Bmmr... Blame this to a load of dead rechargeable batteries, a wrong conversion plug, and a stingy me.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
My Only Photo of London...
Bmmr... Blame this to a load of dead rechargeable batteries, a wrong conversion plug, and a stingy me.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Wearing Ties and Washing Babies
Imagine with me, that I be an Oxford scholar: blue blazer coat of arms adorned on the right side, neatly ironed trousers, cleanly shaven, genteel speech. Well, first I would have to work on the accent. Apparently, I have been accused by a refined local of having the vocabulary, attitude, and accent of a sassy American black woman. I don't really know where that came from or if I agree, but in any case, I don't know if my tawdry speech would fly in England's premiere academic institution. In any case, while the prospect of going to school in England would have been laughable even a year ago, after falling in love with the UK and visiting the Oxford, it now does not seem so distant.
Craig Jeffrey is a fantastic scholar, the bulk of his work focusing on the underemployment of the young educated class of North Indian with particular attention to Dalit or untouchable class. His work has nuanced the conversation about the absolute utility of education as a development strategy put forth by my one of my favorite scholars, Amartya Sen.
Jane Dyson is a fantastic scholar. Her studies have focused on the work strategies of young people in the Himalayas drawn from a year and a half of very interesting field research following children out to the forest for collect lichen. She actually did her fieldwork quite close to the Ashram where I worked, just one district away.
Craig and Jane are married and both are at Oxford. Talk about your South Asia intellectual power couple!
Prof. Dyson and Jeffrey were at the University of Washington during my Hindi studies at the same institution and I was quite keen to work with them when I returned from my last trip to India. But, with budgets being slashed in the US, Oxford offered them an excellent opportunity to return to most prestigious college in their native country. Hard to pass up.
En route to a screening in Cambridge, I decided to try to meet the two scholars to talk about possible graduate work. They invited me to their home for what I had thought might be a brief and formal discussion turned into a quite pleasant evening.
After talking about their research, my academic interests, and possible programs, their one and a half year old son, Finn with his adorable mop of blonde hair and long, wrinkled face, wobbled out of his room after a nap. Then their little four year old bundle of joy, Florence, came bounding in from nursery school a little later, which pretty much extinguished our academic discussions. I quickly learned that two young children pretty much equals the entirety of your energy and attention.
But who cares, I got to play with kiddies! For some reason these children fell for my awkward charms and soon I was fishing in the pond with Finn and pushing Florence on the swing. Jane soon took her leave to go visit a friend and Craig was fast at work making dinner, so I was left to look after the kids. And let me tell you, Florence is no easy one to control, she knows how to get her way. And with her sweet British accent and button nose, it is pretty hard to fight it. So I spent the next half hour trying to keep Finn from wandering back into the house while keeping Florence occupied with a frisbee. Eventually, I had to convince young Florence the merits of going potty inside instead of in the bushes with only marginal success.
After supper, it was bath time for both the kids. While Craig tended to Finn, I was put on Florence washing patrol. Considering that I have never washed a child before in my life and given that my the parents of this child might be my graduate advisors, I found the experience a bit strange. But, you must admit that the level of trust place upon me during the first meeting is pretty encouraging for getting into the program. Or else they are vetting out prospective students unable to babysit for them.
After the kids were wrapped up in their jammies, Florence demanded that I read her a bedtime story which I did graciously, given the that picture book that she wanted was about children growing up in Scottish fishing towns (swoon!). When I finished reading the story and started making my goodbyes, Florence asked, "Are you going to be here in the morning?" I replied that I was staying in a hostel and would be leaving for Cambridge the next day.' Apparently, with my thick American accent, she thought I said I was headed to Sainbury, which is the local supermarket, and replied, 'Well after you bring back the groceries tomorrow, then could we play.' Cute. When I finally established that I would be leaving the UK soon, she said, 'You like it here, you will be back, and we will play.' After my couple days in Oxford, I wouldn't mind if she was right.
(PS- ignore any mistakes in the above blog. I started writing this in London but now am in India and have been awake for almost 45 hours now.)
Craig Jeffrey is a fantastic scholar, the bulk of his work focusing on the underemployment of the young educated class of North Indian with particular attention to Dalit or untouchable class. His work has nuanced the conversation about the absolute utility of education as a development strategy put forth by my one of my favorite scholars, Amartya Sen.
Jane Dyson is a fantastic scholar. Her studies have focused on the work strategies of young people in the Himalayas drawn from a year and a half of very interesting field research following children out to the forest for collect lichen. She actually did her fieldwork quite close to the Ashram where I worked, just one district away.
Craig and Jane are married and both are at Oxford. Talk about your South Asia intellectual power couple!
Prof. Dyson and Jeffrey were at the University of Washington during my Hindi studies at the same institution and I was quite keen to work with them when I returned from my last trip to India. But, with budgets being slashed in the US, Oxford offered them an excellent opportunity to return to most prestigious college in their native country. Hard to pass up.
En route to a screening in Cambridge, I decided to try to meet the two scholars to talk about possible graduate work. They invited me to their home for what I had thought might be a brief and formal discussion turned into a quite pleasant evening.
After talking about their research, my academic interests, and possible programs, their one and a half year old son, Finn with his adorable mop of blonde hair and long, wrinkled face, wobbled out of his room after a nap. Then their little four year old bundle of joy, Florence, came bounding in from nursery school a little later, which pretty much extinguished our academic discussions. I quickly learned that two young children pretty much equals the entirety of your energy and attention.
But who cares, I got to play with kiddies! For some reason these children fell for my awkward charms and soon I was fishing in the pond with Finn and pushing Florence on the swing. Jane soon took her leave to go visit a friend and Craig was fast at work making dinner, so I was left to look after the kids. And let me tell you, Florence is no easy one to control, she knows how to get her way. And with her sweet British accent and button nose, it is pretty hard to fight it. So I spent the next half hour trying to keep Finn from wandering back into the house while keeping Florence occupied with a frisbee. Eventually, I had to convince young Florence the merits of going potty inside instead of in the bushes with only marginal success.
After supper, it was bath time for both the kids. While Craig tended to Finn, I was put on Florence washing patrol. Considering that I have never washed a child before in my life and given that my the parents of this child might be my graduate advisors, I found the experience a bit strange. But, you must admit that the level of trust place upon me during the first meeting is pretty encouraging for getting into the program. Or else they are vetting out prospective students unable to babysit for them.
After the kids were wrapped up in their jammies, Florence demanded that I read her a bedtime story which I did graciously, given the that picture book that she wanted was about children growing up in Scottish fishing towns (swoon!). When I finished reading the story and started making my goodbyes, Florence asked, "Are you going to be here in the morning?" I replied that I was staying in a hostel and would be leaving for Cambridge the next day.' Apparently, with my thick American accent, she thought I said I was headed to Sainbury, which is the local supermarket, and replied, 'Well after you bring back the groceries tomorrow, then could we play.' Cute. When I finally established that I would be leaving the UK soon, she said, 'You like it here, you will be back, and we will play.' After my couple days in Oxford, I wouldn't mind if she was right.
(PS- ignore any mistakes in the above blog. I started writing this in London but now am in India and have been awake for almost 45 hours now.)
Friday, March 19, 2010
City of JOY
Thank god for hair dryers. As I began to blow-dry the crotch of my jeans, dampened by cheap beer and a faulty couch, in a room full of uber-hip lesbian artists smoking cigarettes and dancing to Lady Gaga, I couldn't help but think about the contrast to the night prior. In my final night in Aberdeen, Rowan, her boypal, sweet little Avery and I enjoyed an actually overwhelmingly competitive game of playdough chirades and an early bedtime. Both experiences definitely had there merits: While I enjoyed the spirits and dancing in London, a couple hours spent chasing buses at 1am made me long for the early bedtimes in Aberdeen. Not to mention the consistent dryness of my trousers.
So I am in London now staying on the couch of my girlfriend's best friends brother, Than, who is in art school at London and has slowly become one of my favorite people on earth. Mildly flamboyant, super intelligent, and utterly lovable, sigh… Inspired by the mighty Than I have decided to adopt his nomenclature in describing the laurels of this amazing city; things joy/things not joy. Beautiful.
Here we go:
Things that are London joy:
- A sneaky collusion of all of Chad's joys!
My first day, I decided to romp around Brick Lane in East End. Stepping out of the Tube, I was transported into this weird 18th century Bangladeshi neighborhood. South asian geekout. check
Further down the lane, South Asia gives way to Hipster Haven and I stumbled upon this huge and amazing vintage clothes weekend market. Hip clothes shopping. check.
Adjacent to the market was a custom bike frame shop where I spent an hour gabbing about bikes and Portland to a very friendly tech. Bike geek out. check.
THEN, I grabbed a beer and sat down on the footpath to watch the parade of beautiful hip people seething and sauntering through the crowded streets. Public drinking. check.
THEN, I wandered through Rough Trade East, one of the best record stores that I have been to since Amoeba in SF. Music geek out. check.
THEN, I had THE BEST cup of coffee in my life prepared by the 2009 Swedish Barista champion. World class coffee, check.
THEN, I rounded out my day with an amazing photographic exhibit of 150 years of South Asian exhibits. South Asian Art geekout. check.
A joy explosion in the very first day.
- Good Ol' British History.
Yesterday, we went to Than's dashing and debonair boyfriend's presentation at the Dulwich Picture Gallery. Jordan whole presence oozes of academia, from the tweed jacket, dry wit, to his wide array of collared shirts and blazers and endless informative interjections. I absolutely love it. After the talk, which made the forty or so aristocratic housewives in attendance audibly swoon, Jordan took me on a walking tour of old London, the bits and pieces that I thought too pedestrian and tourist-y for my refined traveling palate. But checking out those spots with a very excited 18th century Art Historian made his kind of sightseeing actually really fun. I saw all the hits: St. Paul's Cathedral, Houses of Parliament, Buckinham Palace, St. James Palace, Westminster Abbey, Trafalger Square. You name it, a scholar told me the significance of it. Awesome.
Not London Joy:
- Lack of Grid System.
Damn those 10th century planners who did not have the foresight of a urban grid system. Any place I want to go to, I have to allot at least an hour and half of being hopelessly lost in these unintuitive, narrow roads. I bought a map yesterday and have found that it has only been of marginal help.
- That Chad Robertson doesn't live there. Oh how grand that would be!
So I am in London now staying on the couch of my girlfriend's best friends brother, Than, who is in art school at London and has slowly become one of my favorite people on earth. Mildly flamboyant, super intelligent, and utterly lovable, sigh… Inspired by the mighty Than I have decided to adopt his nomenclature in describing the laurels of this amazing city; things joy/things not joy. Beautiful.
Here we go:
Things that are London joy:
- A sneaky collusion of all of Chad's joys!
My first day, I decided to romp around Brick Lane in East End. Stepping out of the Tube, I was transported into this weird 18th century Bangladeshi neighborhood. South asian geekout. check
Further down the lane, South Asia gives way to Hipster Haven and I stumbled upon this huge and amazing vintage clothes weekend market. Hip clothes shopping. check.
Adjacent to the market was a custom bike frame shop where I spent an hour gabbing about bikes and Portland to a very friendly tech. Bike geek out. check.
THEN, I grabbed a beer and sat down on the footpath to watch the parade of beautiful hip people seething and sauntering through the crowded streets. Public drinking. check.
THEN, I wandered through Rough Trade East, one of the best record stores that I have been to since Amoeba in SF. Music geek out. check.
THEN, I had THE BEST cup of coffee in my life prepared by the 2009 Swedish Barista champion. World class coffee, check.
THEN, I rounded out my day with an amazing photographic exhibit of 150 years of South Asian exhibits. South Asian Art geekout. check.
A joy explosion in the very first day.
- Good Ol' British History.
Yesterday, we went to Than's dashing and debonair boyfriend's presentation at the Dulwich Picture Gallery. Jordan whole presence oozes of academia, from the tweed jacket, dry wit, to his wide array of collared shirts and blazers and endless informative interjections. I absolutely love it. After the talk, which made the forty or so aristocratic housewives in attendance audibly swoon, Jordan took me on a walking tour of old London, the bits and pieces that I thought too pedestrian and tourist-y for my refined traveling palate. But checking out those spots with a very excited 18th century Art Historian made his kind of sightseeing actually really fun. I saw all the hits: St. Paul's Cathedral, Houses of Parliament, Buckinham Palace, St. James Palace, Westminster Abbey, Trafalger Square. You name it, a scholar told me the significance of it. Awesome.
Not London Joy:
- Lack of Grid System.
Damn those 10th century planners who did not have the foresight of a urban grid system. Any place I want to go to, I have to allot at least an hour and half of being hopelessly lost in these unintuitive, narrow roads. I bought a map yesterday and have found that it has only been of marginal help.
- That Chad Robertson doesn't live there. Oh how grand that would be!
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Scotland's Charms
Well, I should be in India right now, right? So then why has my great blog resurrection yielded my first posting from a cozy pub in the northern coast of Scotland? Well, you have my good friend, Rowan, to blame for this. Alternative pedagogy and cutie kiddies will have to wait. For now, just charming coastal towns, old world charm, and sweet, sweet cask ales. Not too shabby.
I studied with Rowan at the University of Washington during my Hindi days and, brilliant and impressive as she is, has taken a fabulous three year research fellowship at the University of Aberdeen. I have really wanted to see Rowan for a while, so I used a screening of my documentary film as an excuse for a two week romp around the British Isles. The attendance for today's screening was modest, and thankfully so, due to so major technical malfunctions. By the end of the screening, that modest crowd was watching the film from my laptop. BUT, the crowd was pretty into the film providing some interesting Q & A.
But, like I said the real reason for coming was to spend some quality time with Rowan and her brilliant and sassy 5th daughter, Avery, who has been showing me around the forest by their apartment giving me a rigorous werewolf training. She is ridiculously adorable; outside the eye of her mother, she will flip into her Scottish accent which she uses with schoolfriends. Despite only being here for about 7 months, her accent is near flawless. Super cute.
First observation about the UK: It is OLD. When I see a building from the late 18th century in America I about faint. Here that's nothing. Take for example, Rowan's apartment, it is a converted army barrack built 150 years ago, pocked by Nazi blitzkriegs during World War II. (other things that makes Rowan's place ridiculous: it is directly adjacent to a immaculate golf course that hosted the Women's British Open a couple weeks back AND is about a ten minute walk to the sandy North Sea beaches). Rowan's office is in a tenth century building over looking the first campus building, a beautiful 6th century church. In fact, wandering around the narrow, cobbled paths of University of Aberdeen feels like being transporting back to a 10th century town. Ridiculous.
Second Observation: Scotland is overwhelming charming, the kind of charming that makes you want to suspend all of your ambitions, purchase a cottage out in the country and live out the rest of your life herding sheep and eating pub lunches. Overly romantic? Perhaps, but you try driving through the pastoral land budding up to breathtaking craggy cliffs, strewn with cobbled cottages and the ruins of 14th century castles. See what that will do to you!
Rowan has been the most gracious host, finishing up her work early to show me around. Yesterday we went to Stonehaven, a quant, coastal town a short walk from Dunnottar, a gorgeous abandoned castle. The stroll was perfect: we snaked along the coastal wheatfields, crisp blue skies and brilliant sun shining down upon the farmers work and the endless North Sea. The Dunnotar fort stood atop of a prominent peninsula, sides battered into interesting and beautiful cliffs from years of abuse for the sea. Unfortunately, the castle was closed, so we snuck around the back side to see if we would be able to breach the high walls like the Jacobbites had done a couple hundreds of years ago. We found a vulnerable spot, scaling a quite sketchy face, but as we climbed higher, the fall became more dramatic. But the more dramatic the climb became, the more broken beer bottles we found. Eventually we decided that we would leave the contemporary invasions to young, fearless, and drunken Scots. No need for an ER visit at the beginning of my trip. Instead we decided to catch up on the beautiful stony beaches that lay below.
After our walk, we decided to head to the pub for a fish supper and a pint. It is probably a good thing that I don't live in Scotland for I would spend all of my time in pub: 12 beers on tap, 8 on cask, darkly lit with cozy fire place, gregarious, portly barkeeps who bring out your meals revealing their 'chip stealing tendencies.' Perfect. Oh, another very important observation. Fish and chips in America are a sham. In the UK, you get a whole fillet of white fish, deep fried perfection; the forearm sized piece of fish can barely fit on the dish. Needless to say, after devouring my plate, as well as a couple pints of delicious cask beer, I was in dire need of a nap.
Observation 3: British food isn't that shabby! I had definite preconceptions of bland British food, but am finding the local cuisine quite tasty. Rowan has been an amazing navigator, cooking us delicious meals nightly. Favourites thus far include steak pie and toads in a hole (worshire pudding with haggis and blood pudding sausages (!)).
Sipping my pint here in the pub right now, it's dawned on me that it is going to be ridiculously hard to leave Scotland, definitely my favourite spot that I have been outside of India. Excited to explore a bit more before heading down to London.
I studied with Rowan at the University of Washington during my Hindi days and, brilliant and impressive as she is, has taken a fabulous three year research fellowship at the University of Aberdeen. I have really wanted to see Rowan for a while, so I used a screening of my documentary film as an excuse for a two week romp around the British Isles. The attendance for today's screening was modest, and thankfully so, due to so major technical malfunctions. By the end of the screening, that modest crowd was watching the film from my laptop. BUT, the crowd was pretty into the film providing some interesting Q & A.
But, like I said the real reason for coming was to spend some quality time with Rowan and her brilliant and sassy 5th daughter, Avery, who has been showing me around the forest by their apartment giving me a rigorous werewolf training. She is ridiculously adorable; outside the eye of her mother, she will flip into her Scottish accent which she uses with schoolfriends. Despite only being here for about 7 months, her accent is near flawless. Super cute.
First observation about the UK: It is OLD. When I see a building from the late 18th century in America I about faint. Here that's nothing. Take for example, Rowan's apartment, it is a converted army barrack built 150 years ago, pocked by Nazi blitzkriegs during World War II. (other things that makes Rowan's place ridiculous: it is directly adjacent to a immaculate golf course that hosted the Women's British Open a couple weeks back AND is about a ten minute walk to the sandy North Sea beaches). Rowan's office is in a tenth century building over looking the first campus building, a beautiful 6th century church. In fact, wandering around the narrow, cobbled paths of University of Aberdeen feels like being transporting back to a 10th century town. Ridiculous.
Second Observation: Scotland is overwhelming charming, the kind of charming that makes you want to suspend all of your ambitions, purchase a cottage out in the country and live out the rest of your life herding sheep and eating pub lunches. Overly romantic? Perhaps, but you try driving through the pastoral land budding up to breathtaking craggy cliffs, strewn with cobbled cottages and the ruins of 14th century castles. See what that will do to you!
Rowan has been the most gracious host, finishing up her work early to show me around. Yesterday we went to Stonehaven, a quant, coastal town a short walk from Dunnottar, a gorgeous abandoned castle. The stroll was perfect: we snaked along the coastal wheatfields, crisp blue skies and brilliant sun shining down upon the farmers work and the endless North Sea. The Dunnotar fort stood atop of a prominent peninsula, sides battered into interesting and beautiful cliffs from years of abuse for the sea. Unfortunately, the castle was closed, so we snuck around the back side to see if we would be able to breach the high walls like the Jacobbites had done a couple hundreds of years ago. We found a vulnerable spot, scaling a quite sketchy face, but as we climbed higher, the fall became more dramatic. But the more dramatic the climb became, the more broken beer bottles we found. Eventually we decided that we would leave the contemporary invasions to young, fearless, and drunken Scots. No need for an ER visit at the beginning of my trip. Instead we decided to catch up on the beautiful stony beaches that lay below.
After our walk, we decided to head to the pub for a fish supper and a pint. It is probably a good thing that I don't live in Scotland for I would spend all of my time in pub: 12 beers on tap, 8 on cask, darkly lit with cozy fire place, gregarious, portly barkeeps who bring out your meals revealing their 'chip stealing tendencies.' Perfect. Oh, another very important observation. Fish and chips in America are a sham. In the UK, you get a whole fillet of white fish, deep fried perfection; the forearm sized piece of fish can barely fit on the dish. Needless to say, after devouring my plate, as well as a couple pints of delicious cask beer, I was in dire need of a nap.
Observation 3: British food isn't that shabby! I had definite preconceptions of bland British food, but am finding the local cuisine quite tasty. Rowan has been an amazing navigator, cooking us delicious meals nightly. Favourites thus far include steak pie and toads in a hole (worshire pudding with haggis and blood pudding sausages (!)).
Sipping my pint here in the pub right now, it's dawned on me that it is going to be ridiculously hard to leave Scotland, definitely my favourite spot that I have been outside of India. Excited to explore a bit more before heading down to London.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Blog Revived!
Hello All,
Just letting the word out that I am going to revive my long deceased blog to document my upcoming trip to the UK and return to my ashram in the Indian Himalayas. I am a bit busy preparing for my departure on Monday but more to come soon.
C.
Just letting the word out that I am going to revive my long deceased blog to document my upcoming trip to the UK and return to my ashram in the Indian Himalayas. I am a bit busy preparing for my departure on Monday but more to come soon.
C.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)