We are all settled in our new place now. It is amazing how this place already feels much more like home than the place where we spent the last nine months. Don't get me wrong, we did really well for having picked it off the internet without seeing it in person, but our new place is much nicer. What a difference a home makes.
We are in the middle of yet another long weekend; the second one this month! For some reason, because us academics work so hard, we get an extra day off as well. This means I have Saturday, Sunday, Monday and Tuesday off! What's a girl to do with herself?
I spent Friday shopping, so that got things off to a nice start. The clothes I bought are nice, but they are really, well, how do I put this....English. For example, I actually bought a tunic. Crazy (Of couse, here it is pronounced chew-nic, just like they say, 'chews-day' instead of tuesday). I don't think I would have ever bought clothes like this at Limeridge Mall! This reminded me of the feeling one gets sometimes when living in a foreign country that you are some alternate version of yourself. I remember feeling this when I lived in Belgium. For starters, the kids I worked with couldn't pronounce my name. The 'th' was too hard, so they called me 'Bet.' What's weird is that after a while I started to call myself 'Bet.' I remember also feeling weird because I couldn't make any jokes or be sarcastic - it just didn't translate into Flemish! It is like this strange out of body experience where you can see that you are being something other than yourself, but it seems to be the most appropriate self for the circumstances. As for the British Beth, she has to walk every where so she is always wearing hiking shoes and a fleece. Not the most stylish compared to the street-fashion of British girls, but definitely the most practical. Seems my whole existence here is about being practical. Luckily, sarcasm reigns supreme over here so I have not had to compromise my sense of humour!
I guess the question remains whether the English Beth and the Canadian Beth will be able to merge existences when we return home to Hamilton. What of the English Beth will I take with me? Could be too early to tell. One thing is for sure, we are feeling more postive about being here lately, we can now see more objectively the opportunties that are present for us here, and are perhaps looking back at home without our rose coloured glasses of a few months ago. For now, all I can say is that personally, I hope my new found alcohol tolerance finds its way back to the Hammer!
As for the rest of the long weekend, we have rented a car and are planning a wee day trip for tomorrow. We will have to post again with the story of how it all goes. The weather is calling for rain and a high of 9 degrees. Not the most promising weather forcast. We'll pull out our old stiff upper lip in true British style and persevere. It takes more than a little drizzle to stop the English Beth!
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Sunday, May 20, 2007
To the Train Station
This may not be a terribly interesting post to read, but for the purpose of our memories, we thought we should chronicle our walk to the train station. This walk is something we do many, many, many times per week. It lies at the centre of our Leeds experience. The Leeds station is the gateway to the North. All trains heading north will at some point pass through this station. It also acts as the gateway to our lives.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Son of the Year
We've just finished our move. As I sit here and write this, I'm staring down the canal at our old building and our flat on the 5th floor. The move was only about 400 yards, but without a moving van, car or even a trolley, it required approximately 20 trips. That's about 10 miles of walking. With suitcases, boxes, backpacks etc. filled with our junk. We'll call it the Clarence Dock Death March. Not all of the 10 miles were covered in the rain. But enough to make living in the canal boats between our new and old places seem like a preferable option to moving.
On the plus side, its all done now. We're in a new place. It is larger, newer, nicer, brighter with a nice sized patio overlooking the canal and better furniture. All in all, not a bad place. It is, however, further away from the train station. Just less than a 20 minute walk.
Today, besides being Mother's Day in Canada, is the one year anniversary of our first trip across the Ocean to England. The purpose of our first trip was so that I could interview with Sheffield Hallam University and Beth could meet the professor who has become her thesis adviser and to see if she could accept her position at Sheffield. We left on a Saturday evening, flew all night and arrived on a Sunday morning. No sleep was had on the place. We were in rough shape on landing. The arrivals section of the Manchester Airport didn't help. It was as if our plane landed at a slots casino in 1974.
Having left the Airport behind we made it to the train station and waited in the cold and the wet for our train. To Manchester. The other train station in Manchester. Stupid Manchester. Why does everything have to be so complicated? After having waited there for a few hours - waking Beth's Mom up with a (for her) very early morning phone call - we caught the train to Sheffield. On arrival we noticed the thermometre at the station. It was two degress celsius and raining. Our trip was not entirely successful. It rained the entire time. I didn't get the job I interviewed for. We discovered England was the most expensive place on earth. But Beth did like Sheffield and her adviser.
We eventually came back again and I got the job that time. Ever since, things have been pretty good. Beth has gotten more experience teaching midwifery here than she would have gotten in five years at home. Her PhD is rolling along. When the rioting in Bradford can be kept to the bare minimum, things are going well for me. Work is extremely flexible and not too taxing. We've met some good friends and, with effort, can understand most of what they say.
I have, however, missed my second Mother's Day in a row. Thankfully, we discovered a place that delivers flowers on Sunday and Mum won't be shut out of gifts. Like last time.
On the plus side, its all done now. We're in a new place. It is larger, newer, nicer, brighter with a nice sized patio overlooking the canal and better furniture. All in all, not a bad place. It is, however, further away from the train station. Just less than a 20 minute walk.
Today, besides being Mother's Day in Canada, is the one year anniversary of our first trip across the Ocean to England. The purpose of our first trip was so that I could interview with Sheffield Hallam University and Beth could meet the professor who has become her thesis adviser and to see if she could accept her position at Sheffield. We left on a Saturday evening, flew all night and arrived on a Sunday morning. No sleep was had on the place. We were in rough shape on landing. The arrivals section of the Manchester Airport didn't help. It was as if our plane landed at a slots casino in 1974.
Having left the Airport behind we made it to the train station and waited in the cold and the wet for our train. To Manchester. The other train station in Manchester. Stupid Manchester. Why does everything have to be so complicated? After having waited there for a few hours - waking Beth's Mom up with a (for her) very early morning phone call - we caught the train to Sheffield. On arrival we noticed the thermometre at the station. It was two degress celsius and raining. Our trip was not entirely successful. It rained the entire time. I didn't get the job I interviewed for. We discovered England was the most expensive place on earth. But Beth did like Sheffield and her adviser.
We eventually came back again and I got the job that time. Ever since, things have been pretty good. Beth has gotten more experience teaching midwifery here than she would have gotten in five years at home. Her PhD is rolling along. When the rioting in Bradford can be kept to the bare minimum, things are going well for me. Work is extremely flexible and not too taxing. We've met some good friends and, with effort, can understand most of what they say.
I have, however, missed my second Mother's Day in a row. Thankfully, we discovered a place that delivers flowers on Sunday and Mum won't be shut out of gifts. Like last time.
Sunday, May 06, 2007
I fought the law
One of the differences between Canada and the UK which cannot be missed is the massive and obvious police presence in the UK. Whether it’s in the form of police and dogs at the train stations, or police with humungous machine guns at airports and government offices, it’s everywhere. This police presence has manifested itself in two distinctly different ways in the last week.
First, anyone in the UK is subject to the Terrorism Act, 2000. This Act allows police officers, in uniform, to stop and detain any citizen in any area for the purposes of a search to prevent acts of terrorism. In order to exercise these powers, a police officer does not need to have reasonable grounds to suspect the individual stopped or searched of carrying offensive weapons or being actively involved in terrorism. In other words, police can stop anyone, at any time and conduct a search for no particular reason. This is not the way the game is played in Canada. Last week, I was stopped under the Terrorism Act and subjected to a search. I was leaving the Leeds train station on my way home from work when an officer stopped me. My first question, as would be anyone’s, was why? Upon receiving an in-depth briefing on the Terrorism Act, I relented to the search. My search record identifies that I was stopped and searched according to Section 44(2) of the Terrorism Act, that no clothing was removed, that no intimate parts were exposed and that I was not carrying weapons. Luckily, after further probing questions, a thorough search of my back-pack and other items it was determined that I was not a terrorist.
Our second exposure to this police presence came a few days later we spent the day in Harrogate. Harrogate is like the Niagara on the Lake of Yorkshire. It is a picturesque town with nice shops and restaurants. There seem to be more Porshe Cayenne’s per capita than in any other city in the North of England, which immediately gives an impression of the average income in Harrogate. After a nice day of walking around, enjoying some scones and clotted cream, and shopping we took the train back to Leeds. Our train got into the station at the same time as the train from Elland Road where Leeds United play football. We watched this train come into the station beside us. We knew something was up when five police officers were easily visible on the first car. We got off our train and were greeted with no less than 100 police officers. They were not just milling around, they were organized into a line, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the Leeds United fans and the fans from the away team, Ipswich. This is a regular occurrence on days when football matches are played due to the upstanding moral character of many football hooligans. Admittedly, the police force was probably a bit more organized than on usual match days due to the fact that the Leeds fans had rioted and charged the field earlier that day at the stadium. We made it through the police line alright, but once outside we were greeted with the sound of loud chanting and yelling. We looked over the bridge to the street below to see Leeds United Fans on one side of the street, taunting and singing at the fans from the away team who were on the other side of the street. For an amusing video of this event see http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iFEj02j6OV4.
In some ways we are grateful for this police presence. We’ve heard that the heavy police presence on football match days came into being by learning the hard way that football hooligans are very good at causing trouble. Our nice day in Harrogate could have ended in many more distasteful ways had the police line not been present in the station that day. But at the same time, the police presence is another reminder that we are a long way from home. Can you imagine a massive police presence outside the ACC or Rogers Centre; possibly during the final game of the World Series or the Stanley Cup Playoffs, but not on an ordinary Saturday afternoon. It makes one appreciate the mild mannered, polite, fair minded Canadian way of life.
First, anyone in the UK is subject to the Terrorism Act, 2000. This Act allows police officers, in uniform, to stop and detain any citizen in any area for the purposes of a search to prevent acts of terrorism. In order to exercise these powers, a police officer does not need to have reasonable grounds to suspect the individual stopped or searched of carrying offensive weapons or being actively involved in terrorism. In other words, police can stop anyone, at any time and conduct a search for no particular reason. This is not the way the game is played in Canada. Last week, I was stopped under the Terrorism Act and subjected to a search. I was leaving the Leeds train station on my way home from work when an officer stopped me. My first question, as would be anyone’s, was why? Upon receiving an in-depth briefing on the Terrorism Act, I relented to the search. My search record identifies that I was stopped and searched according to Section 44(2) of the Terrorism Act, that no clothing was removed, that no intimate parts were exposed and that I was not carrying weapons. Luckily, after further probing questions, a thorough search of my back-pack and other items it was determined that I was not a terrorist.
Our second exposure to this police presence came a few days later we spent the day in Harrogate. Harrogate is like the Niagara on the Lake of Yorkshire. It is a picturesque town with nice shops and restaurants. There seem to be more Porshe Cayenne’s per capita than in any other city in the North of England, which immediately gives an impression of the average income in Harrogate. After a nice day of walking around, enjoying some scones and clotted cream, and shopping we took the train back to Leeds. Our train got into the station at the same time as the train from Elland Road where Leeds United play football. We watched this train come into the station beside us. We knew something was up when five police officers were easily visible on the first car. We got off our train and were greeted with no less than 100 police officers. They were not just milling around, they were organized into a line, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the Leeds United fans and the fans from the away team, Ipswich. This is a regular occurrence on days when football matches are played due to the upstanding moral character of many football hooligans. Admittedly, the police force was probably a bit more organized than on usual match days due to the fact that the Leeds fans had rioted and charged the field earlier that day at the stadium. We made it through the police line alright, but once outside we were greeted with the sound of loud chanting and yelling. We looked over the bridge to the street below to see Leeds United Fans on one side of the street, taunting and singing at the fans from the away team who were on the other side of the street. For an amusing video of this event see http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iFEj02j6OV4.
In some ways we are grateful for this police presence. We’ve heard that the heavy police presence on football match days came into being by learning the hard way that football hooligans are very good at causing trouble. Our nice day in Harrogate could have ended in many more distasteful ways had the police line not been present in the station that day. But at the same time, the police presence is another reminder that we are a long way from home. Can you imagine a massive police presence outside the ACC or Rogers Centre; possibly during the final game of the World Series or the Stanley Cup Playoffs, but not on an ordinary Saturday afternoon. It makes one appreciate the mild mannered, polite, fair minded Canadian way of life.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
