One Year in Scotland: Five Reasons We Love It

1. They take care of you

Scottish ambulance

 By this I mean that here in Scotland, there are many things that we would be worried about in the States that we don't have to worry about here.  Chief among these is health care; while in the US it's a complicated mess of employer sponsored care, here it's simple.  You show up at the local health centre, register, and you're on the rolls. Your children are automatically sent reminders for well-child checks and vaccinations. If you have a problem, call, or walk up the hill and make an appointment.  Another non-worry: preschool.  In the US if you're middle income & up, you pay for private preschool.  Here, you're guaranteed 15 hours per week of preschool (nursery) once your child turns 3.  No charge. A big one (though we won't be here long enough to take advantage of this) University is still tuition-free in Scotland.  So if you're Scottish and you apply for a place in a Scottish University and are accepted, you pay zero tuition.  

2. There is work/life balance

 The biggest difference in Scotland (and the UK) is the amount of time people have off.  People, no matter what their job, have weeks of leave, not just days.  It's usual to get emails back when you send something out that say, "I am away on annual leave until [2 weeks from now]. I will reply to you on my return [OR, contact this person, email provided]." People don't seem to think they're indispensable in the same way they do in the States.  Maternity leave is a lot longer too - at least 6 months, often a year, and advertisements are put out for maternity leave cover with regularity. It takes some getting used to. When we arrived last September, I started my job and realized I had nine or ten days of leave that I needed to take before the end of the calendar year. It makes taking time off, especially when kids are out of school, seem like a much more normal part of life rather than juggling childcare when kids are out of school. 

3. Food is fresh and local, by default

 We happen to live in the "soft fruit" belt of Scotland.  So that means fresh, local strawberries, raspberries, blackberries, blueberries, and even tayberries (a mix of blackberry and raspberry, so named because they grow near the River Tay.)  Even in the local Tesco, they feature local produce when possible.  Meat is the same - we have a local butcher who sells local meat and eggs - when Paul asked him where the lamb came from, the butcher gestured across the River Tay and said "Right over there." 

 

 

4. There is a culture of walking and taking public transport

 We have lived here just over one year, and I do not drive.  We live walking distance from my work and Audrey (and now Claire's) school. We walk to all our regular activities (singing, yoga, Rainbows for Audrey (a bit like Brownies)) with the exception of swimming lessons. If it's too far to walk to get to the city centre, or the other side of town, buses run regularly, except on Sundays.  Trains also run regularly, and it's easy (and often cheap) to get a train to Glasgow, Edinburgh, or into England. People walk a lot.  And the buses are well-used by everyone.  In our early days in Dundee, a man struck up a conversation with me on the bus to tell me that when he went to America, he was never more scared than when he rode the bus in Orlando, Florida.  It was definitely not the friendly atmosphere of a Scottish bus for him.   

5. There is obvious national pride

 For a place with the approximate land area of the state of Maine (see this Telegraph article for 50 facts about Scotland) there is a lot of national pride.  Many visible symbols reflect this: the national dress (no pun intended) of the kilt, the strong interest in highland dancing (accomplished in tartan and featuring at just about every gathering of Scots), highland games, and of course bagpipes and bagpipers.  Then there are the national drinks of Scotch whisky in its innumerable varieties, and Irn Bru, a Scottish orange drink in one variety, and the national dish of Haggis.  Accompanied, of course, by the Scottish poet Robert Burns (or as they say here, Rabbie Burns, see my earlier post on Burns Night, which features both haggis and poetry (and of course, highland dancing, see above)). There are Scottish sweets like Tunnocks caramel wafers and tea cakes (see my earlier blog on sweeties and biscuits here), not to mention Scottish jams, Scottish tablet (imagine fudge and sugar mated), and Scottish shortbread.  When I attended a one-day conference at the University recently, the attendees were welcomed into the building by a bagpiper playing out front, and the conference bags contained a mini Walker's Shortbread and a copy of The Beano (a local Dundee comic book, still in print).  Now there's pride for you - for Scotland and for Dundee.      

Bonus: 

Watch Scottish comedian Michael MacIntyre talk about the birth of the kilt here on Youtube

If you enjoyed this post, why not visit Part 2 of my One Year in Scotland series:   One Year in Scotland: 3 Reasons to Think Again.

Life Beyond Scotland

I read a blog post today by Cathy Day, on the site The Millions.  Normally when I read blogs, I enjoy them; maybe they make me think a bit differently, maybe I send a note to the author (since I am most often reading the blogs of people I know), maybe I share them on Twitter.  But today, reading this post, entitled The Magic Building Where English Majors Work, I felt like Ms. Day had installed a secret camera trained on me for the past 15 years, and was documenting my life story in one blog post. Wow. And kind of creepy, all at once.

So, a blog about a blog about creative writing (or in my case, anthropology).  Yes, I was that idealistic student she references, who wanted to major in anthropology.  I think most of us have that idealistic side, except perhaps for people who go into college knowing they're going to be engineers. Although she ultimately supports the creativity and freedom of writing (anthropology), she does talk about the other side - a Practical Major which could Get You A Job.  I think I was the only anthropology major who took three Business courses in my last year of school (Accounting, awful. Economics, okay. Marketing...hey, isn't this pretty much anthropology?)  If my current self could give my 18-year-old self one piece of advice, it would be "Major in Computer Science. You can always write on the side."

Reading on in Ms. Day's blog, I identified with the "communications specialist" jobs that she encouraged her idealistic student to consider, even if it was with a "welding company."  The older I get, the better the welding company looks. Just after I graduated from college I chafed at a company where I had to write in a very prescribed manner (down to word choice - you couldn't say "usually," you had to say "typically"). But now, that requirement looks eminently doable and I can see interesting challenges everywhere, even writing about welding materials (this example is particularly resonant since I am now married to a welder, another change from my idealistic college days).

And of course I saw myself in the adjunct professor.  I have been there. The students do not know the difference.  They do not know that you get paid a flat per-course rate, which is at least bordering on (if not outright) abysmal. They still expect stellar teaching, lots of time put into comments, career advice and recommendations. Which you give, because you want them to succeed, even as you are applying far and wide to try to catch that elusive brass ring of a tenure-track job.    

So now here I am in Scotland. Working at my anthropology-related second post-doc, trying to balance everyday life (I go to work, kids go to school, go to kid (swimming, Rainbows) and adult (singing, yoga) activities, try to make friends, see people, do things, live life) with an adventurous life (which is probably what people in the States see more of, as I post the scenic parts of being here and traveling around, rather than the everyday life).  Thinking about Life Beyond Scotland, the adventure coming to an end, or at least moving somewhere Stateside. Maybe to a welding company. Watch this space.    

Dundee Flower and Food Festival 2014

This morning I started my day tromping through the grass and mud, trees and gravel parking lots of Camperdown Park in Dundee.  The group I sing with, Loadsaweeminsingin (previous blog about the group here) has a regular gig at the festival.  After the aforementioned tromping, I (and Paul, and the girls) finally found the parking lot we were meeting in, and moved on to warming up (both vocally and physically - although it wasn't raining this morning, Scotland in early September is not exactly warm).  When we got to the stage, my fan club were the only ones in the audience.  The audience did grow once we started singing, but this experience reinforced what I suspected - 10:30 on a Sunday morning is pretty early for Scots.

I'm about third from right - Paul's camera image

 After we finished singing at 11, we explored the flower and food festival.  Well, okay, first we let the kids ride the rides. 

On the ubiquitous merry go round ride - driving the bulldozer this time.

Finally getting big enough for the harnessed-trampoline-jumping ride!

Then we watched Indian dancing.  Then we ate lunch. THEN we explored the festival.  It reminded Paul and I of a cross between the St. Andrews Highland Games (blog here) and the Royal Highland Show (blog here).  It was a bit like the Highland Games in scale - a small fun fair, a good bit of Highland Dancing (and the accompanying bagpiping).  It was a bit like the Highland Show in its several tents packed with stalls and displays.  In this case, the stalls were selling fancy food, including jam, cheese, beef and lamb, hard cider, Scotch whisky, and various kinds of sweets (most with samples!) and the displays were of flowers, plants and vegetables.  It was definitely much smaller than the Highland Show, and there were also no animals, which of course are the main point of the Highland Show.  The Flower and Food festival didn't have a single sheep or cow (at least a live one, though they were well-represented in alternate forms in the Food section).

The vegetables were quite welcoming

Did I mention Claire likes carrots, and wanted to pose with them?

You know you wondered where the took place...Ireland would have been my guess. 

Given the popularity of jam in the food tent, I should have taken a picture of (not kidding) the booth for the World Jampionships, which are sponsored by a Scottish jam producer (MacKays, pronounced McKies) and won by a man from Dundee in 2014. 

We finally did find flowers as well!

Prizewinning dahlias

Other prizewinning flowers

Even Audrey got into the flower (or rather, tree) spirit, and fell in love with a Bonsai tree.  She wanted a big tree, but compromised on a little one - this is her with "Rosie" - she's chatted to her all afternoon, trying to get her to break out in the promised white flowers.  And no, Audrey isn't looking a little green - she chose the "witch" face-painting at the festival, while Claire went for a glitter tattoo of a princess crown. 

Audrey and Rosie the Bonsai.

The Dentist, Dundee Sushi and the Impending #indyref

It sounds like the beginning of a bad joke...a dentist walks into the Dundee sushi bar and says, "So what do you think about the Referendum?" But really it's just a quick collection of thoughts about things Scottish, different, and unique that I have experienced in the last week.

 Take the dentist.  Both Paul and I went for our checkups and cleanings this week.  We go to a National Health Service (NHS) dentist, because it's cheaper, and I couldn't think of a reason why we shouldn't. But here's the difference between going to the dentist in the US vs. in Scotland: In both places, they offer you a cleaning every 6 months.  In the US, this means a nice cleaning and polishing with a well-trained dental hygienist, and a little visit with the dentist.  The whole appointment takes 30-45 minutes. Without insurance (and in the States we only had dental insurance half the time) this costs you about $90-$100.  In Scotland, the appointment is 20 minutes long.  The dentist, assisted by the dental nurse, power-washes your teeth with water and then polishes them (quickly) with the same kind of toothpaste used in the States. Visiting a NHS dentist, this costs you (with today's exchange rate) $17.20.  Another difference - in the States, they start cleaning your children's teeth (and taking your money) when they are around 3 years old.  Here, the NHS doesn't reimburse dentists for cleaning the teeth of anyone under 18. According to our dentist, dentists will clean children's teeth for free if they're "really bad." We're kind of equivocal - for two years, you get what you pay for, and dental care is minimal - but so is the cost.  But the Scots have notoriously bad teeth, and I wonder if the dentist situation has something to do with it.

Visiting the new sushi restaurant in Dundee was another lesson in cultural difference. I had previously been told by my boss that sushi was seen as kind of "sissy" food in Dundee, and that was why there was no Japanese food.  But apparently enough people were ready to overcome this stereotype that TWO places serving sushi opened up this summer.  The full restaurant, where we went for my birthday, was expensive - not a big surprise for a sushi place.  It was also very salmon-heavy.  Almost all the sushi had a salmon element - perhaps one of the markers of a Scottish sushi place.  The other sushi place - a juice bar that serves sushi on the side - sells sushi by the piece, so you can buy (approximately) 1/3 of a California roll for a pound ($1.65).  When I ordered my pieces of California roll, I was asked if I wanted crab or salmon in it...I didn't understand at first - what do you mean, salmon? There's no salmon in a California roll! The other ingredient that shows up in Dundee sushi is mayonnaise. I'm not sure if this is to hold the sushi together, or if there is some other meaning to it.  But my boss (originally from London, and a sushi aficionado)  mentioned it and I noticed it at both places. Avoiding the mayonnaise-containing rolls, it tasted like regular sushi. 

Lamppost citizenship near our house

Finally, the independence referendum -coming up in 16 days.  We have received a number of booklets through our letterbox from both sides, the Yes literature painting an impossibly bucolic picture of an Independent Scotland, and the Better Together (or, No) literature, branded with the British government logos, a bit stodgily stating the wisdom of staying together. Signs and stickers in windows are multiplying, and I'm beginning to see a few "No, Thanks" stickers and signs interspersed with the Yes ones. People are starting to come out of the woodwork to win you over to their side - a friend who's lived in Scotland most of her life, but is originally English, recently posted on Facebook that it's time to "nail her colours to the mast" for Better Together, and the research participants I've talked with about the #indyref seem evenly divided, and even a bit apathetic for the younger (18-20 year old) voters.  And, of course, NPR published a puff piece on Scotland's National Drink - no, not Scotch whisky, but Glasgow-made Irn Bru (pronounced Iron Brew), and orange soda beloved by Scots, mainly because it is Scottish.  By the way, although Scotland is small (in population), there are plenty of independent nations smaller than Scotland (see this link for the Rand McNally "smallest 10" by population).  The most recent Scottish population figure is 5.3 million in 2011 (whereas the sheep population, as of 2013, is 6.57 million - you know you were wondering.)

Irn Bru image from Flickr; Edinburgh train bridge behind it.

What's so special about these rocks and shells?

Scottish rocks, mostly from Arbroath

Disclaimer: this post is not about Scotland.  Well, okay, the rocks and shells were collected in Scotland, but that's just incidental.

It's hard to tell from a picture what's special about a rock.  You can see, in my amateur photograph, that some of them are nicely shaped, or maybe that they have a nice coloration, or that they have a unique feature, like the hole in the center rock that has trapped a small white shell.  These are the things that initially draw me to a rock - its shape, its color, its uniqueness.  But what leads me to put the rock in my pocket rather than just examining it and throwing it back (preferably toward the water, to hear the satisfying "clink" as it hits other rocks and "splash" as it makes its way into the sea) is the feel of the rock.  A rock I keep is one that I'd like to carry around in my pocket like a talisman. The round grey rock in the center of the small rock arrangement is a carry-around rock.  It's smooth, small, round. I think Claire, even though she's only 3, has inherited some of my rock-feel tendencies. She picked up the large grey rock at the top left of the photo in Abroath, and refused to part with it.  I could relate. Even though it's too big to be a carry-around rock, it has the same feel to it.   

Shells from Gairloch

I am similarly attracted to shells, not so much for the feel, but more for their aesthetics. I like unbroken shells with unusual colors.  Claire was attached to the pink shell at the top, so we brought it home - I might have thrown it back because of the extra calcification.

After we collected shells at Gairloch and Arbroath over the summer, I decided that I wanted to display the shells.  This was tricky, because small children and "shells you want to keep whole" don't really mix.  So I hit on the wineglass solution - it's not like we really drink wine anyway, so no one will miss them. In the wineglass, the tiny shells are visible but harder to crush.  The sea glass mixes in nicely too.  If I was crafty, I'd make sea glass jewelry.

Tiny Gairloch shells and a few bigger ones from Arbroath

More Gairloch shells

I love the fragility of the shells, and the robustness of the rocks.  But when I pick them up by the sea or the river, I know they'll never quite be the same as they are in that moment.  Freshly washed off shells and rocks glisten in the sunlight.  Small clam or mussel shells or periwinkles hang together as a pair.  Different colored rocks assert their uniqueness against a background of brown and grey. When I take them home, inevitably they dry off and become duller.  The pairs break apart, and the rocks that looked so brightly colored on the beach pale in comparison with some of my shiny stones at home.

Yet my windowsill is filled with rocks and shells, collected recently, and even a few that I picked up a long time ago that I secretly snuck in a box last year to be shipped all the way to Scotland (shh, don't tell Paul).   In the middle of the dark Scottish winter, I can look at (and hold) my rocks and shells and be back on the coast, poking around through piles of gifts washed in by the latest high tide, searching for perfection to slide into my pocket and take home.     

Mull, Iona, and Staffa: Visiting Western Scottish Isles

The weather was with us.  And in Scotland, that's really everything. 

Crazy Americans that we are, we decided to do the all-in-one-day approach.  So we sailed from Oban on the 7:30 am ferry to the Isle of Mull. Hoping to make the ferry to Iona before 10 am, we drive straight across Mull to Fiannphort, which was a bit of a shame.  The clouds were clearing as we drove, and Mull looked amazing: lush, green, with ferns, hills, waterfalls and lakes everywhere.  We kept saying, "Wow, that's amazing!" and occasionally pulling over to the side of the (one lane...single track, they call it here) road to snap a picture, or twelve.

Mull, the Land Before Time, with ferns

Gorgeous lakes and clouds on Mull

It took us an hour and twenty minutes to cross Mull, and we pulled into Fionnphort about 10 minutes ahead of the ferry departure.  By now the weather was totally clear, giving us a fabulous view across to the Isle of Iona.

Small ferry to Iona. You can take a car on this one with special reservations,  but it's mostly passengers.

Iona ahead!

Once we got to Iona we walked on the white sand beach for a few minutes before heading up the hill to the nunnery, abbey, and Iona community.

The Nunnery on Iona

Iona abbey altar with sun

St. Martin's Cross, Iona Abbey grounds

Iona Abbey from the Hill of the Abbot, possible site of St. Columba's writing hut

View, Sheep, Remnants of the Bishop's House

We wandered around the grounds of the abbey for quite a while with our audio guides, and Paul even tried to take a tour (while juggling Claire, who wanted to go with him). Audrey preferred to read gravestones in the graveyard, so we went off to do that, listening to audio about history and the local environment along the way. After a while we wandered back down the hill and ate lunch on the beach, and got ready to board the boat for Staffa. What we didn't know when we boarded was that Staffa was a 50-minute boat ride away, most of it across open ocean.  

The boat to Staffa

It was a nice, calm day.  Really, couldn't ask for better.  But a tiny boat on the open ocean still meant a very rough ride.  The girls kept saying, "It's like a teeter-totter!" And it was.

Staffa, the basalt island with caves

On top of Staffa

Inside Fingal's Cave, Staffa

Staffa was quite cool, made of basalt, like the better-known Giant's Causeway in Northern Ireland. We spent about an hour exploring it, then got back on the tiny boat.  Fun as the Staffa trip was, we can't say we were sorry to get back to the much larger Isle of Mull, and to drive back onto the much larger Caledonian MacBrayne (CalMac) ferry that took us back to Oban, 14 hours after we'd begun our adventure that morning. I don't think we'll be going back to Staffa (at least on a tiny boat!) but we'd go back to beautiful Oban, Mull and Iona anytime!

CalMac ferry, opening up for cars and buses (this was a BIG ferry)

A Manner of Speaking: Four Curious English and Scottish Expressions

I admit it. I am a native English speaker.  But even that qualification has failed to prepare me for some of the expressions I have run into over the past 10 months in Scotland.  These expressions have ranged from funny to apt to utterly unintelligible, requiring translation by a native speaker. Below are a few of my favorites: first, two heard from my English work colleagues, and then two Scottish expressions.

"It's like an octopus in a string bag!" This one was funny, and seemed a very fitting way to describe the reorganization of University administration, which is what the speaker was doing when I overheard her. I just conjured up a mental picture of all the higher level administrators being tossed into a string bag and reaching out, wreaking havoc all around.

"He's got short arms and long pockets." This from another colleague, describing someone who always seemed to be short of money (despite being well-paid) and never reached for his wallet to pay for coffee or lunch.

"Have a blether" This from our singing tutor (i.e., the woman who runs the singing group I am a part of, who is originally from England - Yorkshire - but did fool me for a long while into thinking she was Scottish) about what we ladies can do during the break halfway through the class - meaning have a chat or gossip amongst ourselves.

"That's mingin" I was first introduced to this expression by my English boss who has spent many years in Scotland (similar to the singing tutor above) when we were trying to re-hang a rolling blind in our office that had gotten stuck.  The reason it had gotten stuck was partly because it was sticky, and well, mingin.  I later heard it in a play - when the parents kissed, the kids squealed "that's mingin" and I was proud to know what it meant. According to the online resource the Caledonian Mercury, the word originally meant bad-smelling but has morphed into a more general gross, disgusting kind of meaning.