Plastic pint glasses?

I could not help but chuckle and roll my eyes simultaneously when I stumbled on this article about calls for plastic pint glasses in Britain.

Plans are afoot in Britain to replace the classic pint glass with one made out of plastic.

The government’s idea is that by introducing shatter-proof plastic vessels it will help address the increasing problem of beer drinkers using pint glasses as weapons in their local pubs.

Needless to say the plan has gone down about as well as a warm beer served, well, in a plastic cup.

There have been cries about how the proposed plastic vessels will substantially affect the quality of the amber nectar being drunk.

Others claim it’s yet another example of the government’s attempts to transform Britain into a “nanny state”.

The last point is a good one, although sometimes you wonder if a nanny is needed when you see statistics like this one, also from the article:

The motivation behind the push for the new model comes from official figures showing that 5,500 people are attacked with glasses and bottles in England and Wales each year.

I do not know what to do about Britain’s binge drinking culture, or the associated violence. I experienced some of this for the first time a few months ago, when on a sunny afternoon I had to walk out of my way to avoid a drunk guy who was covered in blood and fighting with another guy. It just made me sad. And a little frightened. One of the things I loved about England when I first moved there was the ability to walk down the street at night alone without feeling as frightened as I would have in the US. But that’s no longer true, especially when you take the pub closing times into account.

It is my last full day in America until December, something which has made me surprisingly melancholy. I think I spent too long in the states this trip–I’ve acclimated myself back to American ways and now I anticipate a tough transition back to British life. That said, I am tired of living out of a suitcase, something which I have been doing for most of the days since late June. I have no travel planned until mid-December, and for that I am increasingly grateful. I also look forward to getting back into a normal routine after all this time on the road. I woke up yesterday afternoon, napping after returning very early from the beach (to avoid beach traffic) and had absolutely no idea where I was. That makes sense, as this trip has seen me in New Hampshire, Boston, Maryland, Washington DC, Virginia, North Carolina, Wisconsin, and last but most certainly not least, Minnesota. No wonder I had no idea where I was! And that’s after a summer that also included Singapore, Melbourne, Canberra and Sydney. Time to go “home” to England and stay there for a while.

Beach cookery

Sadly my beach holiday is over. I did a very un-American thing this year and stayed two weeks instead of one. I am relaxed, tan, and … not exactly thrilled about having to go “home” to England. This trip was five weeks long, half work and half play, but that has been enough time for me to have reacquainted myself with modern conveniences such as showers and mixer taps. Not to mention American grocery stores and Target.

My favorite new snack is Pepper Jack Cheez-its. It seems to me that American cooking and certainly restaurants have all taken on a decidedly Tex-Mex flavor. There are jalapeños in everything! I had an amazing Caesar salad with a chipotle dressing.

But the one place I did not see much zesty fusion was the beach. There it is all about seafood, done in classic styles. The absolute tastiest experiences of the beach trip came at the hands of a local company that I found in the free restaurant guide, Steamers. They make up these tin cans full of yummy goodness that you take home and cook yourself, just by setting the can on the stove and turning the burner on high after adding a cup of liquid. I love the concept because it is such good engineering! There are potatoes in the bottom of the can, that essentially get boiled. On top of this is your choice of shellfish. I had lobster, crab legs and mussels at various points in the trip. On top of that is corn on the cob ears. You call them and say what fish you want and for how many people, and that’s it, instant dinner. The fish and corn get steamed by the liquid coming off the boiling potatoes, and there’s a hole in the top of the can for the steam to escape. I tried to take an action shot but it doesn’t do justice to how cool this was. And you KNOW I’m going to be trying to figure out a way to do this myself…

Life’s a beach

I’m back in the Outer Banks of North Carolina, my absolute favorite place to get a little R&R. Although the internet access is intermittent at best, so my apologies if you are expecting to hear from me by email or any web medium! Life will be back to normal soon enough–I’ll be back in England at work, and commenting on the growing rumbles about American Healthcare Reform and the inevitable comparisons with the NHS. I have a few things to say on this subject But not until I’ve put a few more miles on my legs. Beach for me means regular 6 mile walks, semi-regular 10+ mile bike rides, plenty of swimming and surfing, and lots of cooking. And reading books about cooking. I am obsessed with Tony Bourdain. I have a strange obsession with chefs who swear a lot, apparently, since I’m also secretly quite fond of Gordon Ramsay. But at the moment, it’s all Tony in my dreams. And England seems a distant, hazy place, and one in which I’m not 100% sure what’s going on. I really do have a transient life, where living out of a suitcase starts to feel normal after a while. And I can’t decide if that’s a good or a bad thing sometimes.

Minnesota trip, by the numbers

• 5: number of total nights in the trip
• 4: number of nights spent in Minnesota
• 1: number of nights spend in Wisconsin
• 3: number of visits to my beloved nonagenarian grandmother
• 1: number of grilled cheese sandwiches (Velveeta, of course) eaten at the home of my nonagenarian grandmother
• 3: number of cups of tea drank at the home of my nonagenarian grandmother
• 4: number of games of Scrabble played with my nonagenarian grandmother
• 1: number of games of Scrabble won by me when playing with my nonagenarian grandmother
• 2: number of times I had lunch at the new Burger Jones in Uptown
• 2: number of times I had bagels for breakfast (Bruegger’s once, Einstein’s once)
• 0: number of times I had Starbucks coffee in the midwest (Dunn Bros. and Caribou are both firmly non-zero tallies)
• 3: number of purchases at the Uptown Art Fair
• 3: number of purchases in the Maple Grove Shoppes
• 2: number of awesome gifts from family members
• 2: number of items I had to carry on the plane in a separate shopping bag when all of said new acquisitions did not fit into my luggage
• 5: number of times I drove over the new 35W Mississippi river bridge
• 2: number of times I turned on my rental car to find Jack Johnson playing on Cities97
• 2: number of new songs heard on Cities97 in 6 days of driving around in said rental car (not that familiar music is a bad thing…)
• 0: number of times I drove directly by one of my old apartments in Minneapolis
• 4: number of times I was close enough to one of my old apartments in Minneapolis to feel nostalgic
• 3: number of times I randomly teared up while driving around town
• 3: number of times I was asked if I had heard from my ex-husband (not in over 2.5 years, for the record)
• 1: number of times I had a bad dream about said ex after everyone kept asking about him
• 2: number of good friends from high school that I got to see on this trip
• 1: number of high school friends that I meant to see but ran out of time
• 0: number of cousins I got to see on this trip again due to very limited time (maybe next time…)
• 2: number of times in the last 3 trips to Minneapolis that I’ve ended up spending time out of Minneapolis at another midwestern town with a Big 10 University
• 0: number of times in the next 3 trips to Minneapolis that I intend to spend time out of Minneapolis at another midwestern town with a Big 10 University (although who knows if I can really control this…)
• 3: number of gifts for my parents that I forgot back in England
• 1: number of gifts for my parents that I brought with me to Minnesota but forgot to give them
• 4: number of possessions of my sister’s that I meant to bring and also forgot in England
• 2: number of “care packages” that I will have to send from England to deliver items to parents and sister
• countless: number of times I’m glad that I finally made it back to Minnesota after a year in England and traveling elsewhere

Minneapolis update

I was going to write a post about the bittersweet nature of being home in Minnesota, but then I realized I had written it already–last year at this time, when I experienced the same sorts of ups and downs about being here. Read it here. So that’s the emotional update, that made it much easier than trying to write the words fresh. I guess in some ways that is why I don’t spend much time here anymore, much to the chagrin of my family. It’s just a bit too much.

So that said, what have I actually been doing?

• Staying with my best friend in her awesome new digs near uptown but in the part where grown-ups actually live.

• Bought an amazing photo of the old Uptown theater, at the Uptown Art Fair last weekend. Seemed appropriate. And it’s one of those photos that, if you know what it is, it’s awesome, and otherwise it just looks nice.
• Took what must sound like a totally random brief road trip to Madison with my sister. Had a three hour work meeting and then sis and I went on the town, stayed overnight and came right back. If you’re in Madison, check out Harvest Restaurant, it rocked.
• Played lots of Scrabble with my nonagenarian grandmother and her caretaker, who happens to be my dad’s older sister. When my sister’s not playing too, I can win occasionally. When the sis is there, I get crushed every time. Grandma does the scorekeeping and you have to keep a close eye on her or she’ll deprive herself of deserved points
• Had dinner with another good friend and her little girl, now almost 4. There are still a few very good friends here (as well as a large number of facebook friends!) and I don’t do a perfect job of catching everyone when I’m in town, but I try my best. This particular friend has an edge since she lives six blocks from Grandma, so I’m always lurking about her neighborhood!
• Drove over the new 35W bridge, tried to view it from the side from the Stone Arch bridge and decided it is so undistinguished and indistinguishable that you cannot even clearly see it in the photographs, it just blends into the scenery. Not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
• Bought a few random toiletries at Target

Off to spend my last full day here with the parents and sister, with perhaps one more stop off at Grandma’s. Going to walk around Lake Calhoun in the sunshine, meet my parents’ new dog, and probably eat just a bit too much at newer restaurants in the area. And try to stay busy so as not to dwell on the melancholy or bittersweet feelings, but just enjoy the sunshine.

I like to be in America

It’s amazing that I have been here more than a week and a half already, and have been through three main stages of the trip. Part of the nature of my whirlwind start to this trip was due to the fact that I was traveling with a junior colleague. I wanted to show her an awesome and multi-faceted technical experience as well as a bit of my country, as long as we were here. So after working solidly all weekend, Tuesday was the day for a bit of fun, and we went to pay tribute to a few of my favorites in the Nation’s capital. Almost first was Einstein, but I was so busy taking photos of my colleague in his lap that I forgot to take a photo myself. On to Lincoln.

Washington.

And my personal favorite, Jefferson.

Inspiring stuff. I was never quite so patriotic before I moved to England.

From there it was over to Georgetown for lunch and shopping on M street. I think I showed my colleague a nice day in DC, and for me it was nostalgic to be back in my old haunts.

Travel, packing, anxiety, uncertainty

I’ve managed to combine doing enough laundry, and buying enough new stuff, that I should be able to assemble a reasonable wardrobe for my latest trip, to the states from tomorrow. (Note the excellent post here on the curious practice of Americans abroad suddenly adopting “the states” as a name for the USA, something which I most certainly never said when I lived there!) As usual, I’ve set myself an impossible packing dilemma by making my trip multi-tasking and diverse. My last trip was a good example of this, needing to simultaneously prepare for summer in Singapore and winter in Canberra. Now at least I have summer the whole time, but I have a combination of work and play planned, which requires me to have appropriate clothes for both. Sigh. Thank goodness for Target. Since the work part of my trip is first, my plan is to overload on work clothes and fill in the casual caps with Target and other inexpensive local staples. Should be interesting.

I accepted an invitation (collective groan! more travel!) to give a seminar at a distinguished university in the states in March of next year. (I swear, I WILL stop accepting all of these invites someday, when I wise up and learn not to travel so much!) And for some reason, this particular seminar has featured heavily in my recent set of anxiety-filled dreams. In my dreams, about a half-dozen in the last few weeks, the seminar has been set for 11 am and I end up looking at my watch and seeing it’s some time past 11 and I’m not at the seminar as I should be. Last night’s version was particularly odd, as it had me in Australia at the designated time, which means I most certainly could not have made it under any circumstances. Dreams often don’t make sense, right? But it’s odd that something 8 months away is causing such consternation now. And even odder given that my normal anxiety dream is about missing an airplane flight, and always involves a labyrinthine set of airport corridors, and normally that’s the dream I’d be having, given that at this time tomorrow I should be sitting in a window seat heading towards Boston. And it’s not like I’m dreading the seminar, I’m actually really excited because I have two good friends at said institution, the one who invited me and another close colleague. So I’m not sure what’s going on in my head with this one.

These two weeks in the office, since my return from Sydney, have been productive and even a bit social (thus the relative quietness on the blog front). Admittedly the “social” things are mostly work related, such as the dinner I’ll be going to tonight when I should be at home calmly packing and organizing. And the dinners the last two nights with various work colleagues. All for a reason. The notable exception to this pattern was a visit last weekend by Mike (Postcards from Across the Pond) and his wife, which was purely social and totally enjoyable. I should have expected this, since Mike’s book remains my favorite of all the expat books I’ve read in the last few years. Invariably, when I meet up with other expats I am queried about my long-term plans–apparently this whole “single girl moves to England for a job” situation must look highly unstable as a long-term plan I’m aware that most expats over here either have a local partner or a transported American partner, and I don’t. My social network still revolves heavily around friends back in the US. And I don’t know what the long-term plans are, or even should be. Sometimes that uncertainty weighs heavily on my mind, and sometimes I just go about my life and remember the reasons I’m here and on evaluating all the options I recall that this is the right place for me to be for a while, if not forever. Lately I’ve been experiencing more of the former than the latter, probably because all the travel has me a bit shaken up. I start to wonder if my constant trips out of England are telling me something about how I feel about being in England. And other times I just think I’m taking opportunities for both work and pleasure that are just coincidentally good opportunities and far away. I have no answers. And for today, I have no more time to contemplate the possibilities. The fridge will not clean itself out and the clothes will not self-assemble in my case.

Fickle me…

I changed my mind, my last Sydney photo was not so bad when downloaded:

Amazingly, if you look closely you can see at least two groups doing the bridge climb. I had no idea it was so popular…

And now back to my regularly-scheduled life…

I arrived “home” in the UK this morning without incident. Long-ish line at immigration, but baggage in place (a good thing, since I realized at the midway point in Bangkok that my house-keys were in my checked luggage) and a nice driver to pick me up and take me home, via the remarkably quiet early Sunday morning M-25. But back up about 24 hours (I’m not sure anymore what the time change and the travel time actually add up to, so bear with me…)

My last morning in Sydney, I hit the “Museum of Sydney” which was okay, but made better by (a) being across the street from my hotel and (b) having both a great bookshop and cafe. I partook of both. Books on the Harbour Bridge from the shop, and brunch in the cafe. Typical Aussie moment: sitting in the cafe, a bloke comes in and says, “G’day mate, you still on brekky?” I’ll miss that accent and that lingo now that I’m back in England! After that I took a stroll through the botanic gardens, both along the waterfront and deeper in the gardens. I tried hard to get the iconic Sydney shot, the Opera House with the Harbour Bridge in the background (all my previous photos were from the area between the two landmarks) but the lighting was poor and I’m not going to post my sub-standard efforts. It was a nice morning, and with my having arranged late check-out with the hotel, I had a leisurely morning and early afternoon before making my way to the Sydney airport around 1:30.

I went to the Qantas counter to check in, and had a most amusing agent. He took my passport, and looked at the photo and then me, said, “your hair is much longer now.” True, my passport photo was taken in my post-divorce very short hair phase. I’m back to my more normal shoulder-length locks at the moment. “It’s much more attractive now,” he said. I giggled. What more can you do? He pulled up my reservation, looked up, and said, “Oooh, DOCTOR” which again made me giggle. I doubt very much he was being flirtatious, just Australian. And I loved it.

Spent my last Aussie dollars on silly souvenirs, a Sydney hoodie and an opal pendant with a boomerang. Enjoyed the long ride home. Read a complete book on the building of the Sydney Harbour Bridge, picked up at the Museum store that morning. When finished, watched anything that resembled a cooking show, to the extent that the French onion soup bubbling away on my cooktop right now is the recipe I watched on the plane this morning. When I went to Australia at Christmas time I watched cooking shows on the way there, and then made quiche every day for a week in my rented flat. This time I was staying in hotels so I waited to watch cooking shows until I was on the way home, and now I’ve got both the soup going and a sponge for ciabatta bread. I love being inspired by cooking shows. I swear, if and when I give up science, it’s cooking that I will turn to.

Just think, 5 years ago I had not been to Europe. I’ve lived here almost three years. Two years ago I had never been to Asia (Singapore) and a year ago I had never been to Australia. And the best part? Now that I’ve been to Singapore twice and Australia twice (and plan to go back whenever possible) it’s time to start planning my next adventure. On the table: China, Japan, South Africa, Morocco, Egypt, and I just had an invite to go with a friend to Machu Picchu. Lots of thinking to do before I decide what to do next. Lots of logistics to arrange and work schedules to work around. But hey, this is the reward I get for the ridiculous hours I work. Childless, divorced, currently lacking in hobbies and only averaging a trip or two to the gym per week (although my post-trip resolve says that has GOT to change). A bit of travel is pretty much all I get for fun these days. And when living out of a suitcase becomes your definition of fun… look out!

But we are truly back to my regular life, at least for the next few weeks. And that means a job in England, cooking as much as possible, and following the Ashes. Book reviews from the trip to follow. But now, having made it awake past 7 pm, I’m over and out.

Final Aussie Update

Yes, that’s right, I have to head back to reality tomorrow. Reality meaning England, a full-time job, all of that. I did actually work most of this two week trip, but the last two days in Sydney have been almost pure goofing off. And I’m having a hard time remembering when, if ever, I’ve been on a solo, purely tourist adventure in the 8 years since my divorce. Sure, I have a day here and there to amuse myself when I’m on work travel, but this little 3-night stay in Sydney was different. And so I decided to make the most of it.

First stop, the Museum of Contemporary Art, located right by my hotel at Circular Quay, Sydney. The MCA is free, and as an added bonus I was the only person who wanted a guided tour (also free) when it was offered, so I had a fantastic, personal experience looking at the extremely powerful (and sometimes disturbing) photographs of Ricky Maynard.

Next, I took a ferry over to Darling Harbour to go to the world-renowned Sydney aquarium. You get pretty nice views from the ferry, and the harbour-front was lovely. I was not, however, one of the people trying to take photos of the fish and associated aquatic animals through the glass/plastic. So no fishy photos for me.

After grabbing some food post-aquarium (is no one else disturbed by the fact that they serve fish and chips in the aquarium cafe?) I then caught the Sydney tower at dusk.

Today, I had big plans, a reservation to do the “Bridge Climb” up to the top of the Sydney Harbour Bridge. See the tiny people in this photo? Basically just little bumps on the top of the bridge?

Yeah, it’s not something you would even notice if you weren’t told to look, but both day and night, groups of 14 with a guide leave every 10 minutes to climb to the top of the bridge. Once you know to look, they are even easier to see at night, since they wear hats with lights on them. Little groups of lights moving up and down the bridge arches appear after dark. Regardless of whether you can make them out in this photo, it’s still how I spent the better part of my last day in Australia.

They ask you to set aside 3.5 hours for the trip, plus getting there well in advance. So it really did take up the majority of my day. I went for an early lunch, carbo-loaded, and then arrived at the base about 30 minutes before my 2 pm booking. It’s a remarkably efficient operation, as one would guess from the fact that literally millions of people have done the climb in the last decade or so. Your group is called in, you fill out information sheets and sign the waiver to let you go. In my case, your shoes are inspected and deemed unsuitable (I did not have my trainers with me, just my Keens, so I was issued a pair of trainers for the trip). You have to blow a breathalyzer test to prove you are sober. Then you get issued a jumpsuit for the climb, and start to suit up with a whole range of other gear. The jumpsuit has tons of metal loops on which to hook things. For example, since I wear glasses, I had to put them on a lanyard and attach them to my suit. It makes sense, you’re above 8 lanes of car traffic plus two train lines, so it’s of the utmost importance that nothing gets dropped! You have to wear a climbing belt, which attaches you to a wire line for the entire climb. But you also carry so much other stuff, extra jackets (fleece for warmth, and a shell for rain) in pouches, a radio and headset to hear the climb leader, hats, mittens, a hankie, a whole get-up. What you’re not allowed to bring comprises a long list, though. You can’t take your camera, but they take photos of you at various points on the climb (I bought two!). No watches. Soft hair binders recommended for girls but no bobby pins or barettes. In fact, you have to go through a metal detector to prove you’re not smuggling anything to the top. You leave your personal stuff in a locker, with a key (as you might expect) on a lanyard around your neck for the climb.

After getting all the gear on, you practice climbing with all the gear, on a little mock-up of the sorts of catwalks that you’ll be climbing on. Then you’re off. The actual climb was mostly stairs and ramps, and in most places it was designed to be not too steep. There were also frequent breaks for commentary and information from the tour guide, such that it was not so difficult or physically taxing that it would have required someone to be very athletic, although being generally fit and healthy is a definite advantage. I learned lots of great stuff and my geeky engineering self was in heaven. We were also particularly lucky, in that there were some extremely scattered showers in the area, which meant that our view from the top included a fabulous rainbow, arching over the Opera House.

I don’t know what more to say. There are two different routes to the top, and my big plan is now to come back and do the other climb, at night, next time fate takes me to Sydney. So that maybe I can see more of this.