We Have Acclimatized. I Mean, Acclimatised.

For my last Scottish language post, I said that we had given in, and started speaking more like Scots.  But really, it's not giving in at all.  It's acclimatizing.  Or as they say in the U.K., acclimatising.

I used to teach this in Introduction to Biological Anthropology - what is acclimatization? Acclimatization is adjusting to your environment.  I remember that Rhonda, my mentor, used to use the example of sweating in Arizona.  When you first arrive in Arizona from another part of the U.S. that features more reasonable temperatures, you sweat equally all over your body.  After a a few weeks, your body adjusts and you begin to sweat more efficiently, preferentially cooling your trunk, because, of course, that's where the important stuff for staying alive is located.  You have acclimatized. 

In Scotland, we have acclimatized in several ways.

First, we have changed our language, as previously discussed.  Even Paul, who doesn't really have much of an ear for languages, tending to remain pretty much American-English only, complains that half the time he calls our daughter's sweater a "jumper," in proper English fashion.  And as I read a book about food the other day with the three-year old, she identified the red fruit as a "to-mah-to." No, I said. "To-may-to."

We have also acclimatized to the cold, or more properly the absence of heat.  The cold is still nasty.  Especially the windy, rainly cold, like the entire month of November. Not kidding, the entire month. But, when we were in Edinburgh last July to get our passports renewed, it was HOT. And by HOT I mean 75 degrees.  This weather is described by Scots as "roastin'" and indeed we were roasting. It was clear and sunny ALL DAY, unheard of around here...here is a picture of that day. Look! Short sleeves! And I have my fleece around my waist, it's so hot. Truly, roastin'.

Roasting in Edinburgh, August 2014.

Another acclimatization is to driving - and riding - on the wrong side of the road.  Paul now has a full UK driving license, but in the early days he gave a couple of car dealers near-heart-attacks as he drive down the road, trying to stay to the side instead of (counterintuitively) hugging the center (I mean centre) line of the road.  Riding in the passenger seat, which would be the driver's seat in the US, took some getting used to, too.  For the first month or more, I habitually tried to get into the wrong side of the car.  Once I was in the correct seat, it still felt strange to be in the driver's seat yet have no control over the car.  And going around all the roundabouts made me feel slighly sick every time we took the car anywhere.  But eventually, I acclimatized.

The last acclimatization was to food availability.  When we first arrived, our families and others from the U.S. would ask us if we missed anything from the U.S., food-wise. And at first, we did. Decent bagels. Normal marshmallow. S'mores. But as we were here a little longer, we adjusted to what you could (and could not) get and became concerned with the bigger issues, that were mostly beyond our control.  Like, there are only two kinds of takeout food in Dundee that are any good.  They are: fish and chips, and Indian/Pakistani food. That's it. I feel lucky because I get to travel for work every couple of months, so every time I go to a bigger city, I seek out decent takeout food - Thai! Mediterranean! Sushi! Even (dare I hope for it?) Mexican! Okay, not really. You have to go all the way to London for that! Also, while the grocery store carries a number of products that we want to buy, they seem to mkae a game of organizing them in the most obscure possible way, so we can't find them. And, although we have also aclimatized to this, the Scottish idea of "customer service" bears only a faint resemblence to what you would see in the U.S. The idea of low profile shop assistants does have some benefit - you will never find a salesperson hovering next to you, glibly inquiring, "May I help you?" But, on the other hand, if you truly need help, sometimes it's like a prairie dog colony - you see salespeople all over the place, and then as soon as you open your mouth to ask a question, they're gone. Whoosh.

Two years of acclimatization. And soon we'll be back, and I'll be writing this blog in reverse.  Talking about how no one in America speaks properly or can cope with the cold.  Having the same unease about driving on the wrong side of the car, and actually driving again after two years of not driving. And of course, realizing that although Americans have proper bagels, marshmallows, S'mores, and of course fabulous takeout food (I'm looking at you, Tucson), the grocery stores will seem strange after two years away, and the salespeople uncomfortably clingy, over-helpful, and just plain American.

Time to acclimatize again.   

Blogs for an Alternate Universe

I've been thinking about writing a blog post about our three-and-a-half-year-old. She is totally into dandelions. She cannot pass a groups of them - or indeed, a single dandelion, without wanting to pick it and take it home, usually for me or my husband.

Dandelions on our street

 It's really cute, even if it does mean I end up with dandelion bits in all of my pockets. There are worse things (like pieces of crunchy granola bar in your pocket. Seriously. Note to granola bar manufacturers; re-sealable packages). But I digress. I wanted to write this post because I remember when our almost-seven-year old was into dandelions, too.  It's a particular cute kid phase, where for a while they're into picking you flowers, and then, they stop. They move on. Suddenly your counters are no longer filled with flowers with impossibly tiny stems, picked by your preschooler.

As I thought about writing this post, I wavered back and forth. Should I write it? I don't tend to blog about the kids (although they are definitely part of the blog.)  I write about travel, about language, about Scotland and living overseas. At one time I was a mommy blogger; if you look far enough back on this blog (and I mean far back, like pre-2010) I wrote about becoming a parent and my now-almost-seven-year-old's achievements when she was a baby. It was what I did when I wasn't writing my dissertation.  But I'm not a mommy blogger anymore.

Which led me to think: in an alternate universe where I wrote blog posts and actually got paid for it in some form, what would I write about? Here are my ideas.  Feel free to state your favorite in the comments here, or on Facebook or Twitter, if that's how you access my blog. If there's support for one idea over the others, I'll start up a Wordpress blog and, as they say here in the UK, I'll give it a go.

Blog Possibility #1: #Myhusbandsrants
This would be a co-created blog because as the name implies, it would be made up of my writing down, and commenting on, my husband's rants.  He rants on a variety of topics, and they are almost always humorous. The content for this blog would be similar to my post The Beard.

Blog Possibility #2: Spiritual Evolution
This would be a blog about links between religion and life written by me as a liberal, non-evangelical, open-minded Christian. The title is inspired by the first question I often get when I tell people that as an undergrad, I majored in biological anthropology (centrally about human evolution and human adaptation) and minored in religion. That question is, "How do you reconcile evolution and religion?"  I have written a few blog posts that talk about Christianity or church but as far as I can tell from my blog statistics, they are not very well-read.

Blog Possibility #3: Productive Me
Hopefully if I actually write this blog I wil come up with a better title for it. It would be about how sleep, daily rhythms and vacation can help you work harder and smarter. This would draw on some of my academic work on sleep and also coverage of these topics in the press.

Blog Possibility #4: #FuturecastingFriday
This would be closest to what I now do on Twitter.  I think I would have to publish each Friday, given the name. But basically I would be interested in writing and sharing information about three areas - the technological future (which I tweet about currently for work as @digitallifespan), the health future (which I tweet about currently for fun as @kayorzech) and also possibly tools for helping groups (especially policymakers and businesses) consider the future (futures toolkits), which I've been researching recently for work and find interesting.

Thanks for reading and I'm interested to hear what you think of these ideas!

Speaking the language

I've given in...

1) You stop using z's (realise, organise) and start adding u's (colour, favour)

2) You start thinking (about your visiting American guests),  "I wonder if they'd fancy a boat trip on the Firth of Forth?"when previously you had thought it sounded hilarious when new Scottish friends asked if you "fancied" something.

3) You can understand that when someone says "I ken twa wee bairns," they mean they know two small children. 

4) You call it America instead of the United States because that's what everyone (including your 3 year old) calls it here [as in "Mummy, when we go back to America, can Audrey and I get bunk beds?"]

5) You visit London, and you miss the way Dundonians greet you in the shops with a cheerful "Hiya."

6) You realise you can now almost sing a verse or two of Muggie Sha' (see the women's singing group I am part of singing it here).

7) You get your kids to sing "Wind the Bobbin Up" when you're brushing their hair.(although all the Youtube versions of this seem to be sung by Americans, I had never heard it until Library Rhyme Time here)

8) You start putting two syllables in girls (gah-uhrls) and world (wah-ruhld).

9) You pronounce Menzieshill "Mean-es-hill," Kirkcaldy "Kir-coddy," and Glamis "Glams."

10) You respond to good ideas with, "Brilliant!"

11) You start thinking "You Canna Shove Your Granny Off The Bus" is sort of catchy (although not very good for your dad's mom, because you find out later in the song that you Can shove her off the bus!) 

12) You say "cheers" back when people say it to you.

So, cheers to you all, seek out the bonny (beautiful) , and avoid the mingen (gross).  Oh,  and when you're singing that song about Loch Lomond, make sure you "tak" the high road or the low road, don't "take" it.

A Bonny Day in Edinburgh

It has already been established that we are American.  This distinguishes us in many ways from Scots, not least of which is the way we handle vacation (or holiday, as they say here).  One of the ways in which Americans are unique (some may say "crazy") is that they tend to cram a lot of vacation activities into a small stretch of time.  You can see this tendency in our previously documented trip to Oban/Mull/Iona/Staffa.

But oops, we did it again. Fortunately our visiting friends are also American so they don't find our "cram everything into a day" behavior odd. We didn't really do everything in Edinburgh, but we did visit two high points (literally) in the Scottish capital in one day, and came home exhausted.  But it was a lovely day.

First we went to Arthur's Seat.  For those of you not familiar with Edinburgh, this is the top of an extinct volcano.  Sources online had tipped me off to the fact that you can drive about halfway up this mountain and then take a 15-to-30-minute (depending upon the source) walk up to the summit. Uphill, sure. But not that far. Allegedly.

Later, in the taxi. The taxi driver regales us with a story of two Canadians who flew to Edinburgh, got a train to Waverly Station, got in his cab and asked to be taken to Arthur's Seat. They had an urn with them and it turned out the ashes belonged to one of their fathers, an Edinburgh native, who wanted to be scattered at the top of Arthur's Seat.  Because the adult child and his/her partner were quite overweight, they took one look at the hill and decided they were not going to make it, so they asked the taxi driver to make the climb.  He obliged, saying it wasn't really the kind of thing you could say "no" to.  But he quoted 45 minutes up the hill and 30 minutes back down as the time for the trip.  And I'm thinking, 45 minutes? For one man and an urn? Without two seven-year-olds and a three-year old who is probably going to need to be carried? We may be in trouble here.

But it turned out OK. Six out of seven made it all the way to the top of Arthur's Seat. And #7 was an adult, so it was okay. 

Kathleen climbing up from Dunsapie Loch where the taxi let us off.

Patrick waiting for me maybe 1/3 of the way up the mountain (Arthur's Seat peak behind him)

Paul, Claire and Patrick, nearly there (Claire rode on Paul's back most of the way)

Success! Paul and the kids at the peak.

More success: John and Patrick

And me! I'm there too! John bemused by girls channeling their inner divas.

But we weren't done yet. As the old saying goes, what goes up must come down.  And so we did, down the other side of the mountain to St. Margaret's Loch, where we had a picnic, and were filmed for a training video.  Not sure what they were training on - the proper art of picnicing? Staying a safe distance from swans? It remains a great mystery.

St. Margaret's Loch, with tone of the 2-person film crew.

Post-hike picnic.

Then, on to the iconic Edinburgh attraction - the Castle. Located, of course, on a big hill at the other end of the Royal Mile. So we called a taxi.  After a brief snafu (Paul: We're at St. Margaret's Loch, at the car park. Dispatcher: We can't send a taxi to you unless you're at an address. Paul:(phoning back after walking 100 feet) Okay we're at #1 Royal Mews. Now send a taxi!))

Orzechs by the Castle Gate

MacCubbins by the Castle Gate

 Once inside, we spit up, though everyone did see the Scottish Crown Jewels (except Paul, who had already seen them twice and has a better memory than some of us who went again because we had forgotten some of the experience...)

After the jewels, there was time for photo ops near the Scottish War Memorial, near the forewall battery (a collection of cannon), and of course our historic meeting with Queen Margaret (later St. Margaret) in the Great Hall, fit in around the all-important afternoon tea.

Claire posing outside the War Memorial.

Kay and Audrey selfie near the forewall battery.

Girls with Queen Margaret in the Great Hall, Edinburgh Castle. 

Finally it was time to head back on the train, in time for a beautiful sunset over the River Tay.

Patrick entertaining the kids with Uno in the train station.

Tay sunset from train window.

The Beard

Some of you may know by now that my husband Paul has a beard. At least for the moment.  He has spent 3 solid months growing it, and grooming it. But now, he finds that everyone has a beard. And this makes him want to shave it off.  But then what? He's thought of a moustache. But then decided that really, Tom Selleck is the only male who can pull this off.

Thank you to the Flickr user who posted this photo, and by the way Paul chose this image of Tom, not me.

After rejecting the moustache, Paul thought of a moustache, sideburns and a little soul patch on his chin.  That keening sound that you hear is me, wailing "Noooooo!"

Then he told me the following story to illustrate why he wanted to get rid of his beard:

When I was over at N's birthday (Audrey's friend who had a birthday party last weekend), whenever I dipped my head down, my beard bristled up - when I stood up tall, it was fine, but as soon as I slouched down,  up it came, foosh (miming a Elizabethan collar around his neck). So I had to trim it!  

So here's the problem.  He wants to get rid of the beard, because everyone now seems to have one. But he has invested 3 months of his life into it and feels like he can't shave because of that.

So he wonders, is that why everyone seems to be walking around with a beard? Because they too want to shave, but feel they've put too much work into it?  It's not really a hipster thing...it's just the pain at throwing away three months of beard-growing work.

Who knew facial hair was so complex psychologically?

The 10 Best Knock Knock Jokes

Yesterday, I made an effort to celebrate St. Patrick's Day in a more American way.  Having witnessed the subdued reception to it on the part of the average Brit, I sought to celebrate my Irish heritage. But, given the demands of having two small(ish) children, I could hardly pop up to the local pub for a pint of Guinness. So I did the next-best thing.  I looked up St. Patrick's Day jokes for kids, which led to jokes more generally.

Our kids are currently into knock-knock jokes, but let me tell you (if you don't already know) - most of the knock knock jokes out there are terrible.  Not like "they're so bad they're funny." Just bad. So I tried to gather the best of the worst, and also divide it by age.

For your 3-year-old
(Simple)
Knock Knock
Who's there?
Ali
Ali who?
Aligator!

(Doesn't make sense, but it doesn't matter, they think it's hilarious anyway)
Knock Knock
Who's there?
Banana
Banana who?
Banana on your head!

For your 6-year-old
(Seasonal)
Knock Knock
Who's there?
Esther
Esther Who?
Esther Bunny!

(If they happen to be British or a Dr. Who fan: currently making the rounds at my daughter's school)
Knock Knock
Who's there?
Doctor
Doctor Who?
You just said it!

(You might have to explain what a fig is)
Knock Knock
Who's there?
Figs.
Figs who?
Figs the doorbell, it's broken!

For your older-than-6-year-old
(Slightly more complicated vocabulary and concepts)
Knock Knock!
Who's there?
Doris!
Doris who?
Doris locked, that's why I knocked.

Knock, knock
Who’s there?
Cash
Cash who?
No thanks, but I’d like some peanuts

(It's all about…timing)
Knock Knock
Who's there?
Interrupting pirate!
Interrup…
ARRRR!


Adults Now
(For you Sound of Music fans)
Knock Knock
Who's there?
Little old lady
Little old lady who?
I didn't know you could yodel

(And finally, a few British jokes)
What did the fish say when it swam into a wall?
Dam.

What's round and bad tempered?
A vicious circle.

What do you call a line of men waiting for a haircut?
A barber queue


Thanks to the following sites from which I culled jokes:
http://www.enchantedlearning.com/jokes/topics/knockknock.shtml
http://amomwithalessonplan.com/knock-knock-jokes-for-kids/
http://lajollamom.com/kid-friendly-knock-knock-jokes/
http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/weird-news/19-silly-christmas-cracker-jokes-4854120

What will I miss about Scotland? The Place.

I was traveling for work this past week, so Tuesday included a 5:30 am start and a trip down to London, and then Guildford, to meet up with colleagues at one of our @digitallifespan partner Universities. At dinner last night, one of my colleagues asked me what I would miss about Scotland when I left (as I plan to do) in seven months. Despite having written several blogs about what I like about Scotland, the first answer that came to mind was not unique to Scotland - it's something we had in Providence, RI, too.  It is community - both Dundee and Providence are small enough cities, and have vibrant neighborhoods, so we feel like we belong there.  You run into people you know - at a coffee shop, in the post office, on the street.  And you can walk a lot of places. Especially in Dundee, but also in Providence, there are commercial streets near residential areas - urban planning done right. Both cities are big enough that are things to do - cultural events, restaurants (well, okay, Dundee gets half-points on restaurants), sporting events - but they have a small-town feel.  150,000 people is my kind of small town.  So when we return to Tucson, the metropolis of 500,000+ (1 million in the greater Pima County area) where you can't even walk to the corner store (what corner store?) I will miss that community.

Courtesy of Wikipedia, sheep in a location that could be Scotland.

The second thing I told my colleague I would miss is something I was reminded of as my boss and I drove from Dundee to Edinburgh Airport (at a you-can-see-unGodly-from-here hour) on Tuesday morning. As we passed out of the city, almost immediately we were in the countryside.  And not the countryside of the US, which still has large towns everywhere, interspersed with uninhabited mountains or forests.  Or in the Midwest, miles and miles of corn or another monocrop.  I'm talking about driving 10 minutes outside the city, and it's rolling hills, sheep, cows, farmhouses...and that continues until you're 10 minutes from the next city.  Bucolic.  It would be like [I imagine] stepping back in time in the US, when there was more rural life and agricultural focus - in Scotland, these are still main foci, celebrated at the Royal Highland Show in June (which, confusingly, is not held in the Highlands). 

Of course we will miss friends that we've made here in Scotland - that's a given. But we will miss the place as well!