The Third Day… the last one
This B&B starts serving breakfast at 8:15, so we got up at about 7:30 to be the first down there (since we were definitely on a schedule today). The shower in the closet had the same odd water-contraption as the sink: pull the cord so the little red light comes on, get in the shower and turn a dial. However, the line between scalding hot and shrivel-inducing cold was a bit elusive. You had to ride the dial like a sound-engineer at a heavy metal concert. Getting too cold, turn it up one millimeter; getting too hot, turn it down two millimeters. Let’s just say, it was one of the more “eccentric” bathing experience I’ve had (right up there with the coin-operated shower at the Renaissance Festival in Arizona… but that’s another story entirely).
Arbor Linden house had a little more of a varied menu. But, being a fan of the “Full English”, I had to go for it again. This time I ordered the typical “fried bread” which customarily accompanies this already artery-clogging breakfast. Fried bread is kind of like toast soaked in grease (fried in lard maybe?). Kristen had the scrambled eggs with smoked salmon, on a bed of toast-points. And, of course, English tea.
We checked out as soon as we were done eating, but they let us leave our car in the parking lot while we toured the University of East Anglia, which was a 10 minute walk from the B&B. Luckily, it was another day of clear skies and sunshine, though the weather was quite a bit more brisk. Some patches of ice here and there. Norwich is a lot more enticing during the daytime, even as a pedestrian. There is quite a bit of nature out in this part of England. It is much flatter and the landscape is more akin to the moors of Scotland, but the secluded feeling was quite welcoming to hermits like ourselves. So, that’s something to like about Norwich.
Now we come to an interesting point in this little tale: how to describe the campus of UEA. The B&B lady had mentioned something about its 60’s concrete-block cruddiness, while lauding the educational value of the university. So were slightly prepared for it, but it was “interesting” nonetheless. The entrance road passes along some nature-walk areas and a brand new sports center (anyone can get in for 58 pence per visit to use all of the facilities). However, the core of the campus is a very drab. Every surface is poured concrete. Vaguely cell-block/institution/communist. It had the feel of those sci-fi movies about “the future”. I kept having visions of “Sleeper”, “The Man Who Fell To Earth”, “2001” and so on. Our potential department building was less than inspiring. One of the campus dormitories was very… well, let’s just say "odd". This place was so dull, but at the same time captivating in some sense. While we were initially a bit turned off, the more we wandered around, the more the place took on an inspiring sort of strangeness. Spending any length of time there would really put you in a “mood”. But, depending on what you’re doing, it could be a good thing. Personally, my imagination was running wild after the first 10 minutes. The other good thing about it is all the surrounding nature. I’m not sure how many acres they have, but I’m sure it stretches far. At one point there was a group of people walking a motley collection of dogs (one of the big, gangly ones came running up to me, but took off when it realized I wasn’t scared). Anyway, the campus sure had a lot of “personality”. We’re just not sure how quickly this type of “personality” would get old. Its one thing to be immersed in a concrete fantasyland on a sunny, windy day, but what would it be like on a cloudy rainy one? The fact that there was hardly a soul around on this Sunday morning added a lot of oomph to the desolate, futuristic surroundings. Kristen imagined classrooms of students being taught by video-professors instead of living, breathing people or Big Brother making announcements from strategically placed speakers.
After this giggle-inspiring tour of the campus, we headed back to the B&B to pick up the car. It was about 10:30 and we still wanted to take a drive around the city, before heading down to the airport to catch our 4 o’clock flight. We had set a “hard out” of no later than 1:00 pm because Norwich is about an hour and half from Stanstead. Our opinion of the city definitely improved after our drive. The surrounding neighborhoods were nice and the feel of the city in the daytime was definitely positive. Should we end up here, though, a car would definitely be close to being tantamount.
Before heading back to the highway, we stopped at a grocery store to pick up some goodies to bring back with us. Then we made our way out of “the moors”, getting a bit lost after taking the wrong road out of one of the roundabouts. Fortunately, we realized our mistake early and got back on track soon after. We got to the airport much earlier than expected because everything went very smoothly. Dropping off the rental car was as easy as giving the keys to the attendant and there was no line at check-in. Before we knew it, we were taking off over English farmlands and then the Channel. We landed in Charleroi not much later and took Charleroi-Brussels bus back to town. The ride took about an hour and then we had to take the metro to our neighborhood. We were back home by about 7:30, a bit sad to be back in reality, but still happy to be back in our apartment.
We’ve got some thinking to do. One of us is clearly leaning (almost to the point of falling over…hmmm, who would that be?) towards Exeter and the other is trying to maintain an ambivalent opinion. Of course, we haven’t been accepted to either university yet, so the decision could be made for us. That would be much easier!
Sunday, January 25
Saturday, January 24
The Second Day… a day of transit
Having gone to bed embarrassingly early, we were well-rested when we got up at around 8:00 this morning. As if it were a divine blessing for our trip, we woke up to a glorious, clear-blue sky and sunshine. How fortunate! We didn’t want to loiter too long, however, because we had a long drive ahead of us and we still wanted to stop by the Exeter campus again to see it in the sunshine. And then, of course, there was the little matter of Stonehenge, which we had so suddenly stumbled upon yesterday on our way to Exeter. We came over a slight hill and then BOOM, there it was, in a field right next to the highway! Since we were both very fascinated by Stonehenge in our “youth”, we would have to make time to see it.
So, we went downstairs for an early breakfast. I, of course, had to have the “Full English” which usually consists of back-bacon, sausage, Heinz beans, fried egg, and a broiled tomato. Along with English tea and toast. Kristen had two fried eggs and toast. There is something about England that makes her actually like the taste of traditional tea (but take the same tea to another country and it just doesn’t taste the same)!
If we had a good feeling about the University of Exeter yesterday, today could be considered a revelation! The hilly campus with lush greenery everywhere is a sight to behold. The students and faculty of this university must all have at least this one thing in common: giant, muscular calves! The campus is nestled into the folds of a hill over-looking Exeter, the estuary and the river Exe. Many of the buildings are classic and tasteful, but there are also some more “modern” buildings that have a bit of that 60’s institutional look to them. There is a huge variety of flora covering the campus, which really gives it an inviting feeling. On this sunny, Saturday morning it was quiet and almost desolate. We were reluctant to leave this “sanctuary”, but our time was limited and we still wanted to drive around the town a little bit before heading back on the road.
Exeter is a nice little town. There are a lot of cobblestone streets, cozy pubs and English architecture. The city was very clean as well. Maybe not a hotbed of activity and night-clubs, but that doesn’t bother us (more of a concern for all the undergrads hell-bent on binge-drinking every Friday and Saturday night).
After filling our Peugeot with “petrol”, we headed back out to the highway and drove towards Exeter. The plan was to take it semi-easy: stop at Stonehenge, drive on the highway for part of the way, take some smaller roads for a change of scenery, and get to Norwich by late afternoon while it was still light.
Stonehenge was a popular destination today; far more people ambling about than when we drove by yesterday. At first we were exited that this national monument (and one of the Seven Wonders of the World) was so accessible and hadn’t been turned into a tourist trap that you had to pay for. However, when we walked down to the entrance area, we saw that we were a bit wrong on that notion. There was a line to get in and a charge of 5 GBP per person (unless you were a student, then it was 3.80 GBP… Kristen had her student card from the University of Kent). They gave every entrant an audio-guided tour device that resembled a small headmaster’s paddle, which you held against one ear after punching in the number at 7 different spots around the Henge. We spent about an hour here, listening to the audio tour and just standing there, gazing at this bizarre sight. It wasn’t a let-down, but it would have been fun to be able to get closer than 20 feet to it. There was a cold wind blowing steadily the entire time, but it is easy to ignore when you are fixated on this monument. It was about 2:00pm when we left. Kristen got a giant chocolate chip scone from the snack-shop while I said hello and goodbye to the sheep in the field next to the ‘henge.
The rest of the day was pretty much spent behind the wheel, but road-tripping on a day like today was not nearly an exhausting experience. Unfortunately, it took a little longer to get to Norwich than we expected. Or, at least, we should have left earlier or not stayed as long at Stonehenge. It was twilight by the time we reached the B&B across from the University of East Anglia’s campus, so we had to reschedule our private campus walk-through for Sunday morning. Not a big deal because we didn’t have any appointments anyway and the university offices are closed on both Saturdays and Sundays. The proprietor of the Arbor Linden House B&B was a very kind and talkative lady. As soon as we got there, she immediately started running through the layout of the town and advising us on where and how we should go. She gave us maps and ran through all the rules and customs of the B&B. After her “presentation” we lumbered up to our room on the 2nd floor. It was a nice size, but highly quirky. The bathroom was in a converted closet basically, with slatted doors. To turn on the faucet, you had to pull a cord (to turn on hot water) and then turn a dial on a box attached to the wall. Then water came out of the faucet (the handles on the faucets didn’t actually do anything). I’m not sure what the purpose of this elaborate system is, but it must have something to do with saving water and energy.
Though Norwich seems to be more of a “car town”, we decided to walk to the city center because our B&B hostess said it would only take about 20 minutes and after spending the day sitting, it would be good to get a little exercise. After hearing on the news that there was a freeze on the way, we bundled up and headed out. It took about 30 minutes to get into the active part of the city center. Our first impression of the city was a bit un-inspired. Looked a bit more run-down and dirty. However, we knew already that most towns would have trouble comparing with Exeter.
There was quite a bit of activity downtown. Lots of college students milling about, on their way to clubs and pubs. We were craving Indian food, so we navigated to a restaurant our B&B lady had recommended. The brochure map we had was a bit crude, so it took us a while to find the place. The journey was worth it, though. I had a scorchingly spicy Chicken Masala dish, two lagers from India (Kingfisher and Cobra) and we split some rice, nan bread, and papadums w/ three kinds of chutney. Kristen had a sweetly, mild Chicken Curry and a ginger ale. Satiated and full, we headed back out into the cold to see a little bit more of the town. The headwaiter said, “thank you” about 10 times as we were leaving.
For about an hour, we ambled around the city, trying really hard to find reasons to like it and vaguely trying to find this one pub I had heard about which has 25 cask ales available at any given time (we never found it though… the map was poorly detailed). Norwich has a few nice parts and lots of restaurants, shops, etc. Definitely a lot more activity than Exeter, but the city officials should definitely hire a few street-sweepers because there was a lot of litter lying around everywhere. This usually seems to be the case with the more car-oriented cities. They look pretty good from a vehicle, but when your outside you’re seeing everything up close and it’s a bit dreary. LA is a great example of this.
So, feeling a little bit defeated and disappointed, we headed back to the B&B. Decided to walk again which took a lot longer than we thought it would. The temperature had dropped considerably, so we were both thoroughly chilled by they time we got back. Weather like this seemingly has little effect on the yoots (youths) in England. We’re bundled up in jackets, scarves and gloves, but here they are running around in one layer of clothing. The girls in mini-skirts and blouses, the guys in jeans and a button-down. Why they don’t get pneumonia is beyond me. Apparently, it is a drag to have to take care of a jacket when you’re going clubbing or doing a pub-crawl. (I think we’re getting old!)
Another full day behind us, we settled down in our hotel room, leafed through a couple of issues of British tabloids while Poltergeist played on TV. Then we went to bed, quiet and exhausted.
Having gone to bed embarrassingly early, we were well-rested when we got up at around 8:00 this morning. As if it were a divine blessing for our trip, we woke up to a glorious, clear-blue sky and sunshine. How fortunate! We didn’t want to loiter too long, however, because we had a long drive ahead of us and we still wanted to stop by the Exeter campus again to see it in the sunshine. And then, of course, there was the little matter of Stonehenge, which we had so suddenly stumbled upon yesterday on our way to Exeter. We came over a slight hill and then BOOM, there it was, in a field right next to the highway! Since we were both very fascinated by Stonehenge in our “youth”, we would have to make time to see it.
So, we went downstairs for an early breakfast. I, of course, had to have the “Full English” which usually consists of back-bacon, sausage, Heinz beans, fried egg, and a broiled tomato. Along with English tea and toast. Kristen had two fried eggs and toast. There is something about England that makes her actually like the taste of traditional tea (but take the same tea to another country and it just doesn’t taste the same)!
If we had a good feeling about the University of Exeter yesterday, today could be considered a revelation! The hilly campus with lush greenery everywhere is a sight to behold. The students and faculty of this university must all have at least this one thing in common: giant, muscular calves! The campus is nestled into the folds of a hill over-looking Exeter, the estuary and the river Exe. Many of the buildings are classic and tasteful, but there are also some more “modern” buildings that have a bit of that 60’s institutional look to them. There is a huge variety of flora covering the campus, which really gives it an inviting feeling. On this sunny, Saturday morning it was quiet and almost desolate. We were reluctant to leave this “sanctuary”, but our time was limited and we still wanted to drive around the town a little bit before heading back on the road.
Exeter is a nice little town. There are a lot of cobblestone streets, cozy pubs and English architecture. The city was very clean as well. Maybe not a hotbed of activity and night-clubs, but that doesn’t bother us (more of a concern for all the undergrads hell-bent on binge-drinking every Friday and Saturday night).
After filling our Peugeot with “petrol”, we headed back out to the highway and drove towards Exeter. The plan was to take it semi-easy: stop at Stonehenge, drive on the highway for part of the way, take some smaller roads for a change of scenery, and get to Norwich by late afternoon while it was still light.
Stonehenge was a popular destination today; far more people ambling about than when we drove by yesterday. At first we were exited that this national monument (and one of the Seven Wonders of the World) was so accessible and hadn’t been turned into a tourist trap that you had to pay for. However, when we walked down to the entrance area, we saw that we were a bit wrong on that notion. There was a line to get in and a charge of 5 GBP per person (unless you were a student, then it was 3.80 GBP… Kristen had her student card from the University of Kent). They gave every entrant an audio-guided tour device that resembled a small headmaster’s paddle, which you held against one ear after punching in the number at 7 different spots around the Henge. We spent about an hour here, listening to the audio tour and just standing there, gazing at this bizarre sight. It wasn’t a let-down, but it would have been fun to be able to get closer than 20 feet to it. There was a cold wind blowing steadily the entire time, but it is easy to ignore when you are fixated on this monument. It was about 2:00pm when we left. Kristen got a giant chocolate chip scone from the snack-shop while I said hello and goodbye to the sheep in the field next to the ‘henge.
The rest of the day was pretty much spent behind the wheel, but road-tripping on a day like today was not nearly an exhausting experience. Unfortunately, it took a little longer to get to Norwich than we expected. Or, at least, we should have left earlier or not stayed as long at Stonehenge. It was twilight by the time we reached the B&B across from the University of East Anglia’s campus, so we had to reschedule our private campus walk-through for Sunday morning. Not a big deal because we didn’t have any appointments anyway and the university offices are closed on both Saturdays and Sundays. The proprietor of the Arbor Linden House B&B was a very kind and talkative lady. As soon as we got there, she immediately started running through the layout of the town and advising us on where and how we should go. She gave us maps and ran through all the rules and customs of the B&B. After her “presentation” we lumbered up to our room on the 2nd floor. It was a nice size, but highly quirky. The bathroom was in a converted closet basically, with slatted doors. To turn on the faucet, you had to pull a cord (to turn on hot water) and then turn a dial on a box attached to the wall. Then water came out of the faucet (the handles on the faucets didn’t actually do anything). I’m not sure what the purpose of this elaborate system is, but it must have something to do with saving water and energy.
Though Norwich seems to be more of a “car town”, we decided to walk to the city center because our B&B hostess said it would only take about 20 minutes and after spending the day sitting, it would be good to get a little exercise. After hearing on the news that there was a freeze on the way, we bundled up and headed out. It took about 30 minutes to get into the active part of the city center. Our first impression of the city was a bit un-inspired. Looked a bit more run-down and dirty. However, we knew already that most towns would have trouble comparing with Exeter.
There was quite a bit of activity downtown. Lots of college students milling about, on their way to clubs and pubs. We were craving Indian food, so we navigated to a restaurant our B&B lady had recommended. The brochure map we had was a bit crude, so it took us a while to find the place. The journey was worth it, though. I had a scorchingly spicy Chicken Masala dish, two lagers from India (Kingfisher and Cobra) and we split some rice, nan bread, and papadums w/ three kinds of chutney. Kristen had a sweetly, mild Chicken Curry and a ginger ale. Satiated and full, we headed back out into the cold to see a little bit more of the town. The headwaiter said, “thank you” about 10 times as we were leaving.
For about an hour, we ambled around the city, trying really hard to find reasons to like it and vaguely trying to find this one pub I had heard about which has 25 cask ales available at any given time (we never found it though… the map was poorly detailed). Norwich has a few nice parts and lots of restaurants, shops, etc. Definitely a lot more activity than Exeter, but the city officials should definitely hire a few street-sweepers because there was a lot of litter lying around everywhere. This usually seems to be the case with the more car-oriented cities. They look pretty good from a vehicle, but when your outside you’re seeing everything up close and it’s a bit dreary. LA is a great example of this.
So, feeling a little bit defeated and disappointed, we headed back to the B&B. Decided to walk again which took a lot longer than we thought it would. The temperature had dropped considerably, so we were both thoroughly chilled by they time we got back. Weather like this seemingly has little effect on the yoots (youths) in England. We’re bundled up in jackets, scarves and gloves, but here they are running around in one layer of clothing. The girls in mini-skirts and blouses, the guys in jeans and a button-down. Why they don’t get pneumonia is beyond me. Apparently, it is a drag to have to take care of a jacket when you’re going clubbing or doing a pub-crawl. (I think we’re getting old!)
Another full day behind us, we settled down in our hotel room, leafed through a couple of issues of British tabloids while Poltergeist played on TV. Then we went to bed, quiet and exhausted.
Friday, January 23
The First Day… a long one
Our wake-up call yanked us from our “slumber” at 4:50am. Even though we tried to get to sleep as early as possible, you just don’t sleep soundly when you’re anticipating the alarm going off at an un-godly hour. We quickly showered and headed downstairs to check out and catch our taxi: a small, yellow sporty thing with leather seats. It only took about 8 minutes to get to the airport and check-in was breeze. Our plane took off, on time, at 6:40am after going through the “de-icing bay”. An hour later, we were on the ground in the UK, but it was still 6:40. We went back in time, to the land of GMT.
After breezing through customs – well, I breezed through, but Kristen had to fill out a form and answer a lot of questions – we were soon sitting in our 4-door, black Peugeot. Me on the right hand side, behind the wheel, and Kristen on the left. It took me about 15 minutes to get used to driving on the left and the learning curve had us back-tracking, u-turning, and circling roundabouts. But when we finally got on the freeway, we made pretty good time. Until we realized we somehow had gone the wrong direction when we got on the “London Orbital” (the road which circles London). We should have gone west, but we went east and ended up circling around the bottom of the city rather than over the top. Added about a half hour to the trip, so it wasn’t a huge deal. Though it was drizzling and cloudy most of the way, the drive was actually quite nice. Lots of beautiful English countryside. We got stuck behind a couple of slow trucks when we were on the two-lane A303, so that set us back a little.
About an hour behind schedule, we reached Exeter at 12:30 and got a bit lost there before winding our way through the hills to the university. Kristen missed her first appointment and I didn’t make it to the research seminar I had been invited to. Despite this, we both were able to meet up with at least one of our contacts. Kristen spent a couple of hours talking to Dr. Lyons, a professor of Film, Literature and Visual Studies, as well as 20 minutes with Dr. Helen Taylor, the head of the English department. I met with Dr. Higbee, a professor of European Film Studies. He gave me a quick tour of the department and some of the facilities. When Kristen and I met up again, I showed her some of the things that he had showed me, including the library and film history archive. Through all this, there was a steady flow of soft, English rain and the campus was covered in low-hanging clouds. Even though the day was a bit dreary, we really got a good feeling about the university and the campus. However, by the time we got back to the car, I was thoroughly drenched (corduroy jackets are not very waterproof).
By this time, it was 4pm, so we headed over to the Clocktower Hotel to check in (their site). The room was quite small, but still cozy. After drying of and taking a breather watching “the beeb” (BBC) for a little while, we headed out to have drinks and dinner. Dr. Higbee recommended a pub called The Wellhouse. A great little pub with big windows facing a 850-year-old gothic cathedral. I had a couple of cask ales and Kristen had a blue drink the bartender made up. He said they don’t really serve mixed drinks, so he just threw something together from their shots liquor based on her request for “a mixed drink that tastes good”. It was a hit (she had two), so I told him he should put it on the menu. Post-drinks, we went up the street to a pizza place, which seemed to be a franchise. England’s answer to California Pizza Kitchen. They serve personal pizzas with oddball toppings, but they don’t slice them because people eat pizzas with a knife and fork over here!
So, having logged about 300 British miles, been up since 4:50am, walked around in the rain, and filled our bellies with pizza and chocolate fudge cake, it was due time to turn in for the night. We wandered back through the cobblestone streets to our hotel - feeling like it must be 10:00 or 11:00 o’clock. But it was actually only 8:00, which meant we could even catch the evening’s episode of EastEnders, a popular cheesy-yet-really-enthralling British soap opera that we watch regularly.
It was a good day.
Our wake-up call yanked us from our “slumber” at 4:50am. Even though we tried to get to sleep as early as possible, you just don’t sleep soundly when you’re anticipating the alarm going off at an un-godly hour. We quickly showered and headed downstairs to check out and catch our taxi: a small, yellow sporty thing with leather seats. It only took about 8 minutes to get to the airport and check-in was breeze. Our plane took off, on time, at 6:40am after going through the “de-icing bay”. An hour later, we were on the ground in the UK, but it was still 6:40. We went back in time, to the land of GMT.
After breezing through customs – well, I breezed through, but Kristen had to fill out a form and answer a lot of questions – we were soon sitting in our 4-door, black Peugeot. Me on the right hand side, behind the wheel, and Kristen on the left. It took me about 15 minutes to get used to driving on the left and the learning curve had us back-tracking, u-turning, and circling roundabouts. But when we finally got on the freeway, we made pretty good time. Until we realized we somehow had gone the wrong direction when we got on the “London Orbital” (the road which circles London). We should have gone west, but we went east and ended up circling around the bottom of the city rather than over the top. Added about a half hour to the trip, so it wasn’t a huge deal. Though it was drizzling and cloudy most of the way, the drive was actually quite nice. Lots of beautiful English countryside. We got stuck behind a couple of slow trucks when we were on the two-lane A303, so that set us back a little.
About an hour behind schedule, we reached Exeter at 12:30 and got a bit lost there before winding our way through the hills to the university. Kristen missed her first appointment and I didn’t make it to the research seminar I had been invited to. Despite this, we both were able to meet up with at least one of our contacts. Kristen spent a couple of hours talking to Dr. Lyons, a professor of Film, Literature and Visual Studies, as well as 20 minutes with Dr. Helen Taylor, the head of the English department. I met with Dr. Higbee, a professor of European Film Studies. He gave me a quick tour of the department and some of the facilities. When Kristen and I met up again, I showed her some of the things that he had showed me, including the library and film history archive. Through all this, there was a steady flow of soft, English rain and the campus was covered in low-hanging clouds. Even though the day was a bit dreary, we really got a good feeling about the university and the campus. However, by the time we got back to the car, I was thoroughly drenched (corduroy jackets are not very waterproof).
By this time, it was 4pm, so we headed over to the Clocktower Hotel to check in (their site). The room was quite small, but still cozy. After drying of and taking a breather watching “the beeb” (BBC) for a little while, we headed out to have drinks and dinner. Dr. Higbee recommended a pub called The Wellhouse. A great little pub with big windows facing a 850-year-old gothic cathedral. I had a couple of cask ales and Kristen had a blue drink the bartender made up. He said they don’t really serve mixed drinks, so he just threw something together from their shots liquor based on her request for “a mixed drink that tastes good”. It was a hit (she had two), so I told him he should put it on the menu. Post-drinks, we went up the street to a pizza place, which seemed to be a franchise. England’s answer to California Pizza Kitchen. They serve personal pizzas with oddball toppings, but they don’t slice them because people eat pizzas with a knife and fork over here!
So, having logged about 300 British miles, been up since 4:50am, walked around in the rain, and filled our bellies with pizza and chocolate fudge cake, it was due time to turn in for the night. We wandered back through the cobblestone streets to our hotel - feeling like it must be 10:00 or 11:00 o’clock. But it was actually only 8:00, which meant we could even catch the evening’s episode of EastEnders, a popular cheesy-yet-really-enthralling British soap opera that we watch regularly.
It was a good day.
Thursday, January 22
Off to Old England
We're heading off to England tomorrow morning. A 6:40 am flight from Charleroi (an hour south of Brussels). We got a really cheap ticket with RyanAir. 79 euros for both of us, round-trip. We're renting a car to get to Exeter and Norwich. Driving on the left hand side of the road for the first time. Should be interesting.
Since our flight is so early and it's not easy to get to Charleroi in the wee hours, we're taking a train down there tonight. Reserved a hotel room near the airport. That way we can get there with minimal fuss and actually get a reasonable night's sleep.
-RP-
We're heading off to England tomorrow morning. A 6:40 am flight from Charleroi (an hour south of Brussels). We got a really cheap ticket with RyanAir. 79 euros for both of us, round-trip. We're renting a car to get to Exeter and Norwich. Driving on the left hand side of the road for the first time. Should be interesting.
Since our flight is so early and it's not easy to get to Charleroi in the wee hours, we're taking a train down there tonight. Reserved a hotel room near the airport. That way we can get there with minimal fuss and actually get a reasonable night's sleep.
-RP-
Sunday, January 18
Curtain Call for West Side Story
Kristen e-mailed our landlord about the gang wars that are being waged in our ceiling. The next day the maid (who cleans the common areas of our building) delivered some packets of rat poison to us. She had also spread some in the basement and some other places. She asked that we sprinkle this stuff around in around apartment. We haven't done it yet and don't intend to. There haven't been any visitors here for a long time and we'd rather not have rat poison laying around.
Anyway, the poison that was spread elsewhere seems to have done the trick. There has been a huge decrease in the nightly activities. We haven't heard one rat, but there has been some mouse-noise. Here and there some dainty little feet pattering around. OK by me... that's not something that'll wake you up like the rats have done. I guess the mice are smart enough to stay away from the poison. The rats, though, must have voraciously gobbled down that stuff. It looks like moldy wheat and oat grain.
I wonder how many "stiffs" we have above our heads now...
-RP-
Kristen e-mailed our landlord about the gang wars that are being waged in our ceiling. The next day the maid (who cleans the common areas of our building) delivered some packets of rat poison to us. She had also spread some in the basement and some other places. She asked that we sprinkle this stuff around in around apartment. We haven't done it yet and don't intend to. There haven't been any visitors here for a long time and we'd rather not have rat poison laying around.
Anyway, the poison that was spread elsewhere seems to have done the trick. There has been a huge decrease in the nightly activities. We haven't heard one rat, but there has been some mouse-noise. Here and there some dainty little feet pattering around. OK by me... that's not something that'll wake you up like the rats have done. I guess the mice are smart enough to stay away from the poison. The rats, though, must have voraciously gobbled down that stuff. It looks like moldy wheat and oat grain.
I wonder how many "stiffs" we have above our heads now...
-RP-
Saturday, January 17
Eating like a Cretin
Well, Cretan actually... as in someone from Crete. I had a health check up the week before last. He took a blood sample to get a full spectrum of what's "under my hood". Last Saturday I went to his office again to discuss the results. I'm pretty healthy. No diabetes, anemia, or blood-born viruses. And I finally know what my blood-group is (A Positive). My bad cholesterol is low, my white/red blood cell ratio is good, blood-pressure is healthily low. However, my good cholesterol is a bit too low and my cardiovascular "risk factor" is 1.9 points higher than it should be. So he advised that I jog or walk more often and that I adopt the "Cretense regime" (as he called it)... the Mediterranean diet: lots of fish, olive oil, vegetables, little meat, no cheese unless it is goat cheese, etc. Great, more reasons to feel guilty about those "pleasure foods".
We eat pretty healthily already, though. Hardly ever eat red meat, have a salad for dinner at least two times a week, don't eat a lot of bread, no soft drinks, no fast food, one health-beer per day. Still, I am trying to change my eating habits a little bit. Definitely going to add more fruits, vegetables, olive oil, yoghurt, etc. I don't believe in cloistering yourself from "naughty" foods, but I do believe in moderation. And I think we do pretty well on that count. Our new rule is to eat healthier at home and at work, but enjoy ourselves when we go out to eat (which is not very often).
On the exercise side of things, I'm starting small. I've been leaving for work about 20 minutes earlier than usual so I can take the long way to where I catch my ride. I try to take the stairs at work as much as possible and I've actually gotten some of my colleagues to do the same. That's how I have to do it, anyway. Ease into it.
My problem is that I really can't get into walking or jogging for the exercise. First of all, I absolutely detest running and my knees agree with me. As for walking, I have issues with doing it when there is not a tangible "goal" that I'm moving towards. That is, walking from point A to point B because I need to do something at point B versus walking from point A to point A because I need the exercise. That's why I was thinking it would be good for me if we had a dog...
Dog that needs to poop + human with a leash = exercise.
-RP-
Well, Cretan actually... as in someone from Crete. I had a health check up the week before last. He took a blood sample to get a full spectrum of what's "under my hood". Last Saturday I went to his office again to discuss the results. I'm pretty healthy. No diabetes, anemia, or blood-born viruses. And I finally know what my blood-group is (A Positive). My bad cholesterol is low, my white/red blood cell ratio is good, blood-pressure is healthily low. However, my good cholesterol is a bit too low and my cardiovascular "risk factor" is 1.9 points higher than it should be. So he advised that I jog or walk more often and that I adopt the "Cretense regime" (as he called it)... the Mediterranean diet: lots of fish, olive oil, vegetables, little meat, no cheese unless it is goat cheese, etc. Great, more reasons to feel guilty about those "pleasure foods".
We eat pretty healthily already, though. Hardly ever eat red meat, have a salad for dinner at least two times a week, don't eat a lot of bread, no soft drinks, no fast food, one health-beer per day. Still, I am trying to change my eating habits a little bit. Definitely going to add more fruits, vegetables, olive oil, yoghurt, etc. I don't believe in cloistering yourself from "naughty" foods, but I do believe in moderation. And I think we do pretty well on that count. Our new rule is to eat healthier at home and at work, but enjoy ourselves when we go out to eat (which is not very often).
On the exercise side of things, I'm starting small. I've been leaving for work about 20 minutes earlier than usual so I can take the long way to where I catch my ride. I try to take the stairs at work as much as possible and I've actually gotten some of my colleagues to do the same. That's how I have to do it, anyway. Ease into it.
My problem is that I really can't get into walking or jogging for the exercise. First of all, I absolutely detest running and my knees agree with me. As for walking, I have issues with doing it when there is not a tangible "goal" that I'm moving towards. That is, walking from point A to point B because I need to do something at point B versus walking from point A to point A because I need the exercise. That's why I was thinking it would be good for me if we had a dog...
Dog that needs to poop + human with a leash = exercise.
-RP-
Friday, January 16
Here's a tip... if you live in Belgium and have relatives in countries outside the European Union, tell them not to send packages to you. Receiving a package in Belgium (or at least Brussels) is a frustrating activity. Aside from the money you have to shell out to take delivery of the package, you have to count on adding two to three weeks on top of the normal transit time. For example, my mother sent us a box of presents just before Christmas. The box "arrived" Thursday of last week. Kristen was here, but the guy asked for 18.73 euros for the package and she didn't have any cash on her, so she had to turn it away. He said he would return the following night at 6pm. Promises, promises... he has yet to return. However, yesterday we received a postcard notice in the mail stating they had a parcel from the USA in their warehouse and we need to contact them within 5 days or it will be sent back. I called them this morning before I went to work and scheduled a delivery for this Tuesday. We have a 20 euro bill sitting on our counter for the day that they decide to return.
Speaking of which, you may wonder why we have to pay to receive the package. So did we, especially since my mother made sure to mark it as a "gift" on the customs for. Well, I asked the guy about this morning. Why is there a charge? He said it was 9 something for the VAT (Belgium's goods tax) and 9 something for customs. Even though it was marked as gift? Yes, customs takes an interest in anything marked with a value over 55 euros. However, I don't think that's a hard-fast rule because when my mother sent a small box with 8 old cassette tapes in it, customs had cut the box open to see what was inside and we had to pay about 18 euros then too.
UPS charged us a little over 100 euros for our computer, but they sent that bill after the fact. But, gee... I'm not sure what has happened to that bill. Hmmm. Maybe they'll send another one?
Nothing wrong with taking advantage of the fact that must government offices and global shipping companies in Belgium are neck-deep in paper-work. I get the feeling it can be very easy to get lost in a stack of papers here. Sometimes that's a good thing and sometimes not.
-RP-
Speaking of which, you may wonder why we have to pay to receive the package. So did we, especially since my mother made sure to mark it as a "gift" on the customs for. Well, I asked the guy about this morning. Why is there a charge? He said it was 9 something for the VAT (Belgium's goods tax) and 9 something for customs. Even though it was marked as gift? Yes, customs takes an interest in anything marked with a value over 55 euros. However, I don't think that's a hard-fast rule because when my mother sent a small box with 8 old cassette tapes in it, customs had cut the box open to see what was inside and we had to pay about 18 euros then too.
UPS charged us a little over 100 euros for our computer, but they sent that bill after the fact. But, gee... I'm not sure what has happened to that bill. Hmmm. Maybe they'll send another one?
Nothing wrong with taking advantage of the fact that must government offices and global shipping companies in Belgium are neck-deep in paper-work. I get the feeling it can be very easy to get lost in a stack of papers here. Sometimes that's a good thing and sometimes not.
-RP-
Sunday, January 11
Anti-Americanism
Friday morning I was on the metro going to the film festival office when I had my first encounter with blatent anti-americanism. Thankfully it wasn't directed at me, but it was still disturbing. The train was almost empty, just me and a group of six or eight American girls (I think they must have been college students). They were chattering and laughing, not loudly, but in an empty train it was easy to hear them. We were about halfway to my stop when two men got on and stood between me and the group of girls. I noticed the men because they looked sort of intense (for lack of a better word) and were speaking to each other in hushed french. I think they were from France, not Belgium, because their French sounded a little different and their clothes were a slighty different style than what we normally see men wearing here. One of them also had a pony tail and that's definitely not popular in our conservative city. Anyway, the girls' stop came first and they stood up, walked to the doors and started getting off the train when the pony-tailed man said to them "What's next guys?." They looked confused at this question and I didn't understand why he would be asking them this. They continued to leave the train and he yelled after them "What country is next? Who are you going to carpet bomb next?" They looked shocked and I'm sure I did too. The man then turned to his friend and continued his conversation like nothing had happened. I'm not sure what he was trying to accomplish, but I'm fairly sure the girls aren't responisble for the war in Iraq and most likely they didn't even vote for Bush. It just seemed mean.
~K
Friday morning I was on the metro going to the film festival office when I had my first encounter with blatent anti-americanism. Thankfully it wasn't directed at me, but it was still disturbing. The train was almost empty, just me and a group of six or eight American girls (I think they must have been college students). They were chattering and laughing, not loudly, but in an empty train it was easy to hear them. We were about halfway to my stop when two men got on and stood between me and the group of girls. I noticed the men because they looked sort of intense (for lack of a better word) and were speaking to each other in hushed french. I think they were from France, not Belgium, because their French sounded a little different and their clothes were a slighty different style than what we normally see men wearing here. One of them also had a pony tail and that's definitely not popular in our conservative city. Anyway, the girls' stop came first and they stood up, walked to the doors and started getting off the train when the pony-tailed man said to them "What's next guys?." They looked confused at this question and I didn't understand why he would be asking them this. They continued to leave the train and he yelled after them "What country is next? Who are you going to carpet bomb next?" They looked shocked and I'm sure I did too. The man then turned to his friend and continued his conversation like nothing had happened. I'm not sure what he was trying to accomplish, but I'm fairly sure the girls aren't responisble for the war in Iraq and most likely they didn't even vote for Bush. It just seemed mean.
~K
Saturday, January 10
Have you seen this man?
We have rodents. We noticed them not long after we moved in. When we're in the bedroom at night, we can hear pitter-patter of little feet in the cieling above us. From time to time, a little rustling, scratching, chewing. I think there's only a couple of mice, maybe a family. The dad actually infiltrated our apartment a month ago. Cute little guy, small enough to fit in a tablespoon measure. However, we've blocked all of his entrances, so he has been here for a long time. I don't mind him coming for a visit once in a while, but Kristen feels a little differently about it. The first time he came for a visit was one day when Kristen had been sitting on the couch reading. I came home a few hours later and found her tucked all the way into the couch with all the lights on in the house. "We have a mouse." Twenty minutes later he came running out of the kitchen and disappeared into a hole in the floor.
A mouse or two is OK with me. Rats are a different story. The first time we heard the noise up in the cieling was a few weeks after we moved in. We were woken up in the middle of the night by what sounded like a stampede. It was very surreal and I wasn't sure it was actually happening at first, but then I realized Kristen had been woken up by it too. I don't know where that many critters came from or where they were going, but our bedroom cieling seems to be a hot-bed of activity. Usually it's just the sound of our mice's little tiny feet running around, kind of an endearing sound. But then once or twice a night there is the sound of something larger. Something it sounds like they are moving around rodent furniture or wrestling with each other. Last night it sounded like there was a hot pursuit going on. I imagine this turf-war going on up there between the mice and the rats. Sort of a West Side Story re-enactment... with rodents. Unfortunately, I think we'll have to cancel the show pretty soon by notifying our landlord. Kind of a shame... they've gotten that "We Want To Live In America" number down pat!
-RP-
We have rodents. We noticed them not long after we moved in. When we're in the bedroom at night, we can hear pitter-patter of little feet in the cieling above us. From time to time, a little rustling, scratching, chewing. I think there's only a couple of mice, maybe a family. The dad actually infiltrated our apartment a month ago. Cute little guy, small enough to fit in a tablespoon measure. However, we've blocked all of his entrances, so he has been here for a long time. I don't mind him coming for a visit once in a while, but Kristen feels a little differently about it. The first time he came for a visit was one day when Kristen had been sitting on the couch reading. I came home a few hours later and found her tucked all the way into the couch with all the lights on in the house. "We have a mouse." Twenty minutes later he came running out of the kitchen and disappeared into a hole in the floor.
A mouse or two is OK with me. Rats are a different story. The first time we heard the noise up in the cieling was a few weeks after we moved in. We were woken up in the middle of the night by what sounded like a stampede. It was very surreal and I wasn't sure it was actually happening at first, but then I realized Kristen had been woken up by it too. I don't know where that many critters came from or where they were going, but our bedroom cieling seems to be a hot-bed of activity. Usually it's just the sound of our mice's little tiny feet running around, kind of an endearing sound. But then once or twice a night there is the sound of something larger. Something it sounds like they are moving around rodent furniture or wrestling with each other. Last night it sounded like there was a hot pursuit going on. I imagine this turf-war going on up there between the mice and the rats. Sort of a West Side Story re-enactment... with rodents. Unfortunately, I think we'll have to cancel the show pretty soon by notifying our landlord. Kind of a shame... they've gotten that "We Want To Live In America" number down pat!
-RP-
Friday, January 9
Update
We have narrowed our choice of schools down to two. Exeter and East Anglia. There was a while there when it seemed like we'd be adding two, instead of removing some. We had found a school in Reading and one in New Zealand. The one at Exeter is a European Film Studies program which focuses on the films from Britain, France, Germany, Italy, Russia and Spain. The interesting thing is it is in the School of Modern Languages department. The program an East Anglia is also focused on European film studies, but they also have a film archive and give the option to learn film archiving as a part of the Masters program. Being a technical person, that really appeals to me. Plus, it would give me more options for work outside of the academics field.
So, as it stands right now, going back to school is our new Plan A. We are going to visit the two schools on the weekend of the 23rd and have already started the application process. Provided that we like the schools and the city they are in (and are accepted, of course), we will be going to England this September. If we don't like the schools or don't get accepted, we will go with Plan B: pursuing the "brewing thing" again by taking the brewing course in March and then... well, that's all we have right now.
Schools
We have narrowed our choice of schools down to two. Exeter and East Anglia. There was a while there when it seemed like we'd be adding two, instead of removing some. We had found a school in Reading and one in New Zealand. The one at Exeter is a European Film Studies program which focuses on the films from Britain, France, Germany, Italy, Russia and Spain. The interesting thing is it is in the School of Modern Languages department. The program an East Anglia is also focused on European film studies, but they also have a film archive and give the option to learn film archiving as a part of the Masters program. Being a technical person, that really appeals to me. Plus, it would give me more options for work outside of the academics field.
So, as it stands right now, going back to school is our new Plan A. We are going to visit the two schools on the weekend of the 23rd and have already started the application process. Provided that we like the schools and the city they are in (and are accepted, of course), we will be going to England this September. If we don't like the schools or don't get accepted, we will go with Plan B: pursuing the "brewing thing" again by taking the brewing course in March and then... well, that's all we have right now.
Schools
Friday, January 2
My Name is Kristen and I'm a Drop Out
Rich has been urging me to come clean and let everyone know that I've dropped out of school. This is hard for me to admit because the words "drop out" seem so negative. Like I'm a big quitter. But, in this case it is true. I have quit school. Before I explain why I have taken such action, let me revisit the reasons we decided to move to Europe in the first place. Our main goal was to experience life in Europe, not as visitors but as residents. The only way I (a U.S. resident) could stay in Europe for more than three months was on a student visa. Rich is still a Danish citizen so he can live anywhere in the European Union without difficulty, but not me! The secondary reason was my desire to return to school and study something new that might give me some different career options besides working in TV and Film. Hence the decision to move to Belgium and attend the Brussels School of International Studies. I was interested in learning more about U.S. foreign policy from outside the country and figured the picture would be clearer from a European perspective. There are lots of international organizations here, like the European Economic Commission, the European Parliament, NATO, and every possible embassy. I thought there would be some good employment options, or at least some interesting internships. Seems logical, right? What I didn't anticipate were the problems I encountered within the school itself: few class choices, unavailable professors, horrible research facilities, no student groups or activities, disorganized administration and an appalling acceptance policy that admitted everyone who applied to the program regardless of qualifications. I also didn't expect to hate political science, political theory, international economy and pretty much everything to do with international relations.
When I go back in the blog archives and read my postings about the first weeks of school, I remember how doubtful I was at the beginning about whether the program was right for me. I only wrote about the things I liked and left out my concerns over the library, the faculty and my own decision to take on a whole new subject area. I kept going to classes and seminars, biting my tongue and keeping quiet. The only class that made sense to me was History of Conflict. Dr. Palo is a fantastic teacher and really made it come alive. But one good class didn't outweigh the despair I felt in the other two. Without realizing what I was doing, almost immediately after the semester began I had begun to look for ways to make it palatable: politics in movies, novels with political or economic themes, international relations in the media, etc. Finally, about six weeks ago it started to dawn on me that I really, really didn't like what I was studying. I began to question the wisdom of spending a year getting an M.A. in International Relations and then continuing on for three more years for the PhD in an area that left me completely cold unless it was sugar-coated in film or literature. Not to mention spending A LOT of money to do it. I stewed on this for about two weeks before I mentioned my feelings to Rich. As soon as I said it out loud, two things happened. The first was a huge feeling of relief. The second was knowing immediately that I needed to quit the program. This was a bit shocking because the sole reason we came to Brussels was so I could study at BSIS. If I quit, what was our motivation for staying? I vacillated back and forth between wanting to quit and talking myself into staying with it. Eventually I began to see the folly in spending such a huge amount of time and money learning things I wasn't interested in pursuing (thanks Mom) and informed the program director that I was leaving.
Once that bridge was burned, I felt so good! My attention and interest turned back to Film Studies and I feel like I'm back where I'm supposed to be. I still want to get a PhD and be a professor, but I have discovered that it has to be in the Film Studies area. Around the same time as my realization, Rich had his own (see the Nov. 30 blog entry below) and now we're both looking for PhD programs in Film Studies. We've agreed that neither of us is ready to return to the U.S., so the school search is focused on England and Scotland. More on this soon...
A whole different road than the one we started out on, but this looks pretty good.
~K
Rich has been urging me to come clean and let everyone know that I've dropped out of school. This is hard for me to admit because the words "drop out" seem so negative. Like I'm a big quitter. But, in this case it is true. I have quit school. Before I explain why I have taken such action, let me revisit the reasons we decided to move to Europe in the first place. Our main goal was to experience life in Europe, not as visitors but as residents. The only way I (a U.S. resident) could stay in Europe for more than three months was on a student visa. Rich is still a Danish citizen so he can live anywhere in the European Union without difficulty, but not me! The secondary reason was my desire to return to school and study something new that might give me some different career options besides working in TV and Film. Hence the decision to move to Belgium and attend the Brussels School of International Studies. I was interested in learning more about U.S. foreign policy from outside the country and figured the picture would be clearer from a European perspective. There are lots of international organizations here, like the European Economic Commission, the European Parliament, NATO, and every possible embassy. I thought there would be some good employment options, or at least some interesting internships. Seems logical, right? What I didn't anticipate were the problems I encountered within the school itself: few class choices, unavailable professors, horrible research facilities, no student groups or activities, disorganized administration and an appalling acceptance policy that admitted everyone who applied to the program regardless of qualifications. I also didn't expect to hate political science, political theory, international economy and pretty much everything to do with international relations.
When I go back in the blog archives and read my postings about the first weeks of school, I remember how doubtful I was at the beginning about whether the program was right for me. I only wrote about the things I liked and left out my concerns over the library, the faculty and my own decision to take on a whole new subject area. I kept going to classes and seminars, biting my tongue and keeping quiet. The only class that made sense to me was History of Conflict. Dr. Palo is a fantastic teacher and really made it come alive. But one good class didn't outweigh the despair I felt in the other two. Without realizing what I was doing, almost immediately after the semester began I had begun to look for ways to make it palatable: politics in movies, novels with political or economic themes, international relations in the media, etc. Finally, about six weeks ago it started to dawn on me that I really, really didn't like what I was studying. I began to question the wisdom of spending a year getting an M.A. in International Relations and then continuing on for three more years for the PhD in an area that left me completely cold unless it was sugar-coated in film or literature. Not to mention spending A LOT of money to do it. I stewed on this for about two weeks before I mentioned my feelings to Rich. As soon as I said it out loud, two things happened. The first was a huge feeling of relief. The second was knowing immediately that I needed to quit the program. This was a bit shocking because the sole reason we came to Brussels was so I could study at BSIS. If I quit, what was our motivation for staying? I vacillated back and forth between wanting to quit and talking myself into staying with it. Eventually I began to see the folly in spending such a huge amount of time and money learning things I wasn't interested in pursuing (thanks Mom) and informed the program director that I was leaving.
Once that bridge was burned, I felt so good! My attention and interest turned back to Film Studies and I feel like I'm back where I'm supposed to be. I still want to get a PhD and be a professor, but I have discovered that it has to be in the Film Studies area. Around the same time as my realization, Rich had his own (see the Nov. 30 blog entry below) and now we're both looking for PhD programs in Film Studies. We've agreed that neither of us is ready to return to the U.S., so the school search is focused on England and Scotland. More on this soon...
A whole different road than the one we started out on, but this looks pretty good.
~K
Thursday, January 1
Jaar Twee, null, null, vier
Another year under our belts. Now we're into an evenly divisible year. 2003 was an odd year... mathematically and metaphorically both. It was a year of...
...Waiting... for September when we would move to Belgium.
...Turmoil... working for a start-up company that went kaput.
...Corporate espionage... when we ****[confidential material]**** because it was the right thing to do.
...Relocation... three times (between three states and one European country).
...Personal growth... too much if you ask me.
...Job-hunting... knocking on many doors and ending up in something entirely different.
...Extremes... emotional, financial and environmental.
...Technical advancement... of GreenCard Brewery's technology (which is now stored in Hubbard, Oregon).
...Liberation... from many of our earthly possessions (cars, furniture, and countless other space-mongers).
...Decision-making... not just about which beer to drink before dinner, mind you.
...Sweating... try loading a U-Haul truck to the gills in the middle of an Arizona summer and you'll see what I mean.
...Change... of locales, viewpoints, careers, vocations, minds, fields of study, and on and on and on and on.
...Broadening horizons... new languages, new cultures, new experiences, new obstacles.
...Reconnecting with roots... Europe, Scandinavian languages, family.
...Making friends and aquaintances... comes with the territory when you move around so much.
Thinking back on it, I have a hard time really grasping it. So many things happened and so many things didn't happen, but it was all good. Or it will become good in the end (when we look back from farther away). The "golden" time was the months I spent in Oregon with Kristen's family. It was great to get to know them and I'm really happy about the strong connections that were made.
While a lot of good came out of 2003, I really hope 2004 is a little less "turbulent". I know we're in for a few big decisions, at least one relocation and, as Kristen pointed out last night while we chowed down on some super-delicious pitas, another 9 months of "killing time". We've both somehow ended up in a situation where we're doing something to pass the time while we wait to be able to move on with the next "phase". But this time we're in Europe, in a cute little country and we're going to try to make the most of it. After all, we need to do this while we still can. We're fortunate (or unfortunate) enough to have a relatively small amount of crippling responsibility (careers, kids, etc.). Maybe that makes us selfish, but I think we're just lucky!
Happy New Year!
-RP-
Another year under our belts. Now we're into an evenly divisible year. 2003 was an odd year... mathematically and metaphorically both. It was a year of...
...Waiting... for September when we would move to Belgium.
...Turmoil... working for a start-up company that went kaput.
...Corporate espionage... when we ****[confidential material]**** because it was the right thing to do.
...Relocation... three times (between three states and one European country).
...Personal growth... too much if you ask me.
...Job-hunting... knocking on many doors and ending up in something entirely different.
...Extremes... emotional, financial and environmental.
...Technical advancement... of GreenCard Brewery's technology (which is now stored in Hubbard, Oregon).
...Liberation... from many of our earthly possessions (cars, furniture, and countless other space-mongers).
...Decision-making... not just about which beer to drink before dinner, mind you.
...Sweating... try loading a U-Haul truck to the gills in the middle of an Arizona summer and you'll see what I mean.
...Change... of locales, viewpoints, careers, vocations, minds, fields of study, and on and on and on and on.
...Broadening horizons... new languages, new cultures, new experiences, new obstacles.
...Reconnecting with roots... Europe, Scandinavian languages, family.
...Making friends and aquaintances... comes with the territory when you move around so much.
Thinking back on it, I have a hard time really grasping it. So many things happened and so many things didn't happen, but it was all good. Or it will become good in the end (when we look back from farther away). The "golden" time was the months I spent in Oregon with Kristen's family. It was great to get to know them and I'm really happy about the strong connections that were made.
While a lot of good came out of 2003, I really hope 2004 is a little less "turbulent". I know we're in for a few big decisions, at least one relocation and, as Kristen pointed out last night while we chowed down on some super-delicious pitas, another 9 months of "killing time". We've both somehow ended up in a situation where we're doing something to pass the time while we wait to be able to move on with the next "phase". But this time we're in Europe, in a cute little country and we're going to try to make the most of it. After all, we need to do this while we still can. We're fortunate (or unfortunate) enough to have a relatively small amount of crippling responsibility (careers, kids, etc.). Maybe that makes us selfish, but I think we're just lucky!
Happy New Year!
-RP-
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