M* really likes the tile outside of our accommodation.
Lovely, wooden canal boats by our accommodation.
M* outside the Rijksmuseum—it's as close as we got, as the museum had just closed.
We bypassed the restaurants in touristy Leidseplein, and, luckily, stumbled upon Casa Peru.It's 4am, and we have 15 minutes before we leave 29 Owlstone Road the last time as tenants. We will return at the end of the month to stay as guests of the new tenants, our friends James and Manuela. We're too exhausted at the moment to be too emotional, and we know that we have a bit more time to spend with the cows and walk along the Cam. Plus we're really excited to see friends and family in the Netherlands, Germany and Croatia. Life is good.
Sad day. My bike returns to its original home—University Cycles.
One of the errands on my to-do list yesterday was buying "congratulations you had a baby" and "congratulations you're pregnant" gifts. By far the best store in Cambridge for such gifts is Ark. As is usual, while choosing the baby gifts, I found myself ogling something I had not planned on buying. The need not to buy anything was hard to resist, as I had just been at the post office shipping items that would not fit in our luggage. However, the stylish design of Uchi products, which Ark just began carrying, convinced me that there would be room in my luggage for one or two additional small items.
At first I thought I had found a great new black purse for myself, then I realized it was part of
their Mister Uchi Line (a shaver bag). Not to be deterred, I decided that a slightly larger, carry-all version (top left image) would make a great dopp
kit for M*. Knowing that my sister would love Uchi, I couldn't leave without buying her something. So I opted for the 'medium utility' from the Uchi Utility line (left) for her, and I threw in the 'mini utility' (right) for me. Ark carried some of the range of patterns available, and I eventually chose the 'super dot.'
M* is not one to spend money on himself, but he was thrilled with the dopp kit. He ass
ured me it was the coolest one he'd seen. I was going to wait and give my sister her Uchi bag for Christmas, but I couldn't resist telling her about it later that afternoon. She was intrigued enough to go right to their web site—much oohing and aahing ensued. She pointed out the super-cuteness of the Uchicuchi Backpack Baby Bag (right in party dot ruby pattern). While my sister and I can't troll the physical aisles of a store together, at least we can cybershop together with broadband and Skype.
M* and I found the Scots noticeably nicer than the Brits. Then we saw this sign posted in Meadow Park. Maybe a yearly gathering filled with shouting, protests, workshops, speakers and music keeps the Edinburgh-ians happy the rest of the year.
Just kidding. I had three emails from my uncle Peter when we returned from our Edinburgh trip last night. Each email had multiple photos from different dives (all Florida I think). His constant dives and upgrading of his photography equipment yield streams of impressive images.
I love how the orange coral picks up the orange in the fish's cheek (if fishes have cheeks).
Waters must be warming—first time I've noticed a jellyfish in Peter's photos.
Stephen, Michael and M*
Terry, M* and Bing
Manuela and M*
Me and the graduateTwo weeks ago I got the following email from my friend, Shawn.
Subject: Have you watched SPACED?
OMG, this show is freaking hysterical. It's Simon Pegg and Nick Frost.
With no television set, I was glad to have a program to watch on YouTube. Each episode of SPACED was split into three segments, and I immediately watched Episode 1, Part 1. I am amused to a minimal degree by even the worst British comedies—I believe that this is because there are certain commonalities (which I am not coherent or focused enough at the moment to attempt to identify and explain) which exist among them. I, at first viewing, mistakenly categorized SPACED in the minimally to moderately funny group. Luckily I felt a bit under the weather one day this week and needed something to watch as I lay curled up, fetal position, on the couch. Having tapped out the resources of www.tv-links.co.uk, I revisited SPACED. "OMG" is right. The series (two seasons, 14 28-minute episodes in total) hit its stride by the second episode and consistently delivered. So much so that I had watched the entire series by the next day. In my defense, the weather was also really crappy.
The premise is simple: a guy (Tim) and a girl (Daisy) meet in a coffee shop in London and realize that they are both looking for a place to live. They pose as a "professional couple" to secure an apartment. Thrown into the mix are a lonely, quasi-alcoholic landlady; a tortured, unsuccessful artist in the basement apartment; Tim's best friend, Mike, who was kicked out of the Territorial Army because he commandeered a tank to invade Paris; and Daisy's best friend, Twist, who is "in fashion" (an embellished description of her job at a dry cleaners). The cast is great, the characters endearing and identifiable (if one has ever been a bit unfocused at a point in ones life). I think my favorite episode is #3. Here's the description:
Tim has been up all night playing Resident Evil and is still feeling the effects of some speed that he bought. Daisy has an interview at a new women's magazine publisher. Brian's ex-partner of performing art, Vulva, invites him to a showing of his newest performance piece. Daisy and Tim join him. Tim freaks out and starts seeing everyone as Zombies because of the mix of booze, speed, Twiglets (which make him violent) and the lack of sleep he's had. When Vuvla acts rudely towards Brian, Tim comes to the rescue with his hallucinations. (IMDB)
An Irish classmate of M*'s was surprised that I would take pictures of cows. He grew up seeing our bovine friends, and, as is often the case, does not feel inclined to photograph aspects of his normal surroundings.
I think that I'll always find sharing a sidewalk with a cow quite a special experience. I passed this lovely lady yesterday on Sheep's Green.
I'm not surprised, but a U.S. Census report released yesterday reporting a record number of Americans without health insurance underscores one of the 'Pros' of staying in Europe: universal health care. As a relative recently said to me, "If I have to wait four months to see a specialist, why not have socialized health care."
This recent news reminded me about an article entitled "The Risk Pool," which Malcolm Gladwell wrote for the New Yorker (Aug. 28, 2006), covering America's history of employer-paid health care and pensions: While employers are now dropping or decreasing such benefits, around the middle of last century a number of large, influential employers chose offering pension and health coverage over universal coverage. They saw attempts "to spread the costs and risks of benefits over the biggest and most diverse group possible"as a "threat to the free market and to the autonomy of business owners." Funny, from my personal experience, lack of universal health coverage actually hurts the free market. One of the reasons my last job was so attractive was the free, excellent health care coverage—it was a major factor that kept me from finding a position that was a better fit for my skills. The market is not optimized when resources (my skills) do not flow freely in the market due to impediments (lack of health care).
As for other Europe 'Pros,' shorter work weeks and 25+ vacation days are tempting, along with the generally more cyclist friendly attitude in Europe. I'd really miss not having a bike.
The sun appeared and temperatures hit 80° this weekend. Perfect time to eschew the bike in favor of my pedes.
Paths by the River Cam are quite overgrown from all the rain.
I've taken quite a few photos from this vantage. Just really like it.
Little black bits on the grass are sheep.
Lombardy poplars are common on Sheep's Green
Not surprisingly, the last performance of the 2007 Cambridge Shakespeare Festival was packed. I'm sure attendance suffered during the festival's twelve week run with the rainy, cold weather. Saturday evening was beautiful, 70° and clear, and all the seats were taken by the time we arrived. Luckily they pushed back "the stage"—the line of demarkation running from an array of candles, above, to a supply of bowls, used alternately to mix the witches' brew, wash a traveler's face and scrub the blood from the Macbeths' hands—to allow more people to sit on the grass. We arrived late enough to get a place right in front. Having foreseen this issue, we were armed with a blanket (and wine of course).
Oh, yes the play. Good, but not the best of the series. Perhaps Shakespeare's comedies just work better for outdoor, summer theater. "Romeo and Juliet" and "Macbeth" were our least favorites, while "Taming of the Shrew", "A Midsummer Night's Dream" and "Much Ado About Nothing" were very impressive.
A portion of the path from Newnham through Grantchester
Meadows is overgrown with blackberry vines.
Bulmers hard cider, center and right, is the closest I can get to gluten-free
beer at a pub. It's also the only pub-offered cider that doesn't have a
stomach turning fungi-esque smell.
Matt being disappears into the encroaching brume (a great synonym for mist or fog).
As night falls, the moon and mist cast a beautiful eeriness to Grantchester Meadows.
Today, tearing out pages in a journal—out of desire to recycle not destroy—that I had used to take notes during cheese class and write shopping lists. When I got to this page, I paused and wondered how someone had snuck the journal away and added such things. Still haven't figured it out. Guess the other option is that I'm the culprit.
