Crazy people

According to descriptions, the water temperature around here goes as "high" as 60 degrees.

Bring on the full-body wetsuits!

Socialization with a stick

I think that those of us (all 3, to be precise) who have read the language socialization literature have been trained to look for the subtle ways and minute details of interactions (down to eye gaze) in which socialization occurs. But then there's that little discussed category of socialization with a stick (Erika will be familiar with this one, no doubt).

Today, I went to the all-school assembly. Assembly here is just another word for in-school religious service. The local minister comes in, and since there's really only one church in the district (ignoring the Anglican convent, which most people are happy to do), it's the same one every time. I'd say he's a right-of-center Calvinist Prebyterian, if there is such a thing as a liberal Calvinist.

It must be one of the huge challenges of minister-hood to prepare a 30 minute religious indoctrination, I mean, school assembly for children ranging in age from 4 1/2 to 15. It's not a job I'd like to have. But what can you do when you're a minister?! But one wonders what the children get from it, especially the younger ones.

So he expouded the part of Genesis on Adam and Eve for the children -after mumbling through the King James version. In particular, he focused on the fact that Adam had been given a rule to obey by God (and even the smallest children here know that Adam got in trouble over this one -though thankfully there was no Eve-bashing). He proceeded to compare this to the speed limit when driving.

And why, dear children, should we obey the speed limit, he asks.

At this point, anyone above the age of 6 is half-asleep, but the wee ones are eager to participate.

"Because if you don't, you crash" says one.

Good, but not what the minister is loooking for.

"Because if children are playing in the road, you could hurt them."

Not bad, but keep trying.

"Because it's dangerous."

Yes -but no.

I thought all of these were good answers, BTW.

So why should we obey the speed limit?

"Because if we don't, the police may catch us and we would get punished."

Amen.

Wildlife news

As is usually the case with news, there are good (wildlife) news and bad (wildlife) news.

The good news is that while walking on the beach in front of the lodge today, we saw seals. At first I thought it was an optical illusion, with the water being somewhat choppy, but then I saw their cute little eyes and whiskers. At one point, four heads were bobbing in the water, all in a line, staring at us. I think they get attracted by the dogs' barking (seals 'bark' too). Then Ede discovered one and almost swam up to it in the water. They were about 15-20 yards away from us, and we were checking each other out. So cool!

Of course I didn't bring my camera with me today, seeing it was a grey and misty day -I guess I have to revise my photos-only-on-beautiful-days policy.

As for the bad news, while walking the little beasties last night, they found and killed a hedgehog. Of course there are no streetlamps here so essentially I'm feeling my way around the property hoping that no dog escapes. As a result, it took me about 10 seconds to catch on to what was happening when the dogs started sniffing like crazy and something was hissing. those 10 seconds spelled the demise of the hedgehog. They do curl up to protect themselves, but with two dogs tugging on each end, itwas too much. It took me another 30 seconds to slap leashes on them and get them back into the house to wipe off their bloody snouts. Then I faced the enjoyable task of finding the dead hedgehog in the dark and disposing of it somehow. I hope you'll agree that it's good I didn't have my camera for this one either.

[This is not for the faint of heart: I ended up putting it in the garbage bin, and when I checked this morning, its little leg was hanging over the edge ;-(]

When I told the lodge-lady about it this morning, somewhat apologetically, the first words out of her mouth were "Good for them!" hedgehogs aren't native to the island and they're considered quite a pest, decimating the local bird population by eating their eggs. Maybe I can hire Ede and Atze out for hedgehog culling, and they can start earning their keep.

Terriers!

More fun with Anglicans

My neighbors at the Lodge, who are renting the cottage to me, are lovely people. As a matter of fact, they're so nice it's eerie sometimes.

They're also committed Anglicans (see my last post) and oozing the kind of understated privilege that characterizes a certain segment of the British upper class, down to their sensible shoes.

They had me over for supper last night, along with a friend of theirs up here for a holiday who's a vicar's daughter from York, and two Anglican nuns who are running a covert Anglican worship operation in the village. So Anglicans everywhere.

The meal itself was a course of sherry, olives and cashew nuts in the drawing room; salmon, lima beans, broccoli and roast potatoes; an alcohol-soaked trifle and fruit salad; crackers and cheese; and coffee and chocolates (back in the drawing room). The conversation was somewhat bizarre, laced with jokes apparently only Anglicans understand (so I didn't). The laughter was subdued and polite.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this is the stuff old-fashioned British comedy is made of. Taking a second piece of chocolate with my coffee seemed downright decadent.

But what really fascinated me about this event was the obvious durability of class. If you know me, you know I'm not a committed Marxist. But one almost has to become one when faced with something like this. The wife grew up in the lodge, went to school in the district, and they've lived here as adults for the better part of two decades. The husband is a GP and constantly on call and in touch with people. Their sons are married to local women. And yet they maintain a world that is entirely different from the rest of the village. I've been over to many people's houses for tea/supper and it's totally different there. No sherry, that's for sure. Obviously these people are more educated than the average person here, but they're different even from other educated people in the district (who tend to be vocal Gaelic activists). Even their accents are not local (I can't figure out what they are). It's just utterly amazing.

Now I just need to find a clever statistical measure of class for a place that's supposedly classless (according to local lore).

Peace be with you...and you...and you

I've been a real slacker on the fieldwork front. When I got here last fall, I was all raring to go and essentially had the basic research set up in 2 weeks flat. These days, I seem to spend a lot of time futzing around on the puter (having wireless broadband doesn't help), and before I know it, it's time to take the dogs for a walk, and then it's practically dinner time and the day is over.

My other issue is that I cannot set foot into church here. Granted, I never truly enjoyed sitting in a hard wooden pew for 90 minutes to listen to a service I didn't really understand, but there were always fun moments, like when the old ladies pulled out the candy for the entire pew, and when the minister would suddenly switch to English to drive home his point and say things like "Independent thought is at the root of all evil". If nothing else, I always said these services taught me how to sit through really boring seminars without fidgeting too much.

Now the idea of sitting somewhere for an hour and a half without anything to keep my mind of things is plain dreadful. I suppose I could go to the English service so at least I'd understand what they were talking about, but I don't find much comfort in Calvinism. I don't think you're supposed to. Plus, the whole thing is so glum and passive, no matter what language the sermon is in. After the service is over, people practically push you out of the way to get home. You can't tell me they're having much fun either.

Still, going to church is a basic social requirement here. It humanizes you. It also makes you morally trustworthy. It shows you care about what's important in this community. It's basic to doing research with people here. No pressure, right?

So it was against this backdrop that I decided to bite at least some bullet and go to church with the people who are renting the cottage to me. They're Anglicans, but at least I didn't need to lie if people asked me if I went to church on Sunday. So I went. And thought I'd fallen into a cult.

The Anglican church serving this district is in a former tobacconist shop a few villages over. It's small. The altar is in the corner, and three rows of comfortable chairs are arranged around it. The atmosphere is light and pleasant. There are flowers.

People come wearing nice-ish clothes that are not tweed and not just brown and gray. Some of the women even wear -gasp!- pants and NO HATS. Of the three clergy-people there, two were women. They also wore colorful garb.

The service followed an outline printed in a little handbook. You didn't need your own Bible cause the readings were printed out for you (no embarassing shuffle on my part trying to figure out if something is even in the Old or the New testament). There was audience participation and musical accompaniment of hymns. There was no shouting or stern lecturing.

It was short (an hour flat, even with communion). Afterwards, they served tea and biscuits and people were friendly and chatted.

It was so different from the usual Calvinist Presbyterian experience, I was fully expecting some sort of cult-ish brainwashing to get me to sign up and find 10 new members and promise to feed my children only raw vegetables so the devil wouldn't get to them in the form of cooked carrots.

Personally, I still get nothing out of religion (must be a genetic defect I have), but at least I didn't sink into a big black hole of depression from all the contemplation one is forced to do by the Calvinists. Thank God.

Kinda Sad-Ness

Scott left today, and I'm back in my rustic cottage and feeling crappy.

He was here for over 2 weeks, and I got so used to having him around. His idea to accompany me here to help me settle in instead of coming to Germany was great, but I didn't give much thought to what would happen when he left.

Now he's gone and I'm facing what seems like an insurmountable pile of crap. I'm counting the minutes until he calls from Edinburgh.

I hate good-byes.

They are here!

They are here!
Originally uploaded by deepblue1975.

Safe and sound (and a little cold)

Just to let you know, I got here in one piece, though barely due to some last minute family drama. Cause we haven't had enough of that lately.

So I'm enjoying lovely 60-degree-weather and getting myself ready for the arrival of the two little stinkers.

I'll keep you posted.