we would actually lift off from. We crossed over a large highway of sorts, and it looked very much like our own (of course?) Then we went over a canal, which was starkly carved out and amazingly straight; as were the trees in their row on either side of it. Finally, take-off! The majority of the passengers clapped their hands once we left the ground; another movie moment for sure. I was quite literally in the clouds then, looking out my window at the wing and the jet-engine and the pure white inside of condensed precipitation.
(Stay tuned for Part 2: Actual Scottish experiences guaranteed!)

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

criminal

the frequency of my writing is sporadic at best.
the frequency of my blogging, specifically.

when the muse strikes, i attack whatever available surface is nearest with the handiest writing utensil in sight; a computer and a keyboard, a notebook half-shoved under my bed and a marker, the back of a receipt and a pencil stub from my purse.

but it's time for the criminal confession: usually i keep my musings to myself.

almost daily i write something. sometimes it is a song. sometimes it is a story. sometimes it is more blog-style. but you do not see these. nobody does. criminal.

almost constantly i commit an even greater crime:
i hash the words out in my mind; waxing poetic, logically reasoning, weaving a tale. whatever the flavor of writing, the words flow faster and come together most cohesively cerebrally. and the crime is that i hoard these words in my mind alone, never sharing.

not that i am some reclusive, in-demand author. not that i have dozens of followers eager to read my ramblings.

but as a writer*, not sharing my words is criminal. it's selfish. it's cowardly. i'm going to make an effort to straighten up my act and put myself out there.

*why i consider myself a writer: yes, i am paid to do so. more importantly, though, is that stories come to me. that communicating with words, in prose, poetry, or nonfiction, is my natural state of being. writing = breathing.**

**however, writing does not equal sharing. which is why i am a criminal writer.