Everybody Made It

Update: Flying into Edinburgh, photo by Roxanne:

A lot of students are looking forward to a 13-hour sleep tonight, but others are going to a concert at St. Giles' Cathedral, and others out to sample the night life of Edinburgh. Before they left, we had soup made by Karla, Chris B, Christian, and Katy A. Also in the self-catering section of the youth hostel were a landscape historian from Aberdeen who John finagled into talking to us briefly about the history of Scotland, and a young family from Western Australia, here on a long holiday. We made too much soup. Tomorrow we hike to Edinburgh Castle, walk down the Royal Mile, climb Arthur's Seat, and watch Highland dancing in the evening. Hopefully also by then we will have more contributors (and more exciting photos) for the blog.

Christine has dinner:

The youth hostel is new and nice, just a block from Calton Hill and a couple of streets down from Princes Street. All the locals complain about the road construction for the trams (I should say I've heard three people complain). John found the nearest Sainsbury--packets of veggies for 89p--which seems wonderfully inexpensive if you think of them in terms of pennies, not pence.

St. Nicholas Park, Warwick

...on a Sunday after church. We stay at a hotel, and so have to find somewhere else to eat our sandwiches:

Queuing for food:

Fearless leader:
and Ultimate! (on Saturday of course):

A beautiful bony-faced, white-haired, blue-eyed man (with a beard) stopped his bicycle to ask what we are doing here. He said he is measuring the distance from here to Kenilworth Castle for a bicycle race. He said he is a retired teacher of engineering. Every time John would get distracted or walk around the little enclosure away from him, he would say, “Well, I’ll let you get on with it,” but he would stay if I asked a question. I think he was lonely. I think old people are often lonely and want to talk, and younger people don’t pay attention to them—often see right through them. And yet they are human and interesting—more interesting in many ways than the young ones—they’ve had more experience.

It is so cold, my fingers are freezing. A couple of squirrels are considering a commando raid on the remains of the food. I have a half-eaten Mars Bar in my pocket, my temporary home is less than a mile away, the sun is going down, and all is well. (2005)

Doing the Washing Up

We cook and clean up for ourselves for most of our meals on the trip. One day John had the students listen to Frasier reciting Robert Burns and I stayed behind washing up (2005):

While I was in the members' kitchen, a group of school-children came in, I'd guess between 6-10 years old, and enthusiastically began washing dishes in the sink next to me. One young man said he hoped to open a dishwashing shop, at 20p per dish. I said I wished I had such good helpers. A tiny girl said, "But you're from America, aren't you? I wouldn't want to go to America just to wash dishes!"

At which point I had several immediate and somewhat contradictory thoughts:

1. And I don't want to go to Scotland just to wash dishes!
2. Wherever you go, someone has to do the washing up, and the sooner you learn to do it yourself, the better.
3. A great many immigrants to America (and to Scotland) end up washing dishes, or doing similar jobs.

John Lennon (or somebody) said once, "Woman is the n___ of the world." That's one way to see it. But another way is that somebody has to gently encourage the children to do their washing up (both actually and metaphorically): to clean up after themselves, to not leave big messes behind, to treat the world gently, tread lightly, be mindful, take care. Learn to be a custodian, not an exploiter. If that's my job, I'm OK with it.