Not Long Now

Yesterday was our last day of regular classes until June 11.  Our first week in Scotland is to be taken up with getting ourselves oriented and a few days of excursions.  Thursday, we’ll be heading out to Calton Hill, then Saturday to Culross, Scone, Loch Tay and Stirling.  I’m finding it very difficult to believe that I’ll be seeing all the places I’ve read about; the homeland of my family.  Of course, many of us can claim to have Scottish backgrounds, but it’s special, as I'm sure it is to everyone else.  The family history has always been of great fascination to me and it’s my grandmother I can thank for that, as she’s the one who piqued my interest in it.

The Clan MacGregor, with Philip who served with the British Army in 1776 and landed first in New York to fight in the American Revolution and then was deeded land in Ontario as one of the United Empire Loyalists.  The Mackie Clan is from Peterhead, Aberdeenshire.  It’s nothing less than amazing that I will be able to walk in the same places they did.  I can’t believe yet, that I’m actually going.

It’s a relief to have the mid-term in Geography over and done with.  When I was reviewing the material yesterday, I managed to draw a complete blank.  I couldn’t remember even going over the information and began to wonder if I was even in class when we took it.  As it turned out, the exam wasn’t as bad as I thought and I think it went fairly well. 

Tie A Knot And Hold On

As of yesterday, we are one week away from leaving for Scotland.  It’s coming up very quickly and I have yet to do much of anything to get ready to go.  Thankfully, our instructors have decided to move Monday’s class up to Thursday, so I will have that day and part of Tuesday to prepare.  What a to-do!

We are now work-shopping our poetry assignments in Creative Writing.  I am amazed at the quality of work being put out by my class-mates.  Some have never written poetry before, at least not in a formal way.  I was in that boat myself and thoroughly intimidated by the whole idea.  As I was by the play writing in PEFA. 

The response to both was good, so I’m pleased that I can go way out of my comfort zone and experience and still turn out a decent product.  At least, that’s the case in PEFA.  I haven’t gotten results back yet from Creative Writing, but the classmate responses were reassuring.  Hopefully, it won’t be too horrendous.

Today is our midterm exam for Geography.  When reviewing this morning, I’m having an attack about the amount of data that hasn’t stuck in my head.  It doesn’t bode well for what’s going to go on this afternoon.  I can only do what I can do, I guess, but I’m very worried about how well I’ll do on it.  I’m hoping that it will be like the lab exam and I know more than I think I do.  I’ll be finding out.  In the meantime, I’m keeping every body part I possibly can, crossed.

Bear Hunt

Friday was a work day rather than a school day and since I don’t really want to dwell on that…..

The old fart (a.k.a. husband Carl) and I headed up into the hills of Silverdale on a bear hunt.  After travelling around to all the normal haunts and coming up empty, we went to check out a new spot.  Four-wheeling it up to the top of the hill, we caught sight of a pair of eyes peeking at us from over the edge of the rise. 

As we reached the summit, we were just in time to see two large, black bottoms bumble their way back into the bush.  A third managed to squeeze his or her backside through the strands of a barbed wire fence on its way back into the brush. Knowing how curious they really are and that they would be back, Carl parked the truck in the centre of a flat section and I climbed out and onto the Knaack box (a large tool box that fits in the bed of a pick-up).

After a few minutes, the first bear we had seen couldn’t resist standing up to see what was going on.  Moving as slowly as I could, as quickly as I could, I did manage to pull off a couple of shots before he dropped.  Soon after, I heard branches snap near the barbed wire fence.  One thing you can always count on from any number of critters is that they’re nosy.  They’ll always take a second look to see what’s going on.  Sure enough, one eye, ear and brown nose peeped out from under the shrubs along the fence line and I was able to pull off another shot.

Not wanting to disturb them any longer, we decide to change locations. Carl hopped back into the truck, fired it up and we headed over to the next field with me still perched on the back of the toolbox.   What little track there was soon petered out and turned into a series of deep mud and water filled ruts.  As I clung to the ladder racks, Carl managed to zigzag through without sending me flying over the side of the hill.

A fifth bear stood chest deep in the uncut grass, nibbling here and there, as if sampling the best eating spot.  He was less than concerned with us and continued his snacking.  Every now and again, he'd pop up on two legs to make sure I wasn't moving.  Carl, on the other hand, had been walking across the field at a ninety degree angle from me.   He planned to get behind our diner and start him moving in my direction.

All of a sudden, Carl stopped dead.  I hopped down from the back of the truck and headed in his direction at the same time he turned and started moving back towards me.  We met in the middle and he told me that he felt something watching him. When he turned to look, there was not only a sow standing on her back legs, but one of the largest boars he’d seen in a while.  The sow took off pretty quickly and eventually the old boar turned himself around and waddled off in the same direction.

“If it wasn’t for the ears” Carl says, “I’d think it was a Christmas tree.  That fat old bugger must have been six feet around that butt of his.”

Oh, by the way, the shots turned out great.

Myths and Misconceptions of Scotland

Thursday was a bit of an easier day, thank goodness.  Neither I nor my classmates were operating at full capacity.  I know I wasn’t, but I can’t really speak for all of them.

The morning began with trying to locate the definition of “chooch”, which turns out to be something entirely different than anticipated.  I’ll leave you to look up the meaning yourselves and suffice it to say that it caused no end of nonsense and will end up becoming one of “those” words.



John Knox - View of Glencoe

After settling down and in for our guest speaker of the morning, who happens to be one of my favourite instructors, I learned about the myths and misconceptions of Scotland.  Sir Walter Scott, beloved son of Scotland is largely responsible for the way Scotland is perceived by those outside the country.  He portrayed it in an idealized, romantic way that ignored the realities of tenant farmers being evicted from their homes and “encouraged” to leave the country, as well as many of the other hardships and wrongs inflicted upon its people.  Under his influence, several of the noted artists of the time, including John Knox, painted in the same idealized manner.

Another form of media that has influenced the way people look at Scotland’s history is as a result of the movie Braveheart.  While one never expects that a movie will allow reality to interfere with commercial appeal, the misconceptions created do have an effect on those who have no other knowledge.  We are told that the Scots themselves tend to be a little put out that one of the heroes of their country is portrayed by an Australian/American and one who has turned out to have some less than desirable biases.   Far from the truth or not, Braveheart will remain one of favourite movies and as the one who gave me knowledge and pride in my heritage.

North Should be in a Different Place

Someone needs to take pity on me.  As if Tuesday’s foray into the world of rights and lefts wasn’t bad enough, yesterday was taken up with map reading and learning about co-ordinates.  As with the rocks episode, co-ordinates have a far different meaning for me – that’s when your top and bottom matches.  I was lost as soon as asked where “North” is.  Like I said, North is whatever direction I happen to be facing.  I know that South is the opposite direction to North, but I don’t find that particularly helpful, seeing as my North isn’t likely to be in the right place.  East and West are completely beyond me.  I could use the alphabet to keep them in the right order, but once again North is causing the problem.  If someone had put it in the right place, it would be E, N, S, W, but as it is, it’s in the wrong spot.

To top it off, I have to bring a calculator next week.  I’m ranging back into the math department.  It must be a phobia.  Ha!  I looked it up.  About.com says that there really is a math disability and it’s called “Dyscalculia”.  The other possibility is arithmophobia.  No wonder I’m sick of being a bean counter.  There’s a derogatory description for you.

I was further humiliated in Personal Narrative when, after work-shopping a piece, I had to ask what “Timeline” was, as pertains to Facebook.   Part of the story contained a segment about a Mom who was entirely excited about having Timeline on her Facebook, but had to come back and ask what it was.  Don’t feel bad, Mom, I had to ask too.

Sister Wendy Beckett

Yesterday was another meeting with Sister Wendy Beckett as she talked about the Impressionists.  I don’t know whether she really is a nun or not, but she's done a series of videos about art of the 18^th and 19^th centuries.  What she has to say about certain pieces has a much larger impact because of the nun suit.  There are just some things you don’t expect to hear from a “nun”. 

Geography was all about tectonic plates, their movement and types of formations on the landscape.  I was good up to the point of right and left strike plates.  I just got over the rocks in my head and now have to figure out rights and lefts.  I consider myself doing well if I can figure out which is my right and left hand, let alone anything else.  Truly directionally challenged, north is whatever direction I’m facing.  I’m told it’s because I’m both sides brained.  I don’t know how true that is, but I’ll take it.  Beats just being severely challenged any day of the week.  The human capacity for self-delusion….

Anyway, back to tectonic plates.  The B.C. government is doing a Zombie Preparedness Week.  No, it doesn’t mean that we all have to go out and get rock salt and big needles and thread (rock salt goes into the mouth of a zombie and then his/her mouth is sewn shut – supposed to undo the voodoo).  It’s Emergency Preparedness Planning for when the big one hits the B.C. coast.  Whoever did the marketing plan on this one ensured that ears will perk up.  People are paying attention.

My Head is Broken!

There was a time when I used to write poetry.  You know, that phase most young teen girls go through.  Now, I really have to wonder why.  I have a personal narrative poem due on Wednesday and it’s driving me around the bend.  And, no, it’s not because I’ve left it to the last minute – I started it a while back.

I knew what I wanted to say and got that drafted out.  Then I got hung up on in the syllable count in each line.  After struggling with that for a day, I gave it up, just wrote the lines and shut it down for the night.

The next morning, yesterday, I broke the lines where there was a pause.  Read it and re-read it and read it once more.  Finally, I managed to have the words and flow I was looking for sorted out.  Except for two stanzas.  Even the one isn’t that bad, but the other….   Now, at this point it’s shut it down or the laptop and river will meet.  Not that that’s a nice, satisfying crash, but it would have to do.  I’ll see what I can manage tomorrow when I’ll have gotten some of my sanity back.  I hope.

 

Robert Burns and Neil Oliver

Yesterday, we had a wonderful speaker from SFU, I believe it was, giving us a presentation called Third Degree Burns.  Meaning Robert Burns.  It was an excellent performance and much enjoyed by all present.  Afterwards, we watched one of the BBC documentaries on Scotland and its history.

Neil Oliver, an archeologist, was the narrator and featured character.  Until I heard of the Picts earlier this semester, I had no idea that they were one of the primary tribes of Scotland and, along with the Gauls, were primarily responsible for the formation of Scotland as it is known today.  Oliver Neil went into quite a lot of detail about the tribes of Scotland, including the Picts.  At one time and another, the Gauls, from Ireland; the Angles of Germanic origins; the Britons and the Norse were all part and parcel of what is now England and Scotland.

They were a fascinating people, far advanced in their carving and jewelry making skills, stubborn and extreme warriors.  They were the last tribe to tattoo themselves and much of those were patterned off of the jewelry, the Pictish Stones, plaques and the like. 

Pictish Plaque

I’d love to bring a ring back with me, if I can find one.  Another thing to add to the growing list of “must do’s”. 

Pictish Ring with Celtic Knot

Gone Berserk

Today was a bit of an “off day”.  Thirty-five minutes into my PEFA class, there was a fire drill.  With no idea how long we’d be out of class, the rest of it was held outside.  Not a hardship at all, since the sun was shining and it was fairly warm.   We were reviewing and commenting on various artists’ works, so it was simple enough to bring the prints outside with us. 

Yesterday’s class was learning about the Lewis Chessmen, found, strangely enough, on the Isle of Lewis.  Made of walrus tusk about eight hundred years ago, the remaining pieces are in amazing condition.  The detail is incredible.  My favorite piece is the Berserker and though the original, live Berserkers were meant to scare and dishearten their opponents, I find them less than intimidating.  Eyes bulging and chewing on their shields, they seem more comic strip characters than not.  They are cool little dudes, though.

No one is quite sure how they came to be on the Island, though it’s certain they were made in Norway.  Whether they arrived by shipwreck, as a gift, hidden by the owners to evade taxation or by piracy is the question, but there’s no answer yet.  I'm hoping that someone will be able to figure it out.

The Lewis Chessman - Berserkers

What To Do, What to Do!

                It’s been a few days since I last posted, so it’s past due time that I got on with it again.  By the time I squeeze through to the end of the week, there’s not much left in the brain cell department.

                Our first assignment for Personal Narrative was due today.  I have to admit that, along with identifying rocks, I’m a little out of my depth.  It’s not something I ever do, nor am I ever likely to.  Fiction is more my style.  Or historical fiction. 

Anyway, the subject matter was to write about someone who had made a large impact on my life.  Trying to decide who that might be and how to write about him or her was an issue, for starters.  Comfort level was another.  I’m not much of a one for getting too personal.  The whole idea was tending to drive me around the bend and I’d almost decided that the only thing to do was to write about the guy who invented toilets.  I’d say, overall, that had a pretty big impact, tied up as it was with indoor plumbing and not having to watch out for flying slops.

After considering that thought for awhile, I decided that probably wasn’t what was in mind when drafting the assignment, so had to change the game plan.  By the time I got finished spewing out no end of nonsense onto the page, I had worked out something approaching reasonable.  Well, I’ll soon find out just what might be considered reasonable.

Three weeks tomorrow, we take off for Scotland.  It’s probably just as well that I’m too busy to think about it too much or I’d be driving everyone insane by now.  Normally, I’d be hitting that five year old stage – “Are we there yet?  Can we go now?  I want to go now.  Let’s go, let’s go.

Rock Me, Baby

One of the courses in my curriculum this summer is Geography.  It’s all about earth systems, how they work and interact with one another.  Yesterday was an introduction on minerals; their formation and identification.  That was continued today, along with tectonic plate movements and the formation of volcanoes.

The healing powers of crystals and minerals has been a recent interest of mine, so learning about how they are formed and what chemical properties they contain has been of special relevance.  Lodestone, for example, is a variety of magnetite and excellent for realigning the energy flows in the body, along with a host of other benefits.  Anyway, enough of that.

I can’t quite remember the last geography class I took – I’m thinking it was somewhere around Grade Ten.  Suffice it to say, it was a long time ago.  Sciences and maths were never my forte either.  Fine admission for an accountant to make.  Go figure!   So I have to admit to being a tad overwhelmed at the idea of trying to identify minerals by their properties.  “A tad overwhelmed” could be considered an understatement.  Panicked is probably more to the point. 

Metallic and non-metallic, colour, streak and hardness, I managed.  "Plane", however, took it to a whole new level.  No pun intended.  Other than the obvious meaning, I relate “plane” to geometry.  That’s a math thing.  That’s a four letter word thing – the bad kind.  Likewise, cleavage and fracture have different connotations in my vocabulary.  Much as I enjoyed it, I wasn’t entirely sure that my few remaining brain cells hadn’t been “fractured” in trying cram it all in.

Hello, Welcome to Scotland!

          When I decided to return to school as a full-time student last September, I had no idea of the extent of change it would bring about.  After spending over thirty years in the taxation and accounting fields, I decided to return to my dreams and aspirations of forty years ago.  Being an accountant was never in the game plan back then.  In fact, I look on it the same way I look at dentistry.  I find it difficult to imagine that anyone would actually want to grow up and become either one.  Loving languages and writing, I had always planned on being a translator or writer. That isn’t to say that I haven’t made my mark and achieved other goals, but after surviving thirty-five years of marriage, three kids, six grandchildren and an interminable number of years in a less than desirable career choice, it was time for a change and a chance.

          And so, I start my third semester today, May 7^th, 2012.  It promises to be one of the most challenging, but will also be the opportunity of a lifetime.  In less than a month, my class and I, along with three exceedingly courageous instructors, will be arriving in Scotland for three weeks of study, history and the stories of an ancient people.