extra, extra! read all about it!

For the 0.01% of my family/friends who prefer to get their news on my life via this blog, instead of Facebook... I've got some news! Plus, an exclusive photo (you know, like they do to boost website readership for printed publications? Just indulge me.)

Actually, I really think the photo speaks for itself:

Left hand. Ring. Snuggly couple. (And yes, that's my brother & mom up in the corner there :)) I know what you're thinking: all the signs and symptoms of engagement, right?

Well done, you! 'Cause that's absolutely correct. (can't. stop. smiling.)

Wondering why we look a little bleary eyed? That's probably because we'd stayed up most of the night on the 20th of June to see the sun rise from the cliffs overlooking the North Sea, beside the cathedral ruins in St Andrews. It appears that my -ahem- fiance is either hopeless romantic 'cause that's when he popped the question. Perfection.

So, life right now has a lotta love. And a lotta dreaming. And a lotta good, important conversations my favorite person, and all the people who are most important to us. And, okay, not enough dissertation-writing (What can I say? Every time I go to type something, there's this sparkly thing on my hand reminding me about the best future ever!) But mostly the love.

Coming soon: day-dream updates, future-talk (aka, Where in The World is Carmen Sandiego are Christy and Greg Going?), an adventure back home for my cousin's wedding, lots of spontaneous exclamations of joy, and, as always, a little babble about dead poets. Y'know. For good measure.

It's a once-in-a-lifetime thing...I guess.

I don't know if you've heard, but there have been a couple pretty important events happening lately in the UK:

1) The Queen's Diamond Jubilee. This sounds really fancy, doesn't it? It is. The whole country was abuzz for the last few weeks preceding the Diamond Jubilee-- there was a Bank Holiday (read: a day off work/school), shops had sales, people planned barbecues....and generally got really excited about the Queen reigning for 60 years? As an American, the whole concept of one person being "in charge" (as much as the Queen is actually in charge of things these days...which is to say, not much) for that amount of time is just a little bizarre. But it did warm my heart to see all the red, white and blue decorations. Kinda made me feel a little 4th of July-y. (Which of course is the exact opposite of the sort celebrations that were happening over here. But still.)

However, I did notice a distinct lack of interest up here (that is to say, in Scotland). Shops are one thing, but individual people are whole different ball o' wax. Both Greg's family and mine were convinced there'd be some kind of event happening in our respective residences... And yes, lots of neighborhoods farther south were supposedly having block parties and neighborhood barbecues. But up here, not so much (with the exception of some epic party in Edinburgh castle. Needless to say, I was not invited :p). I did attend a party to celebrate, but it was thrown by an English girl. On the other hand, Scottish acquaintances of mine circulated things like this (pardon the crudity- it makes my point too brilliantly to withhold):

(dijibnet.com)

Conclusion: Queen's Jubilee in Scotland...Yeah, not the biggest deal. But that meme did make me giggle. Like, a LOT.

2) The Olympic Torch Relay. Okay. Now this was actually pretty cool. You know. How many times are you going to see the Olympic Torch run by your house, yadda yadda. I happened to be in Glasgow when it came through-- and everyone was really excited to see it! All the representatives from Coca-Cola were promising loads of free giveaways, music, etc. What we actually got was one 250 ml bottle of Coke, an a cappella serenade by 3 women dressed as Greek goddesses, and a really prime view of a man in a white van, waving a small stuffed creature that's supposedly the mascot of the 2012 games. Truly bizarre.

The mascots, Wenlock and Mandeville (Google images)

 And then the torch runner came by. Being short, I really only managed to see the back of one eager student's head as he snapped a thousand photos, but Greg's camera tells me the runner was lookin' pretty bedraggled tackling a pretty epic hill. And carrying a heavy torch. That's on fire. I just don't envy those runners :)

Greg and I were interviewed by some news team about why we were excited to see the torch run by (this was, in fact, the second time a news team had asked us about the 2012 Games. The first was in London this winter, and I think they were disappointed when the realized we were Americans :p) After we gave our answers, we conferred with our friends, who agreed: well, it'd be pretty dumb to miss something so important. We're here, and it's kind of a once-in-a-lifetime-thing, I guess, so we might as well...right?

So, maybe the Jubilee was kind of a bust up here. But one thing's for sure--the London 2012 publicity team seems to be doing a pretty good job whipping up national enthusiasm. Even the most apathetic of populations (postgrads? in Scotland?) got off their butts and watched the torch go by. They even woke up at 7 am to see it in St Andrews! (I didn't. Once was plenty, thanks.)

Even though people up here don't get quite as enthused about national happenings, I kinda love the chip-on-the-shoulder way I've gotten to experience all these events--Oh, sure, let's have some fun, celebrate some silly things. But let's not forget that they are, in fact, some very silly things :)

Dublin: a non-existent holiday

Yep, that's right. We were all set to go- tickets reserved, hostel booked- or so we thought!

I don't know if you've heard about Ryan Air, but if you've spent any time on this side of the Atlantic, you probably know about the Ireland-based, cheap-as-crap airline that connects most major UK/EU cities. And friends, they're cheap as crap for a reason. I'll spare you the rant, but the bottom line is that despite receiving a confirmation email, our tickets were never actually reserved...which meant that until about 12 hours before our flight was due to leave, we thought we were going on a holiday that didn't actually exist.

Bummer? I'd say so.

Not to be deterred, Greg and I decided to salvage our time off and see if we couldn't make some fun out of our non-starter holiday. Scotland was enjoying unusually delightful weather earlier this week, so I packed up my backpack and headed out to Glasgow. We spent time in the sunshine, watching the seas of humanity camped out on one hill in Kelvingrove Park, collectively transforming into lobsters over the course of the afternoon... And okay, seriously. I have yet to find a better opportunity for people-watching. We brought a bag of crisps and a beach towel and settled in like we were watching a film (maybe some kind of documentary- "Scottish Natives Encounter the Sun," or perhaps "Glasgow at Play." Or, to borrow Greg's description "The Fleshtival."). It was delightful.

The next morning, caught an early bus to Edinburgh.

Fresh off the bus! (Castle barely visible beyond the park/mist...obnoxious bagpiper not pictured.)

Here's where things get interesting... We were wandering in a new direction that we usually wander when we're there, and ended up about 20 minutes outside the city centre.  And as some of you know, when I wander far and don't eat, I sometimes pass out. So, to avoid this, we stopped in the first cafe we saw: a place called Braw, where we inevitably struck up a conversation with the owners. Apart from being very sweet (and throwing in free coffee!), they also suggested that if we were looking for something a little offbeat to do, we could take a stroll in the drizzly afternoon down by the Waters of Leith.

That's us! On a bridge!

We had. No. Idea. How gorgeous Edinburgh could be outside the city centre. We ended up strolling along this river by a moss-covered stone wall for a long while. I'm certain the walk wasn't actually very long distance-wise, but Greg likes to stop and smell the roses (sometimes literally) even more than I do. In fact, I think I come off as somewhat of a slave-driver in comparison. But even I couldn't resist dawdling along and examining all the wildflowers growing along the bank.

Exhibit A: Greg, in utter awe at nature's miracles.

Exhibit B: Me, looking like a surly teenager, not at all impressed by the miracle of ivy. Don't worry, I joined the party later....

Marveling at the moss-covered wall. Not pictured: the pack of runners that almost ran us over shortly thereafter.

Greg was pretty pleased with the transition-- it meant he got to do more things like this :p

Anyway... since we had no other plans for the day, we decided to follow the signs to a "Modern Art Museum." Only, every time the signs appeared, they said it was the same distance away. We began to wonder if the "modern art" might be performance-based/ audience participation modern art that sends the viewer wandering downstream in a search for something that doesn't actually exist, when...

Just so frickin' overjoyed! (That's the Gallery of Modern Art archway in the distance. He's not a complete nutter :P)

We found it! (Little did we know that we'd taken the most round about way possible. It was literally a few meters from the cafe, but our nature-walk-detour took us about 1/2 a mile out of the way. Typical Greg and Christy adventure :))

We wandered there for a while, taking in lots of really off-putting sculptures (like a GIANT room-size statue of a naked baby...) and generally feeling snooty...

Then caught a bus back to the city centre. We wandered for a while, enjoying tourist-pandering sounds of bagpipes on the Royal Mile, took a detour into the National Museum-- so Greg could see the dinosaurs and I could see the really excellent collection of medieval Scottish artifacts (NERDS)-- and eventually decided we were far too hungry to continue.

So we had the what-do-you-want for dinner conversation. I don't know about your relationships, but 9 times out of ten, the conversation in our relationship goes something like this:

Greg looks at me and says, "I'm feeling a curry tonight. Are you feeling a curry?"
And naturally, I respond, "Greg, I'm always feeling a curry."

Aaaaand scene. Decision made.

So we went on a quest for Indian food. Because neither of us our Edinburgh natives, we resolved to follow our noses. Which seems like a bad idea, but in Scotland, where there are Indian restaurants pretty much every half-step you take, it can yield some pretty incredible results. And it did. We ate in a hole-in-the-wall restaurant, seated on cushions and surrounded by low-hanging ceilings, where we stuffed our faces for under 7 quid each. Despite our intense loyalty to the affordability of St Andrew's Maishas...This had to win out. It was amazing. Capped off our evening with some whisky in a tiny little pub with a great selection (that was playing the Sound of Music soundtrack, to which the bartenders were singing along...definitely my kind of place) looked at each other and decided:

This was WAY better than Dublin.