Pancake Day/Mardi Gras...whatever it's still awesome!

Mardi Gras is celebrated as Pancake Day here, but there were no pancakes to be had. Instead, this Louisiana girl put the fat in Fat Tuesday.

The cafeteria at the Scottish Parliament is quickly becoming one of my favorite parts of the job. They serve good, hot meals every day for lunch at subsidized prices - thank you, Scottish taxpayers! Today they had a celebratory feast of cajun cuisine, and I helped myself to jambalaya, sweet potatoes, corn, gumbo, a roll, and peach cobbler smothered in custard. It didn't taste quite like home, but for 3.50 GBP total it was an amazing culinary experience. 

Since I've last updated, I haven't had any experiences quite as exciting as my adventures in Stockholm or misadventure making my way home. I'm a working girl now, and this past week has also included two final exams. One more paper due Friday and I'm officially done with school for the semester. But it's becoming increasingly hard to write...

My internship is going well so far. Today was the first day my MSP was in the office, and I had quite a bit of work to do: writing briefs on statistics releases, compiling information for an upcoming debate, and helping with other general office work. One thing that is already apparent is how much of a hands-on internship this is gonna be. The MSPs have very small offices (mine just has one regular assistant), so there is plenty of substantial work to be done.  I feel as though I'm really in the center of the action: My research supervisor showed me a press release the communications guy made from a summary I did today and said it would be all over the papers tomorrow. 

Friday night was my one break night. Some other girls and I went to dinner at The Filling Station, a wannabe American diner/bar. My southern chicken sandwhich was lacking on the southern flair, but I had a pint of cider to wash it down with ahhhh...what am I gonna do when I'm no longer in a place where every bar has cider on tap?  We met up with some other interns at the student union and then went to The Three Sisters, one of my favorite pubs/clubs here right down the street from my flat.

But after that, I studied studied studied to the least of my abilities. I really tried, but being in a foreign country and taking classes pass/fail really put a damper on my motivation. I think my exams went well considering. All I need is 40% to pass, woo hoo! 

Sorry for the somewhat lame, pictureless update, but I promise things will soon become more exciting. This weekend will be full of celebrating my soon school-free status, and I have plans in the works to go to London and Dublin in the next few weeks. 

One thing I love about the Scottish is that they respond to pretty much everything with "cheers" -  from my understanding, it can mean anything from "thank you" to "hello" to "good bye." So cheers, good bye, until next time my dears.

Solo in Stockholm

I am back from the land of the blonde and beautiful, and I have never felt more brunette in my life.

I left Friday afternoon for Stockholm, just me, myself and I. I've been itching to take advantage of Ryan Air's amazing flight deals since I've been here; I want to see as many faraway places as possible while they're at my doorstep. Sweden didn't hold enough lure for anyone else to join me, but I thought traveling alone for a weekend would be a good test for my travel after my program is done. 

I flew into Sweden's Skavsta Airport, which is about 80 minutes outside of Stockholm. Ryan Air typically travels to smaller, farther out airports, but for the price it's worth the hassle. I just booked a flight to Paris for 1 pence total - unbelievable! They're a no frills airline, but totally legit from my experience, although it is a little startling to hear advertisements blasted over the speaker system in flight.

After arriving I took a bus into the city and then a taxi to my hostel. It wasn't far away and I'm all for public transportation, but I didn't feel safe walking at night in an unknown city. The driver took me here, to my hostel on the sea:

[caption id="attachment_201" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="My boat hostel."][/caption]

What could be more Scandanavian than staying on a boat? It was pretty cool, just saying. When I awoke in the morning, I went up to the top deck and had a great view of Stockholm's old town.

[caption id="attachment_203" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="My view."][/caption]

"Holm" means island in Swedish, and Stockholm is a city composed of many islands connected by bridges.  My hostel was on a small island called Skeppsholmen and was very near to Gamla Stan, the island containing the old town.  I crossed the bridge and walked around Gamla Stan's narrow cobblestone streets, stopping for hot chocolate and apple strudel at a bakery cafe (which my guidebook said was an essential Swedish experience) and visited the palace's very beautiful chapel. 

[caption id="attachment_204" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="I thought the swans seemed very Swedish."][/caption]

 

[caption id="attachment_205" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="Gamla Stan street."][/caption]

 

[caption id="attachment_207" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="The royal chapel."][/caption]

With some time to kill before the palace opened, I decided it would be fun to take a boat tour of all the waterways to get an idea of the scope of the city. We made our way away from the main islands out to the less populated ones, one of which has a total of four inhabitants. The tour guide gave us some information about Sweden's public services, which as a political junkie I enjoyed. The income tax rate is around 30%, but almost every facet of life is taken care of by the government. One thing I found really interesting: Swedish women and men are both allowed to take up to 480 days off following the birth of a baby, and are required to be paid 80% of their income for the first 300 days. 

The next stop was the palace, which has the most rooms of any royal residence in the world. I toured the opulent state apartments, a hokey museum, and the royal treasury, which holds the crown jewels. They're particularly crazy about King Gustav III - I had never heard of him, shame on me. One thing I really liked was seeing the room where the Nobel Prize winners have a dinner following their receipt of the awards. 

[caption id="attachment_208" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="The palace."][/caption]

I then walked to Sodermalm, the young 'n hip island, and peeked into a bustling food marketplace. While knowing German helped me quite a bit in Sweden, the food words confused me endlessly and I didn't want to be the annoying American who held up everyone to have the entire menu explained to her. So I settled on a place where the pictures spoke for themselves:

[caption id="attachment_210" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="Swedish fast food, I likes it."][/caption]

Stockholm is full of these "korv" stands, and as a sausage fan I was in hog heaven. I got a sausage and two lumps of mashed potatos with spices and ate happily while watching people in the square.

[caption id="attachment_214" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="Since I couldn't take pictures of myself, I took pictures of my food."][/caption]

I looked around Sodermalm a bit (it's elevated and has very nice views of the city), and then went to the Kungsgarden, a park in central Stockholm. It wasn't that impressive of a park, but one thing I loved seeing was the outdoor ice rink. Free entry and a minimal cost to rent skates (but I'm sure most Swedes have their own).  I love watching ice skating and skating myself, but since I was solo and very, very cold by that point I decided to skip it.

[caption id="attachment_213" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="Any culture that likes ice skating is a culture I like."][/caption]

Saturday night was pretty uneventful. I didn't want to go out alone and politely declined an invitation from my male hostel mate to party late into the night with him and two other guys, so I stayed in and made a good dent in Twilight. I was expecting it to be a page turner from all the hype, but I was disappointed: low level writing, a somewhat uneventful plot, bad messages for girls. I am not in love with Edward Cullen!

On Sunday I went to Skansen, a huge open air museum on Djurgarden Island that contains a traditional Swedish village and animals. I enjoyed seeing the Swedish horses and strangely skinny pigs, but I think it's a place one should go with children. The rest of the day included me having two more sausages (one from 7-Eleven which are strangely popular in Stockholm), walking around some more, seeing some nice art at the National Museum, and finishing Twilight at the Kulturhusset, a building that has cafes, a theater, museums, and a reading room. 

[caption id="attachment_216" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="Isn't she a pretty one?"][/caption]

I was all pumped that I had managed to travel alone, enjoy myself, and not be in sketchy situations, but the trip was far from over. My flight was delayed at Skavsta due to a "passenger who has a problem which will prevent him from flying with us," and when I got to Glasgow's Prestwick Airport, the train to the Central Station didn't arrive for over an hour. Then, we were told there was work being done on the line, so we took the train only a few stops and had to get on a slow-moving bus to a stop farther down the line, and then had to get back on the train. This mess put me at Central around 1 am, far too late to catch a train back to Edinburgh.

I was the last person in the station (someone actually escorted me out) and I wandered the streets of Glasgow frantic until I found the Euro Hostel, stayed there for a few hours and then caught the 6 am train to Edinburgh, showered, and then went to my first day of work. Whew! A big thanks here to the great guy I called in my panic who helped me figure things out. It wasn't such a fun time to be alone.

Random musings about Sweden, and the experience in general:

- Not everyone was blonde, but I did see alot of very tall, very thin, very pretty blonde women.

- The people weren't unfriendly, but they certainly weren't as friendly as the Scottish or the Taiwanese.

- Apart from the horror of Sunday night, my least favorite part of traveling alone was staying in the hostel by myself, especially because all of my roommates were men. Also, it would have been nice to have someone to share the experience with. 

- I'm always amazed when I travel at the influence American culture has had on the rest of the world. The ice skaters in the park skated to Cold Play, someone's ring tone in the Kulturhusset was the "Bad Boys" song, and as is true everywhere, there were a large number of American fast food establishments.

- No sightings of Swedish fish, but I did have a Swedish gummy candy that I think is the real Swedish equivalent.

Work has been good so far, but after getting berated about it yesterday, most of what I do is off limits for the blogosphere. Generally I've just been doing alot of research, writing briefings, and otherwise helping the reasearch team do what they need to do. It's parliamentary recess this week, so things should really pick up next week when the MSPs are back in the building.

On a closing note, I'm now much more tolerant of the weather in Edinburgh after spending the weekend in a much colder place. The sun was out today, and I hope it comes back soon.

Nice n' Sleazy in Glasgow

The London snow didn't make it here the way I wanted it to, but we did get a couple days of light flurries. There was even enough "proper snow" to blanket the courtyard outside my apartment one morning, and someone constructed a little snowman. Maybe after someone pulled the fire alarm at 1:45 am Sunday? grrrrr - waiting outside in the cold for the fire brigade to arrive in the wee hours of the morning is not so fun. 

There are some less than romantic qualities about snow, though, that I've never experienced living in the warm climates of Louisiana and Southern California. For one, snow - and the ice it turns into - makes walking on the street very difficult. I should've brought shoes with better traction. I've made a fool of myself a number of times so far walking to and from class at a snail's pace and stepping cautiously. Even so, I've slipped a bunch. 

Last week was void of field trips except for scheduled meetings with our Members of Scottish Parliament (MSPs). I was assigned to Mary Scanlon, who is shadow cabinet secretary for health for the Conservative Party. I went in twice last week to meet with Mary and get my security pass for the building; I start work Monday. I'm going to wait to say much about what I'll be doing in my job until I learn about the confidentiality policy (I've heard it's strict), but I'm excited to work on the projects they've mentioned to me. If anyone wants a VIP tour of the Scottish Parliament building, I can be your guide.

Last weekend three other girls and I went to Glasgow, Scotland's largest city. We left Friday afternoon and stayed through Saturday evening. Glasgow's only a fifty minute train ride from Edinburgh, but I felt as though I were a world away. It's a bustling, noisy city that's considerably more modern than quaint, romantic Edinburgh but still with ancient charm. I really enjoyed seeing the integration of old and new. 

After we dropped our bags at our hostel, McLay's guest house, we walked to the East end of the city and to the Glasgow Cathedral. It was closed for the day by the time we arrived, but it was a beautiful building. It was cold (even colder than Edinburgh) and we were hungry by that point, so we hit up a pub for dinner. The deal was two meals for 5 pounds (serious cheapness), and of course I took them up it, ordering a full Scottish breakfast from the deal menu. I enjoyed 2 fried eggs, 2 sausages, bacon, baked beans, half a roasted tomato, and mushrooms. Along with a pint of cider, it was a satisfying meal.  Mmmmm. 

[caption id="attachment_187" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="Glasgow Cathedral."][/caption]

 

[caption id="attachment_188" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="Random lions at St. George Square in the center of Glasgow."][/caption]

 

[caption id="attachment_189" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="Cool building on St. George Square."][/caption]

That night we did a pub/club crawl of sorts, and the four of us stuck out as Americans pretty much everywhere we went. We had some interesting run-ins with Scottish lads (one of whom was eating fried black pudding - aka blood - ewww) and went  to a place called Nice n' Sleazy, highly recommended by the guidebook but sleazy in actuality. 

[caption id="attachment_191" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="Mid-pub crawl Friday night."][/caption]

Saturday morning we awoke early to take advantage of the hostel's included breakfast (another full Scottish breakfast for me!) and ventured to the West end of the city and the botanical gardens. What should have been a 20-minute walk turned into an hour of getting lost repeatedly, but I didn't mind because it was nice to see a good bit of the city. 

The botanical gardens would have been beautiful in full bloom, I'm sure, but Scotland's weather isn't conducive to flowering plants in the winter. There was a neat glass house on the property, though, that housed a room just for "killer plants" - pitcher plants and venus fly traps, mostly.

[caption id="attachment_192" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="Getting lost on the way to the botanical gardens."][/caption]

 

[caption id="attachment_193" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="I'm bummed I didn't know about this place when I was applying to college."][/caption]

 

[caption id="attachment_194" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="The glass house, home to "killer plants.""][/caption]

We made our way back toward the hostel and had lunch at the Willow Tea Room. I had a great brie sandwich (surprise) and a pot of honey & almond tea. Very good, and an essential Scottish experience, I think. I'm so classy now.

We made our way back toward the train station, stopping to gaze at the eccentric exhibits at the Gallery of Modern Art and to do a little bit of shopping. I was wearing my backbacking backpack and thus wasn't really in the mood to shop, but I'm definitely going back to just do that. Glasgow is said to have the best shopping in the UK after London. 

Close to the train station, we caught a train in about fifteen minutes (trains run between Edinburgh and Glasgow very frequently) and made our way back to the home city. 

Thanks to the deep pocketbooks of USC (aka I'm still paying USC tuition to work for free here), I got to go to a rugby match at no cost on Sunday afternoon. It was a big one: Scotland v. Wales. They're playing the 6 Nations tournament right now and Wales is the favorite to win, so it was a good game to see. 

We were supposed to meet at Edinburgh Haymarket station, so I caught a train there with tons of other rugby fans. Exiting at the station was a nightmare; I was a small fish in a sea of blue and white being pushed around by people much burlier than myself. They blocked off the streets on the way to the stadium, and I followed men in kilts and people with painted faces (blue for Scotland and red for Wales) to "The Famous Grouse" stadium. (Grouse is a kind of whisky; I asked). 

[caption id="attachment_196" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="Kilted men on the way to the stadium."][/caption]

 

[caption id="attachment_197" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="The rugby men in action."][/caption]

I decided I like rugby better than American football because it's much more fast-paced. The ball is basically never dead. The fans are awesome, too. They all sing songs together when their team scores and wave flags around and cheer their country's name. Scotland lost by a pretty big margin, but not being so attached to the team I didn't enjoy the experience any less. 

Note of interest: I tried my first Scottish hot dog. It was OK but reminded me strangely of haggis, so it was hard to eat. I'm gonna stay away if I can from now on.

Yesterday the interns toured the Writer's Museum of Edinburgh, an ode to Burns, Scott, and Stevenson. It was lame-o, but I did learn that Walter Scott was born on the site of the building I'm living in now. Neat, huh? 

After tomorrow I'll be done with class for good this semester! But I still have two finals and a paper to write, so the doneness isn't quite official yet.

I'm off to Stockholm this weeked solo. I wonder if I can get Swedish fish there?

Conquering the Pap of Glen Coe

It's Groundhog Day, and I'm not happy with Punxsutawney Phil. I really could have used an early spring. But I don't really have anything else to complain about because I just had a wonderful three-day adventure in the Scottish Highands. So I'll give Phil a break. I like the snow anyway.

On Friday morning, twelve of us met at the Edinburgh train station at an ungodly early hour. But any tiredness was replaced with excitement, at least for me, because this was the Harry Potter train! In reality it's called the West Highland Railway, but I know it because it was filmed for the Hogwarts Express scenes in the movies. The Rough Guide calls it one of the great railway journeys of the world, and it did not disappoint.

After a stopover in Glasgow, the train made its way up Scotland's western coast. We passed through beautiful lochs, mountain ranges, sheep herds (only in Scotland), and by train stops that didn't seem to be in any sort of town at all. The whole group got up to gawk and take pictures as we passed over the Glennfinnan Viaduct - If you're a Harry Potter fan you'll definitely recognize it. 

Our first stop was Morar, a completely deserted town overlooking a stunning white sand beach. The wind was absolutely insane as we made our way down to the beach and stopped to take pictures. Any hopes of getting a hot drink were thwarted when we returned back to the teeny town and found that nothing was open; Many places in Scotland shut down for the winter months when it's not tourist season. 

[caption id="attachment_169" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="Battling the wind on the beach at Morar."][/caption]

With two hours to kill we asked for suggestions at a gas station down the road, and the attendant told us to hike to Mallaig, which she described as a "bustling port city." After a scenically impressive hour-long trek by the coast, we arrived in not-so-bustling Mallaig, which I would not describe as a city.  But it was nice to see nonetheless, and we pretty quickly caught our train to Fort William.

In Fort William we made our way to our hostel, checked into themed rooms (I was in the Scottish actors room and slept in the Ewan McGregor bed), and ventured into town for dinner and a pub crawl. Fort William isn't so hopping with the 25 and under crowd: Most of the people we saw were at least in their forties.  But that's not to say they didn't know how to have fun;  We watched many Fort Williamites drink to excess and get their groove on on the dance floor.  Age aside, they were like any other college students I know. I even joined them dancing for a bit while the DJ played some of my favorite songs (Who would have known they'd actually play "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" at a Scottish pub?).

[caption id="attachment_170" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="View of Fort William from the hostel."][/caption]

On Saturday morning we took a bus into Glen Coe, a picturesque village on a loch surrounded by a mountain range that is known as one of the most beautiful places in Scotland. Our rustic hostel was nestled into the mountains on a one-lane road that didn't have anything going on except incredible scenery.

[caption id="attachment_172" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="Glen Coe hostel."][/caption]

The group set out for a hike up a mountain called the "Pap" of Glen Coe (translates into the boob of Glen Coe) across the street, pledging to turn back with enough time to come down before dark. It was a poorly marked trail full of loose rocks and thick plots of mud but with stunning views of the range and the loch. Others began trickling off, but five of us decided to continue on to the top even as the time we said we would head back passed. One of the other interns is a certified wilderness first responder and commented that what we were about to do went against everything he had been taught, but we still did it, knowing we would probably regret it if we turned back. So we made our way through foot-deep patches of snow and up the final summit which was basically a huge pile of rocks.  Other climbers were decked out in boots, poles, and other complicated-looking climbing gear; I was wearing tennis shoes and a sweatshirt. 

[caption id="attachment_174" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="View from the lower part of the hike."][/caption]

 

[caption id="attachment_175" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="Trekking through the snow."][/caption]

The view from the top was indescribably thrilling and beautiful, but I didn't get to enjoy it very long as we had to move out pronto. The wind at the top was dangerously fast, and the sun was beginning to set. I fell on the snow numerous times on the way down, but thankfully we made it back unharmed just as the sky turned completely dark. We were darn lucky. Definitely not the safest decision I've ever made but worth it in the end.

[caption id="attachment_176" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="The final challenge."][/caption]

 

[caption id="attachment_178" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="I made it alive!"][/caption]

 

[caption id="attachment_179" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="The survivors."][/caption]

 

[caption id="attachment_180" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="View of the "Pap" of Glen Coe from town."][/caption]

The Clachaig Inn a mile up the road was probably the only place in Glen Coe we could have gotten dinner that night even if we had wanted to go somewhere else, but it was a nice place for a warm meal. The pub next to the restaurant had live music, so we went there after we finished eating and watched "The Shenanigans" play such Scottish classics as "Brown Eyed Girl" and "Sweet Home Alabama." Butchered is probably a better word to use, because as the self-described short men got drunker, the songs started making less and less sense. It was a fun crowd with the same demographic as the night before. One of the interns commented that he felt as though he were watching his mom and her friends dancing.

On Sunday morning some of us hiked back to the inn to see where the scenes for Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban had been shot and were able to locate the spot of Hagrid's Hut. Success! I was a little embarrassed asking the woman at the hotel to tell me exactly where the filming took place, but I fly my Harry Potter flag proudly. 

[caption id="attachment_182" align="alignnone" width="500" caption="Location of Hagrid's cottage in Azkaban - but no Daniel Radcliffe sightings :("][/caption]

After walking back to town we boarded a bus back to Fort William and hung out in a grocery store for a few hours before catching the train back to Edinburgh. I managed to find a package of brie for 60 pence, so I was content in my waiting. 

It was a great weekend, and now I'm back to the routine of class and excursions. In exciting news, some of the London snow made its way here today. I'm hoping to wake up tomorrow to a blanket of white, so let it snow!